by Tim Waggoner
Diran returned the smile. “As well as you, I expect.”
“Asenka’s a wonderful woman.”
“That she is.”
Ghaji was happy for his friend. While he doubted Diran would ever truly be over Makala, he was moving on with his life, and that was a positive sign. These last few months the priest had been carrying so much guilt over Makala’s transformation into a vampire—a transformation he blamed himself for—that at times Ghaji thought the burden would prove too much for him. Ghaji knew Diran still felt responsible for Makala’s current state, but perhaps he no longer blamed himself for it. It was a small change, perhaps, but Ghaji thought it an important one.
The two companions stood in silence for a while after that, watching as the crew worked around them. Ghaji wasn’t sure what to make of the way the men and women of the Turnabout ignored them, almost as if they were invisible. Were they simply absorbed in their tasks, or did they transport cargo of a questionable nature often enough that they’d learned that the less they knew, the better? The latter, Ghaji suspected.
“So our merry little band has increased by one,” Ghaji said. “I’m a bit surprised Leontis joined us. He doesn’t seem the sociable type.”
“Look who’s talking.” Diran’s gentle smile alleviated whatever sting his words might otherwise had held.
“There’s something about the man that I don’t quite trust, Diran. You vouch for him, and that’s good enough for me, but there’s still something about him that sets my teeth on edge.” Ghaji did trust Diran, more than he’d ever trusted anyone or anything in his life. Nevertheless, he hoped that the priest would take the opportunity to tell him why Leontis had decided to travel with them. If Ghaji were going to fight by someone’s side, he wanted to know as much about the person as possible.
Diran seemed to consider for a moment before responding. “Leontis told me his motivations in confidence, and I cannot reveal them—not even to you, my friend. Suffice it to say that he’s searching for something, and I hope to help him find it.”
Diran’s explanation didn’t suffice at all, but Ghaji decided not to make an issue of it—at least, not right now. “As you well know, I’m no sailor, but something strikes me as odd about the crew, and I don’t mean the way they’re acting as if we don’t exist.”
“There aren’t enough of them,” Diran said.
Ghaji nodded. “Exactly.”
“A ship this size should have a crew of sixty or so. But it appears that the Turnabout is manned by only twenty sailors. And there’s something else …”
“The way the air ripples near each of the masts,” Ghaji said.
It was Diran’s turn to nod. It was subtle, and Ghaji doubted that anyone not on board would notice, but all three masts had some sort of distortion in the air behind them, resembling the effect created by heat rising off desert ground.
“Kolbyr’s harbormaster said the Turnabout was rumored to travel more swiftly than a normal galleon should,” Ghaji said. “He suspected the ship is magically enhanced, though he wasn’t sure in what manner.”
“Magic is definitely at work here,” Diran said. “But what kind and for what purpose, I cannot say. Perhaps Tresslar can—”
“Can do what?” the artificer asked.
Diran and Ghaji turned to see their companions—Leontis included—coming toward them, led by the dwarf first mate. Bartalan Thokk was a typical member of his race: squat, broad-shouldered, powerfully muscled, with a dour countenance hidden behind a full reddish-brown beard that held more than a few flecks of gray. He dressed like the other crewmembers in thick tunic and trousers, boots, and fur-lined cloak with the hood pulled up to further conceal his face. Ghaji noted the absence of jewelry—no rings on the dwarf’s fingers, no bracelets or pendants, no ear or nose rings. Dwarves respected hard work and wealth, and they appreciated the finer things life had to offer. They tended to display their wealth by carrying well-made weapons and wearing beautiful jewelry and fine clothes. To dwarves, making a show of one’s wealth proved an individual’s success and power, though they always kept their greatest treasures hidden from anyone outside their family. But Thokk presented no such display, and Ghaji wondered if that were due to practical reasons—such as the risk of ruining fine clothing while doing shipboard chores—or if there were perhaps another, more personal reason for the dwarf’s modest presentation.
Ghaji was about to explain to Tresslar when Diran cut in. “Nothing at the moment, my friend. Something far more important must have prompted you to forsake the warmth of your cabins and join us above deck.”
Ghaji saw Tresslar glance toward the Turnabout’s masts—or more specially, the distortion in the air behind them—and narrow his eyes suspiciously. Ghaji should’ve known, as Diran obviously had, that the artificer wouldn’t need them to alert him to the presence of magic.
Tresslar turned back to Diran. “We’re not sure why we’re here, but First Mate Thokk was most insistent we accompany him.” The artificer sounded even more irritated than usual, and considering how cold it was, Ghaji didn’t blame him. The Turnabout’s cabins weren’t the most comfortable of accommodations, but they beat standing on deck exposed to the frigid wind.”
Ghaji looked to Solus. The psiforged wore a fur cloak like the others, though Ghaji doubted he even felt the cold, let alone was bothered by it. Solus could easily discover what Thokk intended simply by reading the dwarf’s mind, but as Ghaji had learned after their meeting with Captain Onu last night, the construct had decided not to read anyone’s mind without express permission to do so. Ghaji had tried to explain to Solus what an advantage it would be to divine the thoughts of potential adversaries, but the psiforged refused to be persuaded. He said Tresslar had told him it wasn’t polite to read people’s minds without permission, and that the memories he had inherited from his kalashtar makers concurred. Thus, Solus had decided to stop secretly reading minds, and that was that.
While on one level Ghaji understood and respected Solus’s choice, he couldn’t help also feeling frustrated. Warforged in general tended to think of right and wrong in a simplistic, cut-and-dried fashion, almost the way a small child might. And since Solus had little experience of the world beyond the interior of Mount Luster, the child analogy was more than apt. As he matured, Solus might eventually come to understand that there were times when good manners needed give way to sheer pragmatism, but that wasn’t going to help the rest of the companions now.
It’s a good thing Solus is abstaining from sneaking a peek into others’ minds, Ghaji thought. The psiforged wouldn’t like to know what Ghaji was thinking about him at the moment.
“We’ve just about put enough distance between ourselves and Kolbyr,” the dwarf said in a voice that rumbled like distant earth tremors. “The captain will want to get underway in earnest.”
Diran gave Ghaji a questioning look, but the half-orc warrior only shrugged.
Thokk cleared his throat and gestured toward the door of a cabin just off the main deck. He then began speaking in an awkward, stilted manner, as if reciting lines that he’d been forced against his will to memorize. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is both my pleasure and my very great honor to introduce you to your host for this voyage … a man known in ports throughout the Principalities as the Master of Maelstroms, the Sage of the Trade Winds, and”—he momentarily lowered his voice to a murmur—“he likes this one best of all: the Lion of the Lhazaar! I give you … Captain Onu!”
The cabin door burst open and Onu stepped out onto the deck, highly polished boots thumping on the planking as he walked toward them. No, strutted would be a better word. He moved with a swaggering confidence that was so exaggerated it was almost comical. He was dressed in the same uniform he’d been wearing last night, and despite the cold, he wore no cloak for additional protection against the temperature. His captain’s uniform was spotless and appeared to have been recently pressed, which was some feat, given that the last time Ghaji had seen the man, he’d been so drunk that h
e’d spilled ale all over himself.
“Greetings, my friends! Allow me to officially welcome you aboard the Turnabout, the finest ship to ever ply the jeweled waters of the Lhazaar!”
Ghaji glanced off the port bow at the murky gray sea. He’d heard many words used to describe the Lhazaar—harsh, unforgiving, treacherous—but never jeweled.
Diran leaned close to Ghaji. “I see what you mean,” he whispered.
“I was privileged to make most of your acquaintances last night at the Ill Wind, but I see there are two fine worthies with us this day that I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting face to face.” Onu walked over to Leontis and clapped the grim priest on the shoulder. “Sir Leontis Dellacron, my humble vessel is graced by your presence!”
Leontis bowed his head to acknowledge the captain’s welcome, but otherwise didn’t respond. If Onu was disappointed by Leontis’s lackluster reaction, he gave no sign of it. Grinning broadly, he grabbed the priest’s right hand in both of his and shook it vigorously.
Ghaji leaned close to Diran this time. “Humble vessel? Didn’t he just say she was the finest ship to ply the Lhazaar a moment ago?”
Onu released Leontis’s hand and spun around so quickly that Ghaji thought the boisterous mariner might lose his balance and fall to the deck, but he remained upright. Ghaji wondered if Onu’s problem was a fondness for strong drink. It would explain his over-enthusiastic manner and why he’d slept in this morning—not to mention his abrupt and at times almost spastic movements. But when the half-orc sniffed the air, he detected no trace of alcohol on Onu, and if the man had been drinking recently, Ghaji would’ve smelled it.
The captain, near-maniacal grin firmly in place, approached Diran and shook his hand with the same enthusiastic energy as he’d greeted Leontis.
“Diran Bastiaan! To imagine the much-lauded Blade of the Flame stands upon the deck of my ship … more, that I am at this very moment shaking his hand! It as if I stand in the presence of a legend made flesh!”
Ghaji scowled. “You weren’t this excited when you met me last night. You know, the half-orc warrior who’s Diran’s partner? The man who’s stood by his side against the forces of darkness and who’s saved his life a dozen times over?”
Onu didn’t take his gaze off Diran as he responded to Ghaji. “Yes, yes, yes … and to be sure, it was a great honor and transcendent joy to meet you as well, Ghaddi.”
“That’s Gha-yee.”
“Of course it is! My most sincere apologies!” Onu still didn’t take his gaze off Diran, and he continued to shake the priest’s hand vigorously, as if it were a small animal he was attempting to throttle. “The stories I’ve heard about the two of you … To be honest, and I pray that you can both find it in your oh-so-generous hearts to forgive me. I didn’t realize that it was that Diran who wished to hire the Turnabout until after I left the tavern last night. Tell me, is it true what they say? Did you single-handedly end the curse of Kolbyr when no one else had even come close in the last hundred years?”
An expression of embarrassed annoyance crossed Diran’s face, and he gently but firmly pulled his hand away from Onu’s grasp. “I was happy to play a role in the lifting of the curse, but it was far from an individual effort. Ghaji, Asenka, and Leontis all—”
“Yes, of course, I meant no slight!” Onu said. “But you simply must tell me all about it! What was it like? Was the Fury more intense in the presence of the Baroness’s firstborn? Did the boy attempt to stop you? How did you manage—?”
Thokk cleared his throat loudly. “Captain, I believe you have something of importance you wish to do … something that will help us make better time on our journey?”
Onu looked at Thokk and frowned in momentary confusion, but then his face brightened. “Ah, yes! Of course! Master Thokk, if you would be so kind as to do the honors?”
The dwarf reached beneath his tunic collar and brought out a medallion on a metal chain. It was nothing special—just a misshapen lump of iron, really. But Thokk held it in the palm of his hand with a gentle reverence that suggested it was of great value, at least to him.
“Normally we don’t carry passengers,” Thokk said. “But the amount of money the Baroness offered was more than enough for us to make an exception in your case. What you’re about to see is something … private, and all who sign on to the Turnabout’s crew swear a magically binding oath never to reveal any of the ship’s secrets. This medallion ensures that they’ll keep their word. We’ll need you to take the same oath before we can proceed any further.”
Diran and Ghaji exchanged doubtful looks. Neither was thrilled at the prospect of being bound to an oath of which they knew nothing and, from the expressions on their faces, neither were any of their companions.
“Come now, my friends,” Onu said. “It’s a mere technicality, but I’m afraid we must insist. Trade secrets an all that, you understand.” He gave them all a smile that was at once apologetic and reassuring.
“And what happens if we decline?” Diran asked.
“Nothing,” Thokk said. “We will continue on our present heading to Trebaz Sinara.” The dwarf paused meaningfully. “At our present speed.”
“Which means we won’t arrive for eight days,” Ghaji said.
Neither Onu nor Thokk said anything more. The dwarf continued holding the iron medallion in the palm of his hand, waiting for them to make up their minds.
“I swear,” Solus said.
Light glittered across the gray surface of the medallion as its magic bound the psiforged to his oath.
“Do you know something we don’t?” Tresslar asked the psiforged.
Solus’s artificial face was incapable of expression, but one of his green eyes momentarily went black before returning to its normal color.
Ghaji had to fight to keep from grinning. Had Solus just winked? Perhaps the psiforged had decided to make an exception to his no mind-reading rule.
Hinto was the next to swear. “If Solus thinks it’s safe, then I do, too.”
That was enough. The medallion glittered as the halfling’s oath was accepted.
The rest of the companions swore in turn: Tresslar, Yvka, Asenka, Leontis, Diran and, with much reluctance, Ghaji.
Satisfied, Thokk tucked the medallion back into his tunic. He then spoke in a language Ghaji recognized as Dwarven, though he didn’t understand the words. The distortion in the air behind the three masts grew more pronounced, and then three towers appeared, atop of each a large metal circle. Ghaji recognized them as containment rings, through much larger than the one aboard the Zephyr.
“This is an elemental galleon!” Tresslar said. “No wonder your ship has a reputation for being fast. I assume the runners are visible now as well?”
Thokk said nothing, but Onu answered with his usual enthusiasm. “Everything about the ship’s true nature is now visible—to those of us who swore on the Oathbinder, that is. It wouldn’t be very practical to have crew and passengers stumbling about on deck, bashing into elemental containment towers and such that they can’t see, now would it? Would you like to take a look at the runners? All you have to do is peer over the side. I especially enjoy watching the spray they make when the ship’s running at full speed. On a sunny day, you can see little rainbows in the mist. It’s quite lovely!”
Thokk scowled and Onu looked suddenly embarrassed. “But I suppose it’s too cloudy today, isn’t it?”
“The illusion spells cloaking the containment towers aren’t bad,” Tresslar said, “but they won’t stand up to scrutiny. I suppose that’s why you make anchor so far from the docks: to keep anyone from getting a close look.”
“That, and to keep our distance from the Fury,” Onu said. “When the curse was still active, that is. It would’ve been most inconvenient to have our crew suddenly trying to kill one another.”
“What I don’t understand is why you bother to hide the true nature of your vessel,” Asenka said. “You’d get far more business if people knew how fast the Turnabout
can travel.”
“Perhaps concealing their true speed is what allows them to attract the kind of business they want,” Yvka said. She gave Onu and Thokk a meaningful look. “The kind that pays a hefty sum to have cargo transported swiftly and discreetly.”
Onu began to open his mouth, but Thokk spoke first, cutting the captain off. “You’ve paid your fee—or at least Calida has paid for you—and you’ve sworn your oaths. Now I’ll inform our pilots to rouse the elementals, and we’ll get well and truly underway. We should reach Trebaz Sinara within two days—perhaps a touch less if the pilots can squeeze a bit more wind out of the elementals. Calida has certainly paid enough for them to try.” The dwarf turned to Onu. “If you wouldn’t mind coming with me, Captain, I’m sure the pilots will work harder if you offer them some personal encouragement.”
“Of course, Bartalan! I’m always delighted to do whatever I can to help keep the crew’s spirits high!” Onu turned to Diran. “I insist that all of you join me in my cabin for dinner this evening. It’ll be somewhat cramped, but I think we’ll be able to manage. And I fully expect you to regail with me with wondrous tales of adventure for as long as the wine holds!” He laughed, clapped Diran on the back so hard that the priest staggered forward from the impact, and then Onu followed Thokk and the two began to make their way over to the closest containment tower, the captain talking loudly the entire way, and the first mate pointedly ignoring him.
Diran watched them go. “They’re an odd pair. And before you say anything, Ghaji, I know others have spoken the same about you and me. I suspect there’s more to their relationship beyond captain and mate, though I have no notion what.”
Ghaji looked at Solus. “Do you know?”
The psiforged shook his head. “I limited myself to probing the dwarf’s surface thoughts, going deep enough to determine if taking the oath would prove to be a danger to us but no farther. Even so, I sensed some vague background thoughts and emotions … enough to make me believe that Diran is correct in his assumption. Just as the true nature of the Turnabout was hidden from us, so too is the true nature of Onu and Thokk’s relationship.”
