Book XV: Danger at Dunwater

                         Being the Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, Knight

BEING   a  BEGINNING  to   BOOK  XV

If only I could cast a zone of truth spell in the Saltmarsh Council chamber, if only we could be sure. Each of the five expressed thanks and delight the Sea Ghost had been seized; each of the five clearly declared their repugnance for smuggling and larceny, particularly any trade of stolen weapons. Even Manistrad Copperlocks deigned to state her thanks for the recovery of the mining gear. Could we believe any of them? Truly? I was only sure of one matter; Elliander Fireborn would be far from happy after learning his picked Watchmen still hung back from a desperate fight. I had no doubt his wrath would fall loudly and creatively at their next muster. Some matters are best left strictly private.

Once Sea Ghost was stripped of all contraband, and Druid Rubyrubb passed three more Moonbeam spells along her decks, hold, bilges and yards, our prize was moored safely within1 Saltmarsh Harbour. Any adventurers hope to fill their pockets but this? A ship? We were all grateful for Ander Solmer’s suggestion. Saltmarsh would hire Sea Ghost as a harbour protection vessel. She would bear a chosen crew, expert archers and marines with raised mantlets and hooked boarding nets fitted along her bulwarks and every port protected by an iron grille. We would be spared the cost of her upkeep and vulnerable Saltmarsh would have a little more protection.

 It was regrettable the dead Alchemist still walked. We had come so close to destroying his ghost but at least it would not return for some considerable time. Even so, Dain Rocksmiter and I spent one full day casting Ceremony spells so that each of us had four vials of Holy Water apiece. This was certainly not cheap, the spell requires powdered silver and consecrated vials, but the benefits surely outweighed the cost. We also bought three more Antitoxin flasks. Well, its better to possess and never need than regret their lack.

Dain Rocksmiter cast Ceremony once more that day. Two Saltmarsh citizens wished to marry and he honoured their union with quiet dignity and grace. My other friends were no less busy. We all knew Halduamina Half-Elven is skilled with his sets of dice but his success left each opponent staring in shock and our Rogue vacating the Empty Net tap room the first chance that came. Less nimble men would have been found face down in the harbour! Buddynock Rubyrubb meanwhile wandered the port with a parrot on each shoulder singing Gnomish folk songs. I still hope the local bardic guild were turning a deaf ear, our Druid never requires any musical accompaniment, especially with feathered Oscar and Cuppa adding their own dialogue.

Our first task was clear and for once the Council of Saltmarsh was unanimous. Only one citizen showed any disquiet and Granchio the Limpet was bought off … eventually … with the price of her dilapidated warehouse in precious gems. “Many hands may light work and enough of them means a chance to skive!” beamed Buddynock.

Dawn was barely breaking when we began, for we would need all the daylight we could find. The wooden warehouse was torn into beams and flinders by a score of angry dockyard workers; their efforts aided by two Druidic thunderwave spells. “Xolec the Unholy will soon know our plan,” said Buddynock and it was a quiet shock to see our merry friend looking so determined. “There is no point attempting to avoid noise.”

Even so Elliander Fireborn kept a tight cordon of Watchmen around the site and we stood sentry among with them. The band of labourers with mattocks and spades were all volunteers and well paid for their efforts. Others stood ready with wicker baskets, but they had barely begun to clear the spoil when we saw a purple turban looming above the crowd. This work would soon be going far faster than we expected. Tall Keledek the Unspoken stood before us, the red imp on his right shoulder staring insolently as its forked tongue darted like a snake. 

 Even now, even today, Keledek said nothing to anyone. He did not need to. Before a bell could have tolled ten times, the silent Wizard of Saltmarsh displayed his skill. First Keledek cast a location spell to confirm beyond all doubt that Xolec the Vampire still lurked in his underground chamber. Next came a haste spell and I have never seen a pair of hands gesticulating faster as Keledek cast mould earth cantrips in quick succession, scooping away great heaps of earth. We soon uncovered the spiral staircase, then the roof of that narrow passage to the crypt. (*) 

An imp may be tiny but remains a denizen of hell!

I had to fight the urge to strike it down, but I knew this fell familiar actually existed in its own elemental plane, just like my gallant Boreas. I could only dispel, not slay this demonic entity and I would only earn the wrath of Keledek the Unspoken if I tried.

(*)            Sorry Dain … helical.

Book XIV: The Sea Ghost

 

Being the Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, Knight

BEING   a  BEGINNING  to   BOOK  XIV

So braggarts boast. So braggarts proclaim their renown to all the world. Some days they may truly deserve their acclaim and have good reason to swagger, yet I still prefer those quiet words of Sir Ector de Maris, his lament for gallant Lancelot and all lost hopes and faded dreams: “There thou liest, thou that were never matched of earthly knight’s hand; and thou were the courtliest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man that ever strake with sword; and thou were the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights; and thou was the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in rest.”

And I also recall those words carved deep above the great temple at Delphi: “Μηδὲν ἄγαν,” “Nothing in Excess.” To be true, we simply must be true, without artifice or ostentation. Rehearsed reticence wears a tawdry livery, false modesty keeps one eye firmly fixed on any audience. (*)

So yes, any Paladin has a certain perspective. Each rightful quest must be attempted come what may; each rightful quest must be accomplished no matter the cost. And yes, such views are not always shared. “By Olidammara’s fancy fingers!” Halduamina sounded truly hurt. “Wrestle one task to the ground and just expect another winging your way!” Our Half Elf Rogue pulled his lucky piece from his pocket. Fast as thought, the silver coin spun gleaming through the air, then plunged down into his pouch in the blink of an eye. A neat trick no matter how many times I watched. (**)

We had met the five worthies of Saltmarsh once again, making our report as soon as austere Skerrin the Butler ushered us into the Guild Hall. I admit I do not find most of them easy company. The dwarf Manistrad sits stolid as a statue unless her beloved mine is ever threatened. Grey-haired Eda Oweland would bicker over a bucket of rotting fish heads even after selling six full trawl nets. Gellan the dandy, takes such pains to appear a friend to all the world. He smiles, his golden monocle gleams; Gellan’s praise is always effusive, but I would not like to rest my full weight upon it.

Halduamina’s “Lucky Piece” bears the wry smiling signum of Olidammara.

Wise men beware far more than mere orcs!

(*)             I mean no criticism of my friend. Buddynock Rubyrubb is never boastful, not really, my friend is simply enthusiastic, uninhibited and usually so grateful to still possess four limbs and his long nose, he just has to tell some other reveller his latest escapade.

Often embroidered so lavishly the famed tapestry of Bayeux could pass as a privy wipe in comparison!

(**)         I cannot say I care for nimble Halduamina’s Trickster God.

Sly Olidammara has his place, I suppose, yet I cannot claim to feel comfortable in his presence.