I am no mariner to pass an informed opinion, yet I
can still safely say The Primewater Pleasure was
like no craft I had ever imagined. I
heard the old salts along the quayside talking and realised she was also a mystery to them despite all their long years at sea.
A sleek vessel built for luxury and speed, with
lines like a levelled lance. A ship to
display wealth, a ship to outrun anything else afloat. The Primewater Pleasure
was sheathed in burnished metal plates, as close fitting as the scales of a
serpent: some arcane amalgamation of meteorite iron and mithril for strength
and lightness. Even Dain Rocksmiter was
taken aback by such metallurgy.
The ship’s wheel was huge, larger than any we had seen before, at least five feet across and covered in glowing arcane runes; the deck was holystoned so each plank gleamed white, the burnished brass work shone like gold and each knot along the rigging was perfect as a wish come true. The three scarlet sails each had rigid battens in the canvas to speed and guide the flow of air. The three masts needed no stays to brace them, despite this ships’ superb speed. The Primewater Pleasure handled like a playful falcon and made our own Sea Ghost or even the gallant Unicorn seem spavined dray horses in comparison Each ensorcelled sail could be raised or lowered, reefed or furled by simple verbal commands from the quarterdeck; pumps, rudder, anchor, and capstan all worked by merely a word of command! The Primewater Pleasure was truly a magical ship.
 |
The Primewater Pleasure under easy sail and a fair
day dawning.
|
No one in our party spoke openly but I am sure we
were all remembering our Herculean efforts aboard poor holed Unicorn. At least we would not be desperately working
the pumps on this ship. Hopefully. “And one to put many honest sailors on the beach for
ever,” muttered Buddynock. “That’s
certainly what Shupatra would have said.
Or sung. I wonder if she has branched out into sea shanties?”
Wily Halduamina winked and pointed, but with his arm
held close to his side. The Primewater
Pleasure was far better armed than we ever expected. Six smooth turrets were
set along each beam, with a brace more in bows and stern. All barely the size of a bascinet, but each
spitting caged lightning at any enemy.
“What by famed Durin’s forked beard did she cost to build?” Dain Rocksmiter muttered.
“I can see why Gellan Primewater would prefer King
Skotti never turns his attention
northward again,” I said. “Continued
independence means no one supervising his books and business.”
“So you think our host’s wealth is not solely from
safe trading then?” Dain smiled sardonically.
“I suspect Gellan Primewater knows far more about
smuggling than he cares to admit!” replied Halduamina. “I just wonder if the gang we defeated were
rivals or one part of his own operation.”
“He certainly seemed pleased they were brought to
justice,” Dain nodded. “Unless
Counsellor Gellan is a far finer actor than we imagine.”
“It’s strange how someone clever enough to acquire
great wealth dishonestly then raises suspicion by flaunting it,” I said.
“Unless they simply reach a point when there is
nothing else to spend it on,” exclaimed Dain.
We met one familiar face on the quayside. Tall, silver-haired and slender as a wand,
Skerrin Wavechaser the attentive butler to Anders Solmor, was waiting patiently
as his Master’s baggage was carried aboard.
A silent Half Elf, only speaking when there was truly something to say,
a tireless servant, a calm and intelligent mind. Skerrin nodded to Halduamina and Buddynock
then asked with calm assurance if Dain Rocksmiter or I should require any
assistance.  Skerrin Wavechaser, austere Half Elf butler to the
Solmor family  In bright sunlight, with blue skies and calm sea it
was hard to believe little Saltmarsh faced such dangers. This banquet would afford us a slight rest from our
labours and the chance to discuss the safety of Saltmarsh with the only
citizens rich enough to foot the bill. Not to mention a respite from our efforts to master Draconic from the primer provided by Minister Sauvik of Dunmarsh. After twenty days we were all making progress. Bright Halduamina was proving the most adept yet the rest of us were not too far behind him. Given time I am sure we would all learn enough for at least a simple conversation.It was just mastering the guttural grammar I found so taxing. “I just find it helps when I’ve been shifted into cat form and am hacking up a furball,” said our Druid. |
At least our tiny crew seemed proficient. Captain Misty Swail stood spyglass in hand
upon her quarterdeck. She carried a heavy cutlass and wore a long navy doublet with golden trim and a
crossed bandolier under her topcoat with throwing knives sheathed on either
side. Captain Swail spoke with the brisk
courtesy of a skilled professional who only wants all civilians, however
well-meaning, to clear space so her work
could continue undisturbed.
Captain Misty ‘No crew’ Swail
Buddynock Rubyrubb seeed very taken.
My Gnomish friend made mention of being “only the
second-greatest, but I try harder.”
But why a stepladder?
First Mate Wardell was less genial, a bear of a man
with fine black jacket and the Crown’s symbol displayed for all to see. The salt stains had been brushed from his
dark cocked hat, but his rolling gait and weatherbeaten cheeks made it clear he
was a veteran of the sea, for neither
the rolling waves or his wooden left leg proved any hindrance as he moved from quarter
deck to companion stairway. Wardell clearly
regarded us all with disdain and almost dropped his pipe at his first sight of Buddynock
Rubyrubb’s nautical cap with nodding feather! A man as warm as a white dragon.
First Mate Wardell
I still cannot comprehend just why Buddynock
Rubyrubb wanted to try exchanging hats with Wardell
and just why
our gruff First Mate let him!
Our cruise would barely last two days, but by great
and vengeful earthshaker Poseidon, I was still astonished at so small a crew! Even
with all the marvels around us I could not understand how our Captain and grim
Wardell simply stood watch and watch about.
Did they see the doubts in my face or were they both simply used to
explaining how the Primewater Pleasure sailed the seas? I was wrong, very wrong, there was a third
crewmember to take their turn at the great wheel and in time we would meet this
Andadel Crixar.
We heard the hum of conversation from the great
cabin amidships, but we needed to find our own quarters before joining our
fellow guests. Below decks was even more ornate, rare rich wood inlays and
polished metalwork, diamond etched porthole glass, hanging tapestries and
silverware fit for a Duke, this was a pleasure craft indeed. Our cabins were on the lower deck, each was
below the waterline yet the air was still fresh and the small chambers were
clean and so well turned out it seemed a discourtesy to even check for any
traps.
It is true no one expects hardy adventurers to dress
with distinction, yet there are still social niceties all the same. We had all paid a visit to the best Saltmarsh
bathhouse where the tubs were clean and the water hot. Halduamina was wearing his finest clothing
and Dain and I doffed all armour save our engraved cuirasses. The extra coin we had paid back in many
towered Svarstaag was for just this contingency. Wearing a
breast and back plate may be frowned upon in fine society, but when the steel is burnished
and decorative, the practice is acceptable all the same. Just. Well, there was much at stake and we
put our own safety above fine sensitivities;
too much had occurred in small Saltmarsh already for either Dain
Rocksmiter or I to take any wanton chances. (*)
“I notice Eliander Fireborn is not invited even if
his daughter is,” as I flexed my
shoulders under their steel pauldrons. That savage injury from Tylo the
Assassin still stung at times even now.
“Carmilla betrothed to young Anders Solmor?” Dain nodded.
“They both seem decent enough.”
I smiled wryly. “But we are still feeling our way
through this society and with only small pieces of the maze.”
“You?” Dain
seemed truly surprised. “Wary of this
resplendent social outing?”
“More than you might realise,” I replied. “Still it will be one night to plan and rest
and prepare for this Island of the Abbey. ”
“But we keep Buddynock Rubyrubb away from these
lightning projectors!” Dain exclaimed.
“That? Oh
yes, most definitely!” The last time I nodded so fiercely my visor had
clanged shut!
The moment had come. I drew a deep breath, nodded to
my comrades and slid the door of the main cabin open. We saw a long table lit by hanging lanterns,
we saw plates and cutlery all laid out for a banquet. Five faces turned at our
approach; save Skerrin the Butler who
was already fully occupied serving a decanter of wine.
(*) Buddynock
Rubyrubb did wipe the worst of the stains from his tunic and trousers, combed
his hair and beard and left both his parrots back at our lodgings.
He did still insist on wearing his pirate admiral’s hat.
“Yes, I did ALL I could!” sighed Dain Rocksmiter. “Please remember I can ONLY suggest and WARN!”
-2-
Carmilla Fireborn
These nobles of Saltmarsh might bicker over politics
and trading rights, yet they still met socially with their rivals. Young Anders Solmor greeted us cordially, his
tanned face and arms showed he had been working hard in the midday sun, but he
certainly seemed dapper and contented. Anders
carried no obvious weapon, unless his carved wooden cane was more than it
seemed.
The young woman on
his arm was new to us. Carmilla
Fireborn, daughter of Watch captain Eliander was striking enough to draw
anyone’s eye. She also greeted us
graciously and her polite manner seemed as genuine as Anders. Her dress had been sewn by a master of the
art and despite being long enough to trail along the deck we saw no trace of
dirt or dust upon the hem, some magic was clearly keeping the fabric
clean. No Watch officer is ever paid a
fortune and gruff Eliander Fireborn lived on his own limited resources, so I
was surprised indeed to learn he had bought such a splendid diamond pendant for
his daughter. I also did not expect Carmilla
Fireborn to have a rearing red dragon tattoo curving across her bare left
shoulder. That is one practice I associate with mariners
and criminal orders more than privileged society. (*)
We sailed with only a small crew but we still sailed
well protected all the same. Father Wyndham was far older than I expected and
the man made little attempt to be sociable, yet his quavering voice still
carried across the quayside as he invoked divine favour on our cruise with a
fervent prayer to Procan, Lord of Wild Seas and Deep Waters. Some clerics rarely stray beyond their shrine
but this Father Wyndham was clearly a frequent guest aboard these pleasure
voyages even if this quiet man was too
frail to trudge twenty miles a day in search of gold and glory.
(*) “But
where does the tail go?” I heard
Buddynock whispering to Halduamina.
Interesting. I was not aware our Rogue had taught even a little Thieves’ Cant to our Druid.
Even I could make out Halduamina’s hasty coded reply; “Don’t ask!
Don’t!”
Any person of status must recognise their own worth, yet I confess some pleased relief at seeing the bond between young Anders and attentive Skerrin Wavechaser; a loyal servant may lack nobility but still possess honest wisdom and experience only fools would ever ignore.
-3-
Father Wyndham
Our genial host was speaking ceaselessly. Gellan Primewater seemed everywhere at once as he welcomed his guests aboard. His twin pointed beard was dressed with
perfumed oils, his enchanted fur trimmed cape billowed even without a breeze. A
man who never stopped beaming, a man who bestowed his rapt attention on anyone
who addressed him, rich or poor, noble or commoner. At least when he knew someone
else was watching. One glance at Counsellor
Primewater in quieter moments and we all saw his haughty arrogance and disdain.
We still did not know the extent of his wealth, but Dain
and I were certain genial Gellan Primewater knew more about local smuggling
than he cared to admit. I was wary of
the man, we both were, but Dain and I knew we needed dapper Gellan’s continued
goodwill to continue our desperate mission.
At least there was no indication he served fell Tharizdun! Despite his
political differences with young Solmor and the Fireborn family, today Gellan
Primewater seemed intent on a smooth voyage and happy diversions.
Gellan Primewater, about to don his gilt monocle
once more.
Give the counsellor company and suddenly see the man
smile.
Only languid Mormac Seymour seemed to disagree. It is folly to judge too quickly, yet this man did seem to fit a trope I
already knew far too well. Another minor
noble with an old name but shallow pockets, another down at heel aristocrat
stuffed with pride and garnished with arrogance yet lacking coin and influence
all the same. It quickly became clear
where he found some compensations. Within moments the man was boasting he could
cast more magics than any wizard’s apprentice. There was a bite to Mormac’s
speech I did not care for, was the man
already in his cups? He must have been
poor indeed, if he could not afford to have that coarse birthmark removed from
his right cheek. Mormac’s clothing was
certainly well cut and an intricate purple crystal swung from a chain about his
neck, but the gold trim on his coat
lacked true lustre. (*)
Mormac Seymour
Poor Halduamina was rather rash to engage him in a
“friendly” game of dice.
Did Mormac have magical assistance when he won 400
gold pieces from our luckless Rogue?
We took our allotted places around the long dining
table, Gellan Primewater at the head, his back to the ship’s bows, with Anders
Solmor and Carmilla Fireborn on his right side, peevish Mormac and Father
Wyndham on the left. We filled the four
seats at the foot of the table, nearest the swinging doors to the galley and
the companionway stairs, as faithful Skerrin Wavechaser hovered attentively,
eyes downcast, hands folded modestly across his chest. Gellan Primewater clapped twice and the two
crystal lanterns hanging over our heads burst into brilliant life.
Barely three days ago we were battling that dread
Druid Krell. So I hope I can be forgiven
for some surprise at the first sight of our ship’s cook. A hulking figure strode into the long cabin,
his long arms laden with a burnished tureen, his jagged tusks pointing past his
grey cheeks. His clothes were
immaculate, the polished silverware shone; this Urgaub clearly took pride in
his craft but, by the Dog, whoever expects a brawny Half Orc to ever prepare
their meals? Times change, times are
always changing, we know this well but we can still be astonished when old expectations are
confounded. Especially after our
desperate struggle aboard the Empress of the Waves! Half Orcs and Tieflings are part of our shared world, I
know that well, yet they are not so obvious I feel immediate ease in their
company.
(*) “A steel chain,” whispered Dain Rocksmiter. “Not silver.” Trust any dwarf to know his metals.
We had seen enough treachery in Saltmarsh
already; arms smuggling, corruption and
that damned assassin Tylo clearly had help to escape his cell.
So yes, even on such a short cruise, we were careful
to observe our companions!
-4-
Urgaub the Half Orc ship’s cook.
We somehow doubted his professional repertoire
included many vegan options.
A banquet lay before us, as conversation rose like
soaring larks. We heard Gellan lavishing
praises upon his guests, as Urgaub continued to place laden dishes and platters
before us. Mormac Seymour seemed to live behind a scowl but young Anders and
Carmilla were smiling back down the long table.
Halduamina was still mourning his lost purse but Buddynock Rubyrubb was
watching his fellow diners intently as he calculated the next fork and knife he
should employ. Captain Swail joined us
for some quiet words with our host; some question on our course required
answering.
All seemed well, it truly did. Apart from learning to sit gracefully while
clad in a metal cuirass. After our recent battles with fiends and ghasts aboard
that doomed merchant vessel, I cannot express my relief when I sensed no undead
or demons aboard the Primewater Pleasure.
A night’s brief respite, a chance to ponder and plan; this short rest
would surely make our long search more effective.
I know the old Hellenic words oh so well: “count no one happy until they are safely
dead, for at best they’re merely fortunate.”
A moment later and ink black darkness suddenly shrouded the whole cabin,
as swift as an arrow leaving a bow. Did
it spread from the centre of the table?
We heard cries of alarm, the scrape of chairs pushed back as frightened people
rose to their feet, we heard a cry of pain as something heavy hit the deck then
a choking cry, and a thud as something crashed onto the table, followed by a
hideous gargling cry. We could see
nothing, nothing at all, this was some foul sorcery!
An instant later and the blackness receded revealing
a horrible scene. Father Wyndham lay
groaning on the deck, his fallen chair beside him. Mormac Seymour had drawn his court sword, young Anders stood protectively before
Carmilla as Captain Swail stood like a greyhound in the slips, a long dagger in
each of her hands. Gellan Primewater simply
gaped in horror, his mouth opening and closing like a stranded
fish. Skerrin Wavechaser lay slumped
across the table, his eyes staring, his neck slashed open, a bloodstained bone
dagger lying beside him. No one spoke,
no one moved; a moment later and everyone in that cabin seemed to be shouting.
Dain Rocksmiter was frantically reaching for the
diamonds concealed within his belt, but his eyes widened with horror. “Fangs of the Nidhogg they’ve gone! The scroll too!”
Father Wyndham staggered to his feet, clearly groggy
from his fall, but still acting swiftly all the same. Like Dain he found his carefully stored
diamond was missing but Father Wyndham suddenly snatched at the diamond pendant
around Carmilla Fireborn’s neck. She
cried out in surprise, but Father Wyndham was already casting Revivify with
frantic speed. We all saw the gaping
wound on Skerrin’s throat knitting together, the stricken butler gasped as he desperately
gulped for air before being copiously sick across the table. His life had been saved with seconds to spare.
“That was a darkness spell,” said Dain. “Who by Bifrost cast it?”
Father Wyndham seemed about to speak, then the
colour drained from his face, his eyes rolled back, the man began to retch, his
hands raised helplessly to the heavens.
His lips were blistered, his gums black and bleeding. Father Wyndham dropped like a felled tree,
dead before he hit the deck. There was
nothing I could do for him, nothing anyone could do, but I swiftly began
casting protection from poison until we all realised nobody else was in any
danger.
“Someone steals every Cleric’s diamonds to stop them
casting Revivify but Carmilla Fireborn just happens to be wearing a suitable
pendant?” said Halduamina. “Not to mention our missing spell scroll.”
We stood staring at each other across a table
littered with spilt food, and broken plates, spreading blood and worse. Had someone pushed poor Father Wyndham to
slay Skerrin? He sat between Carmilla
Fireborn and myself, but the young lady
seemed as shocked as anyone else at this ruined banquet. One factor was plain
as a pike point. These worthies of
Saltmarsh were accustomed to indulging their own whims, far from any guiding
hand or watchful eye. None of these
petty nobles would take kindly to questions let alone any search of their
private cabins. We were still at sea, on
a ship only the crew could manage. I
could not simply cast zone of truth and expect to find swift answers.
Captain Swail and First Mate Wardell were summoned
in turn, each given the stark facts and told to turn our prow homeward without
delay. Both mariners seemed truly
shocked, but we all saw the surprise in Swail’s face when she saw the fatal
dagger lying in full view. I barely had
to pose a question before Swail was speaking.
“My house in Saltmarsh was robbed.
“Four, no five nights ago.” She pulled open her long captain’s coat,
displaying crossed leather bandoliers, each holding two brace of long daggers. “Each knife is a trophy taken in battle; the
pirate captains who once wielded them all lay dead at my feet. Whoever entered my home stole three. That bone knife there on the table is the
first.”
Swail accepted her bone dagger would be impounded
while our investigation continued. Wily
Halduamina has clearly old experience of City Watchmen seeking answers and
Buddynock Rubyrubb cast an enhance ability spell upon himself, employing Fox’s Cunning
to increase his own insights as they scoured all the ship save the private
cabins. Dain and I stayed with our
fellow guests. I did my best to persuade our fellow passengers to comply. Mormac Seymour grumbled but Anders Solmor
seemed willing enough. Carmilla Fireborn
was sitting as far from the table as possible and Gellan Primewater was still
too shocked to make much sense. Poor
Skerrin the Butler still pawed at his throat, still struggling to believe his
fatal wound had been sealed.
Just when was Father Wyndham poisoned? Was this some immediate toxin or had some
cunning mind employed a slow acting venom? Who could we believe, what did we
actually know? Were any of these people
guilty? Were all of them!
At least there was
no doubt Dain Rocksmiter was correct when he stated: ”Someone aboard surely
cast a darkness spell as Father Wyndham was pushed over and Skerrin stabbed. For the record I have not memorized that
magic today.” Our comrade spoke with
firm calmness but we were all quite aware every soul aboard the ship was a
suspect. “And I‘ll stake all great
Durin’s treasures someone summoned a mage hand to steal my diamonds and
scroll!”
“Would Mormac Seymour care to enlighten us as to the
contents of his spell book?” I asked.
Men can snarl without uttering a word. Mormac exhaled heavily, bit down on his lip,
pondered and confessed such magic was beyond his capabilities. “Mage hand yes, that’s mere apprentice trickery,
but for the moment a darkness spell is beyond my capabilities. For the moment!”
Gellan Primewater appeared more collected now, in
the way a man hanging over a yawning precipice smiles when he clutches a
trailing tree branch with his second hand. I am not certain what shocked him
most, the callous attempt on two lives or the ruination of his plans for fine
dining. His grin was back but the mirth never reached his eyes.
We finally met the last member of our small company:
the sea mage responsible for each enchantment aboard this wondrous vessel. Andadel Crixar seemed only too familiar: his scarlet robes
and hat were stained and dirty, his finger nails blackened and broken, his
hands filthier than a fuller’s pots.
Aged like a half lit candle and so covered in white whiskers, we could
only truly see his angry eyes. Few are
so wantonly discourteous as a preoccupied wizard disturbed during arcane
research. His small cabin reeked of
pipeweed, the curving timbers were crammed with book shelves and open lockers
for rolled scrolls. Parchments lay like
windblown autumn leaves, many with scrawls of looming magic towers crowned with
gold. Much as I love my own chivalric
chronicles, I cannot help comparing the arrogance of so many bookish wizards
with the warm zest for life from our old comrade the elven sorceress Celmar.
This wizard clearly registered the fact of Wyndham’s
death, Andadel Crixar understood someone aboard had tried to commit
two murders, the acts premeditated and planned.
Yet for all the concern this sea mage showed we could have been
informing him the brass compass binnacles needed burnishing! Did the man feel no concern at all? Did Andadel Crixar comprehend the impression he made? Or was this all some careful double bluff?
Wizard Andadel Crixar
“And people call me scruffy!” Buddynock Rubyrubb sounded genuinely
aggrieved. “At least the stuff on my
tootsies is just honest mud. Trust a
wizard to be covered in fag ash and semi forgotten egg stains!”
“Alchemical burns surely?” said Dain.
Our Druid’s reply could not be spelt out but proved
clear and expressive all the same.
Halduamina
Half Elven has a keen mind for investigations and crafty Buddynock Rubyrubb kept
casting Fox’s Cunning on himself as they continued their search. We were still
refused entry to any private cabins, but at least the shared spaces on our ship
were all clear, from the mast head down to the keel. Nothing I said could open those cabins. We
were still on the high sea, far from land, we could not press this point just
now. (*)
These worthies of Saltmarsh rejected any suggestion
of remaining in the great cabin together, each insisted on returning to their
own chambers to sleep. We laid out poor
Father Wyndham shrouded in sailcloth as Swail, Andadel Crixar and Wardell continued to take turn and turn
about at the wheel. We were still too
far out to glimpse the lights of Saltmarsh but even landsmen can read the stars
and we were sure the Primewater Pleasure was speeding home.
“Are we leaping to
assumptions?” said careful Dain. “If we assume the murder and robberies are definitely linked?”
“An
excellent point,” I replied, “but I think it would be an incredible coincidence
for all the diamonds aboard to vanish and your scroll so we find it impossible
to cast Revivify again. “
(*) I can observe, but I cannot claim to always
understand.
Druid Rubyrubb also donned his grubby coat and lit
a long cigarillo as he said: “Oh, just one more thing…”
Halduamina Half Elf is most adept with pen and ink.
I cannot pretend to fully understand his style or
his subject but I am sure this is meant to be a likeness of little Buddynock
Rubyrubb zealous on the search for truth and justice.
I suppose I am more familiar with ‘mean streets’
myself.
A more elementary proposition.
-5-
The full moon fled that night
and the weather closed in around us as the Primewater Pleasure sailed homeward
through a vicious squall. Some
enchantment thankfully held us steady through the choppy waves and plunging sea,
but a sudden storm still drenched our decks and we all fell asleep to the
steady patter of raindrops. Our helm was
manned and faithful Boreas still swam beneath our keel in hippocampus form, his
keen eyes alert for any peril from below.
We also left Wilson on patrol all that night, trundling up and down the walkway
between our cabins once Buddynock Rubyrubb had emptied his two bags of tiny
steel balls into the passageways on the middle deck and careful Halduamina had
dusted all the door handles with powdered chalk. Alas, our precautions were to
no avail, we woke at dawn, woke to screams fit for any torture chamber.
Even now, I still hope
Anders Solmor was too shocked to truly comprehend. His gaping mouth opened and
closed without a single intelligible word and his dark eyes were dead as a ring
wraith. He could not speak, he merely made sounds, he made sounds and pointed
to the bed they had shared. The silk
pillow was a sopping pool of blood, we saw the indentation left by Ander’s tall
body, saw young Carmilla Fireborn lying still in the bed, a long dagger jutting
from her right eye. Clothes lay neatly folded for the morning, the cabin seemed completely
in order, all for the obscenity of that young woman lying slain in her sleep,
killed before she was even aware of any assailant. The round porthole stood open; we saw a
puddle of water left by the driving rain.
Captain Misty Swail confirmed the fatal blade was her stolen dagger of venom,
taken from her Saltmarsh home only a few days ago.
“The only mercy is that
Carmilla clearly died instantly,” whispered Buddynock Rubyrubb. “So the dagger
was thrown through the porthole?”
Halduamina nodded. “Nasty.
Very nasty. And definitely from
outside the ship.” I trusted my
comrade’s deduction, well, any Rogue knows how to hurl a knife, but that was a
smooth, sheer hull outside; how by high Olympos had this killer been able to
make such a throw? There are truly times
I could honestly curse all enchantments.
How simple it must be to investigate crimes in a world without magic!
Our murderer was surely still
aboard and might strike again. The
nobles of Saltmarsh were less reluctant now, or simply too shocked to refuse
our request to search their rooms.
Halduamina and Buddynock took the lead, our Druid still enhancing his
investigation skills with a new fox’s cunning spell every hour. They made sure Wilson the automaton bucket
stood sentry while they worked; we
could not risk any assailant attacking our comrades while they were so
preoccupied.
Dain Rocksmiter and I sat
with our fellow passengers in the main cabin.
Few spoke, most sat staring into space, stunned by three deaths in such quick
succession and too fearful to step outside alone. Young Anders Solmor was still unable to
speak while Gellan Primewater was
shifting from shocked silence to a raging outrage that anyone could dare suspect
him. Mormac Seymor seemed least affected
by the killings until I realised the man’s quiet dissociation was his own means
of shielding himself from the horror. Our small crew still took turn at the
wheel, Swail and Wardell both donned heavy armour and both were only too ready
to draw their blades. Wizard Andadel still
showed scant regard for any other mortal and merely scribbled away in his
chamber apart from those hours he stood his turn at the wheel. Skerrin the Butler attempted to fulfil his
duties but he was reaching up to touch his healed throat every other instant;
the poor man was clearly still shocked by his former injury, still struggling
to believe he was still alive.
We would need the wits of
Daedalos himself to solve this! Halduamina and Buddynock resumed their
investigation and no one dared protest when the searched every cabin and
cupboard, every locker, chest or case. Persistence
is sometimes the only ally we ever have. At last, at long last we found an actual clue! All the
evidence a judge could want was found in Gellan Primewater’s cabin. The last missing dagger of Captain Swail, the
stolen diamond of dead Father Wyndham and letters suggesting young Carmilla Fireborn
had been more than friendly to dapper Gellan!
“But he’s old enough to be
her granddad!” Buddynock Rubyrubb is so often too good-hearted to see much ill
in the world.
“Money’s a great
aphrodisiac,” was all our sardonic Rogue replied.
I confess to utter
confusion. I was certain unless Gellan Primewater was a superb actor his shock
at these discoveries was completely genuine.
I had no liking for the man but that was no reason to ascribe guilt
without good cause. Gellan kept
repeating “forgeries, forgeries.” and stared with stark surprise at the stolen
dragon tooth knife.
“What killer hides damning evidence in his own
room?” muttered Dain Rocksmiter.
“Do we consider a double bluff? I spoke without any conviction.
Dain snorted: “Is
that concept ever considered outside some melodrama performed for some
backwoods hamlet festival?”
I
could only nod. “If this is not some
convoluted act of revenge, I will stake my signet ring these killings are tied
to rival smuggling bands. Unless, unless, this is political?”
All we can do is keep
going, however long the road. And however baffled we may be, only fools think
their foes never make mistakes!
Keen-eyed Halduamina saw the pouch first, dropped near the high carved
stern. Inside was a piece of bitumen wrapped in waxed paper and a tiny money
spider. Buddynock’s eyes gleamed
brighter than star light. “This could be just the break in the case we’re
looking for!”
A heartbeat later and our
shapeshifting Druid had disappeared and suddenly two small spiders sat facing
each other atop that pouch. We saw their
front legs waving, first one, then both. They scuttled forward, then darted back;
their movements a perfect mirror and precise as a stately saraband. Another instant and the original spider held
both fore legs aloft while the second appeared to leap up and down on the spot. The sea air seemed to shimmer. Only one
spider remained on the pouch and our Forest Gnome friend stood before us once
more.
“Tiny Tim the spider saw it all!” said
Buddynock. “The killer cast a spider
climb spell, the balletic bastard was clambering around the hull of the ship,
clinging on by magic.”
“Yes, Yes!” exclaimed Dain Rocksmiter. “And this murderer is … ?”
Captain “Misty” Swail’s fatal
dagger of venom
Skerrin Wavechaser’s pale
eyes gleamed like a dragon in the dark, his demure demeanour cast aside swifter
than a swooping hawk. Quicker than
thought, two long daggers came flying from his hands, slicing the corner from
Buddynock’s borrowed hat and missing Dain Rocksmiter by a hair’s breadth at
best. Even as Skerrin aimed and threw,
his sleep spell left all of our companions save doughty Urgaub the Half Orc,
slumped insensible in their seats.
Skerrin the Butler? Skerrin the Assassin! He leapt back like an
ape and sped for the companionway even as I ripped long Talon from its sheath
and nimble Halduamina drew his rapier.
One of us was already
shouting a warning to Captain Misty but wise Buddynock Rubyrubb was even
faster. The carven oak focus around his neck glowed with green light and a long
vine lashed out from his raised hands, leaping thirty feet like a lunging
snake. Fleeing Skerrin snarled in pain
as our Druid’s spiked thorn whip curled around his waist, dragging him back
bodily into the dining cabin and through the snarled spike growth summoned by
Dain Rocksmiter. Our vicious foe was
snared, trapped, but our vicious foe had no thought of surrender! We had never known an enemy so nimble.
Buddynock’s magic Thorn
Whip
We had never seen our Druid cast this cantrip before.The enchanted vine shot from his hands like a striking snake, thirty feet long and festooned with fearsome spines.
I’m just relieved our Gnomish comrade is a friendly sort!
Buddynock certainly drew Skerrin Wavechaser’s full attention as well as drawing the fleeing assassin ten feet back towards us.
Halduamina and I lunged
together, yet agile Skerrin simply eluded our blades! By the Dog what was he wearing, one of my thrusts should surely have sunk
home to the hilt yet even mighty Talon could not cut his simple butler’s
apparel. Two further daggers filled his
hands and poor Halduamina stumbled back, his sword arm slashed, a gaping wound
across his chest, his skin blackened and burning as venom on the blades sank
home.
Dain’s Guiding Bolt
missed, we were packed far too closely for Buddynock to cast his moonbeam
spell, our Druid tried his thorn whip cantrip again but now the spiked vine
fell back from Skerrin’s enchanted garb.
Long Talon carved flying splinters from the cabin door as this elven
assassin evaded me again. I could feel
our growing panic, was this cunning fiend invincible, but then angry Urgaub the
chef struck home with his heavy cleaver, shouting defiance in some rhythmic
undulating Nordic dialect, his sing song speech pitched first low then high in
musical cadence.
Skerrin’s
long knives danced through my guard, my cuirass stopped one, but the second
opened a deep wound in my shoulder, I gasped in pain as the poisoned blade bit
home and swore in frustration as this elvish assassin ducked under my own sword,
simultaneously evading the rapier thrusts of Halduamina. Little Buddynock was pulling Wilson the
automaton from his pack as Dain’s second Guiding Bolt struck home and Skerrin’s
pale skin blistered as his body was outlined in magic fire. Yet even with this to aid us neither
Halduamina, nor Urgaub, nor I could strike home and to our horror we saw the
doughty Half-Orc drop dead to the deck, his green throat slashed open, his
white chef’s coat drenched scarlet.
Brave
Buddynock charged forward to join us magic shillelagh raised to strike as wily
Dain summoned his celestial magic weapon and smote Skerrin with a further
Guiding Bolt, our Cleric comrade summoning the very utmost of his divine powers. I was casting Wrathful smite, I was determined to bring our fierce
foe down, any thoughts of capture had
fled, we were fighting for sheer survival now.
One more wound would fell Halduamina, and little Buddynock swore in pain
as Skerrin’s long knives struck, for even watchful Wilson could not deflect
this attack.
Only
Dain Rocksmiter was hitting home, we still could not land a buffet on wily Skerrin;
this elvish assassin was utterly fearless and even injured he still moved
faster than a falcon; he appeared to dance around our blades rather than parry
us.
Halduamina
is nimble too, our lithe Rogue managed dodge the worst of one attack just as
Dain’s third enhanced Guiding Bolt burst home in a silent sunburst. Skerrin Wavechaser was wounded again, he
staggered once, but only for an instant; he had fought us all to a standstill,
by the Dog, this elvish assassin was more than a match for any of us alone!
Skerrin neither asked nor offered quarter.
To our horror his long knives lashed out and poor Buddynock Rubyrubb
fell lifeless. I struck once, twice,
heavy Talon finally cleaving home empowered by the divine might of Pallas
Athene, my wrathful smite sending Skerrin the Assassin dead to the deck, the
magic daggers flying from his hands, the last emotion in his cold eyes stark
fear.
As
Dain was frantically searching Skerrin’s corpse for our stolen diamonds; Halduamina and I raced forward, heedless of
any tearing thorns blocking the passage, but Dain stopped concentrating on his
spell and his spike growth simply faded before us. We had only moments to save Buddynock. Lithe Halduamina was already ransacking Skerrin’s
small cabin as I ran to the swinging door.
We pulled apart bedding and bedframe, ripped clothes asunder, sent the
contents of his locker sprawling across the deck. Nothing, we found nothing, but then we heard
a roar of triumph from Dain and we staggered back to the dining cabin to see our
comrade clutching his stolen belt. Dain Rocksmiter was calling on divine Marthomir
Duin, our comrade was casting Revivify at the last possible moment. Wise Dain
pulled Buddynock back from death with barely a heartbeat to spare, the holy
magic reducing a precious diamond to mere motes of shining light as the spell
took effect.
We
had all watched when Dain saved those two Dunwater lizardfolk, but this was the
first time, the only time to date, our
Dwarven comrade has brought one of our own party back from the dark lands. We already knew Cleric Rocksmiter was more
than capable, none of us doubted his skill, yet we still gaped in wonder as
Dain saved Buddynock’s life. We had
faced death and peril together for a full year now, standing side by side on
foul days and fair, trusting our lives to our comrades, trusting them
absolutely. And we had come so close to
losing Druid Rubyrubb forever, his merry life snatched from us in the blink of
an eye.
I
did not ask brave Buddynock what he had experienced. If our friend wanted to
tell us he would, if our Gnomish comrade preferred to remain silent that was
his own choice and no one could, or should compel him to speak. Druid Rubyrubb was cracking jokes again as
soon as the breath was back in his body but we saw his eyes and saw the shock
in his face. Faithful Wilson never
utters a sound, yet even this bucket automaton was trying to reach his fallen
master and be certain our friend was back among us once more, hale and hearty
and checking his pouch for loose change.
“Don’t
give me any of that solemn Roncevaux malarkey!” Buddynock Rubyrubb smiled
hopefully. “Surely after THAT I am
CLEARLY entitled to a swig from Dain’s brandywine flask! If this is not a bloody medicinal purpose what
could be? I take it you did get the
crafty bastard then?”
Captain Misty ‘No Crew’ Swail standing proud upon
the prow of the Primewater Pleasure.
We had altered course, we were sailing for the naval base at Seaton,hoping the garrison clerics had the prowess three of our ship’s company so desperately needed.
Father Wyndham, Carmilla Fireborn and doughty Urgaub were beyond our own skills now, but if there was still a chance of saving them it had to be taken.
Without the naval
station of Seaton and their attentive priests, neither Urgaub, fair Camilla or
Father Wyndham would have ever seen the light of the sun again. If they had not kept such rich diamonds ready
in their vaults no Raise Dead spell could have been cast. Their Cardinel certainly looked askance at
the notion of bringing any Half Orc commoner back to life but we made our
wishes plain. But for brave Urgaub any
one of us might have fallen to Skerrin’s envenomed blades alongside poor
Buddynock.
We gained no hard coin
from this venture, indeed the cost of
raising brave Urgaub from the dead took 1500 gold crowns from each of
us.
Yet experience comes cheap at any price, so they say, and we had settled scores with at least one of those sneaking assassins.
It was too soon to say if the deadlock within the Saltmarsh council was finally shifting but at least Dain Rocksmiter had a magic iron dagger and wily Halduamina now bore a glamoured steel studded brigandine.
Alas, I am very sure our comrade would very soon have need of such enchanted armour.
There was still no word
from the far off dwarf hold of Oren Ban.
At least Dain had recovered his precious belt holding our eleven remaining diamonds and our actual scroll of the Revivify spell.
And Buddynock Rubyrubb and First Mate Wardell returned each other’s headgear.
Halduamina’s glamoured studded brigandine could
resemble elegant black evening wear anytime he chose.
BEING an END to BOOK XVII
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