Ben's NaNoWriMo Log

Chapter 32 added Sep 23, 2005
"So what did you find out?" Sarah asked as the four conspirators gathered in the small room she and Molly shared. Molly sat down on her bed, leaning back on her hands. "As I understand it, there are supposed to be three shipments. The first one is heading out in two months, presumably on a heavily armed Royal Navy galleon." "There's supposedly a pirate cove somewhere on the far side of Cape Tullardo," said Alec. He unfolded a stained piece of parchment, on which was sketched a crude map. "For what it cost, I hope this map is for real." Sarah nodded. "Excellent. We should be able to put together a crew there." She grinned sheepishly. "And, er, learn how to sail, I suppose." Alec raised an eyebrow. "A crew is nice, but won't we need a ship? I don't think our bonuses were that big." "Well," began Sarah. Before she could continue, however, Molly laid a hand on her arm. "Don't worry," she said, as she reached into her pouch. She pulled out a gold chain, from which dangled a triangular pendant set with a glittering emerald the size of her thumb. "I've been saving this for a rainy day. I think we should be able to work something out." They left Cahiedra behind as quickly as they had come. Sarah wished she could just stay and enjoy herself, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to strike a blow against King Alfred. She knew it was an insane plan -- if it could be called a plan at all. So far the others hadn't said anything, but she knew they thought she was crazy. Maybe they were right. Most likely she wouldn't be able to get far enough for it to make any difference. Her luck seemed to be holding so far, though; Alec's map turned out to be genuine. They left the road two days' ride southwest of Cahiedra at an abandoned temple that had once been dedicated to St. Conrad, the patron saint of mariners. They followed a narrow trail west through the rock and scrub that made up most of Cape Tullardo. Picking their way through the rough terrain, they slowly neared the coast. The trail wound between towering walls of stone as it descended, and they could see men with crossbows perched up above them. The sentries eyes them warily, but made no move to attack. Finally, they rounded a bend and saw their destination: a small harbor surrounded by cliffs, with only a narrow cleft leading out into the open sea. Ships of various sizes were tied up at the ramshackle piers, and a jumble of buildings crawled up the sides of the cliffs on the landward side of the rocky bowl. The sun was setting as they rode down toward the pirate hideout, shining through the gap in the wall to paint a crimson streak across the calm water. The place was called Blood Tide Cove, and at that moment it seemed aptly named. They saw a number of unsavory characters in the streets, but they gave the newcomers no trouble. Sarah thought it amusing that the pirates seemed most intimidated by Lars, when it was Molly that was by far the most dangerous of them. They dismounted as they came near the center of the cramped little settlement. They tied their horses to a post out on the street, though they made no assumptions that they would still be there when they came back. They had transferred all of their possessions from their saddlebags into large bags before leaving Cahiedra, and these they took into the large saloon that dominated the center of the pirate haven. The nameless tavern was filled with rowdy pirates drinking, carousing, and gambling. Many were Midlanders, but there were Kufriti and Morils as well. A few of them were exotic enough that Sarah couldn't easily place where they were from. There was nowhere hospitable looking to sit, so the four companions lurked just inside the door as they surveyed the room. "What now?" asked Molly. Sarah chewed her lip. She hadn't been sure what to expect when she got here, but the chaotic brawl of sea dogs was something of a bafflement to her. "Well, we need to find a ship and crew capable of doing what we need. These people are interested in money, right? That's what piracy is all about. We just need to find someone willing to do what we want for a price we can afford." The mercenaries nodded in agreement. Molly shrugged. "Anyone look promising?" It was hard to pick out just who was who. There was no outward sign of affiliations or rank, though some of the prospects were somewhat more gaudily dressed and hung more heavily with jewelry. If wealth came with success, then the bird with the brightest plumage must be the best in the flock. Sarah narrowed her eyes, mentally weighing the gold and jewels in the room. In the end, one man stood out from the rest. Seated at a long table on the far left side of the room was a Kufriti man with a wild mane of beard and hair, dressed in yellow and green with gold and gems dripping from him like icicles. He was holding court over the entire table, telling some tale that elicited peals of laughter from his audience. Sarah waited for the man to sit down again before approaching him. As she drew near he turned halfway around on his bench and met her eye. Despite the goblet in his hand and the bottles littering the table, he looked quite alert. She cleared her throat and said simply, "I'm looking for a pirate captain." He looked back at her, nonplussed. "Aye, is that so? And what makes ye think I might be such a thing?" She gestured toward the fortune in jewelry that dangled from his neck, fingers, ears, and elsewhere. "I doubt a cabin boy would rate such a large share of the booty." "Heh, true enough," he said with a grin. Sarah was somewhat surprised to find that his teeth were not a ruin of decay. His jovial mien quickly disappeared, though, replaced by a suspicious scowl. "And why might ye be looking for such a villain?" He glanced behind her at her three companions. "If ye're intendin' to bring him to justice, I think ye'll need a bigger army." Sarah couldn't help but notice the hands of the other pirates around the table not-so-subtly reaching toward weapons. She held up her own hands as she shook her head. "No, no, quite the opposite. I need to hire someone to help me do some piracy." The dark bearded pirate just looked at her for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. The rest of the crew around the table joined in his mirth. Sarah looked back at Molly, who only shrugged. She waited for a lull in the laughter, then added, "I'm not joking. I have the means to pay you." "I don't doubt that ye do," he said, "but ye seem to lack a certain understanding of pirates. We aren't mercenaries. If we want something, we take it, we don't work for it." He grinned at Sarah's sudden worried expression. "Fortunately, this is a place of sanctuary, or ye'd likely find yourself parted from your gold quicker than ye expected." Sarah clenched her jaw in frustration. She hadn't counted on no one being interested in her offer. The plans she had been constructing since they left Cahiedra started crumbling before her eyes. As she was about to turn back, defeated, a murmur swept through from the other side of the room. Sarah looked over that way: everyone was watching one of the gambling tables, where a card player was sliding a large pile of gold and silver jewelry into an already large pile of coins. Only one other person hadn't folded his hand, a hatchet faced Moril with a long scar running down his face. No one was watching him, though; the skinny, bald-headed man who had just unadorned himself was the center of attention. "Who is that?" asked Sarah. The bearded pirate shook his head as he watched the scene. "Alliardo Mordial. A good captain, but a miserable gambler. I almost can't bear to watch." Despite his words, he leaned back and regarded the scene as though it were a play being put on for his sole benefit. Sarah watched as the grim Moril pirate shoved another pile of coins into the center of the table. His expression was unreadable -- no doubt the reason he had so much money to risk. "I call," he rasped, "and I raise you two thousand." Mordial pounded his fist on the table. "I haven't got anything else to wager! You can't just buy me out like that." The Moril shrugged. "You still have your ship." "I couldn't..." Mordial looked down at his cards again, drumming his fingers on the table. "If I fold," he thought aloud, "I won't be able to pay my crew, and it won't do any good to have a ship." After another few heartbeats, he grabbed the plumed hat lying on the table in front of him and tossed it on the pile. "Fine. I call." He didn't wait for his opponent to show his cards, tossing his own hand face up on the table. "Sun, Moon, and Stars. I dare you to beat that!" The bearded pirate whistled. "I never would have believed it. That's the best hand he could have." The Moril, however, didn't flinch. He laid his cards down one at a time. "Sun. Moon. Stars." The crowd held its collective breath as each card was announced. One more hit the table: "Comet." The wild card. "Except that one." For an instant there was only silence, then Mordial leaped across the table at his opponent. Almost before he left his seat, however, a pair of beefy sailors grabbed his arms and held him immobile. His ranting was incoherent over the jeering of the crowd. Sarah hesitated for a heartbeat, then started pushing her way through the room toward the table. As she got closer she could hear Mordial's repeated pleas: "Not my ship! You can't take my ship!" She walked right up to the table and addressed the man who was raking the pile of coins and jewelry toward himself. "I want to cover this man's last bet." The Moril turned his icy gaze on her. "I'm afraid that's not how it works." Reaching into her pouch, Sarah withdrew the wizard's amulet, holding it out over the table. Even in the dim light of the smoky tavern, the slowly turning emerald flashed and sparkled. "This is easily worth more than two thousand crowns." As the Moril shook his head and opened his mouth to refuse once more, Mordial spluttered, "Take it! Take the ship. I'd rather you have it than see it in the hands of a woman." For the first time, the Moril's face cracked in a smile. He looked at Mordial's face, then back at Sarah. "All right." He pushed a small pile of coins back across the table. "I'll even throw in enough to pay off his crew. A ship's no good without a crew." Sarah smiled sweetly as she tossed the amulet in with his other winnings. She could see Mordial straining against his captors as she plucked his hat from the top of the pile. She dusted it off with one and and turned it around to inspect it. It's previous owner's eyes were riveted on it. "This is a fine hat, Mr. Mordial. Fit for any sea captain's head." She watched him grimace as she moved to place it on her own head. She paused and held it out toward him. "I don't suppose you'd like to have it back? It would be a shame to see you fall so far through simple ill luck." "I would indeed," he replied through gritted teeth. "I'd be happy to return your command to you," she said, "provided you promise to do as I say without question." Sarah could see the conflict in his eyes between Midlander misogyny and the desire for his ship. After a few heartbeats, he nodded. "Fine. I'll do as you say." "How do I know I can trust you to keep your word?" Mordial rolled his eyes. "I swear on my mother's grave." Laughs sprang up around the crowd of spectators. Sarah shook her head. "Your peers seem unconvinced of your sincerity. I'm afraid you'll have to do better than that." The pirate grimaced, then sighed. "I swear on St. Conrad's eyes that I'll do as you say." From the muttering that went through the room, Sarah sensed that she had finally won her victory. She screwed the hat on Mordial's bald head. "Congratulations, Captain." She scooped the balance of her profits into her pouch, which now bulged with gold. "Let's have a little talk, shall we?"
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