Chapter 4 Part 29

The woman had called herself Zailya. She was tall and stout. Even sitting across the table, Armegon could see that much. When Marlena had asked her to join them at their table, Armegon had noticed how she had walked with an air of self assurance. The woman was confident in her abilities. He also noticed that she wore a scimitar boldly at her side. Her light-colored clothes were loose fitting, but they covered all of her body except for her hard face and callused hands. She hid her hair under a white cloth which draped over the back of her neck and flowed down to her waist. Her blue eyes did not sparkle. They were the kind of eyes that had seen too much violence. They were hardened eyes.

"So you seek a ferry?" She smiled coldly. "I do not run a passenger ship, I haul freight. It doesn't complain about the lack of comfort."

"Comfort is not what we are interested in," Armegon told her. He personally would rather find another passage, but few ships came in on a regular basis and the ones that did rarely went much further than the next port.

"Freight doesn't eat or get in the way either." The woman was determined to impress on her prospective passengers of the inconvenience it would be to carry them.

"We will provide our own meals," Armegon countered.

"You will be expected to help with the chores," she warned him. Armegon looked over at Avery and Marlena. Though their faces were straight, their eyes betrayed their thoughts. They were quietly laughing at him. Armegon ground his teeth. He hated manual labor--it was beneath his station. "We will do it," he said finally.

This seemed to satisfy Zailya. "The fare is one hundred gold Tycarian soveriegns." She paused for a moment then added, "each".

Armegon choked. "That is three hundred!"

"Take it or leave it," the woman said. "The next ship due in town will arrive in a few days, but they are going north."

"We will take your offer," Marlena said. It was obvious that Armegon was still upset about the price.

"Very well," Zailya said standing. "We leave two hours after sunrise tomorrow. The ship is the Strip Runner. "Be there or be left." The woman then left the table and disappeared through the front door of the tavern.

Marlena looked at Armegon. "Blunt, isn't she."

"She is a thief," Armegon sneered. "One hundred gold each, indeed!"

"She is an opportunist," Marlena objected. "Our backs are against the wall and she can sense that. She has a monopoly and she uses it. I can respect that."

"Your respect is going to run our funds dry," Armegon retorted. "We do not have an unlimited account. After this we may not have enough left for rooms at a decent inn."

"Armegon, penniless," Avery asked. "What is the world coming to?"

"Do you think she might try to charge us passage for Seymore," Marlena asked.

"She is not going to see Seymore," Armegon assured her. He is going to be our luggage.

The next morning they packed their belongings and made their way out of town. Between them, Armegon and Avery carried the body of Seymore. Armegon had wrapped a cloak around the body and cast an illusion on the cloak as spells would not affect Seymore while in suspension. To an onlooker, the halfelves appeared to be carrying a large crate as they approached the ship.

There was no dock or wharf, as there was no water. It was more like loading a large wagon than that of a seafaring vessel. The glass underfoot was rough from the sharp bladed runners of thousands of docking ships. Armegon noted that all of the sailors wore thick, heavy boots. He could imagine what the cut glass would do to an unprotected foot.

"It looks more like obsidian than glass," Avery remarked when Armegon had mentioned this. "But the differences are probably moot."

"It must have taken a lot of heat to turn a desert into glass," Marlena added.

"Hold it right there." It was Zailya. She stood at the railing of the ship "Just what are you carrying?"

"We threw all our belongings into one package to save space," Marlena called back. This seemed to satisfy the Runner's captain and she waved them aboard.

"A little less than honest, aren't we," Avery whispered to Marlena.

"I told the truth didn't I?" Avery did not reply. He and Armegon followed Marlena up the ramp that led to the Runner's deck.

Just like the ice boats, the ship had a very shallow hull, but the Strip Runner was much larger in scale than the Westward Cutter. A man with a horribly disfigured face approached. Armegon saw no signs of an accident that would leave such an ugly mug so he assumed that it was a birth defect.

The deck hand showed them where to store their belongings. "The cap'n wi wan ta speak ta everbody afore launch. F'low me." The man led the companions back on deck where the three found themselves to be about one fourth the ship's crew. It was obvious the way some of the men were looking at Marlena, in spite of her condition, that the trip might not be a peaceful one.

The ugly deck hand stood away from the others. When the Captain stepped out on deck, he cracked a whip getting the attention of all the crew. "Git'n line dogs," he barked. "Cap'ns onna deck."

Everyone stood in a rough line. The companions joined in. Zailya stood next to the deck hand with the whip. "I am Captain Zailya of the Strip Runner. This," she indicated the deck hand, "is First Mate Gronak. For those of you who have never sailed with me before, let me make myself perfectly clear. When an order is given, it is to be carried out immediately. Any disregard for orders is subject to punishment." As if to punctuate her statement, Gronak cracked his whip.

"All weapons will be inventoried before departure," she went on. "You are permitted one weapon of your choice, but it must be in open display at all times. Carrying a concealed weapon or an extra weapon will be considered an act of mutiny and the offender will subject to immediate execution." She paused for a moment to look at the crew. "I think I have a rotten bunch of lazy dogs who will die within three days of departure, but we shall see."

She turned to Gronak. "Check their weapons and find them positions. Call me when you are ready to depart." With that she returned to her cabin.

"Arite, y'heard the cap'n, but y’ain't heard me." Gronak said. "My mother wuz a h'man tooked by a orc. That make me a half-orc. I'm ugly an mean. F'ye got som'thin t' say to one 'nother I spect t'hear it m'self. If I hears any wisperin’, I jus’ as soon put me dagger in yo back as look at ye." He paused to make sure everyone had time to comprehend his slurred speech. "Line it up," he yelled. "Lessee dem blades."

An hour later they were under way. And soon the first days work was assigned. As near as Armegon could tell, the three of them were the only new crew members aboard. That is probably why he and Avery had started out scrubbing the decks. But Marlena had managed to get a position as ship's cook and laundry.

On that first day, there was only one incident involving ship discipline. It was near noon, and after launching and working all morning to get the rigging trimmed just so, everyone was hungry.

Avery and Armegon got in the rear of the chow line so as to not anger any of the other crew. Unfortunately, there was one unlucky individual who wanted a second helping. And as Armegon was taking his bowl of soup to a spot where he could sit and eat, the big human grabbed him by the arm. "Hey there pretty boy, I do more work than you do so I should get more lunch."

Marlena stopped dipping Avery's bowl and watched. She prayed this bully did not push Armegon too far. No one else on the ship seemed to take notice other than she and Avery.

"You hear me?" the human demanded, but Armegon remained silent. Enraged, the human slapped the back of Armegon's head harshly. "Good food should never be wasted on half-breeds such as you."

Armegon turned, his hand going for his rapier, but he was too late. Suddenly, a whip sang out and the leather wrapped itself around the other man's neck. Then, the man spun around and the whip disappeared leaving an ugly whelp in its place. To his demise, the big man suddenly faced the ship's first mate. "Wot y'got agin’ affbreedz?"

The sailor realized his mistake. He had a choice of either losing face or facing the first mate's punishment. One look at that whip and the throbbing pain in his neck made the choice for him. "Nothing sir," he yelled.

"Seein' as ye likes that cru' man so much, me think's ye should trade jobs wi’ him." The sailor thought about protesting, but then decided against it. The first mate motioned Armegon over to him. "Ha y’ever helmed a ship afore?"