Sparrow on a Plank Chapter 17: When Villains Do Their Research

The crew was more interested in what was behind them than in front of them. Although Sal and Hajime were doing their level best to hide the fact that they had stolen a book from Set’s temple and that temple may have been protected by someone representing the Bubastan government, Captain Taylor knew what was gointsg on; it had been part of the contract (after all, they needed him ready to go if something had gone wrong, and his ignorance would have slowed the ship’s reaction time, causing a number of unintended deaths and destruction of the ship). Rick had also been told out of necessity for the same reason. They had also been given a certain time; if Sal and Hajime took longer than two hours, the ship was to sail. Period. Staying any longer would have endangered the crew and the boat. Rick was happy that that condition had not been used.

Where the captain goes, so does his crew; as the captain was tense, so was his crew. The captain was under stress, so was his crew. They didn’t know why, they just were.

They figured that whoever had sent in the paper mage would know by now that his property had been grabbed, and that it was on its way to somewhere else. Not only that, but it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out which ship that property was on. Ironically, the crew was so tense that the appearance of a Bubastan ship would have been a good thing; at least that was something that they could fight against. The invisible stress was worse, as they had no idea where it was coming from and therefore no idea how to deal with it, just that they had to deal with it. Harald drove his crew harder, and they lost themselves in getting the mess ready for a party. The sailors on deck put themselves into getting every ounce of speed that they could. Those below were shining everything that they could and worming the cannons; the cannons may have been clean, but it didn’t hurt to have them ready. Inventories were done, and what could be restocked was restocked, with an eye towards pirates rather than monsters.

Captain Taylor was well aware of all of this. You judge a man harshest on how he deals with an emergency, and he was yet again impressed by how his men were dealing with the pressure, shifting it into ways that would prepare the ship for an encounter with a Bubastan ship without knowing that they might be dealing with one or a fleet. He himself was waiting for a signal from Hajime while sharpening his weapons; they had worked out that twenty miles should be sufficient for the location of their first turn towards Cyrill, and when they should be able to tell if they were being chased or not.

All this stress over a mere book. He only hoped that the book was worth it; it would be a long time before he accepted another such job. He knew that it was necessary, but the chance of the Hell’s Wrath defeating a Bubastan clipper was unlikely at best; the clipper could outrun him and keep him within sight as the warships came to bear. With two clippers against him it would be unlikely that he would get away; one would spot him and the other would harry him and make forward progress difficult, either by dropping mines or using magic to hold him there. Although he may have a mage or two of his own, they may not be able to counter a sudden drop in sea level or a monster summoned from below the ship. And against multiple spells coming from different directions, his mages would be hard-pressed to defend the ship.

It was just a matter of waiting for the Hajime’s signal. They did have a contingency plan in place to make sure that the book would get to Cyrill, but he hoped that they didn’t come into play. Hajime would shrink the book, shift to sparrow-form, and fly off with the book. If those contingencies came into play, it would mean that the ship was lost and that all aboard were about to die and the ship to be scuttled. So even if Captain Taylor and Rick had known such a plan existed, and Sal knew the particulars, it wouldn’t exactly comfort them.

The holler from the crow’s nest made him jump, and then he smiled as he realized that it was what he was waiting for. He debated putting his cutlass away, but decided to bring it with him. He grabbed his hat, which he rarely did because of how many feathers it had. He walked towards his doors and slammed them open, scaring a few men near them. He stopped near the railing, swung his cutlass, and yelled at the crew.

“You bleeding landlubbers! Thinking that all of this noise can hide the fact that you’re all nothing but yellow-bellied cowards of the lowest order! HAH! I’m on to ye! Shining your cannons, hoping that they’ll find use on some poor woman that you’ve paid less than that piss you call beer! I don’t think so. You can’t hide your diseased hides from them, no matter how hot the bath is. I know that you’re the lowest form of life! The proof of that is that you’re on this ship letting an old man tell you what to do on a sunny day like today! The best ye can do is swab decks, check rigging, and eat food that even the most expensive scholars have no idea what it could be! Trust me, I’ve spent the change! Now, get ye lily-white asses into the mess and suffer as no man has ever suffered before! Any man standing on his own power in an hour shall be flogged alive!”

He waved his cutlass around for extra effect. He smiled as they crowded into the mess. Inside the mess were plates stacked tall with sliced sausages and cheeses, with enough crackers to cover them all. There were bowls of sweetmeats and kegs had been tapped. There were even a few pies of various berries and fruits. There were no women besides Sal, and she was already claimed. It was tame as parties went, but at least there was enough beer to make it interesting. Hopefully the celebration then would make up for the celebration now, but this was enough to satisfy them. For now.

The tension had been broken and Captain Taylor walked into his room. He knew that a plate of food and a stein of beer would be heading there in a few moments. If not, he may have to actually flog someone alive. You know, just to prove a point. He hated that he had to limit the crew’s celebration after such a tense moment, but at least he still had his men and they weren’t mining ore in some dark underground mine. He would have to make it up to them later, but for now it was enough, and Harald had done a great job considering what he had to work with. For now, it was enough that he had his crew. He pulled up his charts, and checked the planned course again. As he did, he had only one question: Where was his beer?

* * * * *

All of the servants were avoiding the throne room. A number of dishes had come back to the kitchen cracked, at least the few that returned were cracked. Lord Ashigaru had just found out that one of his best agents had been killed, throat slit like a pig, and he had nothing to show for it. He had sent the paper mage down into the innards of the old temple as a ruse, hoping that he would be able to find out who was interested in the book, and he ended up being forced to defend himself. It was a shame to lose such an excellent agent, but he was hoping to get some better use out of him.

He also hated that the ship had gotten away. Not necessarily that it had escaped his clutches or something as silly as that, but that he had wanted to place someone on board, at least, and yet their precautions had made it impossible for an agent to come aboard without setting off alarms of some sort. He was even unable to get his usual array of magical sensors aboard; because demand had been so high for their cargo space, he had only been able to get one or two aboard, and they ended up being placed in a section that did him no good. He had ensured that they were well hidden, including spells that would render them undetectable by most magic. He had been able to track them at least, but he had already known where they were going so that was a waste. He was hoping that he would have been able to get more interesting intelligence on the ship.

At least the dossiers on the crew were more complete. The captain and first mate weren’t all that extraordinary, first rate, admittedly, but they were just hired for the job, and anyone could have done for what Prince Ta needed. In that respect, there were a number of first-rate crews coming in and out of Cyrill that would have done the job. The same applied to the entire crew, really; it was a fine crew, but nothing special beyond that. The ship itself was interesting, but mostly because of the chain of owners; the ship was going on almost fifty years, and had had just three owners. The first sold the ship for retirement money, and the second had lost it in a card game. The current captain had owned it for almost twenty years, and had continued the tradition of updating it and maintaining it in spectacular fashion. The Hell’s Warth was an excellent ship, and well worth the effort Captain Taylor was putting into it.

It was the two operatives that interested him the most. The female, Salamandra Watson, was interesting, if for no other reason than she was the preferred operative of Prince Ta. Her skills were nicely varied, even allowing that she depended mainly on her skill with daggers. She had been a thief when she was discovered and subsequently recruited, and had quickly risen in the ranks due to her skills at developing plans that allowed for her ability to improvise. She had been serving him for almost five years, with an almost unblemished record. Even that Levistian inn was still a success; the only serious failure she had was a bodyguard mission, but even that was more because of the sheer number of assassins sent against the person she was defending rather than her lack of skill. It was, in many ways, a simply spectacular failure considering that she had been able to defend her charge against a wide variety of assassins using some interesting tactics, only to have the charge die of an infection from shaving.

But it was the boy, Sozume Hajime, that really interested him. He had graduated from the Draco Rouge Academy as one of the best alchemists of his class, and as a scholar specializing in elemental mastery from some Nihonese temple where he had apparently grown up. However, that wasn’t really all that interesting; what was were the missing years, where he had apparently gone questing for a few years, but had disappeared somewhere along the line and returned with an interesting tattoo or two. To anyone else the tattoos were unremarkable, but to someone who knew the marks demonstrated hat he had spent time in an Alashanti temple. He was also substantially older than he appeared, but his own operatives were unable to find out just how much older. What that meant exactly he wasn’t quite sure just yet, so he needed more information.

He only hoped that it didn’t interfere with his current quest. He needed to find the Stygian Edge, and as soon as possible. It did not help that others were ahead of him, and he was unsure of exactly just how much more they knew. He needed to find out, and quickly.

There were those that he feared, and they wanted the artifact found. Quickly.

[The next chapter can be found here.]