by Mike Truk
“We’ll get it,” I said. “If it’s remotely gettable. Have no fear on that score. How best can we speak with the lampetramen?”
“They maintain a presence on the docks for those looking to book passage out. It’s a small building made of coral in the very center by the waterline. A rope extends down into the water, at whose end hangs some kind of bell. You simply shake the rope, and a lampetraman will appear shortly thereafter to inquire as to your desire.”
“Simple enough. We ring the rope and ask for their cooperation. What will they ask for in return?”
Elsa shrugged a shoulder as she slid out of the booth. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them.”
I considered getting up, but something told me not to bother. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mistress Beauhammer.”
“Yes,” said Elsa. “It looks like it might profit us both. Good evening.” And wrapping her cloak more tightly about herself, she wove her way through the crowd and out into the night.
Netherys slid into the bench across from us. “I find her confidence interesting.”
“In what way?” asked Cerys. “She’s a nobleman’s daughter. Her kind are always obnoxiously confident. It comes from having the world tend to your every need since you were born. They think it’ll continue to do so, as if that is their right and not an accident of birth.”
“More than that… consider with whom she’s entered business. A team of strangers amongst whose number are a dark elf, a war troll, and a half-orc mercenary. She doesn’t even know of Iris yet, but nor do I think she’d be overly concerned if she did. Any normal noblewoman her age would have been more disturbed by working with us. Yet she took my presence in stride. I’ve rarely seen such calmness in a young human.”
“Netherys is right,” said Cerys. “She’s remarkably self-possessed and assured. I know we’ve grown used to having Netherys around, but remember our reaction when we first saw her in Skurve’s basement?”
“I do,” said Netherys with a smile, and I almost jolted as I felt her foot press up between my legs, toes flexing teasingly into my crotch.
“I - yes, you’re right - of course.” I coughed into my fist and scooted back. Netherys’ smile was treacherous and amused both. “But what of it? Elsa is a remarkable woman. She’s determined, focused, and ambitious.”
“And amoral,” said Cerys. “It takes a hardened heart to plan a strike against the White Sun.”
“And amoral,” I said. “And yet. Think of what we know about her. She slums with the likes of Jessie. Has been trying all her life to escape Port Lusander. Her father is a monstrous boor who chases young women and then sells them into slavery when they refuse his suit. Her home - the castle - is half collapsed. Elsa yearns for bigger cities, more opportunities, to exist free of her father’s shadow. So yes, she’s a cold, calculating woman. She’ll no doubt use us and throw us away the moment we’ve outlived our utility. But we’re using her as well, and can always get rid of her when we enter the ruins.”
“I wonder,” said Cerys. “She’s plenty smart. She’ll foresee that eventuality and plan for it.”
“Not that smart,” said Netherys. “She has already made several mistakes. Trusted that mage with the information about the treasure. Sunk money into a trading mission that went poorly. She might be intelligent and audacious, but her youth and inexperience are showing.”
“True.” I rubbed my thumb over my lips pensively. “Trusting us fits the pattern. Impulsive, a bold scheme that sounds good on paper but in practice is fraught with dangers. Such as our sidelining her once we get below ground.”
“Perhaps,” said Cerys. “I still don’t trust her.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” I said with a smile. “You don’t have to. As long as she’s being honest about the locket, the rest should happen as planned. I’m sure we can handle whatever other mischief she intends. Say she tries to steal the locket from us after we rescue it, and gift it to another team. We keep it hidden until the last second.”
Cerys gave a grudging nod. “Very well. So we’re going to speak with the lampetramen?”
I rose to my feet. “Looks like our next move. We get their agreement to help, then we gather our friends and swim down their tomorrow morning. Rescue the locket, tell Elsa, and prepare for a ball.”
“Where I get to flirt with Beauhammer.” Cerys made a face. “What is it about this world that so many odious men require such insipid handling?”
“It’s a cruel world,” I said, wrapping my arm around her shoulders as she stood and giving her a squeeze. “But we’re fighting to make it a little better. Right, Netherys?”
“Oh yes,” said the dark elf, rising fluidly to her feet and gathering her cloak about her. “Bringing smiles to the lips of orphans and hope to single mothers everywhere. It’s what I live for.”
I wanted to laugh, but something about Netherys’ tone limited my amusement to a rusty smile. “Ha. Yes. Good one.”
I led the way out of the Mermaid, waving to Matteo and pretending not to understand his beckoning gesture, and back out into the warm, marshy air. The moon had risen over the bank of perpetual fog that clothed the mouth of the bay, and cast a long, smeared ripple of light across the choppy waters right up to the docks. Navigating the sparse crowd, I led the two ladies down the closest ramp to the lowest level, and there walked past numerous anchored ships till we reached the small coral building.
The water lapped against the pylons right below us, as I peered within; it was an empty box, dominated by a moss-covered rope which descended from an iron loop in its ceiling straight down into black waters below.
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t looking forward to speaking with the lampetramen. Something about them profoundly disturbed me. Probably their hideous heads. I gripped the slimy rope and tugged it back and forth.
If a bell tolled below, I heard it not.
I stepped back, rested my hand on the pommel of my borrowed blade, then instead crossed my arms. Best to not look intimidating. Would the lampetramen find me intimidating? Could they even see with those weird heads of theirs? What did they do down there in the dark waters? Just wait amongst the roots of the trees, still and silent until they heard the bell ring?
A pale shape appeared amidst the choppy waves a few yards off the docks. That same conical head, the startling nostril holes, the great, fishbelly-pale mustache plate that spread down the sides of its mouth. The cone itself was taller than a man’s head ever could be, rising nearly a foot to its tapering, fleshy pink end.
It observed us for perhaps a breath or two and then slipped back underwater and was gone.
“Did we do something wrong?” I turned to the other two. “Did we fail to acknowledge some kind of ritual -?”
Then large, webbed hands appeared on the edge of the dock and the lampetraman thrust itself sinuously up from the water, rising up so swiftly that before I could react it was crouched on the weathered boards, water streaming down its gleaming body. It rose to its feet and up close I could smell it, a faint fishy tang shot through with salt and the silty murk of the water itself.
It cocked its head to one side, then the other, in an almost bird-like manner. It was powerfully built, without an ounce of fat on its muscular body, and completely unabashed of its nudity. I averted my eyes from its ridiculously large cock. By the Hanged God’s empty nutsack what the hell was it doing packing such weaponry?
“You rang the bell of summons,” it said, voice sibilant and slippery, as if it had a gobbet of phlegm in the back of its throat that it refused to hawk up and spit. “What is your business with my kind?”
“Hello, yes, thank you for coming.” What was it about huge cocks that made it hard to look anywhere else? I opted for staring up and to the left of the creature’s head. “My name’s, ah, Kellik, and we’ve a request to make of your people. Not a navigational one, really, more of a…. Well.”
“The Hanged God wept,” said Cerys impatiently, stepping forward. “We wish to d
ive down to a wreck at the bottom of the bay and were told your people can cast spells that allow us to breathe underwater. What will it take for you to help us in this matter?”
It quirked its head once more. When it opened its mouth I saw that solid shell of upper - teeth? glisten in the gloom, and looked away once more. “It depends. There are areas of the bay that are forbidden. Which wreck, and where is it located?”
“Forbidden?” asked Cerys. “Why?”
“There is a delicate balance at play beneath the waves of which your kind is unaware. We are not the only denizens of the bay or the waters beyond. Allowing you to swim down into certain areas could cause destabilizing turbulence whose aftershocks could stress both our own colony and ability to act as guides for your ships. Thus, we are reluctant to allow surface dwellers down into the waters without escorts, and restrict where they may swim.”
“This makes sense,” said Netherys, stepping up to my other side. “Your realm is your domain, and we will obey your dictates. There is no cause for alarm.”
“The name of the ship,” said the lampetraman. “And where it foundered.”
“The Hammer,” I said. “At the very entrance to the bay, just within the maze, or where it was some thirty years ago.”
The lampetraman stood still as if considering, mouth opening and closing, and then shook its head with finality. “No. That area is forbidden. We will not assist you in reaching it, and any attempts will be intercepted by our people. Is there anything else we can help you with?”
“Surely we can reach an agreement,” I said. “Gold, perhaps? Assistance with something else?”
“Good night,” said the lampetraman, and dove backwards, back bending into a perfect semicircle as it spun in mid-air to spear into the dark waves and disappear.
“Fuck.” I restrained the urge to throw something into the water after him. “Well, that was easy. What was it Elsa said?”
“That it would be simple,” said Cerys. “Perhaps we don’t need to go to them for the water-breathing spell. Has Havatier ever mentioned being able to cast such?”
“No,” I said. “And even if he could, I don’t know if he’d be willing to help us. He’s taking my being a king troll really badly.”
“I don’t blame him,” said Cerys, hugging herself as she stared into the waters of the dark bay. “Maybe there’s someone else around here who could cast it for us.”
“The problem,” said Netherys, “lies with avoiding the lampetramen even if we acquire the spell. How good are the odds that we could avoid them all the way down to The Hammer’s decks?”
“You’re the one who prays to Mother Magrathaar,” I said, trying and failing to not sound sullen. “You tell us.”
“Unlikely,” said Netherys. “Worse, if we’re caught, we’d be trapped in Port Lusander as the lampetramen will refuse to navigate us out when we need to leave. If it’s not a crime to offend them in the first place. We must consider going against their desires carefully.”
I ground the toe of my boot into the splintery boards. “Well, the free license is being given away tomorrow night. It’s either The Hammer or we’re going to be forced to break into Beauhammer’s ruins out of season.”
“What if we snuck in along with the other teams?” asked Cerys. “If the ruins are so extensive there might be other entrances that Beauhammer and his men don’t know about.”
“There would be the benefit of not being expected,” said Netherys. “The White Suns wouldn’t be on alert because of the random teams wandering through.”
“And we could operate without Elsa,” I said. “Yes. There might be something to that. But how do we find a way in? Actually.” An idea popped into my head. “I know someone who owes us a favor, and, with his being a bartender, might have some information he could share.”
“Matteo?” Cerys snorted. “You think he’ll want to embroil himself further in our business?”
I grinned. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s embroiling people. Who’s coming back with me to the Mermaid?”
“I’ll pass,” said Netherys. “The place was loud, rank, and crowded with inebriated humans. I’ll not tempt Mother Magrathaar to make our evening anymore interesting than it needs to be.”
“Very well,” I said. “See you back on the Bonegwayne.”
Netherys gave me a mocking bow, then strode away into the gloom.
“Ready for a night on the town?” I asked, extending my arm to Cerys.
Her eyes flicked down to my arm then back up to my eyes. “No. But I’ll agree to a quick meeting with Matteo.”
I lowered my arm awkwardly. “Well, all right. We can settle for that.”
Cerys strode past me and back up the ramp. I followed her, annoyed and put out. Then again, did I have any right to expect other? Given what was currently transpiring between us? I studied her back, her subtly swaying walk as she led the way. It was too easy to remember her tears. Her bitter words. And just like that I felt an idiot. Pretending that everything was fine between us, that she didn’t dread what I might become, what I might be turning her into.
Cerys led the way to the bar. Matteo’s eyes lit up at our arrival, and he pointed toward the same corner booth we’d occupied but a short while ago. We met there shortly thereafter, Matteo with three foaming tankards in hand, sliding two over to us as he sat across from us.
“It seems I have reason to celebrate!” He raised his tankard. “Word has come down that I’ll be exempt from this and all future payments to Jessie, though I’ll still enjoy her ‘protection,’ such as it is. My thanks, Kellik!”
“All future payments?” I asked, clanking my tankard against his. “That’s not what I recall arranging. I just said all unusual taxes to cover emergencies.”
Matteo drank deep of his good heavy and then licked the foam off his lip. “Word is a representative of yours met with Bennie and Jessie at their warehouse - a goblin? You really are a man of many mysteries. Anyway, he negotiated very persuasively the terms of a deal between you and Jessie, part of which was my complete freedom from all future payments of any kind. That’ll increase my profits by at least ten percent each month right there, just about pushing me into the black. So! To my new best friends and indirect beneficiaries, Kellik and Cerys.”
I sipped my good heavy, and found it good indeed. Thick, malty, with leathery, loamy hints and a trace of coffee. Delicious.
“You know,” said Matteo, sitting back with a smile. “I honestly thought you were going to be the end of me when you challenged Bennie like that. But now that I know you had a war troll in your back pocket this entire time, well. That adds a whole different context to your threats.”
“You’ve heard about Pony?” I asked.
“Everyone’s heard about - Pony? His name is Pony?” Matteo laughed. He sounded almost giddy. “I thought he’d be called Crusher, or Ironfist, or - or Doom Knuckles -”
I couldn’t help it - I gave an incredulous laugh. “Doom Knuckles?”
Matteo spread his hands. “Perhaps I shouldn’t go into the troll-naming business. But still. Pony?”
“You’d have to ask his mother,” I said.
“Well, to Pony then,” said Matteo, raising his tankard again. “The sweetest, best troll that ever helped my liquidity. Speaking of which, free drinks for you and your friends within reason here at the bar moving forward. Just a small token of my appreciation. What does Pony drink?”
We clanked tankards again.
“What does Pony drink?” I asked Cerys.
“Wrong question,” said Cerys. “Do we want Pony drinking?”
“Probably not,” I said.
“Probably not,” agreed Matteo, sticking out his lower lip thoughtfully. “Good point.”
“Listen, my friend, I’ve a question for you.” I folded my arms on the table and leaned forward. “The ruins beneath Beauhammer’s castle. Have you heard of any alternative means of getting in beside the one Beauhammer controls?”
“Oh ay
e, there were a few, but the White Sun spent a long time thoroughly closing each one down,” said Matteo. “And I mean properly closing them down, with cave-ins and the like. There used to be a small, very high-risk ongoing salvage and smuggling business dealing with goods extracted from the ruins. That all came to a stop, though I remember some of the more dedicated members of that operation trying to get in for a season. It was the talk of the docks. They were digging in, though nobody knew where. We all think they finally made it in, but nobody knows. What is known is that their heads were displayed prominently on the walls of the castle one morning, and that was the end of that.”
I sat back with a frown. “You think the White Suns got them?”
“I specifically don’t think about it at all,” said Matteo. “When it comes to the White Suns, my mind is studiously blank.”
“No entrances, then.” Cerys drew a circle in some spilt ale. “That’s inconvenient.”
“Aye, it is,” said Matteo, actually sounding sympathetic. “I figured that’s what you were here for, what with your having a war troll and all. Who’d bring a war troll to Port Lusander except to try their hands at the ruins?”
“True enough,” I said. “Damn it. We don’t have the three thousand gold with which to buy a license, either.”
“You could always try and make nice with Beauhammer himself,” said Matteo, though he couldn’t help but sound skeptical. “Find a way to his party, then ask him nicely for his discretionary… no, never mind.”
“There is another option,” I said. “But it would require diving down into the bay. We spoke with the lampetramen, but they’ve refused to help.”
“Down into the bay?” Matteo took a long pull of his good heavy. “That’s… adventurous of you. All sorts of nasty things down there. You can’t get a good sense of just how large the bay is from the fog, but wide as it is it’s supposed to be even deeper. Ever notice how nobody swims in the waters, even by the docks? Not even the kids? You couldn’t get one to jump off a wharf for a gold crown unless it’s the night of the Nautical Equinox. It’s because of what’s supposed to live in there alongside the lampetramen.”