by Mike Truk
“Men,” said Netherys with a sinuous shrug, placing one arm around Anacoana’s shoulders. “They can be such vicious, vicious little children. One learns how to manipulate their passions, however. If you choose to return to that line of work, I would be happy to give you some advice. Ways to arouse and then diffuse their emotions without their needing to dissipate their self-loathing by transferring their disgust onto you.”
“Perhaps,” said Anacoana, slipping an arm around Netherys’ waist. “I hope, however, that our partnership will result in my returning to my people. Either way, thank you.”
“To the Bonegwayne, then,” I said. “Time to give this problem some real thought.”
Forty-five minutes later we were all gathered around Maestria’s table. The captain’s shock at having a lampetrawoman aboard her ship made her amenable to being awoken at that hour. We all gathered together, faces illuminated by candlelight, the ship creaking quietly around us, the sound of the water lapping at the hull subtle and distant and strangely comforting.
“So, let me get this straight,” said Maestria after I finished recounting our night’s adventures. She was wearing a heavy robe, once perhaps the property of a noblewoman, but now worn and patched, a swirling kaleidoscope of crimson and gold. “Master Kzzgt said he’d heard of your exploits? That you were working with a war troll?”
“I guess word gets around,” I said.
“And then you proceeded to insult Naveric Gremond of the Nautilus company?”
“Wasn’t much we could do about that one,” I said. “Plus, he was such an arrogant ass I couldn’t help myself. And! We didn’t kill him or any of his friends. Which, given how the night was going, was a small miracle.”
Maestria pinched the bridge of her nose.
“That’s bad news for the captain,” said Yashara, leaning back in her chair and causing it to creak alarmingly. “It will be easy for them to connect you to the Bonegwayne.”
“But we’re just passengers here,” I said. “Our business activities on shore have nothing to do with the ship.”
“Oh, you stupid, stupid man,” said Maestria. “How is this different from my involvement with you in Port Gloom? You think the Nautilus company will believe that, or even care? All they’ll know is that I brought you and your friends to Port Lusander and continue to host you aboard my ship. You killed Kzzgt and Faverash, effectively destroying the Fever Dream, which appears to have been a favorite locale of the company elite. Then you insult Naveric Gremond to his face before his sycophants?”
I tapped my fingers on the table. “We didn’t technically kill Kzzgt. His helm’s right here. The body he was using, or whatever, was already dead.”
“Kellik,” said Tamara reprovingly.
I sighed and sat forward. “Fine. Yes. This is a small town. I didn’t think my business activities would be traced back to you. So what should we do now? Leave your ship?”
“Yes,” said Maestria. “I’m going to send a personal letter of apology to Master Gremond himself, telling him I had you evicted, and then try to wrap up my business here as quickly as possible so that I can set sail before he has a chance to reply.”
That gave me pause. “This Gremond is that… what’s the word - vindictive? Dangerous? Insane?”
“Yes,” said Maestria and Anacoana at the same time.
“Well, shit,” I said. “I had no idea.”
“And that’s your problem,” said Maestria, leaning forward to stab her finger at the table. “You don’t have any idea. You just dive in and count on your luck and allies to pull you through, but don’t consider the repercussions to your actions. How they could blow back and hurt people. Hurt my people.”
I wanted to argue. To rise to my feet and tell her that what we were fighting for was so much bigger than any one thing - that I’d risk everything and anything to bring justice to Port Gloom, to destroy the Family, to root out evil, and to kill my father. That I didn’t care for the corrupt forces in Port Lusander either, that I’d welcome their coming at me so that I could give them a taste of what we’d done in Gloom.
But.
This was my war. Not Maestria’s. Not anyone else’s. And if she didn’t want a part in it? Then fair enough.
I rose to my feet. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. There’s not much else to say. We’ll get off your ship and leave you be to pen that letter of apology. Thank you, Maestria. For everything. I won’t forget your help, and if I’m ever in a position to return the favor, I will.”
Maestria also stood, chair scraping back. “You know I’d help you if I could, Kellik. I admire you and your friends. I’ve never met a more insane or dangerous group. But I won’t let you endanger the Bonegwayne again. We’ve survived impossible odds already. We keep rolling the die, we’re going to come up with Hanged God’s pips and that’ll be the end of me and my crew.”
“I understand. And again, I’m sorry.” I looked around at my companions. “If you’re all still willing to help me in this, you might need to follow me off the ship.”
“Oh, damn your eyes,” said Maestria. “Another half hour at this rate won’t change a thing. Finish your conversation before you go. I’ll send one of my men to find you appropriate lodgings close by so you don’t spend several hours knocking on doors with Pony out in the open. Wherever you go next you’ll need to be secretive about it, otherwise why bother?”
I grinned at her. “You’ve a heart of gold, Maestria.”
“I don’t, though,” she said, moving to the door, “and that’s the strangest part of all this. Soon as I’ve secured lodgings for you, however, you’re out.”
I stared morosely at the cabin door after she closed it behind her. “Well, that’s that.”
“She’s right,” said Cerys. “What happened tonight at the Dream was sloppy. We can’t operate this way. I won’t operate this way. Not again.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Perhaps I’m getting overconfident.”
“I will note,” said Netherys, one foot up on the edge of the table so she could push herself back on the rear legs of her chair, “that we did accomplish our objective. And you all might need to accept that Kellik is an agent of change. And that change will oftentimes be violent. Disruptive. If you’re hoping for elegant operations, you may be disappointed.”
“That doesn’t give him license to just barge into places of business and kill people,” said Cerys, leaning forward. “And if you’re saying it does? Then I’m out.”
“I’d be upset as well,” said Tamara softly.
Yashara rapped the table with her knuckles so that everyone looked to her. “We’re wasting time bickering. Let us agree that henceforth I shall help plan these operations, just as I did the move on the smuggler’s warehouse. We’ll think through the repercussions of our actions, but for now, it’s too late to cry over spilt blood. Soon we’ll be asked to leave the ship. I’d rather have a plan before that happens so that we can move with purpose.”
“Agreed!” said Pogo. “Emotions are running high. The peril is great. Forces are already in motion, and we had best move with them or be crushed. As I understand it, the immediate challenge is to end the outflow of sewage into the harbor, is it not? That shall in turn convince Anacoana to cast spells of water-breathing upon us, so that we may secure Beauhammer’s locket, and with it persuade him to grant our ‘team,’ as it were, the discretionary license with which to explore the ruins.”
“That’s right,” I said.
“And yet, while we undertake these steps, we must now also be aware of retribution from the Nautilus company, and perhaps the Griffins and Rams, who may also object to the destruction of the Fever Dream.”
“Also correct,” I said.
“Now.” Pogo wriggled in his seat, moving closer to its edge so that he could perch there, his glasses gleaming in the candlelight. “The Nautilus company is not in breach of their contract with the lampetramen.”
“No,” said Anacoana. “Though they did misrepresent the a
mount and toxicity of the sewage they’d be pouring into the harbor.”
“It’s essential that we get a copy of this contract,” said Pogo. “I cannot offer adequate legal advice without examining its clauses and provisos. But from what you say, these high volume and toxicity levels are accounted for by a sliding scale of renumeration. Which they have paid without fault.”
“Correct,” said Anacoana, voice growing subdued.
“Therefore, I would wager that they are not in breach of contract, misrepresentation not withstanding, as they built in a proviso to account for this very variable. We are, therefore, seeking to break a lawful contract. Either we can offer them terms, a service, or payment that will cause them to willingly terminate the contract, or we must find a means to coerce them.”
“We don’t have time,” I said, fighting down the flutterings of panic. “Just acquiring the contract could take days.”
“Alas,” said Netherys, tone indicating anything but dismay, “we also burned that bridge when we insulted the scion to the family business.”
“Agreed,” said Pogo. “Negotiations would have to be conducted through a third party, with your involvement redacted.” He removed his spectacles and wiped them on his tunic. “As much as it pains me to advise this course of action, I believe our best bet is to achieve our goal through illegal means.”
“Why am I not shocked?” asked Cerys.
“However.” Pogo placed the spectacles back on his impressive nose. “This does not mean the task will be any easier. For our goal must be accomplished in a very tight time frame, and, if we are to deal fairly with Anacoana, such that she may be welcomed permanently back into her society, we must effect in turn a permanent change. To convince a powerful company to go against its financial interests is a complex undertaking.”
“Yes,” said Anacoana. “I do not see how you convince them. During our negotiations, they revealed that the swamps within the immediate vicinity of their compounds have grown dangerously polluted, to the point where it is hampering their ability to do business. This outflow pipe both cost them a lot to build, as it traverses under the whole of Port Lusander, but also was seen as a critical necessity for their long-term ability to do business.”
I fought a rising wave of despair. “There has to be a way.”
Pogo spoke on, merciless. “If it is an existential threat to their business interests, it would take a vast amount of gold to convince them to stop using the pipe. We must either discover a viable alternative to their pollution problem, via means magical or through a feat of engineering, or coerce their leadership to go against the company’s better interests. I don’t see any other way.”
“Kidnap Naveric Gremond?” said Netherys.
“But another temporary solution,” said Pogo. “They would revert to their previous practice upon the return of the son.”
“Iris suggested attacking their compound with an army of the dead,” I said, trying for humor but feeling too bleak to pull it off.
Pogo nodded. “Destroying the Nautilus company is probably one of the simplest means to accomplish our goal, and has the added benefit of bring moral retribution to slave owners who deserve nothing more than death. However, it’s entirely possible that the company as an entity, an idea, would persist beyond the destruction of its physical manifestation here in Port Lusander. If its head office, say, were based elsewhere. If the financial incentive were large enough, they would be willing to rebuild from the ground up, and quickly.”
Yashara grimaced. “I’m going to say that we must abandon this line of action, as appealing as destroying the compound sounds. Stopping the outflow pipe is too complex a problem for us to effectively undertake in a day or two. We’ll have to find another way to reach this locket.”
I knew she was right, but still, it was galling. Momentum was what had carried us through our travails at Port Gloom. We’d simply moved faster than the opposition, stayed one step ahead of them the entire way so that the Family had been unable to crush us with its might. To lose that momentum here - to declare our attack on the Fever Dream a dead end - to need to find another means to acquire the locket - it felt like a debacle.
“Perhaps I can convince this Gremond to simply stop using the pipe,” I said. “Use my powers on him. Set up a meeting, and then - I don’t know - just browbeat him into agreeing.”
Speculative looks from around the table.
“Possible,” said Pogo. “But I would argue that reality would chip away at any agreement you’d make, revealing it to be irrational, such that Gremond would probably be replaced by someone more willing to nurture the company’s financial interests.”
My shoulders slumped. “You’re right. We’ll… we’ll have to find another way. I’m sorry, Anacoana.”
The lampetrawoman lowered her wicker-bound head and gazed down at her hands. For a moment nobody spoke, watching her as she accepted this verdict, and then she gave a sharp nod. “All right. There is no need to apologize. I appreciate your trying to find a way.”
“I’ll escort you to the dock,” I said. “Or anywhere else you want to go.”
“The dock will suffice,” she said, and the bleakness in her voice was heartbreaking.
I rose. “While I’m gone, maybe try to figure out our next step? I’m currently out of ideas.”
“We’ll deliberate,” said Yashara.
“This way, then.” I opened the door for Anacoana. She slipped by gracefully, then followed me across the deck to the gangplank, and down onto the pier. Unsure of myself, I began to lead her back to the main docks, but realized a moment later she’d gone in the opposite direction; turning, I saw her athletic figure and geometric head silhouetted against the harbor waters by the soft light of the moon.
I walked back and joined her at the pier’s end.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” she said. I could barely hear her voice over the lapping of the waves. “I was ostracized before I met you. I am ostracized still.”
“Perhaps. But my friends and I… we offered you a moment’s hope, maybe. I’m sorry we couldn’t follow that through.”
“As am I.”
We stood side by side. I could almost sense her ache, her desire to dive into those dark waters. To rejoin her people, her society. How painful it had to be to turn around, turn her back to the bay, and walk back into Port Lusander.
“Where will you go?” I asked.
“I don’t know. The Fever Dream was a way to not think about my future. With it gone, perhaps I will finally have to face what I’ve run from for so long. The next phase in my life.”
“Don’t give up hope,” I said. “Don’t assume it’s over.”
Her wicker cage turned to me.
“I know it sounds… insane, perhaps, given the size of the Nautilus company and everything, but the world has a way of surprising you. We can’t control the hand that’s dealt to us, the cards we’re given, but we can control how we respond. I was - well. My father is a very powerful, very dangerous man back in Port Gloom. He wants me dead, and that means pretty much that everyone in Port Gloom feels the same. There were a couple of moments during the past few weeks when I thought of just running away. Giving up. Letting him win, and trying to find a new life. Reinvent myself. But I decided: no. I wouldn’t. I’d fight back, ridiculous as it felt, I’d keep trying to find a way to get what mattered to me. My home. Revenge. Justice. Whatever you want to call it. And somehow I’ve made it this far. And even though it’s a long shot, just about the longest shot I can think of, actually, I’m going to keep trying. Keep fighting. Keep defying the odds to get what I want, because to do otherwise? It’s a form of death. And I’m not ready to die yet.”
All the while Anacoana watched me, her sheer robe limned silver by the moonlight, the waves lapping at the pylons below us, the wind tugging at our clothing. She didn’t respond, and I grew self-conscious. Was I assuming too much in talking to her in this way?
<
br /> “I guess what I’m saying is that you never know. You never know what tomorrow might bring. But the only way you’ll get to find out is if you hang in there. If you keep fighting, keep waiting. So don’t give up. Don’t give up on yourself and what you want most in life.”
Again, she didn’t respond. This time, however, her wicker cage turned back to the bay. We stood there in silence, and the longer the silence stretched out the more presumptuous and foolish I felt.
“I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I shouldn’t be talking about things I probably don’t understand.”
“No,” she said. “You understand all too well. Better, perhaps, than even I did. I… I might have lied to you, before, when I said I learned boredom at the Fever Dream. A lie of omission. I learned boredom, yes, but worse, I have learned despair. Depression. A dark and fathomless emotion without bottom. Like swimming out too far into the ocean. Depths that beckon me to dive down, even though I know to enter that blackness is to die.”
I stood rapt, frozen, listening to her soft words.
“The Fever Dream was a way to not process my pain. Faverash gave me what is called ‘dream shit’ and that and other drugs numbed the agony, made the nights and days bleed into each other. I was in stasis. At the time I told myself I was waiting until I paid off my debt to Kzzgt - I incurred debt by entering his service, for room, board, clothing, the drugs, and so forth - but now I see I was paralyzed. And - now. You. Your friends. You broke that paralysis. Shattered it. Then I realized you couldn’t help me. And, perhaps, on some level, I finally realized that - I -”
Her words became broken, her pain all too evident. I reached out and touched her shoulder.
She flinched at my touch.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, dropping my hand.
“Don’t be. When I said you could leave me at the docks it was because… I didn’t expect to go anywhere. I didn’t want to go anywhere. This was as good an end for me as any other. I had this wild idea of diving back into the bay one last time. Even though it would mean my death at the hands of my people. It would be a good death. But then you spoke. And your words… you are right. I can’t give up. I must persist. All things change with time. If I can but have the patience and strength, then perhaps in time even my situation will change.”