Sorn could only shudder, knowing full well what his cousin meant.
"Not something I am fond of recalling, guys, ever. You know what I stand for, and that, as far as I'm concerned, is not how we have to be."
"But you remember what mom told you afterwards, right Sorn?"
"Just drop it, Fitz," Sorn snapped, before forcing himself to calm once more. "However, you have raised a very good point. Our most important goal is that we have sufficient funds to eat our fill whenever we need to. And from what I understand, the profit from this journey will do quite well for us in terms of achieving that goal, at least for a while. Still, as Lord Canterbier put it, the best way to grow wealth is with wealth, so we may just end up putting our profits back into whatever likely venture his factor knows of in York. A couple trading voyages like that, buying greater amounts of cargo each time, and we may end up quite wealthy indeed!”
The triplets' eyes lit up with the good-natured avarice of their people, inspired as they were by wealth of all types and the desire to acquire it. Indeed, Sorn thought, his people would make wonderful merchants.
The four youths then spent some time speculating on the relative merits of risky ventures to far off ports, versus more sober ventures to nearby destinations.
"But, Sorn," Hanz said excitedly, "why not try for the long shot? With our abilities, we could try for dangerous ports and fight our way clear of trouble, even if pirates abound! If nothing else, I'll bet they'd think twice before closing in, should we blow up their masts with fireballs!"
"That could be," allowed a smiling Sorn, glad to see his cousins thinking creatively, truly focused on something constructive. "And perhaps we could make a handsome profit doing just that, investing in lucrative cargoes on merchant ships that are risking travel over dangerous waters as they head for exotic ports throughout the known world. Our very presence would allow for a safer journey, but you need to remember that there are other dangers and risks, besides just pirates. What if storms are we have to worry about? or a dangerous reef that a ship could crash against? Or worse, what if the merchant rips us off with some exotic good, and we can't tell what the true value is?"
This set the three brothers thinking quietly for a moment, Sorn was glad to see. "Well," Lieberman said at last, "we could ask factors what they think are the safest looking ships, or if we should be worried about storms and reefs, since they know ships better than anyone else we've met so far. And as for being ripped off by an untrustworthy merchant, Pemith said what's key in most cases is you look at the ship owner's records of purchase, especially if it was signed by another factor, so it's less likely to be faked. We could decide only to invest in ventures to far off ports if the factor says the ship is sound, and only if they are shipping staple goods with an easily determined value, or if they have a record of purchase that our factor can show was verified by another factor."
Hans and Fitz looked admiringly at their sibling. "Wow brother, you said a mouthful!"
"Well," Lieberman said wryly, "it is about wealth!"
"And of course," Sorn finished with a smile, "we would be coming along. Both to make sure we got our fair share when the goods were sold at whatever exotic local we end up at, as well as to protect our investment from trouble on the seas themselves! Well done, by the way, Lieberman. If there was a plan for prudently engaging in higher risk ventures, I think you've stumbled upon it."
Lieberman beamed happily at Sorn's complement.
"Still, it would be nice if we could tell when they were lying," Fitz said with a sigh. "At least with the Flemm, we can tell when they are trying to get away with something by the special way that their odor changes." Everyone nodded reflectively at that, as their people had an extremely fine-tuned sense of smell.
"Speaking of smells, does this wine smell a bit off to you?" Hanz said while wrinkling his nose with his face over an opened wine flask, hand caught midway before taking a sip.
"It does smell a bit sour," Fitz concurred, carefully sniffing the contents of Hanz's flagon, as well as the one nearest to himself. "That Kalek probably couldn't bear to let any of his good stock out of his sight, the way he loves his wine."
"Perhaps," Sorn said. "He does seem a bit unstable, and he certainly loves his wine. Still, I don't know if I trust the man. He didn't exactly give us the warmest reception."
"Yes," Fitz nodded. "And why was he so nervous at Pemith's? I could smell the sharp stink of his anxiety even over the fumes of his breath. He only calmed down after we had all left, and he still smelled a bit funny."
"Maybe he's just an unstable drunken lout afraid of losing his ships," Sorn said. "Or maybe we're on to something here, and we should keep an eye out. Tell you what, guys, I think I'll just go have a look around in the other quarters and see if anything interesting turns up. At the very least, I'll check to see if any of the other cabins have this weird lock set up, and I'll go see about getting some fresh water if I can, so we have something to drink that we know isn't just bad wine or worse.
Besides, a little bit of exploring could be fun," Sorn conceded with a smile. Tapping into the harsh maelstrom of magical energies that were at the core of his being was an act that was all but second nature to him at this point, and the web of his chosen spell seemed to all but draw the essence it needed of its own accord. With a few soft syllables, Sorn faded from view.
"It's not fair, Sorn. Why should you get to do all the exploring while we're stuck here?" Fitz said, visibly pouting.
"First of all," explained a patient, disembodied voice, "a scouting job of this sort in these cramped quarters is best done solo. Besides, four invisible people who can't even see each other will just make a big mess of things, as you should well know from last time we did something like this, Fitz!"
Hanz glared accusingly somewhere around mouth level. "But, Sorn, last time it was your idea! And it wasn't us who tripped over the undercook, sending pots flying everywhere, and getting Cook worked up into such a tizzy. Why, she knew it was you right from the start! 'Sorn' she screamed. ‘If…"
"That's not important right now!" Sorn cut in hastily. “What is important is that we now know the value of discretion and not crowding one another during reconnaissance."
"But the undercook wasn't even invisible!" Lieberman pointed out.
"Utterly irrelevant. The point is that I am going to do a bit of solo scouting, and as long as we all have some quality time on our hands, why don't you all pretend we really do have something to worry about and oh, I know, practice a warding spell or two!
I'll be back soon," said the invisible voice amidst a bunch of irritated grumbles, making his invisible way out, paying particular attention to obstacles around the foot area.
In very short order, Sorn found that two of the other three quarters he came across in the cramped space below also had a bar to secure it from the outside, though the rest were empty of crew. The sole exception was a well-stocked stateroom that he could only guess was Kalek's, containing, among other things, a great number of flasks of wine which, upon closer examination, were free of any odd smell. Additionally, Sorn noted a well-braced crate that had a number of bottles in it, all protected by hay to avoid undue jostling, he supposed. Out of both a sense of curiosity and boredom, Sorn made a careful inspection of the stateroom in its entirety, enjoying playing the spy, so to speak. In addition to finding papers that appeared to be old trade contracts and a log book, he also found a silken bag filled with bulbs of one sort or another, and a strange looking pipe. The distinct aroma of the bulbs did comprise one of the odors that surrounded Kalek like a miasma of sorts; in addition to alcohol, stale sweat, and nervous anxiety. There were several books as well, and various knick-knacks of one sort or another. The small chest tucked under the bed looked particularly interesting, but Sorn somewhat forcefully put aside his natural inclinations and forbore opening it, that seeming beyond the bounds of innocent sneaking in his own opinion. He did, however, feel that it was only fair to take several of the wine flasks,
to make up for the rotten brew Kalek had tried to foist upon them.
Feeling well contented with his little expedition, and happy with the bit of compensation he had liberated to share with his cousins, he was quite startled to find the room completely empty. "Guys?" he queried, more than a bit concerned, not even fully aware of the oaths he muttered under his breath, wondering what trouble they were no doubt getting up to. He quickly dispelled his web and prepared to search for them among the upper deck. He was thus more than a little bit surprised to find himself tackled and forced onto one of the bunk beds and just barely managed to avoid surrendering to an incredibly strong reflex that would have been quite disastrous, had he not been able to hold it in check.
"What the heck do you guys think you’re doing?!" Screeched Sorn to his now visible and all too visibly giggling cousins.
"Oh, that was priceless, Sorn. You should have seen the look on your face!" Lieberman smirked.
"Oh yes, Sorn, if your mouth had been hanging open any wider, a frog could have hopped in!" Hanz chuckled.
"You idiots!" an outraged Sorn exclaimed, barely holding in his fury. "What would have happened if I had changed? Did you guys think about that? Huh? No, I didn't think so!" He found some small satisfaction in their crestfallen faces. Perhaps he was finally getting through to them.
"Rule one, guys. Before you commit an act of utter idiocy, think!" He then thunked down the pilfered wine flasks. "These were meant to celebrate some smart planning on our parts. I hardly see the point now, seeing what idiocy you three are still capable of committing, but nonetheless… Hand me the other flasks," Sorn demanded of his crestfallen brothers. "When I complete the switch, then we can go above, get some fresh air, and see about something to eat."
Task completed, Sorn proceeded back to Kalek's stateroom, replacing the good wine flasks with the sour ones before heading back to his own room, not bothering about arcane concealment, as there was no one about.
The sound of the bulkhead slamming open and steps coming down the stairs set a startled Sorn's heart racing as his body instinctively spun around into a graceful crouch. "Relax, Sorn," he admonished himself, knowing half his anxiety was no more than the guilty terror of a child being caught where he didn't belong by an adult. Within moments, those awkward memories of Cook's frequent admonishments for childhood escapades soon faded at the same rate that his racing heart slowed back to a normal rhythm. This completed before the unknown figure was halfway down the steps, Sorn quickly walked forward into view, giving the impression that he had just left his own quarters. "I take it things are calm enough for us to come up on deck?" Sorn queried of a startled looking Kalek, who seemed, if anything, quite surprised to see him.
"Boy, why aren't you in your quarters? Didn't you want your wine?" The question appeared a bit odd, and gave Sorn a moment's pause.
"No, actually. I'm not particularly thirsty at the moment. I just wanted to get some fresh air. For that matter, I'm not really one for wine on an empty stomach in any case. So, speaking of sustenance, liquid or otherwise, when is lunch?"
"Just wait down here," stammered an anxious looking Kalek, who really did look surprised to see him, Sorn reflected. "I just came down to tell you," Kalek blinked, as if at a loss for words. "To tell you that things are still busy up above, and will be for quite some time. Just wait here, and we will bring you lunch." With a nervous smile, Kalek immediately turned around and went back up on deck as fast as his legs could carry him, the sharp stench of his anxiety tickling Sorn's nose the only sign that he had been there but moments before.
Why had Kalek been so nervous, so surprised to see him? Why was the man so damned insistent about them drinking the wine?
Upon consideration of the odd smell from the flasks, a nasty suspicion hardened into utter certainty. For whatever reason, Kalek was attempting foul play, and one facet of his maneuvering included poisoning Sorn and his cousins.
The very thought triggered a blistering fury that Sorn could barely keep in check. Clenching his fists, he could only close his eyes and shudder, rocked as he was by the searing roars of outrage flashing through his mind like crimson flame. He knew he could not approach his cousins in such a blistering rage, his very scent would trigger the same reactions in them, and the result would be something he could not control. And on some level, he realized, he did not want to. The hot fury bellowing inside him demanded no quarter to his enemies. Destroy. Immolate. Consume.
With a shuddering breath, Sorn pulled away from the seductive whisper of his tightly coiled wrath, just barely regaining control, concentrating only on deep breaths before the last shudder passed, and the rage, still smoldering, was nonetheless kept in check, if barely. The thought of that slimy drunken bastard trying to poison his cousins… Enough. He couldn't think it right now. He must keep control. He could still taste the copper tang of his outrage, and only hoped his odor no longer smelled of towering fury. His hard knock on the cabin door was forceful enough to cause the door to rattle and was immediately opened by a concerned looking Fitz.
"Sorn we're sorry about… What's wrong?" Fitz's nostrils flared, his pupils instantly turning to slits, and Sorn could hear his breath come out in short ragged breaths. "Sorn, what is it?" Fitz cried in strangled fury, his fists clenched so hard he barely noted the sharp crack as his spasming hand tore the doorknob clean off. Hanz and Lieberman couldn't help but notice their brother tear loose the doorknob however, their startled glances quickly turning into alarm. "Sorn, what is it? What's wrong?" They cried.
"Treachery," Sorn croaked. His ragged voice sounded like a cracked whisper, and he realized he was not doing a very good job of controlling his passions at all. "Calm, Fitz," Sorn whispered futilely, "Calm."
"Kalek poisoned the wine," Sorn explained, voice becoming clearer with focus. "That sour reek wasn't bad red. It was poison. He kept telling us in so many words to drink it, you remember, and when I saw him come down the steps, he startled like a hare and reeked of fear. And do you know what the first thing that piece of slime asked me? 'Didn't I want the wine?'"
Hanz and Lieberman's startled looks were replaced by grim masks of outrage, their breathing too becoming short and ragged. Desperately, Sorn tried to regain control of the situation, though he too was being pulled into the swirling maelstrom of their mutually felt fury, their mutually triggered scents, close relatives that they were, serving to heighten each other's passions.
"Calm down, guys, calm." Sorn could barely utter the words, the ringing in his ears was like the gong of battle. He knew he had no chance at all of dragging them to reason when he himself was so thoroughly drowning in their pool of rage.
"Calm down!" Sorn roared, effortlessly tossing a growling Fitz as he tried to charge past Sorn straight into his hyperventilating brothers. All three were left a bit dazed and off-balance as the force of Sorn's blow shattered one bunk, leaving the three brothers in a heap among splintered planks of wood and bedding. They were unhurt, of course.
"Do any of you challenge me?" Sorn roared, knowing underneath his barely checked rage that reason was worthless here. The only way he could regain control was by establishing his dominance, forcing them to accept his will.
Hanz and Lieberman, less affected by Sorn's heightened fury, quickly snapped out of their rage and only bowed their heads meekly. Fitz, lost in the animal-like fury that had overwhelmed him, let loose a growl and charged Sorn, bowling them both over, shattering the door behind them. Sorn roared in turn, throwing his cousin off him and sending him sailing a good fifteen feet to crash right into the stairs leading up to the deck above, the stairway collapsed in a rain of broken planks and splinters.
Fitz snarled his challenge, unhindered by the stunning force of the throw, shaking broken splinters of wood from his hair like a wild animal, charging his cousin head on. His pummeling blows were executed with inhuman speed, matched blow for blow by his older cousin who quickly gained the upper hand with a hook to the jaw and a jarring strike to the sternum, the force of wh
ich sent Fitz crashing through the wall of the corridor into the adjoining cargo hold, and smack into a number of sacks of grain. Before a stunned Fitz could regain his senses and charge again, Sorn slammed into his dazed cousin and gripped him in a hammerlock, bending Fitz's neck down, but slowly, gently for all his wrath, roaring at him to submit. Fitz instinctively gave a keening wail of submission, snapping right out of his fury, the sound also instinctively shocking Sorn out of his own battle rage.
"Are you okay, cousin?" Sorn asked as he gently picked his cousin up and brushed off the splinters of wood that just barely stuck into Fitz's skin, unable to penetrate any further, as well as flecks of grain from his cousin's silky gold hair.
"Yeah, Sorn, I'm fine," Fitz said, breath still shaky but smiling, giving his cousin an impulsive hug, as seeking reassurance. Sorn elected to ignore the bruises on his cousin's cheeks and chin. "Good," said Sorn, hugging his much-beloved cousin in turn, relieved that, if nothing else, their struggle and its resolution had worked to turn tune down his own unchecked fury. With a wry grimace. Sorn felt his tender cheek and gave his cousin silent credit for having managed to bruise him. "Okay, cousin, let's go talk to the others. We've got some planning to do, and somehow I don't think our present quarters suit anymore."
With a shaky laugh, Fitz agreed, and the two left the ruins of their battle to meet a wide-eyed Hanz and Lieberman in the gaping doorway of their former stateroom, stepping over the broken remnants of the formerly solid oaken door.
"Okay, cousins, here's the plan. I'm going to go upstairs, err… the former stairs. I'll get up there somehow, maybe just go through the grain storage area and up that bulkhead and have a little talk with Kalek. One way or another, he's taking us to York." The three brothers listened with quiet subservience to Sorn's plan, nodding their heads in meek acquiescence.
"Remember, cousins, we gave our word and signed a contract. That, for us, is the same as a blood-oath, and is thus an unbreakable bond. We can't kill Kalek, no matter how much that bastard might have it coming. If you hadn't gotten your rage in check, you might only have realized that too late, and I hesitate to think what the realization of a broken oath-bond would do to you." Sorn shuddered, able to imagine it all too well. "No matter what, he's taking us to York, and we are obligated to give Kalek his share of the proceeds once we sell the grain to the trader waiting there. After that, we'll see. So remember, brothers, whatever happens at this point, we can't kill him."
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