Guild Wars: Sea of Sorrows

by Ree Soesbee

  “This isn’t over, Yomm. Not by a long shot.” His whiskers bristling in anger, the striped charr glared at Cobiah. “C’mon, boys.” Gesturing for his warband to follow, Grimjaw stormed away. One of the other charr spat on the hearth of the general store before he turned away. Yomm reached for a pistol at his belt, but Cobiah stepped in front of him and caught the asura’s arm. As Grimjaw and his warband strode off, the shopkeep redirected his anger toward Cobiah. “I demand the right to speak before the council!” Yomm said imperiously. “I have a right to refute these ridiculous claims and demand repayment.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before, Yomm.” Cobiah shook his head. “What you do with your store is your own business, so long as it’s legal.” Cobiah’s eyes darkened. “You’ve got the right to refuse them service, but the council can’t force Grimjaw to pay you if he says he doesn’t owe anything. He’s a captain of the council. Unless you have evidence, we have to trust his word.”

  “That charr’s a liar and a cheat. I’ve caught his sailors stealing more than once. My ‘evidence’ is the ledger of debt he owes. I tell you, Marriner, that thieving charr shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this.” Yomm crossed his arms belligerently. “I’ll pack up and leave, that’s what I’ll do. Without my store to get your goods into Kryta, this town’s just a glorified pit stop.”

  Cobiah sighed and exchanged a glance with Sykox. “I’ll bring up your side of the story, Yomm, but you can’t come to the meeting unless you’re on the council. It just confuses the issue. If everyone in the town showed up and kept interrupting us, we’d never get anything done.” More sternly, he added, “You’re no captain, Yomm. You abide by the laws we set, or you take your business elsewhere. Don’t worry about the town. We’ll build another store and make another shopkeep rich.”

  “Macha will hear about this.” Yomm’s scowl was as fierce as any charr’s.

  “Go ahead and tell her. Tell whomever you like.” Cobiah stepped down from the shop stairs. “If you think you’ll get further with her than with me, you go right ahead and try.”

  When they were out of earshot, Sykox cracked a smile. “You’re a mean cuss, Cobiah Marriner. You realize Macha will eat him alive if that little rat tries to get between the two of you, right?”

  “Realize it?” Coby winked devilishly. “I’m counting on it, my friend. I’m absolutely counting on it.”

  The central building of Lion’s Arch was a long well-built pavilion on the eastern cliffs with a magnificent view of the harbor. It was sturdy, built from the hull of a large galleon and constructed to weather even the coldest of severe winter storms. Since the flooding, the tides and the weather in Lion’s Arch had never been quite the same. Meaner, some said. “More protective,” Cobiah would reply. The storms made the winter harbor even more difficult to navigate without the tugboats. That kept the Dead Ships away and gave the city a season of relative rest. To Cobiah, it felt as if the goddess Dwayna were watching over them in the wintertime. Of course, he’d never say that to the charr.

  After escorting Cobiah to the council building, Sykox had returned to the Pride to take his bundle of tools and equipment aboard. Each captain was allowed to bring one crew member as aide to the council meetings. Cobiah had learned from experience that bringing any of the charr—even Fassur or Sykox—only caused trouble. Neither had the patience for long meetings. “Too many brunches, not enough fighting,” Sykox would grumble. Macha, on the other hand, actually enjoyed going with him.

  She was already inside the foyer of the pavilion, waiting for him, tapping her foot in sullen annoyance. Macha’s braids were still dyed all the colors of the rainbow, but in recent years, she’d exchanged her blue feather robe for a plainer set of clothing. She wore a turquoise bracelet around the top of one arm, a mark of her advancement in the asuran colleges—genius first grade. Its inscriptions matched the markings of Macha’s invention, a navigational tool she had titled “the sextant.” The first norn who laughed at the name found himself unable to speak properly for a week. Regardless of that, the instrument had so revolutionized navigation that the city had named a section of the docks after her: Macha’s Landing.

  Macha glared at him. “You’re late,” she said grumpily. “I got stuck talking to Nodobe for ten minutes. Ten minutes with that pompous, self-absorbed nincompoop is worse than three days in the doldrums with no wind. How could you do that to me?”

  “Sorry. I had a little problem with Yomm.” Cobiah paused outside the big pavilion, lowering his voice so passersby wouldn’t overhear. “By the way, he might come talk to you.”

  “Is this about Grimjaw and his warband?” She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “I’ve heard rumors they’re running up tabs and then leaving town. Sometimes it takes months for them to come back, and when they do, they argue the charges before they settle up for the minimum possible. Now, I’m sure Yomm’s charging them an arm and a leg above everyone else, but I don’t blame him for being angry.”

  “Angry’s one thing, but Yomm’s threatening to shut down the store.”

  Macha paused at that, cocking an eyebrow. “Is he now? Hm. He might do it if he’s mad enough.”

  “Can we stop him?”

  “Is it going to go that badly?” she replied.

  Cobiah sighed. “Worse, I think. Yomm wants to set prices according to each ship, so he can charge Grimjaw’s crew more. Grimjaw wants standard prices for everyone. Most of the other captains will vote with Grimjaw. Yomm won’t like it, but we’ll just have to find a way to deal with him.”

  Macha’s expression darkened like a small thundercloud. “Don’t underestimate Yomm. He’s dangerous, Coby.”

  “So’s a ship full of charr. Do you want to tell Grimjaw that we’re going to let Yomm gouge the captains?”

  Macha’s ears twitched as she spun the issue around in her head. At last, the asura tossed her rainbow hair and sighed. “Nothing we can do about it out here. Best get inside, Coby, before the other captains vote to hang us while we’re not there.”

  Cobiah chuckled and started walking again, Macha toddling along at his side. “Always practical. How late are we?”

  “We are not late.” Macha smirked. “You are late. I’ve already been inside, so they know I’m here.”

  They walked into the main chamber of the building, where a single long table stretched the length of the room. It could have easily seated thirty people. Today, there were only seven, plus an equal number of aides: seven of the fifteen ships whose captains had invested in the city. Cobiah’s contribution had been the largest, but these captains had each bought a seat on the council so that they could have a say in the city’s management. When the beacons were lit, they made their way to Lion’s Arch. Today, these captains would set the law.

  Four captains were already seated at the table. One was the elegant Captain Nodobe, his dark skin shining in the sunlight that streamed through the pavilion’s high windows. Grimjaw reclined in a chair farther down the table, speaking to his first officer in low growls. Cobiah recognized the other charr as the burliest of those escorting the legionnaire that morning.

  Captain Hedda was also at the table: a broad norn woman whose flabby arms disguised her well-known strength. She was renowned for lifting the entire prow of her ship from the shore and shoving it into the sea during an unexpected low tide. Although the rumor was greater than the truth, it wasn’t much of an exaggeration.

  The last of the four at the table was old Captain Moran, previously of the Salma’s Grace. After retiring from the Krytan military, he’d used his severance to purchase a small clipper of his own, which he’d named the Valor. He’d stayed on good terms with Cobiah and the others over the years and spent more time than not in Lion’s Arch. Moran was the only captain who smiled when Cobiah entered the room.

  A small cluster of other individuals stood at the far end of the room. One was an asura, bigger and more muscular than most of his people, carrying a heavy war hammer across his back. His name was Captain Tarb
, a relative newcomer to the council. His first mate was with him: a petite human woman named Gamina, only slightly taller than the burly asura. Gamina was slender, with a snub nose and honey-colored hair. Cobiah didn’t know much about either of them other than their ship’s name, the Priority Divide. It was an odd name for a vessel, and Cobiah didn’t get it, but Macha assured him that the name was extremely meaningful to the asura of Rata Sum.

  Neither of them held Cobiah’s attention once his eyes fell on the final captain in the room. She was a human woman, tall and athletic, with her dark mane pulled back in a simple ponytail. Hazel eyes caught the sun as she turned her head, and her lips turned up into a charming smile. Clearly, she was as happy to see him as he was to lay eyes on her.

  “Oh, great,” Macha groaned, ruining the moment. “Isaye brought the bookah.”

  Indeed, Henst was standing beside Isaye, wearing his typical gear: two swords and a scowl. He placed his traveling rucksack in a corner of the room and took his place standing behind Isaye’s chair. It was as if Henst’s presence sucked all the joy out of the room, dimming even the sunlight. Henst had served on the Pride for a short time, but difficulties with the charr and a dislike for being thrown overboard made him leave the ship for other work. Yet he stayed in touch with Isaye, and when she commissioned the Nomad, he joined her aboard as first mate. “Predictable. When Isaye’s had a good journey, she brings Verahd.” Macha hopped into the main chamber, keeping her voice low so that only Cobiah could hear her speaking. “She has a bad one . . .”

  “And we get stuck with the squall,” Cobiah said, finishing Macha’s sentence with a sigh. Ignoring Henst’s scowl, Cobiah crossed the room to greet Isaye, but he’d made it only halfway there when a resounding voice boomed out from the big table.

  “Ah, there you are, Captain Marriner.” Sidubo Nodobe spoke without rising from his chair, but his thundering basso voice rumbled in the pavilion. “We feared you were forced to abandon the meeting.” There was no other voice like that in all of Lion’s Arch—possibly in all of Kryta. Nodobe was Elonian by birth, and when he spoke, it was with a flair for oratory and the distinct, ringing timbre of the people of Vabbi. It was too bad that the warm color of his skin and the generous tone of his voice didn’t reach the man’s features. Nodobe’s smile was brilliant, but his eyes were cold and sharp.

  “I wouldn’t miss the meeting, Captain Nodobe,” Cobiah replied formally. “I, and the Pride, are here to serve Lion’s Arch.” Cobiah curved his path toward the table, trying not to let his voice reveal his annoyance. Isaye nodded and strode toward the table as well. Their hellos would just have to wait.

  “Then we are fortunate, for today, Lion’s Arch needs you. And here you are, ready to face the many problems plaguing our town.” Nodobe spread his hands in welcome. Cobiah stopped himself from obviously looking between the man’s fingers for a hidden knife. Nodobe smoothly took control of the meeting, directing everyone’s attention as if he were wholly, smilingly in charge. Although it rankled, Cobiah wasn’t going to let the man see his irritation. He smiled and took a seat, waiting for the others to gather around the table.

  Once the last of the captains was seated, Cobiah spoke up before Nodobe could get started. “Lion’s Arch is growing more rapidly than we expected. The larger the city becomes, the more we will be a target of Dead Ships, pirates, and other predators. Raiders already patrol the roads from here to the Shiverpeaks, seeking to take out easy prey. We need to capitalize on the natural defenses of our location, and build more. We need to put those guns on the north cliff. Finish the fortress in the bay—”

  “Claw Island?” Nodobe’s laugh was condescending. “A doomed undertaking. The sooner we abandon it in favor of realistic improvements, the more certain it is that our little town”—he spread his ebony hands, revealing dusky palms—“will grow into something mighty.”

  “Mighty?” Macha’s eyebrows shot up like hovering seagulls. “What do you mean, ‘mighty’?”

  “A force to be reckoned with.” Nodobe lowered his hands and pressed the palms against the table. “Prosperous. Strong. Independent. Isn’t that what we all want?”

  “Point of order.” Tarb, the burly asura with the war hammer, rapped his knuckles on the table. “Seconds are not allowed to contribute unless directly requested. Macha, be quiet or leave the room.” He fixed Macha with an icy gaze, and she returned it in kind. Behind Tarb, Gamina gulped and stared at the floor, shifting from foot to foot in a nervous sort of dance.

  “Agreed.” Cobiah made no apology for Macha’s outburst. He kept his eyes on Nodobe and said, “The simple fact of the matter is that unless we defend the port, it won’t matter how ‘prosperous’ the businesses are in Lion’s Arch. They’ll be rubble.”

  Nodobe shook his head. “Cobiah, you’re overestimating the threat. The town has survived several attacks in the last six years. We can easily survive more. Our defenses are already adequate.”

  “Is there such a thing as an adequate defense against the dragons?” Hedda, the heavyset norn woman, tapped long fingernails on the table. She’d painted them red, possibly with the blood of her enemies, but more likely with a bucket of ship’s primer.

  Farther down the table, Moran sounded unconvinced. “The town’s been attacked, all right, but by small groups of ships. Not a full-on assault like the one that destroyed Port Stalwart.”

  “No one’s been to Orr and returned. We don’t know what they might throw against us. There’s no proof the Dead Ships are the worst thing Orr can bring to bear.” Hedda frowned.

  “They’re puny, rotten wrecks.” Grimjaw ran his claws through the fur on his forearm in an idle gesture. “You’re scared of ships that barely sail and gunnery that barely fires. The Orrians are about as efficient as a devourer with a torch between its tails.”

  “Perhaps,” Nodobe said. “We know that nothing we do will stop them from raiding. But we’ve also seen that Orrian ships seek out locations they can overwhelm. They’ll choose an easier target than Lion’s Arch. Hylek villages along the coast. The smaller, private docks at the edge of the Maguuma Jungle. Perhaps the Krytans’ new dock at Port Noble. We won’t be their first choice—”

  “That’s your argument? Let them kill somebody other than us?” Cobiah said, mocking him. “These are walking corpses; they’re not ogres or grawl. They don’t get weaker with every attack; they get stronger. With each battle, they add more undead to their ranks—and more firepower to their armada.” An awkward silence settled over the table as each captain pondered this point of view.

  “I don’t agree with either of you. Make more money? Pfaugh! Build more walls to hide behind? Bah! I say we buy enough ships to storm Orr and destroy the dragon that lives there once and for all. Anything else is just wasting our time.” Grimjaw snarled, his long canines glinting hungrily. “Cowards, both of you.” He glared at Cobiah and Nodobe. “You humans have got to get your fingers out of your noses and try to find your spines.”

  “That’s uncalled for!” Isaye’s voice was loudest among the chorus of captains shouting Grimjaw down. The table erupted into catcalls and shreds of arguments. Captain Tarb finally pounded his fist on the table and raised his bellow over the others, shouting them into silence so he could speak.

  “In my three years’ docking at Lion’s Arch,” Tarb barked loudly, “I’ve heard nothing but ‘island fortress’ this and ‘ultimate protection’ that. Cobiah, you say these defenses are critically important, but you also say they’ll take years to finish. How long can we sit around waiting for stone and lumber, construction and shoring, before we turn our attention to a better market plaza? Or hire more guards to keep our ships and cargo safe? I’m all for keeping those monsters out of our harbor, but I’m not willing to wait ten years to build a bank.”

  Nodobe leaned back in his wicker chair. “A bank is extremely necessary to the town’s growth, Tarb. You’re quite correct. Port Noble doesn’t have a bank, so we’d be solidifying our place as a preferred port for neutral s
hipping concerns. Traders interested in dealing with bulk goods, or large sums, would be more likely to come to Lion’s Arch.”

  Cobiah grabbed the table’s attention, not wanting to give the smooth-spoken Elonian an opportunity to sway the audience. “Moran,” he tossed in quickly. “You’re quiet. What are your thoughts?”

  “I’m thinking that most of you are blind idiots, to tell the truth.” Ever blunt, old Moran sighed and scratched his scalp beneath his thick shock of gray hair. “All plans and no foundation. Where’s the money to pay for the defenses, or the bank, or the attack ships . . . or, by the Mists, your furless Aunt Maybell’s parlor house, if that’s what the town needs! Every one of you is snapping jaw about how you’re going to spend money, but nobody’s said word one about how we’re going to get it.”

  “I believe I can help with that.” A smarmy voice from the doorway made Cobiah turn sharply in his chair. The voice came from Yomm, the asuran merchant. With a smug tilt to his chin, Yomm trotted toward the long table. He wasn’t alone, either; a norn was with him, walking slowly so as to keep pace with the merchant. With a start, Cobiah recognized the norn as Bronn Svaard. Further, Bronn was carrying a sack over his shoulder, much like the one Sykox had been carrying earlier that morning. But this sack was not filled with machine parts and engine tools. Bronn dropped it on the table at an insistent wave of Yomm’s hand, and the entire group heard the unmistakable clink-clink of coins.

  “I’m here to buy a seat at the table.” Yomm’s long ears flicked back determinedly. He met each captain’s eye with unflinching resoluteness, defying them to say no. Everyone froze for a moment, shocked by the shopkeep’s brass. This was unheard of.

  “Yomm, you blithering idiot,” Grimjaw snorted. “You’re no captain. You’ve no ship! Don’t waste our time with this skale-headed bilge.”