by Robert Bevan
Rat shrieks from inside the jug grew louder and the rattle of iron against copper grew more frantic as more and more of the ooze crept in. The shrieks spiked up in pitch, then both sounds ceased completely.
When the entire mass of ooze was inside the jug, the bartender tilted it back upright. She carried it back behind the bar and set it down in its proper place. She pulled the chain, and it came up with a wet slurpy sound, suspending an empty iron cage.
Stacy was equal parts mesmerized and horrified at the speed with which that ooze was able to liquefy a rat. Remembering what had instigated this spectacle, she looked back down at the floor where she'd dropped the shot glass. There wasn't a glint of broken glass.
“Do either of you need anything before I go bait the rat trap?”
“I could use a new glass,” said the man with the scorpion booze.
The bartender's jaw dropped as she grabbed a new shot glass from under the bar. “I'm so sorry, Darton! Whatever was I thinking?”
“Fret not, Nadia. You had more urgent responsibilities.” Darton raised a brow at Stacy. “Shall I ask for one more glass?”
Nadia's lips tightened as she conspicuously failed to look in Stacy's direction, and Stacy finally recognized the bug up her ass. Nadia wasn't in a rotten mood because of her shitty job. She was being territorial about this Darton guy she was into, and didn't appreciate Stacy and her sizzlin' hot 18 Charisma score moving in on her man.
Was it not enough that Stacy had dragged a guy into the bar with her? She supposed it wasn't. Not if Darton was buying her drinks right under Nadia's nose. That was worse than rejection. That was complete indifference to Nadia's feelings. That is, of course, if he'd even picked up on those feelings in the first place.
Stacy had no interest in getting between this bitchy bartender or her coveted sugar wizard, and she saw a potential opportunity to expedite the results of her Gather Information skill.
“No, I'd better not. I really just came in to ask a question and be on my way.”
“Oh?” said Nadia, suddenly much more attentive and, perhaps not friendlier, but at least less openly hostile. “What would you like to know?”
“I'm looking for some dice.”
“The game parlors are concentrated more on the other side of the strip. Thank you for coming in.”
Nadia was definitely ready to get Stacy out the door, and more than willing to spill her guts to make that happen. Now all Stacy needed to do was refine her question.
“What I meant was, I'm looking for some special dice.”
Nadia looked Stacy up and down. “Listen, Honey. I can see you've got some moxy, and good for you. But if you walk into a game parlor on the Crescent Shadow and try to play with loaded dice, you're not going to walk back out with all your fingers.”
Darton nodded. “Nadia is correct. They take that sort of thing very seriously. You would be well advised to not try to swindle them.”
Stacy's question refinement process needed refinement.
“I'm not trying to swindle anyone, and I'm not interested in any game parlors. Christ, I grew up in Biloxi. I've seen grown men and women shit their pants rather than walk away from a slot machine long enough to go to the bathroom. That's not for me. The dice I'm looking for are more ornamental.” She pulled the dragon claw pendant out of the pocket she'd been keeping it hidden in, all the while keeping a wary eye on Darton, ready to leap over there and break his nose if he tried to cast a spell or anything.
“The one glass will be fine, Nadia,” said Darton without taking his eyes off the die. “Go and see to your rat trap.”
Nadia looked like a puppy that had just been kicked in the gut. “Sure.” Shoulders slumped, she trudged through the back door.
Darton stepped toward her and raised his hand cautiously toward the die, indicating that while he'd like to touch it, he was aware that attempting to do so might result in a broken nose. “May I?”
Stacy shook her head. “Sorry. This is too important. Look, but don't touch.”
Darton peered at the pendant. “The craftsmanship of the silver leaves something to be desired, but the gem itself is exquisite. What kind of stone is that?”
“I don't know.” Stacy wrapped the chain around the pendant and put it back in her pocket. “But there are five more of them floating around out there, and it's very important that I acquire them. They might be mounted on jewelry like this one. Could be a pendant, or maybe a brooch, or... I don't know, a belt buckle?”
“Or on the head of a cane?” asked Darton, pouring himself another shot of Scorpion's Kiss.
“Exactly! Way to think outside the box. Or it might even be on a set of... Hang on a minute. Did you actually see one mounted on the head of a cane?”
“Earlier this very evening, an old colleague of mind, Aleric of Whitewood, was flaunting a newly acquired walking cane with just such a stone mounted at the top.”
“Someone you know,” said Stacy. “A friend of yours?”
“More like a business rival. If you don't mind me asking, how much do you know about these dice, as you refer to them?”
“Not much,” said Stacy. “I just know that I need them to get me and my friends back...” Should she say home or to our home world? Lest she seem like she was having a stroke mid-sentence, she chose one. “...home.”
“Where do you live? Perhaps a simple Teleport spell might work just as well.”
Stacy refrained from sighing. Should have gone with our home world.
“I don't really have time to explain why that's not going to work. The longer the dice are out of my possession, the more difficult they'll be to track down. If you've got any information as to where I can find this Aleric of Whitewood, I'd be very grateful. Otherwise, I'll have to be on my way.”
“Finding him won't be a problem. He's staying at the Starlight. But I'm curious as to how you intend to walk away from him with both that cane and your life. A wizard is wont to be very protective of a prize like that.”
“I'll figure that out when I have to,” said Stacy. “After all, I've managed to get one back already.”
“I admit to being intrigued, and wonder if I might offer guidance, or perhaps some behind-the-scenes assistance.”
If Stacy had learned anything about the Crescent Shadow, she knew that Darton sought more than satisfied curiosity in exchange for risking his neck by helping to steal from a fellow wizard.
“And what would you require from me for your guidance and behind-the-scenes assistance?”
Darton downed his drink. “I'll figure that out when I have to.”
Nadia re-emerged from the back room with a tray full of sparkling champagne flutes which she set on the counter and began hanging upside down on a rack.
“Where are you staying?” Darton asked Stacy.
“We've only just arrived on the island,” Stacy lied. “We haven't sorted out our accommodations yet.”
“I have plenty of room in my suite for both of you. Perhaps we could retire there to continue our conversation.”
Stacy didn't want to kick Nadia in the face while she was down, but she had to take the fastest route toward getting those dice back.
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
The sound of cracking glass came from behind the bar, followed by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. Nadia turned around, exposing her bleeding palm.
Stacy gasped, feeling like a soulless bitch. “Nadia! Are you all right?”
“I'm fine,” said Nadia. “Just a little accident. Occupational hazard. Happens all the time.” She brought the ooze bucket out and poured the orange slime creature on the floor. “Looks like Slimy's lucky day. Can I get anything else for you before I go wash my hands and get another rat?”
“Put this on my tab,” said Darton. He stoppered his scorpion shaped bottle. “And put this back in my private nook when you're done.”
Stacy would have told him which of his private nooks he could put it in, but Nadia made a herculean effort
to smile and not cry.
“Of course, Darton. I look forward to your next visit.”
Chapter 26
When an obnoxiously loud bell finally finished clanging, Captain Longfellow's first mate, Alexei, accompanied Katherine, Randy, and Denise to the cargo hold. The curfew bell, Alexei explained, didn't necessarily signify that folks must stay in their cabins for the night. Nature calls when she will and all that. But rather, it signified the beginning of the time during which, if one were to fall overboard, no search and rescue attempts would be made. Whether it was meant to be taken at face value, or there was some underlying threat in there that Katherine didn't understand, it was effective enough such that it was now safe to feed Basil without raising any eyebrows.
“We are to be in and out as quickly as possible,” said Alexei with an almost imperceptible wink at Randy. “These are the captain's orders.” His tone was now more serious. “I shall keep my eyes on the cabins, lest anyone should wander too close. You feed the beast and close the hatch. Are we clear?”
Katherine and Randy nodded while Denise gave him a jerk-off gesture.
Once Alexei showed her how to operate the winch which lowered the ramp to the cargo hold, Denise finally proved useful for something. Katherine held the bag open, but allowed Randy the privilege of reaching into it and pulling out rat corpses. Basil did some groaning and Randy whispered him some encouraging words, but the whole process was over in less than five minutes, leaving the four of them standing awkwardly at the rear of the ship.
At least Katherine felt awkward. She guessed that Randy and Alexei would have liked some alone time, but she was in no hurry to get back to their cabin, especially if it meant that she would be having some alone time with Fragnar, their assigned fourth cabin mate.
Fragnar was a beast of a man. Katherine couldn't tell if he was a half-orc, or just a really meaty and ugly full-blooded human. He had the look of someone who had done a lot of hard time, and for whom life on the outside was even harder. Still, Katherine thought Denise would have had a go at him.
“I'm surprised you decided to join us,” Katherine said to Denise, breaking the silence. “Is Fragnar not your type?” From her observations so far, she'd narrowed 'Denise's type' down to 'anything with a dick'.
Denise rested her bearded chin on her forearms on the ship's railing and sighed. “I ain't his. He said he was put off by my consent.”
Wanting to give Randy and his new friend some privacy, but not yet ready to fall asleep in a cramped room with two rapists, Katherine decided to see if she could squeeze any information from Captain Longfellow. He seemed to have taken a shine to her, but also mindful of his boundaries. And in the event that he wasn't so mindful, she'd have Butterbean there with her.
“I'm going to go for a walk,” she said to no one in particular.
“All right,” said Randy. “Be careful. There's some unsavory lookin' folks on board this ship. You sure you don't want Denise to go with you?”
Katherine smiled at him sympathetically. She only gave so much of a shit about his privacy. “No, that's okay. I've got Butterbean to protect me.”
Randy looked broken-hearted, so Katherine gave it a last-ditch effort.
“Hey Denise. Did you tell Fragnar you're pregnant?”
Denise raised her head and turned around. “No. Do you reckon that would help?”
Katherine shrugged. “If fucked up shit is what turns him on, I reckon poking his dick into a wombful of scorpion babies might be worth running by him.” She mentally crossed Use the word 'reckon' in a sentence off her bucket list. “Just don't come on too strong.”
“I'm one step ahead of you,” said Denise. “I'm gonna tell him that I had second thoughts, on account of I think it might be unhealthy for the babies. That way, he'll think it's rape.”
“Wow. That's a whole new level of fucked up. Good luck with that.”
After Denise had waddled off toward their cabin, Katherine took her leave from Randy and Alexei. When she got to the ladder leading up to the captain's quarters, she held the Bag of Holding open for Butterbean.
“It's just until I get up the ladder. It won't be more than a couple of minutes, I promise.”
Butterbean whimpered a token objection, but walked into the open bag.
On her way up, Katherine kept her mind distracted from the boat's rocking, which was more pronounced the higher she climbed, by thinking about the ethical ramifications of what Denise had proposed. Rape by deception was certainly a reprehensible thing, and she never imagined she'd have to qualify that by adding under most circumstances. But if the victim's only grievance was that he wasn't committing genuine rape when he'd been led to believe he was, was that really such a bad thing?
Having reached the captain's quarters at the top of the ladder, Katherine decided she no longer gave a shit. She knocked on Captain Longfellow's door.
“Who dare be disturbing me slumber at such a late hour?” the captain boomed as his heavy footsteps approached the door.
“It's Katherine. The one with the unusual cargo.”
The door swung open. Captain Longfellow was wearing a dark green silk robe embroidered with purple dragons breathing orange plumes of fire. It was tied loosely around his waist, revealing an impressive collection of scars and tattoos covering his mostly-exposed chest. His heavy eyelids and rum-soaked breath suggested that he was well-started on the night's drinking.
“Do ye mean to say exceptional booty?”
Katherine gave him a warning glare.
“It be a nautical term. How might I be of service?”
“I just needed to get out of my cabin and wondered if you'd be up for some time-killing conversation.”
“Count me honored that such a salty old urchin like meself come to yer mind.” He stood aside, holding the door open. “Do come in.” He poked his head out, presumably to see if Katherine was accompanied by anyone else. “For all the danger and peaks of excitement, a life at sea has long lulls of monotony. Swapping tales with strange folk can keep a land-footed lass like yerself from developing the madness that so many a young – GODS ALMIGHTY!” He'd obviously not expected to see a wolf staring back at him when he turned around.
The stuffy air smelled like a cross between an antique shop, a cigar shop, and a locker room. Shelves along the walls were filled with exotic-looking junk. There were statues of wood and bronze, musical instruments and decorative pieces of weaponry and armor, chalices and skulls of man and beast, even a chalice which appeared to have been crafted from a man's skull.
Katherine took a seat at the table which occupied most of the length of the room. “Sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you.” She stroked Butterbean's head. “I find that Butterbean keeps men on their most gentlemanly behavior.”
“Aye, I have no doubt.” Captain Longfellow grabbed two dusty shot glasses from a shelf, then took a seat across the table from Katherine and Butterbean and poured brown liquid from a bottle into each. He slid one glass across the table to her, then raised his.
Katherine ignored both the dust and the fact that the captain had obviously been drinking straight from the bottle prior to her arrival. It went down smooth and felt good in her blood.
“Be there anything in particular weighing heavy on yer mind, Lady Katherine?”
“Tell me what you know about the Ice Queen of Nazere.”
Captain Longfellow gave her a half smile as he poured the next round. “This be yer idea of time-killing conversation, does it?”
“Everybody's been making such a big deal out of her. I just want to have some kind of idea what I'm up against.” Katherine raised her glass, initiating the next drink. The captain obliged and they necked their shots back.
“I know naught but rumors of the woman herself. But I've seen firsthand the effects of her wicked sorcery. When I was but a cabin boy on me uncle's ship, The Penetraitor, Nazere was a popular destination for we seafaring folk whose business dealings didn't always align with the laws of the land-fo
lk. Bless me barnacles I wasn't there at the time, but the stories from those who managed to escape say that on the day she arrived, the whole bloody island turned from tropical paradise to frozen wasteland overnight, trapping ships in the harbor and enslaving all those aboard to construct her massive palace of ice.”
“Sounds like a bitch.” Katherine fidgeted with her glass. As appreciative as she was for the captain spilling his guts, she wished he'd start spilling some rum again as well.
“That's not the worst of it. One island in an ocean full of them is no great loss. As much as it saddens me to lose so many fine seaworthy men, a life at sea soon teaches ye that sometimes ye need to cut yer losses rather than let the drowning drag ye down to the depths with them.” His gaze fell to her hand. “Where be me manners?” He filled both their glasses.
“Oh, you don't have to... Thanks.” Katherine gulped back her shot. “You were saying?”
Captain Longfellow poured her another before continuing. “Her curse upon the sea spreads outward from Nazere a few miles more with every passing year. In the next half-century, it's expected that the entire Southeast Passage will be frozen over completely, which would not only cut off trade to the Southern Islands, but would also set her frozen minions loose on the lands of men.”
“Couldn't the king send a swarm of dragons or something to go evaporate her icy ass?”
“No point in it while the trade routes are still open. That be the next king's problem.”
“But what happens when her frozen minions get set loose on the lands of men or whatever? Why not take care of the problem now while they can still contain it?”
“Ye got sperm in yer ears, lass, or did I not speak clearly enough before?” The captain's frustration with the very same question was evident in his tone. Katherine knew better than to take it personally.
She raised her glass. “Next king's problem.”
Captain Longfellow sighed, then clinked his glass against hers. “Aye. Next king's problem.”