by Robert Bevan
Tanner sat up and rubbed his chest where Katherine had shoved him. “Thank you for that.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“The way is clear now. We should try to douse the flames before the wood is too compromised.” He scooped up a handful of wet mud and flung it into the fire. It was difficult to tell if it had any effect at all.
Katherine enjoyed the warmth of the fire while she watched Tanner fling fistful after fistful of mud ineffectively into it. When she turned around to dry her backside, she saw that his facade of calm indifference was beginning to crack.
“Something wrong?” she asked as innocently as she could fake.
“This was your idea. I thought you might want to help.”
“I was going to. I just wanted to warm up a bit first.” Satisfied that she'd successfully gotten under his skin, Katherine took out her Bag of Holding and bunched the mouth of it around one finger. “Water!” she said, then immediately pulled her finger out and grabbed hold of the mouth with both hands as muddy water gushed out of it. She ran the stream up and down the length of each log until all the flames were doused.
“That was... incredible,” said Tanner.
Katherine smiled at him. “I applied my imagination rather than rely entirely upon brute labor.”
While the smoke dissipated, Tanner chopped footholds into the charred exterior of one of the larger logs which had fallen to a leaning position that went all the way up to the mine shaft entrance, and Katherine threw what smaller pieces she could lift into the room with the freshly buried corpses.
When he was finished, Tanner stood back to admire his handiwork. “That should facilitate our way in and out.”
Katherine nodded. “We can haul one of these other big-ass logs to that chamber. We'll come back later with a rope from the ship and tie it to the log so we can get up and down while we drain the water out.”
When she climbed back up to the surface, Tony the Elf took her wrist to assist her with the last few steps. She was grateful for the warmth of natural sunlight on her body, but she would have been equally grateful for a heavy downpour of rain... and maybe a bar of soap to go with it.
Tony the Elf also assisted Tanner out of the mine, which Katherine thought was sweet.
“Welcome back,” he said. “I wasn't sure I'd see you again.”
“Growing up half-drow isn't easy,” said Tanner. “The few who manage to survive tend to be extremely difficult to get rid of.”
Tony the Elf smiled. “So I've noticed.” He turned to Katherine. “We've still got plenty of daylight. Do you want to keep excavating?”
“Fuck no,” said Katherine. “That's enough for one day. Let's head back to the beach and see if the others have managed to get anything done.”
Chapter 37
“Son of a fuckin' whore!” said Denise as she staggered into their room, slamming the door against the wall. She was wet and shivering “Who's fucking idea was it to get a room on the top floor?”
Randy sat up and yawned. The sky was grey and rainy outside the open door, but it was light out. It must have been well into the morning, and it appeared as though Denise's drugs had worn off.
“That was Captain Longfellow's idea. He thought it might encourage you to spend more time in your room, and not cause as much of a ruckus as you done last time.”
“Well Captain Longfellow can suck my missing dick. A woman in my condition has to piss more frequently than normal. I had to climb up and down them goddamn ladders three times last night.”
“Can you shut her up?” asked Jay from under his threadbare wool blanket. “I didn't sleep well, and all this rocking has got me feeling one whiff of fish away from puking my guts out.”
Randy had to admit he could feel a lot more sway up in the top tier than he'd felt down near the deck, but he didn't have even a hint of motion sickness.
“There ain't so many people on board this time as there was on our last trip,” he said. “I'll have a talk with the captain and see if we can move down. But Denise, that'll mean I gotta promise him you'll behave yourself.”
“'The fuck are you even talking about? I ain't causin' no ruckus.”
“I'm talking about how you throw yourself at every man you see.”
“Don't you slut shame me, Randy. I'm a consensual adult.”
“And about how you went around trying to get raped last time.”
Denise folded her arms. “Oh sure, blame the victim.”
Jay pulled the covers down to frown at Randy. “That is pretty low, man. I thought you were cool, but a man needs to be held accountable for his actions.”
“It weren't like that,” said Randy. “She was literally tryin' to –”
“People like you are why more women don't come forward after the fact.”
“That's right,” said Denise.
“No it ain't, and you know it. I nearly got killed after I pulled that feller off you.” Randy got up from his cot and walked out to take his morning pee. “I can see you ain't gonna make no effort to behave yourself, so I can't in good faith make any such promises to the captain.”
“Oh come on, Randy,” pleaded Denise from above as Randy climbed down the ladder. “Show a little fuckin' compassion, would you? I'm suffering up here. Don't do it for me, Randy. Do it for my ba–”
BLEGGGGHHHH!
Warm sour-smelling liquid splattered all over Randy's head and shoulders, then ran down his back and chest. He wiped vomit off his face to glare up at Denise.
“I'm sorry, Randy,” she said with tears in her eyes and puke in her beard. “I swear to God I ain't meant to do that. It's the morning sickness.”
Randy said nothing as he climbed the rest of the way down. He was grateful at least for the rain to help cleanse Denise's beer, stomach acid, and liquefied chicken off him.
The few passengers with fishing lines in the water didn't spare him a second glance as he scooted past them. Either seeing a man drenched in vomit was commonplace among seafaring folk, or it was still to early in the morning to care about such trivial matters.
Whether or not he decided to ask for a room change, Randy had another matter to discuss with Captain Longfellow. He needed to know how long this trip was going to take so that he could plan out how he was going to ration the additional three vials of sedative he'd acquired at the Happy Cock. It was real tempting to give one to Denise as soon as he woke up, but if they were going to be at sea for a week, it made sense to break up the headache a bit.
Instead of finding Captain Longfellow at the rear of the ship, he spotted Alexei chatting with another member of the crew. This was another headache Randy would have preferred to avoid, but he really had to pee.
He could have peed off the side, but the rear was the preferred part of the ship to pee from. Less pee got caught in the wind and ended up on the deck that way. Now was as good a time as any to get this over with anyway. It was a good opportunity to show there weren't no hard feeling between them.
“Good morning, Alexei,” he said as he climbed up on the ship's rear wall and pulled his peter out, making sure to keep it faced away from them.
“Good day, Randy,” said Alexei. It wasn't the friendliest greeting Randy had ever heard, but at least it wasn't openly hostile. Still, it made Randy's bladder tense up. An already awkward situation was even more awkward now that Randy was standing there with his wiener in his hand unable to pee. He hoped a bit of conversation unrelated to their relationship might help him relax, and he might even be able to get the information he was looking for without having to bother the captain.
“Say, I was wondering if you knew how long this trip is supposed to take.”
“Speaking of long, this is my lover, Linnus.” Alexei giggled at his own sad joke.
Randy turned his head back while keeping his pecker pointed out to sea. “Pleased to meet you. I'm Randy.”
“How do you do?” said Linnus, looking as uncomfortable as Randy felt.
His question still completely una
nswered, he nudged it a little more. “So, like, three days? A week, maybe?”
Alexei sniffed the air and grimaced. “What is that putrid odor?” Alexei asked Linnus. “It smells like vomit. Come, Linnus. Let us continue this conversation in my quarters where we can get out of these wet clothes.”
When they were gone, Randy let out a long sigh of relief and a steamy stream of urine as his bladder relaxed.
It started raining harder, and Randy decided to make the best of it by taking a stroll around the deck while nature washed the rest of Denise's vomit off him. When he'd done a complete lap around the ship without finding Captain Longfellow, he decided to seek him out in the captain's quarters, in the tier above the one their room was in. He climbed up the other side of the ship to avoid getting distracted or vomited on by Denise.
When he reached the top tier, Randy held onto the railing as he inched his way along the narrow platform to the captain's door. The cloudy sky gave no indication as to whether or not it was too early to knock on someone's door, but he didn't know what hours Captain Longfellow generally kept anyway. He knocked.
“Whoever be knocking on me door at this early hour must feel he has one too many hands.”
Randy supposed it wouldn't have hurt to have waited another hour or two before knocking. He was about to make his way back to the ladder when the captain's door swung open.
Captain Longfellow stood in the doorway wearing only his captain's hat and a black robe, open in front. He was in remarkable shape for a man his age. Or else his weathered face made him look older than he actually was. His chest and abdomen were covered in tattoos of dragons, skulls, large-breasted mermaids and well-endowed male humanoid creatures. None of them were especially well-drawn, and some of them looked to have been applied on stormy seas. There were also a number of tick marks, inked wherever there was free space, like you might find on a prison wall. Randy wasn't sure what the captain was keeping track of, but he sure seemed to have done a lot of it.
Captain Longfellow's longfellow, hanging between his legs like a pendulum, was not quite as impressive as the ones inked on his skin, but then he wouldn't be able to walk if it was. By realistic standards, it was an impressive specimen.
“Have ye something to say to me?” the captain asked Randy. “Or did ye climb all the way up here to gaze upon me mainmast?”
Randy looked away, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks. “I'm sorry, Captain. You caught me off guard. I weren't expecting you to be so...” He wished he hadn't begun this sentence.
“Limp?” asked Captain Longfellow. “Ye caught me just after me morning rubdown. I shall require at least ten minutes before me weapon be ready to fire off it's next load. Yer free to come in and wait if ye like.”
“That actually ain't what I'm here for,” said Randy, hoping again that he wasn't being rude.
“Well come in out of the rain anyway, ye cursed fool. And mind ye step. There's like to be a slippery spot around here somewhere.”
Randy stepped past him, careful not to brush against his wiener or look too closely at the floor for whatever might be responsible for the slippery spot. “Thank you, Captain. That's awful kind of you.”
“Have a seat,” said the captain. “Lord Shitflinger! Two cups, please.” He fell into the biggest chair at the far end of the table that took up most of the space in the rectangular room, then produced a glass bottle from underneath. It was half full of bright green liquid and capped with a silver skull.
“Thank you,” said Randy, sitting two chairs away, far enough to keep a bit of distance between himself and the captain's junk, but close enough so that the ship's mainmast, which penetrated the floor, ceiling, and table, wasn't between them. “But it's a little early in the day for me, I reckon.”
“Throbbing manatee cock!” he responded, filling the two cups in the swaying cabin as steadily as if they sat upon a bar on solid ground. “It will wash the taste of yer sister's testicles out of ye mouth.” When the pouring was done, he slid one cup Randy's way. It stopped just short of his waiting hand without a drop sloshing over the side.
“Thank you,” said Randy again, not wanting to further offend. “That's mighty generous of you.” He took a sip to be polite, then coughed like he'd just poured burning gasoline into his mouth. If he had a sister, and she had testicles, and he had for whatever reason been tasting them, he had no doubt that this would indeed have washed the taste from his mouth.
Captain Longfellow laughed, then poured the entire contents of his cup down his throat, barely wincing as he slammed the cup back down on the table.
“Ye drink like ye've just been weaned from yer dear mother's titty.”
Randy got his coughing under control. “I ain't what you'd call a heavy drinker.” He took another small sip, just to demonstrate that he was capable. It was almost as horrible as the first, but being prepared for it kept him from having another coughing fit.
Captain Longfellow poured himself another cup. “So to what do I owe the honor of ye gracing me cabin with yer divine presence at the arse crack of dawn, oh mighty paladin of the New God?”
“I was hoping you could tell me how long a journey this would be.”
“No more than five days,” said the captain. “Mayhap four if the gods blow upon our backsides. What be yer hurry?” He leaned in and narrowed his eyes at Randy. “What know ye about the strangeness that be brewing in the Slavelands?”
“I don't know nothin' about no slave lands. Where's that?”
“Mercy of the gods, lad. I could insert meself in yer left ear and squirt me seed from yer right without fear of soiling me member with brain matter.”
“I'm sorry I asked.” Randy took a slightly larger sip from his drink, not wanting to insult his host, but hoping to lessen the amount of time he had to sit there and take his abuse.
“Do ye truly know nothing of the place ye asked me to take ye?”
Randy didn't see any harm in telling the captain what little information he was privy to, and now thought it might do them some good to find out whatever the captain was willing to volunteer.
“All I know is that our companion, Jay, turned up at the inn we was staying at and said he just escaped from this place called Hollin. He mentioned some strange things going on there which we felt we should investigate.”
“Aye. What sort of strange things?”
“I ain't exactly sure. Something of a musical nature, I reckon.”
“Musical?” said Captain Longfellow. “I hear sailors speak of civil unrest and slave revolts, and ye tell me tales of a handful of dandies blowing upon each other's skin flutes!”
“I don't believe I made any such reference.” Randy picked up his drink to sip again, then set it back down, determined to get something useful out of the captain. “Tell me about these slave lands. Are we headed to some kind of cotton plantation or something?”
“The Slavelands be a loose alliance of cities on the northern coast of the Barovian subcontinent. Beholden to no kingdom, they flaunt their wicked trade in the face of civilized men.”
“Slavery,” said Randy, just to be sure he was keeping up.
“Aye, slavery.”
“If civilized men is so put off by the slave trade, why don't none of these kingdoms go put a stop to it?”
Captain Longfellow laughed. “Then that kingdom would assume responsibility for governing the gods-forsaken blights of barren land, never mind that there be coin to gain in such trade without overtly getting yer hands dirty. I daresay most of their stock comes from kingdoms shipping away their undesirables.”
“I don't understand. How can they sell people to slavers without overtly gettin' their hands dirty? That sounds about as overt as you can get.”
“Get the cocks out of yer ears, lad. Who said anything about selling? No king would dare sell a man into slavery. The Treaty of Al'Navar expressly forbids such a practice. But there be no law forbidding the hiring of wardens to keep a kingdom's prisoners fed, housed, and clothed until suc
h a time when they be deemed fit to rejoin society.”
Randy was beginning to see where Captain Longfellow was going with this. “So they ain't selling folks into slavery. They're actually paying the slavers to take them into slavery?”
“Ye catch on quickly.”
“In a way, that's almost worse than selling them.”
“It be a far cheaper price to pay than maintaining the old dungeons. The Eastern Kingdoms have flourished for centuries with the coin they've saved, and the Western Kingdoms have started to come around in the past few decades.”
“That's terrible,” said Randy.
Captain Longfellow swallowed a gulp from his drink. “It be the way of this world, lad.”
“Surely the people must know about this.”
“The people?” Captain Longfellow laughed. “The people give not a puddle of festering cat piss beyond what tasks they must do to fill their bellies and those of their sons and daughters. The promise of a better life through hard work and allegiance to a lord's banner, there be yer real slavery.” He emptied the rest of his cup down his throat, then filled it again.
While Randy was truly interested in the captain's political commentary, he tried to think of how he might steer the conversation back to his more immediate concerns, but he was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.
“Mercy of the gods,” grumbled Captain Longfellow as he stood up to answer the door. “I've got but only one cock to go 'round!” He swung the door open.
Alexei's gaze stayed fixed on the captain's exposed junk for a second, then rose to his face. “Captain Longfellow! I –” He shifted focus to Randy and narrowed his eyes. “Hello, Randy.”
“Good morning, Alexei,” said Randy as friendly as he could.
“Did ye have matters of more import than ogling me guest, Alexei?” asked the captain. “Or need ye a reminder of how dearly I value me cabin time?”
The captain's monkey, Lord Shitflinger, chuckled and yipped from where he was perched on one of the shelves full of junk.
Alexei stood at attention. “Please accept my apologies, Captain. There's something I think you should see. A Barovian longship headed toward our port bow.”