by Kyle Spencer
The other strange thing that no one here seems to want to mention is that since docking we haven’t seen another soul. Heard them, sure; apart from the music every now and again a rousing bout of laughter or song peals out through Fiddler’s Green. But no one makes an appearance.
“That’s it.” I hop off the railing. “I can’t stand waiting around anymore. I’m heading up there.”
“Are you sure that is good idea?” Archy waggles a finger at me. “You know what they say about curiosity and cats.”
“First: I’m not a cat. Second: Satisfaction brought her back. I would know. Third: that food smells really damn satisfying. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen? Is the captain going to keelhaul me?”
“Well, yes.” The professor arches an eyebrow.
“…Oh shit, really? I didn’t think that was an actual thing.”
“It is.” Aami pops up onto the railing, scaring the shit out of the two of us. She holds her safety rope in one paw and a rubber mallet in the other. “Basically they drag you underneath the boat and depending on how much you’ve pissed off the captain, you can be left to drown or get cut to ribbons by barnacles.”
“Has Saltana ever keelhauled anyone?” Archy asks. His tone is less worry and more scientific curiosity.
“Pff. Of course not! The captain has more…creative ways to punish us.” The pirate blushes slightly.
“But no keelhauling?” I ask.
“No keelhauling.” She winks.
“Good.” I wink back. If I’m going to break rules I need to make sure I’m not going to get shredded for it.
“Yes it is,” Aami smiles, revealing a golden canine, “Because I’m coming with you two.”
“Wait what? You’re not afraid of getting in trouble? And who said that Archy was coming with aw fuck it, of course he’s coming with me.” I roll my eyes at my friend and he shrugs with a smile.
“Look,” The otter undoes her safety rope and drops off the railing with a wet thud, “the sea is my home. The people up there are my people. I’m pretty sure that without one of us seadogs along with you, you’d be dead in about an hour.”
“Ha! She has good point.” Archy guffaws and punches me in the shoulder.
I ignore Archy’s jab and point to the floating mausoleum behind me. “And you’re not afraid of that?”
“Terrified.” Her eyes tell me she’s not exaggerating. “But I need to know why that ship is here.”
“Fair enough. So you know how to sneak off this ship?”
“I’ve done it once or twice. Meet me right back here at midnight.”
***
“That was easy enough.” The three of us pad along the boardwalk. We don’t sneak or even tread lightly; the massive Frying Dachshund completely blocks our ship and there’s still no sign of anyone else here. Aami has convinced us to walk around the perimeter before going for all the music and food, a move that Archy and I agreed to only after much whining. But as we turn the corner I think even she now regrets coming this way.
“I regret coming this way.” She stops in her tracks. Yup. I was right.
“What is wrong?” Archy asks.
A shaky, calloused paw points at the row of ships docked on this side. She calls out a few names, “The Caleuche, The Octavius, The Lady Lovibond, the Mary Celeste.”
“How can you tell? I can’t see any names.” Like The Frying Dachshund, these ships have seen better days and probably can’t sail on even luck and a prayer.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one.” She turns to me and the faint gleam of tear-streaks shine on her face. “We need to go back to the ship. Now.” Before I can ask about getting some of that food to-go, she grabs my robes and pulls me back towards the ship with Archy on our heels.
“Could we possibly get some of that food to…” The bear takes one look at my face, “No, is stupid idea. Never mind.”
We pass by an empty tavern when suddenly the lights flare up in the windows and a pixie-voiced tin whistle pips out a tune. The swinging double doors to our right breath out with the laughter of a dozen old salts (with a ‘yargh!’ thrown in for good measure). The three of us stand frozen outside; not even two minutes ago when we passed this that tavern was completely empty.
But before we could move away from the entrance, five scraggly, salty sailors burst forth. Laughing like maniacs and smelling like a drained cask they drag the three of us in.
The Rusty Scupper
“I dare say! Another festival! Why can’t these commoners just have a nice quiet party with champagne and caviar like civilized people?!”
- Aquarian noble, after being forced to take a detour
The bright midday sun shines down on this lovely city. And on the day of a festival no less! Stalls with colorful canvas tops line the main avenue while cubs with wooden swords zip in between the stilted legs of jesters. The enticing aroma of cakes and pies lingers in the air while benches are filled with young lovers and those old enough to enjoy the luxury of simply watching life happen. Even Ubel has a certain spring in his step, although both of us have been a bit more upbeat since the forest.
What a night that was…
He begins to whistle a tune, an old one from generations past. The low melancholy dirge dredges up memories of sitting in the manor, watching our daughter practice her art while Ubel plays that very song from the piano. For me it’s a bittersweet melody, a reminder that happy moments in the past may never happen again. But we should still be glad they happened.
The song has a very different effect on those around us.
The tight throng of people in front of us begins to thin out; people move away from the center - and out of our path - and crowd against the sides of the avenue. A mother holding an infant cuts in a few paces ahead of me. Suddenly the babe starts wailing huge, wracking sobs. The mother tries to sooth it and just so happens to turn around towards us. Disturbed confusion paints her face.
It’s us. Her young child is crying because of us. She doesn’t really know why; she simply knows. A mother’s intuition, if you will. She wants to say something, but what do you say? What can she say to two well-to-do mausen making their way through a festival whose only crime is whistling and enjoying the sunshine. So instead she clutches the cub to her bosom and quickly moves to the side with the rest of the lot. The instant we pass the infant quiets down. I don’t need to look back to know the horrified certainty on that mother’s face. I’ve seen it enough times.
There is an ancient, primal instinct that everyone has. It’s a small alarm situated far back in our brains and deep within our hearts and it’s the first line of defense against danger. That little part of us can sense the simple wrongness of a situation and start sending signals to flee. Every creature has this instinct. And the von Zerfallens trigger it wherever we go. Well, all but one von Zerfallen.
It’s a side-effect of our...talents, and a price any of us would gladly pay. Although, it can be a tad inconvenient at times, especially when one is trying to maintain a low profile while traveling through a populated city.
Oh well. It’s not like any of them would even dare get close to us to do something. Only the very brave or very foolish would try. The rest we repel like oil to water.
Soon we’re surrounded by a circle of silence; jesters stop their jesting and the click-clack of clashing wooden swords stops. The only sound is Ubel’s haunting whistles.
“I think that’s enough dear.” I glance around at the staring, suspicious eyes. Not that I really care, but unwanted attention is still unwanted attention.
“As you say, my sweet.” The whistling stops and is replaced with a low, soft hum. “Do you remember the last time we were here?”
“I do.” I pull him closer. We were recently wed and starting to put our new life together. We had come to Aquarian to acquire building materials - for homes as well as other things. “I wonder if the catacombs are still as lovely now as they were then.”
“I’m sure they are,”
He pecks me on the cheek, “And when we return perhaps we will visit there once more. All three of us. But now let’s see if I can remember my way to the docks. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
The docks have a sweet smell, like slightly rotting fruit. Much better than the rest of the city. The sweat and mold and fish and rot and ale swirl into an almost perfect aroma. And it seems that there are plenty of ships in port today.
But of course Ubel has to be picky about it…
“Oh!” He stops midstep. “This one!”
“Dear, look at it...” It’s half the size of its neighbors and looks to be held together with frayed twine and hope.
“But look at the figurehead!” A cackling skeleton leers down at us.
My husband never really was one for subtlety.
“How about that one over there?” The ship lies shackled to the dock like a captured giant. The strapping crew haul crates up the gangplank as the foreman, a tattooed sphynx, spits and growls at them.
“As you wish my dear. I say! Good afternoon to you gentlefolk! Is the captain of your fine vessel available? I wish to purchase passage on his ship.”
“Oh?” The sphynx smirks as the rest of the crew stifle laughter. “Cap’n is indisposed of at the moment. So hows about you ‘n the missus just turn ‘round and-” A shirtless wolf carrying a crate walks up beside him and carefully put down his cargo. The sphynx catches the new arrival out of the corner of his eye and stands a little straighter.
“No need to be rude, bosun. These folks look reasonable. And rich.”
“Indeed.” Ubel produces a large sack from a coat pocket. With strength that surprises much of the crew he hefts it up to the bosun, who naturally catches it with ease. The wrinkled face shows his approval. “That’s for safe passage to our destination. Twice that much on our return.”
The bosun and captain peer into the sack and give a low whistle.
“And where is said destination?”
“That will be revealed at the appropriate time.”
“Now normally I would have to object to setting sail for parts unknown,” He rubs the back of his neck, “But with money like that, who’s gonna argue with you? Not me, that’s for damn sure. The name’s Davin Scarburough, captain of the Rusty Scupper. Welcome aboard! And please forgive my crew if they seem a bit rough around the edges.”
“Oh, no worries.” Ubel grins broadly. “They’ll suit us just fine.”
Searching for Susi
Caught the Maus whistling on deck. Again. Not good.
- Last entry in the ledger of Captain Davin Scarburough
“The ocean is a large place.” The statement sounds stupid in my ears, but Ubel nods in understanding. Gently bobbing with the waves, we stand at the bow and stare out over the deep blue waters. The sun shines brightly overhead and a warm southernly breeze ruffles the sails.
We are alone and out of earshot; the rest of the crew continues to keep their distance. Sometimes when they think we aren’t watching they’ll bite their thumbnails or spit or make some other strange gesture. Day by day the number of odd trinkets dangling from their necks or wrists increases as well. The crew acts like nothing has changed, like we haven’t noticed.
But we do notice.
Ubel sighs, “So you want to know how I intend to find our daughter? Alright. To say that our daughter is a…wunderkind is an understatement. She’s picked up everything we’ve taught her with unnatural quickness. But we haven’t taught her everything.” His face turns dour as he talks.
“Ubel, no. We agreed we wouldn’t do that.”
My husband and I spent many a long night in our study sitting in front of the fireplace and discussing our daughter. With everything in the room washed green by felfire we would talk about many things: her education, her abilities, her role as the heiress to House von Zerfallen and how to nurture her ascendance to head of the family. And during those long, long nights we decided that since independence is one of the cornerstones of our House, so shall it be with her upbringing.
For the overprotective parent, necromancy is a dream come true. With the knowledge of a few spells and how to properly use them, they could know where their child has been, what they did, and who they did it with. But Ubel and I saw such actions as craven and beneath the dignity of us as parents and beneath the dignity of our daughter.
But it seems my husband is now having second thoughts.
“I think at this stage our daughter has forfeited those privileges, don’t you?” He casts a sideways glance at me.
“You know the risks involved…” With necromancy, everything is a risk. The number of things that can go wrong when you cast even the simplest of spells matches the number of souls dining with Hel. And one mistake with necromancy means someone is dead…or more dead. And that someone is usually you. Needless to say, very few necromancers walk this earth as living and breathing flesh. But in this case my worry isn’t so much for my husband as for my daughter.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything drastic...yet. For now I’ll send out a shade.”
Internally I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Shades are simple. Shades are safe. And shades get the job done.
“Which one?” I prod, trying to jog my husband’s memory to the game we used to play.
He smiles. “Your pick, my dear.” He pulls me close and kisses me.
***
The sphynx is incredibly strong, in a wiry sort of way. The tattoos on his chest heave as they hover over me. Most of his hairless pectorals are taken up by a massive ship braving stormy seas, surrounded by serpents and other beasts of the deep. His arms on either side of me are like unbreakable cables. Running down them are strips of letters from some ancient language - one of the only ones I can’t read. The eyes in his tattooed face hold no signs of distrust anymore; that little primal alarm has been turned off.
All that’s left is lust.
He claws at my dress, clumsily and ravenously trying to find anything to tear away. Now the game begins: a test of wills against Ubel and myself. How long will Ubel watch as this beast tries to have his way with me? How long will I let him watch? If Ubel acts first, he loses. If I act first, I lose. But neither of us lets our prey get too far.
Normally I have nothing to worry about. Ubel’s jealousy is like a dragon sleeping away in its cozy den. Left alone it calmly rests, but if awoken it will strike with furious anger and burn everything around it to ash. Merely seeing another put his paws (or her paws, in some cases) on me is enough to rouse that beast.
The sphynx’s face wrinkles even further as he smiles, showing numerous missing teeth. “I knew that little maus couldn’t satisfy you. Lemme show you how a real-” His words clog his throat. He cranes his neck back and surprised yellow eyes turn to see Ubel holding onto his tail by one paw.
“That wasn’t fair. You chose the most brutish, hideous creature on this ship.” He pouts.
“That was fast.” I adjust my dress after sliding out from beneath the bosun. His head snaps back around and his eyes double in size. I don’t even bother looking at him anymore. It’s time that my husband had his fun.
On his hands and knees and shaking like a leaf, the sphynx’s jaw literally cracks open as he tries to scream. Nothing comes out because Ubel has already stolen his voice. My husband backs up a few steps and begins pulling a fine black thread from the tip of the bosun’s tail. As he does so the color begins to literally drain from the would-be inamorato. First the nose, then the whiskers, then the head and shoulders. Ubel continues to back away and pull more and more black string from the tail until the sphynx is completely bone white. The bosun crouches there, an odd statue, full of surprise and fear and lust, attempting to mount a mate that isn’t there. Then the whole figure melts into white mush like paper in the rain.
Standing next to Ubel is a shadow roughly the same height and width as the former bosun. There is no real form to it. The edges keep shifting and melting into the surroundings. But the eyes have a definitely shape and c
olor: pale yellow - just like what the sphynx had.
“You.” A quick snap and Ubel has the shade’s attention. “Find my daughter. Report back to me.” A small dagger flashes out of his vest and nicks his middle finger. A single drop of blood wells up and he deftly flicks it onto the shade. The instant the droplet touches the black form it vanishes into the night.
Shades can travel through shadow - or at night, anything - faster than birds can fly. Although they can’t interact with anything corporeal, certain magic can affect them. Throughout the ages they’ve been used as spies and lookouts for kings and nobles, gathering information or warning of impending danger. The only trouble is that shades must be pulled from a living being and, if not done properly, can destroy both the source as well as the shade. Therefore the healthier the sacrifice the better.
“Just for the record,” I find a pile of rope in the corner and lay down on it, “I won that round.”
Ubel sighs as he unbuttons his coat. “What’s the score now? Twenty-three for you and two for me?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Of course.” Another sigh and the undershirt comes off. “The usual?”
“Hmm...loser’s choice this time.” That brings a smile to his face.
“And afterward what say we have a nice discussion with the rest of the crew.”
He gently kisses my cheek, then my neck, then continues further down.
“Sounds splendid.”
Scoundrels' Tavern
"Yes, I do heartily repent. I repent I had not done more mischief; and that we did not cut the throats of them that took us, and I am extremely sorry that you aren't hanged as well as we."
-Anonymous pirate, asked on the gallows if he repented.
“I, I, I gotta tell ya…*hic*,” The drink in my cup sloshes as I wave it around the table, “You guys scared the shit out of us, grabbing us like that and pulling us in here. But *hic* you’re alright. And this is some of the best damn 酒 I’ve ever had. Who even has sake outside of the Shimmering Isles anyways? Seriously! How *hic* how did you get this stuff, uh…um…I’m sorry - I’ve seemed to have drunk your name out of my memory.”