Born a Monster

We were turning away from two vessels flying Clan Wyvern colors, each slightly smaller than our own, but together a force the bosun was trying to avoid.

As we rounded the end of our island, we came suddenly across a vessel flying Neonen colors, and the gold on scarlet emblem of their church beneath their own.

“Pirate hunters, ho!” came the cry from the crow’s nest.

“A pox upon the ocean, concealing such things from us. Back starboard! Starboard! Return us to our original bearing.”

Should it matter, that was a posting atop either the central or forward-most mast on a ship. The person above had at least a curved lens, and often an entire spyglass.

These devices were a mystery to me, at the time; to most of Achaea, my homeland, they might as well be made of magic rather than glass. But they WERE useful in spotting the dangers of the sea, such as a frigate, tacking toward us against the wind.

“The Red Castle.” the bosun whispered. Then, with more confidence, “We’re in the process of outrunning them now.”

And we did tack back south without running aground. Whatever can be said of Danton, his crew had excellent skills.

.....

“What is happening on my ship?” the admiral said, calmly walking from his quarters. His boots were old and weathered, and gripped his feet like torture devices. But there was an unmistakable bounce to his step that reached all the way to his eyes.

“Flags to the right! Message pending!” called the man from above.

“Oh. It’s the dragon again.” Danton’s eyes lost focus, if only for an instant. “They can’t catch us, not in this wind. Sail true, men, and we’ll be free of this trap and mocking their names.”

“And if they’ve cut off the south passage?” the bosun asked.

“Well, then we sail through.” Danton said, taking a glance over to where the hulking Castle was tacking side to side to make progress against the wind.

“They offer sixteen hundred gold for the full set of our passengers.” the crow’s nest called.

Danton’s smile leveled out. “I know my numbers, and I know my dragons. No dragon ever paid double for anything, unless they had a plan for making double what they were paying. I am sore tempted to keep you a while longer, ambassador.”

“Only tempted?” I asked.

“See your people to the packing of their things.” he said. “You must think it a sign of a horrible person, to be acting so before my feet have even healed of their wounds. But... and it’s not the money, it’s the dragon. True, he rarely takes wing himself and burns vessels. But rarely is not the same as never.”

“And it’s a lot of coin.” the bosun said.

“Aye, and it’s a lot of coin, enough to outfit and crew another ship.”

A rowboat was prepared, with barely enough room for the four of us and our belongings.

Danton asked Madonna to the side, where they had a civil and seemingly pleasant conversation, with him even kissing the back of her proffered wrist.

“That little hussy!” Kismet hissed.

“You seem to be taking that personally.” Gamilla said.

“Of course I’m taking it personally. How else should I be taking it? Our persons are being endangered, and here she is making like a socialite.”

One of the Wyvern ships came close enough to throw grapples, but it was a slender woman who swung over on a rope. She flew an impressive distance, the sort of leap a Daurian cultivator might manage. That she did it with a small coffer tucked into her left elbow made it all the more impressive.

“Captain Danton, I’ve come with your payment. If you’ll put them over the side... oh, are they going by rowboat?”

Danton stroked his beard. “It occurs to me that the cost of a rowboat is paltry when compared to the coins.” He accepted the coffer, opened and quickly closed the lid, and handed it off to the bosun. “My desk, if you please.”

“If you truly wish to keep your boat, we could always grapple, bring the ships together.”

“And scuff the side of my ship?” Danton asked.

“It was only an offer.” she said.

The crew made haste to get us into the rowboat, and I stroked like mad to get us close enough to the Dainty Dolphin for them to throw us boarding ropes. The crew was proficient and swift; we were on board and on our own way south before the Castle had entirely cleared the islands.

“Welcome aboard.” our guide said. “I am first mate Stephanie Spiro, second blackest of the three black sheep of the Spiro family. Captain Drumbard is currently busy navigating our escape, but please, follow me to your quarters.”

They were (for shipboard) generous quarters, appointed as though for an ambassador.

“Finally!” Madonna said. “I have my own dresser with an affixed mirror.”

“I had no clue you wanted such a thing.” I said, “And carrying it everywhere would be such a burden.”

“You forget who saw you literally break a man in half. You’ll manage.”

I slid out onto the bed. It was straw rather than feather, but the stalks were all in order and bound together, giving the mattress a firmness and uniformity uncommon to the typical furnishing. “I am not lugging around your furniture.”

“You’ve met him, once. What does he want with us, do you suppose?”

“I don’t suppose.” I said. “If he wanted us dead, we’d be dead. If he wanted to turn us over to Spiro, why pay double for us?”

“Don’t belabor the obvious points, dolt of a husband. What are his plans, his aspirations? What does he WANT?”

“I have no clue.” I admitted. “The first time I was his guest, it seemed he was merely curious to meet me.”

She snorted. “No, he sent a vessel all the way to Neo Esteban for you. That wasn’t just mere curiosity. What did he want?”

My memory seemed oddly ordered and clear. “He mentioned that we should leave Octopus ships alone, that he wasn’t ready for an all-out war between himself and her, didn’t want it in any case.”

“Do you think that’s changed?”

“No. I think this is something else entirely.”

“I think,” she said, “we should check on Gamilla and Kismet.”

It wasn’t like crossing the hall was a long journey.

Kismet opened the door into a luxury suite, complete with its own water closet (which had plumbing!).

“This isn’t about you.” Madonna said. “This is about Gamilla.”

Gamilla stood proudly near a dresser twice the size of Madonna’s, taking an occasional glance into the water closet, where a stone tub was filling with steaming hot water delivered by copper pipes.

“This is about me.” Gamilla said, stretching and loosening her bootlaces. “I told you I was leaving your service, ambassador. Once I knew we were coming for the boots, we were too close to his territory to not send a letter forward.” She let her eyes roll around her quarters. “Looks like I made an impression.”

“It certainly does.” I said.

“What?” Kismet exploded. “No, Rhishi! Real people get angry when they’re betrayed. Angry. Not... not happy.” She sniffed. “Why are other people happy?”

Gamilla smiled, all the way to her incisors. “We hobgoblins live for moments like this, Kismet. For showing up those who think themselves our betters.”

“I never...”

“Not you, him.”

“Rhishi? When has he...?”

“He has.” Gamilla said, swiping her hand with finality. You have, ambassador, and don’t think that Narces and I didn’t notice it.”

I scratched my chin. “I didn’t notice it, but please, go on.”

“You didn’t even notice when the Spiro family paid attention to us. Did you think that happened without proper introductions?”

“I actually did, yes.” I said. “I don’t understand much of what the two of you discussed, but you seemed driven, knowledgeable, and committed. I’d have invested in you.”

Madonna swept herself into a chair. “This is why you don’t own a sprawling financial empire.” she said. Then, to Gamilla. “Sorry. Habit. Your triumphant speech.”

“Even back then,” she said, “back when I was personally gathering rumors and we were grinding sugar cane by hand, even then, I was laying the groundwork to leave you. Then, you took us to that island of hell. Do you know why I survived?”

“To live for this moment?” I guessed.

Really, trust me. I talk to ghosts, sometimes. Living is the greener side of that fence. If you have the option, always choose life.

“To live for THIS moment, where I tell you all of the things you have done that have led me to this decision.”

It was a litany. It doesn’t belong here. Suffice that she had her own viewpoint, her own reasons.

“And now,” she said. “I have a bath to attend to. Get, out, ambassador.”

The Red Castle wasn’t actually red. It was sponsored by the queen and the church of Neonen, charged with finding pirates and converting them into proper sailors of faith. Before Dauria, I’d have said there were nasty rumors about how they did so. Today, I can only say that humans have a special breed of cruelty toward other “improper” humans.