Sailing Ether Tides

Ch: 9 On The Money

 

Frankie Knubbel, the apprentice Adventurer leaned on his scrub brush and sighed long and slow, as he looked down the long companionway lined with doors. The crew quarters were spartan and largely empty at that, but it was a lot to scrub. He tossed a pail of salt and sand onto the floor and began pushing it around, working the mixture against the decking to scour away the noisome stains left by the dead.

Similar sounds drifted to him, from the far end of the corridor, where Maya was working her way down the deck with her own brush and bucket. Benny came staggering down the narrow ladder behind Frank, bearing two more buckets in his massive hands. 

Benny Olan was big; broad, tall and wide by every measure, not a giant like uncle Tallum, but a pretty huge guy at just fifteen. He had a heavy pail in each hand as he squeezed into the narrow space behind his comrade with an uncomfortable grunt. “How’s it going?”

 

“It sucks.” Frankie grumbled, as he attacked a particularly stubborn clot of filth. “Scrubbing up after the undead sucks hard.”

 

“You won’t be complaining when this ship sells at auction.” Maya barked from the far end, where she was working her way in their direction. “We’re each in for a share of the prize, on top of the contract fee. The better she smells, the more we stand to get out of her.” The sounds of scrubbing drowned out any mumbling or grumbling the boys might have gotten up to. 

Maya used a scraper to peel a disgusting wad of unidentifiable tissue off the deck and dropped it into her bucket with a grimace of distaste. That was the worst part of cleaning up the captured ghost ship; the carelessly dropped bits of flesh that adhered to the woodwork here and there.

She sighed with disgust and amusement, as her brush obliterated the feculent, greasy blot that her latest ‘find’ had left on the boards. It looked a lot like the stain that would be left behind by a dropped, decomposing peni-… She went back to scrubbing and not looking too closely. 

#

 

Four long, back breaking and horrible hours later, the three young people clambered out into the sunshine and took deep, cleansing breaths.  “Ok, we’re officially disgusting…” Frankie grumbled, shaking a good quantity of sand out of his curly brown hair. “Let’s pull some seawater up and rinse off… I don’t wanna track this crud onto Moonrise.” 

 

Dannyl stood at the helm, steering the towed vessel, while Moonrise bobbed and tugged the larger ship along; powered by her occult engines and the combined Mana of her crew. A thick cable of braided hemp ran between the two ships, with a set of lines strung above it on either side. Loose rope netting stretched from heavy tow line to the lighter ropes, creating a bridge that would allow a nimble sailor to safely traverse from one ship to another, over the surging depths.

 

He looked down on the trio, hauling pails of seawater up from over the rail and chuckled darkly. “Good call, Becky would murder us if we got this crud on her precious boat.” He tossed down a stack of fluffy towels and three comfy, plush robes. “It’s all about the little comforts, kids. Get cleaned up and head back over for dinner.”

 

A few minutes later, three young Adventurers scampered over the tow line, barely touching the handropes strung along on either side, giggling with glee, dressed in fluffy bathrobes of forest green. Maya won the race for the shower, so the boys set to washing their clothes over the side; rinsing unnameable filth from their grubby work clothes in cold seawater, while they waited. 

 

When she emerged, freshly scrubbed and dressed, their work clothes were dangling from a line, waving in the breeze. The boys vanished into the bathroom so quickly it was hard to be sure they hadn’t fallen overboard. Having powdered undead crud all over was no fun… no fun at all. 

 

Becky Ward, high priestess of Marduk, the god of knowledge, smiled into her teacup as the three teenagers bustled into the galley, the boys sniffing and panting like a pack of hungry dogs. 

Maya, small, slim and graceful, danced between the two bigger kids and landed at the table first. She tossed her short cropped, straight black hair and winked at the smiling priestess. Her sparkling, dark eyes and ready laugh made the dim confines of the galley feel brighter. “It’s a big job, captain.” She murmured quietly. “We should probably hire some day labor when we get this monstrosity into port.” 

 

A bright smile split the dark, smooth cheeks of the young priestess, as she shook her head. “We will be doing the work ourselves, once we connect with the others. Ivy says that ship has enchantments and spells wrought all throughout, below the waterline. We can’t have the uninitiated fumbling around in her.”

 

“Wish I was uninitiated…” Frankie complained softly, as he set down two bowls of groundworm chili and a platter of hot cheesy biscuits in front of Maya. Benny nodded his agreement while settling in with his own bowl, across from the young couple.

 

“I can still smell it a little…” The big lad grumbled around a mouthful of spicy meat and beans.

 

“That’s why it’s chili tonight. Get some fresh clean mucus running through your snot-lockers.” Ivy sang happily from the galley. “Tomorrow should be easier, we got most of the internal spaces scrubbed, now it’s a matter of finishing the job…”

 

“We should be in sight of Centre Port the day after tomorrow. Then, with a little luck, it’ll be bathtime by sundown…” Tallum sighed wistfully over his own bowl of spicy stewed meat in thick, sticky, tomato sauce.

 

The ship’s bell rang the watch change a few minutes later, summoning Becky and Tallum on deck. Kermal and Dannyl both appeared in the galley not long after, sinking down into their chairs with weary sighs. 

“Towing this thing is brutal… even with a fair wind…” Dannyl murmured over a mug of beer.

 

“Mmm, come sundown we’ll pick up the pace.” Sir Kermal whispered. “Becky wants to get the group back together as soon as we can.” He turned his bright, laughing eyes on Frankie, who was busy trying to be inconspicuous and seemed to find his chili endlessly fascinating. 

“Sorry, kids… you’re going to have to help her a little.” He held out two small bronze ear cuffs to the young lad with an apologetic smile on his dark handsome face. “Everything is cultivation.” He laughed softly, as he passed similar jewelry to the others, though Maya and Benny received only one of the tiny accessories.

 

They each felt a small pinch in their hearts, as they donned the magical ornaments… The jewelry slowly and steadily began to drain the teens’ Mana and stamina, drawing their magical and physical energies into the hungry ship’s occult workings. 

“I always have weird dreams when I wear these while sleeping…” Frankie complained. “It’s always the same; I’m standing in a weird haunted inn, with spiders swarming around, way too many spiders…”

 

“I miss those days… good times…” Dannyl muttered softly, with a faraway look in his eye and a bittersweet smile on his lips. For some reason he was gazing at the low ceiling of the mess, as though he could see the moons that were probably just rising. 

 

After a long, pensive moment, he shook himself and blasted the young Adventurers with a smile that lit up the room. “Anyway, we’ll trade off at midnight, so you can actually get some rest. We’ll have a couple days ashore when we hit port, that should motivate you.”

 

That cheered his young apprentices up mightily. Dinner finished in short order and the three kids landed on cushions on the deck with their supervising journeyman, playing soft music together as the ship rolled over the low swells, under two bright moons. 

 

Frankie’s violin wailed sweetly over the waves, skipping over Maya’s drum beat like a stone on a still pond. Benny’s guitar rang out in harmony, following Dannyl’s melody into the dark, starry sky.

 

Sly, gentle tendrils of magic wound and crawled over the ship, touching every living thing aboard with a delicate thread of Will and Animus. With each bar of soft, improvisational jazz, a slight rush of refreshing coolness and warmth spread from each beating heart aboard; bringing a sense of ease and lightness to the swaying crew.

 

“Ahhh, that’s the stuff.” Becky sighed, as her own Mana and Stamina began to stabilize, under the shared gifts and enchantments of the three young musicians and their youthful supervisor. 

“Kids, keep an eye on yourselves… I don’t want anyone passing out from Mana deficit.” The captain slash priestess called from the helm.

 

Even at three quarters of the occult engine’s maximum thrust, progress was slow and the Mana drain was hefty… Towing a vessel twice her size and several times her mass was a big ask for the little ship and her crew, even with calm seas and following winds. 

 

The fog slowly settled in over the Shallow sea, pouring in from the open ocean, beyond ports Watch and Sill. The two lighthouse castles stood at the mouth of the Shallow Sea, overlooking the mile wide channel into blue waters. 

 

As always, the wind fell, when the thick, cottony fog clouds muffled the world. “The light of Knowledge pierces any mundane fog or darkness, my child…” She whispered to the young knight seated on the aft hatch.

Becky sat at the helm, confidently sailing into the dense vapor with a smile of pure delight on her dusky pink lips. “Come keep the high priestess warm, Kermie…” She intoned in her dramatic ‘I’m the high priestess’ voice.

 

Her husband settled in beside her in the steerman’s hammock chair, with a self satisfied little butt wiggle. “Your wish is my command, honored cleric.” He murmured in her ear. 

They snuggled in together, under the pale glow of the ghost ship behind them and concentrated on the important stuff; enjoying a foggy moonlit sail together on a snug, tidy little boat.

#

 

“Tinker’s trade… sharpen your knives, re-tin your pots… Fixing kettles and dealing in smallwares…” Rio sang happily, as he pulled his sweetly jingling cart across the pontoon bridge, to the beastkin slum at half past second bell. 

He repeated his call, once he got set up in the ‘market’ in the slum’s little ‘dock ward’... right at the foot of their bridge. It was a small, open, flat space, lightly scattered with clumps and patches of tough grasses and plenty of muddy bare earth. A few milk goats were nibbling at the periphery, along with a flock of chickens and geese. 

 

Rio set four retractable cart stabilizing legs down onto a likely looking bit of turf and set out his workbench and tools, still singing out his call. 

“Tinker’s trade, sharp knives cut straighter… fixing pots and kettles, fair trade and fair bargains…” 

 

He pulled a battered copper tea kettle out of his cart and set it on an iron post with a big round smooth ball welded on. The handsome young lad began to whistle and sing gaily, as he worked the dented copper kettle over the iron knob, slowly and  gently easing it back into shape with firm, careful pressure.

 

I am a jolly tinkerman,

Oh, the things I’ve seen…

 

Lightning on the mountains,

Meadows, sweet and green…

 

Never will I settle down,

Till everywhere I’ve been…

 

Bring me dented kettles,

Or pots with busted seams,

 

Rusty skillets or blunted knives,

I’ll polish, hone and sharpen them all…

 

“Tinker, tinker… do you buy scrap copper?” A middle aged rabbit woman asked cautiously from the edge of the ‘green’. Her ears were laid back and her left foot kept tapping nervously until the handsome, dark skinned human boy smiled.

 

“Trade, custom or repair, barter or coin… we deal fair with all customers.” He sang out cheerfully while examining the kettle he’d been working on. “Adventure guild rules say we can only trade outside town limits…” He raised his voice to encourage the other folks who were nervously peering out of their homes and wondering what  was going on. 

“So there are bargains to be made, friends! We are team Ragamuffin, licensed Adventurers and traders!” 

The young lad spread his arms expansively and called out to the little hamlet of huts and crude houses, letting his voice ring out over the marsh.

“Barter town is open for business, trading in forage, green lumber, beast and monster parts! Barter Town is open!”

 

Leafchaser came dancing up, pulling her beau, Jeskin by the hand at his loud, ringing call. “Rio!” She gasped happily. “My folks will be coming with a load of iron and brass scrap.”

 

“Great, bring it by whenever you want, Wilf and Amy handle the scrap, salvage and lumber.” He passed a small copper pot back to a smiling lynx woman with a nod and a wink. A few moments’ work pushing a dent out of the lovely lady’s favorite saucepan and paying her a few iron bits for a broken, leaking, copper teapot was a fine trade. 

 

The young craftsman immediately dropped the damaged teapot on his tool and began restoring its original shape, while continuing to chat. “We tinker, we have a tailor and laundry, a smith and a carpenter… Wilf might be able to fix your canoe. It should be ready in a few days, if he can salvage it… sorry, getting busy here.”

A few more folks were lined up, holding an assortment of kitchen wares and small household goods and beginning to get impatient. He scrawled a few marks on his teapot and hung it from one of the many pegs and hooks on his cart of jingling pots and pans. “Who’s next in line… Sharpen those shears for you, mistress? Three iron bits or a pound of copper or brass scrap.”

 

Leafchaser and Jeskin scampered across the mysterious bridge and vanished, followed by a few more curious folks, leaving Rio to his trade. The rapid tapping of a light hammer played a happy, tropical tune on a brass coffee pot as they left. The music followed them across the bridge and into a wonderland of delights.

“Leafy!” Amy cried, as she leapt on the startled catgirl. “Jeskin too!” She grabbed the duo by the hands and pulled them into the transformed front room, giggling with pleasure all the while. 

 

On shelves and tables all around, sets of wooden cups, mugs and dishes were stacked up in neat and orderly displays. Simple musical instruments, housewares, toys and dolls were arranged all around the north side of the room. 

To the south lay the land of ironmongery. Saws, hammers, bins of nails and tacks hung on the walls, among samples of milled lumber, fireplace tools, shovels, picks and axes. There were no ‘weapons’ on display beyond woodcutting axes and pitchforks. A rack of fine machetes and kitchen knives did stand behind the long counter, where Amy ruled with an iron fist.

“We don’t stock fishing gear… I’ve always considered that an oversight…” She chattered on and on while showing the perplexed young couple her wares. “...Wilf’s in the workshop down below, working. A giant lightning crab ate some of our instruments.” She murmured happily. “We had some of him for dinner last night, so that works out.”

 

“There’s a lightning crab near here?” Jeskin asked with a panicked note in his voice. “We all know about Stormcrab, it lives on that forbidden island…”

 

“Not any more…” Amy chirped. “We had to kill him for busting Rio’s drumset and Wilf’s banjo. It was a matter of honor.”

 

“You killed Stormcrab…” Jeskin laughed and barked at the same time, before covering his muzzle in embarrassment. “We had Stormcrab for dinner last night…” He said softly, lost in disbelief and confusion, and burped a little.

 

“We were on the island doing some gardening…” Amy sighed while pouring tea for her friends and smiling at the shoppers who’d followed them in. “Welcome in! Let me know if you need any help. We take coin or barter for goods and salvage!” She sang. “...Anyway, that crab came up all angry, demanding that we let him eat us up! Well, I said no siree mister crab…!”

 

Rio came back with his groaning cart of scrap and broken pots, trundling across the bridge just around mid day. Wilf helped his brother unload his morning’s trade, lugging nearly two hundred pounds of rusty iron junk and a like amount of brass, bronze and copper rubbish. They vanished into the private areas of the house to get cleaned up for lunch, while Amy continued working on the sales floor. Her own baskets of foraged herbs, fungus, odd stones, exotic seeds and minor monster parts were also getting nicely full.

 

The young locals spent a strange and confusing morning at the weird kids’ shop. There were so many things both common and mysterious to see and so much to taste. Someone was almost always in the kitchen doing something… usually something delicious and strange.

 

By the time Amy’s mad story was finished, Leafchaser knew much more about her new friends… and was deeply concerned for their sanity. “You all came from another world… and the gods were your childhood playmates until your father died.” Jeskin asked very slowly and carefully.

 

“Died saving the world… you can’t forget that part!” Amy said around a mouthful of wallowbear bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. “That’s why our uncle Ward is the demigod of Death, Vengeance and golden figs. He inherited the Fool’s Moon when Papa died.”

 

Her two mismatched brothers nodded silently into their own sandwiches. “Can’t bury the lead.” Wilf muttered a few moments later, when his mouth was empty, however briefly. “S’okay, Beast brought him back and we all got to watch him be reborn… it was disgusting.”

The three of them nodded together again and chomped through enough victuals to feed a platoon of hungry warriors at lunchtime, while the older traders handled their customers. 

When they finished devouring a terrifying meal, the three youngsters went back to their duties; while the sailors and their auntie took their ease in the garden and in the house.

 

“So it’s all true…?” Jeskin asked, when he found the courage to approach the youngest sailor, the one with the silver tabby cat. “The stories they tell, I mean?”

 

“Hmm? Ohh… about the gods and stuff? Yeah, crazy stuff, right?” He failed entirely to answer, while smiling blandly and petting his familiar.

“Hey Ward.” He called to a tall, muscular human man dressed in unrelieved black, who had just slipped in through the front door. “We have new friends and customers in the house, so play it cool please.”

 

“Wow, thanks… nice to be home at last…” He grumbled while winking and smiling at the young sailor.

 

“Yeah, whatever. Leafchaser, Jeskin, this is Ward; he’s the kids’ uncle. If he gets weird, threaten to tell Amy on him.” Nicolai sighed as he introduced the poor kids to the big weirdo. “Ward, Leafchaser and Jeskin are new… Captain Esperanza said to ‘be nice, or else.’ She sounded serious too.” 

 

“Hmph… where’s the trust? I hang out with mortals all the time. You act like I’m some ridiculous, divine comic foil, constantly stumbling over his own glorious bat wings…” He wheedled and oozed deliberately oily charm at the young sailor, while tossing winks and grins at the confused beast kids.

 

“Ward…” Nicloai growled softly at the much larger man.

 

“All right.” He deflated just a little, but was still smiling, showing teeth so bright, it almost hurt to look directly at him. “But Becky and the others will be sailing in at sunset, when they get here, all bets are off… They are towing in their prize. It should be quite the show.”

 

“What does that mean?” He asked calmly. “They captured a boat?”

 

“I’m not telling, but it’s going to be delicious!” The odd man said cheerily. “I’m off to the baths!” At that point, he seemed to disappear into the early afternoon shadows.

 

Jeskin and Leafy watched him vanish before their eyes and shrugged. While they were looking where the strange man had been, a soft voice called out to the young catgirl.

“Leafchaser, how much is this shovel?” Mistress Laupin asked softly from behind the pair. “You work here, right?”

 

“Uhh…” She murmured at the older rabbit woman standing behind them holding a secondhand, refurbished garden spade. “The tag says an iron half…” She looked over to Amy, who was currently surrounded by a small horde of locals at the cutlery racks. Amy felt her gaze and nodded to a door marked ‘private’ in bright brass letters. ‘Get Wilf.’ She pantomimed, forming each syllable in an exaggerated manner.

 

“I don’t have the coin… I’d hoped to barter… It’s just so busy.” Aoi Laupin murmured softly. “I have some copper and brass scrap… just some worn out pots and a broken lantern. I know it’s not really enough…”

 

“I think it will be enough… Wait here while I find Wilf.” Leafchaser murmured. She slipped through the door to the workshop and down the stairs.  

 

The bustle and clamor of the busy shop cut off as though snipped with scissors, the instant the door closed. She found herself in a wide, well lit staircase, which turned out of sight at a landing eight steps down. Waves of heat and soft noises came up from below, around the landing. Gusts of hot air and chuffing sounds drew her on, tugging at her native curiosity and passion for warm things.

When she turned the landing, both Rio and Wilf were stripped to the waist and gleaming with a sheen of sweat, as they slowly maneuvered a huge, glowing orange flask with long poles. 

The heavy crucible was suspended from the rafters on a complex network of chains and rails, allowing the two muscular young men to carefully pour a stream of liquid fire into a set of molds.

 

“Stay back please, this is the dangerous part!” Rio called when he spotted her, crouched on the landing and watching them with wide, staring eyes.

Smoke, steam and sparks hissed and spat, as they poured. Slowly and carefully they walked the dangerous liquid down the molds, before dragging the empty and slowly cooling crucible back to the smelter.

 

“Sorry, Leaf. You don’t wanna get molten bronze on your fur.” The tall dark skinned man said, while slowly, sensually toweling off his dark, gleaming skin at the foot of the stairs... It was pretty distracting. 

 

Wilf came over as well, he seemed to be buffing his smooth, pale golden torso; polishing, rather than drying himself. 

He sighed and flung his towel over his absurdly wide and muscular shoulders, very nearly concealing the collar bones and pectorals she’d been very subtly admiring. “Is it getting busy up there?” He asked, in his warm, soft voice.

 

“Uhh… yeah… it’s busy… Amy asked me to look at… er, come get you…” She purred, while catching a whiff of the clean, masculine scent of the two mismatched brothers. “She needs your muscl… help up there…”

 

“Uh huh,  we’ll be right up.” Wilf mumbled, while putting on his shirt. The big lad bustled up the stairs, while Rio leaned against the wall and smiled up at her, where she was still crouched, with wide eyes and her tail thrashing. 

 

“What you’re feeling is a side effect of Wilf’s gifts interacting with mine… it should pass quickly.” He smiled at her again, but this time it didn’t make her heart leap and turn her tail into a bottle brush. “That’s why we have a ‘private’ sign on the workshop door.”

He dropped a big, calloused hand on her shoulder and gave her a comradely squeeze. It was warm and comforting… and not even a little sexy. Well, maybe a little.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs while this stuff cools.”

 

“You are both smiths?” She asked, as they made their way upstairs.

 

“Nahh. I’m an apprentice in the Divine Order of Tinkersmiths, but I’ll make journeyman this year. Sixteen is as early as they’ll let me challenge at craftmoot.” He said, with a wide smile. “Wilf’s a luthier mostly… that’s a kind of carpenter; but we’re both advanced apprentices in the Puissant League of Miners and Smeltiers.”

 

“And you’re Adventurers, sailors and traders too…” She murmured.

 

“Yeah, we like to keep busy. Just wait till the rest of the band gets here, then you’ll see some stuff!” He swung open the door and a wash of noise drowned out anything else he might have said.

#