Joe stepped out into the open air. Thankfully, Azbekt was not parked right outside his cabin, which eased some of his tension but he was still nervous. He was afraid that people would be angry with him. He was sure his skills had been needed and yet he had slept the night away. By the looks of it, a fair portion of the morning as well.
Instead of the expected resentment, Joe was surprised by the warmth of his greeting. Hands clasped his shoulder and arms, giving him gentle touches and firm squeezes. He was showered with gratitude by their smiles and kind words. Sailors and passengers alike stepped up to him and shook his hands. There was none of the animosity he had feared.
Almost none. The only stormcloud was the thunderously scowling dwarf sitting on the raised aft deck. It seems his formidable defense of the ship had earned Azbekt upper-deck privileges. Joe ignored the paladin and activated his aura sight. Looking at the crowd on deck, he picked the most severely hurt and got to work.
Cendendi Haill was his first patient. She was one of the deckhands he had seen cutting the troll nets. Cendi, like Joe, had received several broken bones for her efforts. One of the Gartrolls had stomped on her hand as she was freeing the netted prisoners. Her hand was a mess of bent purple digits. Joe could tell she was putting on a tough face but there were tears of pain threatening to spill down her cheeks. As soon as he used [Deadened Flesh] on her shattered hand, she breathed out a deep sigh of relief.
“Sorry, I took so long to get out here.”
“Hey, none o’ that,” she bossed in a rough sailor’s tone. “Yer here now. Be longer before I could see o’ mender in the city and it’d cost me all me wages. Yer saving me from a very dry shore leave,” she stated with a wink and a nod. “If you can fix this busted rooker, then it was worth the wait.”
Her candid banter gave Joe focus. He looked into the hand and started working out what he thought would be the best way to put it right. Parla was there to help him again and so was a new face, Elmar Soly. The sailor, who was the first one he had saved the night before, helped brace Cendi’s arm while Joe and Parla straightened the fractured fingers. The pair of them moved with Joe from patient to patient.
Vaugon Bredall also had broken a few fingers, as well as a badly sprained leg. When a gartroll had snared him with some others, Vaugon managed to get his arm out and grab hold of the main hatch. That action saved his group from being dragged overboard. The heavily bearded man mentioned nothing about fees or profit. His genuine gratitude erased Joe’s earlier annoyance with the merchant.
Somewhere around the fourth or fifth patient, someone handed Joe a warm plate of stew, which he practically inhaled, both from hunger and from the amazing flavors. Either the ship’s cook was a genius chef or the crew had allowed a skilled refugee to prepare a meal. Wakely offered him his flask to wash it down but Joe declined, not wanting to burn away all those wonderful lingering tastes.
Once Joe had made it to everyone who could not easily move, Yago laid out a shaggy hide rug for him to sit on. The remaining injured came to him or healed in the [Heart Fire] aura radiating from a barrel parked beside the thick, soft hide.
Joe used the seemingly endless materials from his satchel along with his spells. The Gartroll bites were mildly venomous. If the person bitten was only Sickened, Joe could use [Purge] to remove the effect. If they had the Poisoned condition then Joe gave them some antitoxin as well. Thankfully, he never had to replenish the supplies. Every time he reached in there were always more bandages and salves to be had.
On the flip side, Joe was amused when he realized Illuminaria would not allow him to cheat. He would not be able to sell the endless materials from his bag for unlimited coinage. Any portion of bandages or remedies that was not applied to a patient vanished a few moments after it left his hands. He could always pull out more but he was never going to make money selling medical supplies.
After a few hours, the line of people ended and Joe was exhausted once more. He gave himself a shot of [Efferous Endurance] but his weariness was less physical and more emotional. Between the battle the previous day, his own recent injuries, the non-stop hurt of those around him, and the looming thunderhead that was Phealiti’s champion, Joe felt frazzled. He laid back on the rug and closed his eyes for a minute until he felt a cool cloth on his brow. He looked and saw Parla smiling at him.
“You have done much good, healer. This is for you.” Parla placed a large purse gently onto his chest. Joe squeezed the leather pouch and felt coins and other bits of metal move inside it. The bag was attached to a wide ornately tooled belt. He sat up quickly, surprised by their generosity.
“Wait. I can’t take this. You two have lost so much. I’m not going to clean you out of the little you have left.”
“It is not just from us. It is from everyone here, passengers and sailors alike. You, the paladin, and the galeling are the reasons we are all alive.”
“No really, I don’t need …”
“Do not insult those who have given, Healer,” Yago's deep voice rumbled quietly from behind Joe’s head. “Highlanders pay their debts. So do sailors, it seems. Your refusal demeans those who are indebted.”
Joe still wanted to decline the belt and pouch. He knew the refugees had left behind most of their worldly goods, but when he looked at Yago’s expression, he knew there was no more arguing about it. He looked around at all the expectant faces and sighed deeply. “Thank you all. I don’t know what to say. Just thank you.”
“Good thing yer a Healer, boyo. Ye’d make a terrible bard if that be yer best oritorizing.”
“I don’t think that’s a word, Wakely,” Joe rebuffed, though he was thankful for the man’s defusing distraction.
Joe ran his hands over the smooth leather. The belt had three loops on either side of the buckle that looked like they would be perfect for holding potions. The patterns stamped into the leather had small arcane symbols tucked into the swirling designs. He tried to identify what it did but since it was not a quest item and he did not have [Assess Item], no window opened explaining its function.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Surprisingly, it was Vaugon who solved his problem. After clearing his throat to get Joe’s attention, the rotund man said, “I thought as much. I figured someone as unstinting as yourself would not focus on the tools necessary for trade or appraisal. Look in the pouch Healer. There is a pearl ring within that will solve your quandary.”
Joe raised an eyebrow but followed the merchant's advice. He found the simple pearl band. It too had runes carved into the silvery metal. He slipped it on and a window opened immediately.
Item [Lesser Ring of Evaluation] (Common-Finger) While wearing this ring you can use the [Assess Item] skill as if you had 10 ranks in the skill.
“Thank you, Master Bredall. This is very helpful,” he exclaimed, receiving a nod back from the man. Joe switched his gaze to the belt and used the ring to see what it could do.
Item [Basic Alchemy Belt] (Uncommon-Waist) This belt enhances any alchemy-based skills by 15%. Additionally, items stored in the pouch or potion loops gain [Greater Glass Ward] which provides objects made of glass Superior Damage Resistance. Lastly, you can use a mental command to have a potion in one of the loops teleport into your hand. You can specify if you wish the bottle to be opened or closed after the transference.
Joe had not considered alchemy as a trade but the idea appealed to him. He had played an alchemist in the past and the character had been a blast, always on the lookout for weird and rare items to craft with. The character, Dorian, was one of the few of Joe’s that never had money problems either. As a matter of fact, the alchemical artisan ended up bankrolling the whole team. If Illuminaria was anything like his tabletop games, then crafting could be both fun and lucrative.
When he looked up from the belt, Joe was surprised to see treetops peeking over the sides of the ship. He stood up, donning the belt at the same time, and saw the ship was working its way along a coastline. Thirty-foot tall seacliffs made of pale tannish stone lifted the coast out of the ocean. Joe ran his eyes over the crest and spotted a few small houses with paths working their way down the cliffside to the water. The top of the rise was covered in scrub grass and some wind-bent trees.
He and Wakley walked up to the railing, where Joe looked down. The blue water here was so clear he could make out the seafloor. The cliffs extended below the waves at least a hundred feet to aqua-tinted sand and what looked like shelves of coral.
“How long before we dock?” he asked the booze-hound at his side.
“Givin’ the tide, not more than half an hour, I’d say. Let me buy ye a drink when we get there. I know just the place.”
“I don’t think that choice will be up to me,” Joe replied glumly. Wakely tossed him a curious look, to which Joe nodded his head up at the glaring dwarf. Azbekt had moved to the railing of the aft deck. He was staring right at them. Joe could see the dwarf's pale knuckles as his hands tightly clenched the wood.
“You need us to keep him busy for ya, Joe?” Wakely whispered, using his name for the first time. The sailor’s voice was pitched low and earnestly. This was not the clowning sailor who had taught him how to piss. “He’s one scary digger but ye only need ta ask an these folks will bum-rush the bruiser ta give ya a chance.”
“No! Nobody gets hurt on account of me. And besides I’m pretty sure it’s all a big misunderstanding. It’s better if I just let him do his thing. That way I can get this cleared up once and for all.” The seaman held eye contact longer than Joe was comfortable with. “Really, Wakely. Don’t do anything. It will be fine.”
“If ye say so, boyo. Want something to brace ya or do ya need a clear head?”
Joe hesitated a moment before holding out a hand. “Both. Just a small sip.”
The shot burned its way down to his gut but it did center his nerves. He put aside his fear of the upcoming encounter and watched the coast slide by. He leaned out over the railing, trying to see where they were headed, but the angle wasn’t great. It looked like there was a break in the cliffs ahead. Wakley grabbed a hold of his shirt allowing him to lean out even further.
The cliffs did have a break that connected the ocean to a blue circular bay. On either side of the opening, the cliffs ended in stony points, each bearing a tall, fortified lighthouse. The structures looked like a combination of watchtowers and signal beacons. From the angle the ship was coming in, Joe could only see the far side of the shore, but it looked like it contained a large community. Joe could easily see a hundred buildings that ran gently uphill from the shore. Given that he could only see about a fifth of the bay, he did a quick bit of math and guessed the port’s population was probably between three and five thousand.
As the ship closed, more and more of the town was revealed. Joe could see docks and ships filling the shoreline where the buildings met the bay. The vessels ranged from a few massive sailing ships to dozens of small single-sail fishing boats. Those about the same size as the Tide Dancer were quite common. Countless small rowed watercraft crossed the harbor as well.
Behind the piers, the land sloped upwards until it reached the level of seacliffs. This allowed most homes to have a view of the ocean. The buildings were almost all built from light stone and timbers. They were capped by roofs of clay shingles. About half were the orangy red of terracotta, but the other half looked like the clay had been dyed in shades of blue or green.
Had Joe not known he was heading to his arrest, he would have been looking forward to walking those seaside streets. At this point, he could tell which pier the ship was headed for. He blew out a breath to steel himself and turned around only to find Hah’roo standing right behind him. Her hands were busy weaving a complicated pattern of string, a bit like a cat’s cradle.
“I will meet you in Temelmont Square,” she blurted out with her eyes locked on the threads dancing between her fingers. “That is surely where Azbekt will take you. You will know it when you get there. Churches surround the plaza. Do not let him bring you inside any specific church. When you reach the plaza, tell him that you wish to be judged by the Fourfold Court,” her fingers stopped their flurried movements and she looked him straight in the eyes. “This is most important. Temelmont Square. Fourfold Court.”
“Uh, ok. What do you mean ‘Meet me there’?”
“I have an errand to run. Remember those words,” she said with an intent expression.
“Temelmont Square. Fourfold Court. Got it. What errand?”
“There is not enough time. Have faith. I will see you soon.”
Hah’roo bounced up off the deck to balance on the railing. She pulled her hands apart, stretching the web of strings taunt. A jet of mist shot out of the spaces between the cords. The vaporous stream arched towards the shore. After a quick last look at Joe, the galeling warrior leapt forward and landed on the sweep of clouds. Her feet sank an inch into the gaseous span before it took her weight. A second later, the huntress was sprinting across the impossible vaporous bridge. Hah’roo reached the wharf well before the ship lines were even thrown.
As the wind-dancer disappeared into the crowd, Joe’s stomach did a small flip. He knew that he was going to have to accompany Azbekt, but he did not realize how much he had been counting on the calming presence of Hah’roo until she was gone. The thought of facing the stern, fierce warrior alone filled Joe with a sense of dread.
“Ye look like ya swallowed a frog, boyo. Ye sure ye still got this?”
“Don’t really have any better options, Wake,” he groaned. “Guess it’s time to go get myself arrested.”