1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.4 An Artful Carnivale
1.2.4.9 The lobster pot
The tavern was much larger than Kafana had expected from the short frontage, but she realised that its position on the outside corner of a bend in the canal allowed it to stretch sideways as well as back. Sailors were sitting on chairs hewn from water barrels, at very solid trestle tables made of what looked like ship’s planking. They were drinking from leather tankards and eating off wooden trenchers. It looked like the sort of dive where the only items left were those able to survive a nightly brawl.
Bulgaria led them towards a table near the back with a good view of the room, and it did nothing to change her impression when a server with gnarled hands and more beard than face sniffed them as they passed, before declaring them to be salty.
Kafana: {What’s that about?}
Bulgaria: {The proprietor likes to give the impression that only seafarers are allowed in. The exclusivity adds to the mystique, but actually you get all sorts in here. There’s more to The Lobster Pot than meets the eye. Now, this is the gent we’re here to meet.}
Bulgaria: “Captain Lazarillo of the Valorosa? We never met the late Captain Cuniberti, but a friend of ours, Captain Nafaro, told us a little about him and suggested we might lend a hand tracking down the bastard who murdered him.”
The man sitting at the table had a barrel-like chest, rough leathery skin, a mournful face and the most world-weary eyes Kafana had ever seen.
Lazarillo: “Nafaro, eh? I knew him when he ran the San Ibarso. A good sailor, even if he does muck about with magic. You’re friends of his, you say?”
Balthazar: [Sense Danger! Nafaro told you his ship was called the San Isidoro.]
Kafana: “Did he have a ship called the ‘San Ibarso’? He never mentioned it to me, just the galleon San Isidoro. And he was kind enough to take me out on the Daedalus a few days ago - I’m his Journeyman, Kafana.”
Lazarillo relaxed. “The Icarus, you mean? Heh, seems we’re both a bit forgetful. Well, even if you are a mage, at least you can think on your feet, and maybe a spot of magic’s what I need. Better a mage than some priest. I’ve never met a priest of Cov worth spitting upon. Sit down, sit down, you’re putting a crick in my neck standing around like that.”
*ding* [Your party’s reputation with the Valorosa has increased by 10.]
*ding* [Your reputation with the Valorosa has increased by an additional 40. You have changed status from ‘Outcast’ to ‘Neutral’.]
Wow, by default everybody started off at a negative reputation with them? Prickly bunch. But if they were hot for revenge and didn’t know who’d carried out the assassination, a little bit of suspicion was natural.
The party sat down, introduced themselves, and Wellington and Bulgaria took turns gently grilling Lazarillo for everything he could tell them. They’d barely started when the server came by to take their orders; however, while there were over 40 different drinks to choose from, there was only one item listed under food: “Fish”. They ordered “Fish for seven” and, as the only cook among them, Kafana was selected to go with him when the server asked which of them would do the picking.
Server: “How hungry are you folks? Wanna shell out fer the special?”
Kafana thought briefly of Bungo, and decided that she could safely store any remainders in her stash as they wouldn’t age or even cool down.
Kafana: “That sounds good.”
He led her out to the canalside, where a heavily armoured captain was alighting, arguing with a striking woman, equally armoured and bearing twin shortswords. They looked interesting, but she turned instead to study the lobsters and examined them with her magic, hoping to pick the tastiest one.
Kafana: “That one, with the orange tail, shading to blue at the claws.”
The server nodded approval: “You know your lobsters.”
Kafana: “Not really. I’m a journeyman to Columbina over at the Speckled Dove, but she hasn’t covered the local seafood, yet. I’m not from around here.”
The server grinned broadly. “Oh ho! I’ll let Master Chef Goedzak know; it will put him on his mettle.”
He hooked the chosen victim out of the rope pot, the others snapping at it with their claws. He didn’t bother to close the pot, which struck her as somewhat careless.
Kafana: “Do many escape, or can’t they climb?”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Server: “Nah, they can climb quite well, but none ever get out - when one tries to leave, the others drag it back down. The stupid sods never learned to cooperate.”
She made her way back to the table, where a burly sailor had joined them. The sailor was wearing a well-made leather peacock mask, with real peacock feathers carefully stuck to it. Tomsk introduced him to her.
Tomsk: “Kafana, this is Leonid, captain of the river boat Passaro, working for Exotic Timber Enterprises. He was telling us about the damage caused to his sails by a drunken dagger-wielding adventurer who tried jumping the river, got caught in his rigging, then panicked and cut himself free.”
Leonid: “I’d half a mind to cut his balls off and use them as fish bait. Have you any idea how long the queue for ship repairs is at the moment? They claim they just can’t get the parts.”
Lazarillo: “Leonid, you do have only half a mind. They make most of the fittings here in Torello, down at the Ghetto - of course they’ve not run out. Probably someone hoarding, trying to drive the price up. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were paying these adventurers to wreck our ships.”
Hmm, cooperation, huh? Surely people can do better than lobsters.
Kafana: “Or maybe they are just drunk. You know, I hear adventurers are mad keen to be given worthy things to do. A cunning captain might do quite well out of such ‘drop-ins’.”
Bulgaria pretended to be a captain, exaggeratedly hamming up the role: “Oh mighty adventurer, it must be Cov’s will that you have landed upon my deck. For I am in great need of six good brass hinges and a new cleat. If you would be kind enough to bring me some, we’d all respect you greatly.”
Leonid looked surprised. “That would work?”
Bungo: “Oh sure, happens all the time. In fact if you’ve got stuff needing doing, you could send a signal, run up a flag of some kind, to let them know.”
Bungo: {Alderney, have you looked at logos yet, for the Adventurers Guild?}
Alderney: {No. What do you want, a crossed sword and staff, or something? A big “Q” for “Quests”?}
Kafana: {How about something more abstract, symbolising what adventurers actually are: a gestalt of two spirits in one body?}
Alderney: {I know just the thing.}
She took a cloth napkin from the table and carefully drew the three spirals of a Celtic triskelion. Leonid squinted at it, produced a bit of rope from his pouch and tied a knot resembling the design Alderney had just drawn.
Leonid: “Like this?” He held it up.
Kafana: “Looks good to me. Give it a try.” He looked so incongruous, with the gruff practical voice and the dainty mask. She longed to see his expression properly. “By the way, forgive me for asking, but why do you cover your face like that?”
Lazarillo: “Polite for a mage, ain’t ya? Leonid here is as ugly as a dog’s arse; I thank him daily for not spoiling me food with the sight of his mug.”
Leonid, totally unoffended, gave a snort and removed his mask for a few seconds. His appearance was indeed on the homely side, with narrow eyes in a squashed face, messy short hair and apparently no neck at all.
Leonid: “I’m not ashamed of my looks. I came by them honestly, competing on the Bridge of Fists. But since lots of people wear masks around here, I take advantage of the tradition to put others at ease.”
Lazarillo: “Unlike the beggars, who appear lame and diseased only because they choose to. The only thing they’ll get from me is my boot.”
Bungo: “You don’t like rich men, poor men, fighters, priests, mages or crafters. Are there any people you do like?”
Lazarillo: “I like the cook here, though I may change my mind if he takes much longer with our food. What’s he doing, frying a kraken? But I know what I’m talking about when it comes to beggars. I was raised by Urizen, Urizen the Beggar they called him, though he carried around a set of dividers and styled himself Urizen the Architect. Each morning I’d see him carefully groom his beard to appear as straggly as possible, before wrapping a thin strip of dirty cloth over his entirely working eyes and setting out to find a sucker who’d believe his sob story. I met most of the beggars in Lavarre, before Urizen’s luck changed. He found Phineas, an architect wealthy from building palaces, who provided us with room and board.”
Bungo: “So things got better?”
Lazarillo: “I learned my letters from a sanctimonious priest for a year. Then Phineas discovered that Urizen could see and didn’t even know the basics of architecture. He had Urizen’s eyes burned out with a hot poker and set his dogs upon me, all while the priest scolded me. I narrowly managed to escape by stowing away on the Valorosa where Captain Cuniberti, rather than throwing me overboard, listened to me and gave me a second chance in life. Him I liked just fine. It’s the undeserving I’ve no use for.”
That didn’t match the view of beggars from the Arsenal that her vessel Self had given her. She tuned the discussion out, as the others got to talking about which captains, past and present, were most worthy of respect. She noticed Wellington wasn’t talking much either.
Kafana: {Wellington, I’m going to stealth cast the listening spell we discussed earlier. Can I bring you into the casting gestalt and try to set it so that you can hear too?}
Wellington: {Yes, please. I’m not actually listening to the captains. I’m just thinking about cryptographic protocols; I’ll ask Robin for a summary of the conversation later.}
Tomsk laughed: {Cheater. Ok, go ahead you two, we’ll cover for you.}
Wellington: {It’s not cheating. Just prudent time management.}
She looked around the room for a suitable target and in an isolated booth on the far side of the room she spotted the armoured couple she’d seen earlier. She asked Dinah, her expert system, for step-by-step guidance, based upon the process she’d used when in gestalt with Dro, and carefully constructed the new spell.
[Skill “Stealth Performance” has reached level 8.]
[Skill “Sonic Magic” has reached level 9.]
[Profession “Spellsinger” cannot be promoted to “Master” status until you reach character level 40.]