“I am sorry, uncle Muhtessem.” the boy brought forth “but don’t set out alone. I’ll be healthy in no time, then we can rush down the cleft together again.” He had to cough several times. His mother was wiping his forehead with a wet cloth.
Atabey was a good boy and Muhtessem was glad to have him at his side, but he was naïve if he thought that he would just sit idly by and let sickness take his only nephew.
“I promise, I’ll help you.” Muhtessem said. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it just fine.”
He left the house of his sister Vahide and was back out in the open air. He lived inside the fifth wall of Southbridge; the houses here still had some space between them but it was close enough to the port. His own house was closer to the waterline, so he could still see his boat from his door.
He rubbed his belly, gotten larger in his recent years, and decided to go down to the port, look for sailors who’d rush the cleft with him. It was a difficult job, one needed to be aware of all the dangers that lurked below and above, as well as from all sides at once. He neither was nor had a soothsinger who could assuage the raging powers still active within the cleft itself. Only the big shipping houses could afford them and they took the important cargo. He could merely hope to outrun the heavy vessels to deliver faster, many of his colleagues lost boat or even life trying to do so.
He arrived at the Sturdy Mast, his favourite dive at the docks, close to the bridge itself. It lay close to the outer docks, so that the sorry lads that were already broke on payday could find their way quickly. Minnie was already out, trying to attract some patrons to her chamber when he passed her by. “Morning Tessem” she greeted him, still trying her best, “Morning, Minnie” he greeted back and went through the door to the bar.
The usual scent of damp wood, stale smoke and cheap alcohol greeted him. He took place at the bar and ordered something light for a start. The day had barely begun and he needed to find someone willing to rush down the cleft with him on a small ship with a crew of two for almost no pay-out at all.In other words, an idiot. While most people here fit the bill, not all of them were also desperate or bright-eyed enough to accept the deal.
He had barely started to look around the room for some suckers when his old friend Marceus approached him.
“Well, Tessem, is your boy still sick?” he opened with an expectant smile.
“Yes, why do you ask?”
His smile turned into a grin. “So you are still looking for someone to run the cleft with you?”
Tessem did not know where this was going. “Yes, what are you trying to get at?”
Now Marc was actually chuckling. “Well you see, there’s this crolachan who came in here yesterday evening, after you had left and asked whether someone could “give her a lift up the salt river for free” and everyone just laughed her off. She also said she had no experience in sailing. Torry told me, she’s been going around SEVERAL bars at the docks and harbour, yesterday and today too.”
“And you’re telling me why?”
Marc laughed. “Because I want to see who’s more desperate.” He couldn’t stop his laughter anymore.
Tessem turned back around and eyed his drink. It was just a few moments later that the door opened and in came someone. Right now, Tessem did not really care much right now, but Marc was already at his side, grabbed his head and turned it towards the door. “That’s her, mate. I was JUST talking about her!”
In front of the door stood a crolachan girl, probably a bit younger than Atabey, in a green felt cloak and traveller’s clothes, with a big backpack on and a look as if she was looking for sinner at church. She had a weird aura, strong and self-assured to the point of pitiful. Tessem decided to go talk to her.
“You the one looking for passage north?” He asked her.
She looked at him with eyes the colour of the freshest green in the forest. “Yes. I’m Nannade. Are you a crack dasher?”
He had to chortle a bit. “I’m Muhtessem and yes, I’m a cleft rusher, yes. I transport wares up the salt river to Northbridge.”
“And you need another sailor?” Her voice was almost hopeful.
Tessem nodded. “My current sailor is not available, so I need someone to work the night shifts.”
The crolachan raised an eyebrow. “Night shifts?”
“You know what, let’s go down to my boat and I’ll explain it to you.”
They left the bar after Tessem had paid his drink and went down to the dock where his boat, the “Flitting Fiona” lay. As the crolachan came closer, she giggled. Did she make fun of his boat? She might be no glorious schooner, but she was his.
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“What is it, did you think I would have some grand vessel staffed with dozens of sailors?”
She waved his remark. “No, I just have a friend called Fiona and I found it funny.”
“Oh.” He felt bad for sarcastically snapping at her like that.
She took a hard look at the one-masted catamaran. Fiona was fifteen feet wide and twenty-two feet long. The majority of the space was taken up for cargo, which would normally be loaded onto palettes and then tied down with a strong tarp and ropes. There was a small but long shed at the stern, it housed storage for tools, personal items as well as a single bunk. One person always needed to man the ship anyway. Once or twice he had taken his Narinsa out towards the rocks off the mouth of the salt river, anchored the vessel and enjoyed the full moon and the ocean waves, while lying in the bunk, tightly squeezed together. But those days were long gone and so was she.
“So there’s only two people, huh?” The crolachan asked him and pulled him back to the present day.
“Er, yes. Just me and you.”
The crolachan gave him a queer glare.
“Don’t worry, I am a man of honour, ask anyone in all the bars both east and west.”
“So, what do I do?”
This was the part he was afraid of. “You really have no experience in manning a boat?”
She shook her head. “I heard my kind is gladly seen on ships.”
“Well, yes, on large ships where high masts must be climbed and held on to in the most violent of storms. But my ship needs little climbing, as you can see.”
“Oh. I didn’t know it was because of that.”
“Do you not have a brother or a cousin at least who works on a boat? Anyone who could have told you about what it’s like?”
Again, she shook her head. “I grew up...” she hesitated. “...in Sturreland, in the heart of the forest. I can climb and I have no problem with balance, but I’ve never been on a boat. Oh, except down and up the rivers, as a passenger.”
That really did not add up to much in Tessem's book. “Well, we came all the way down here, let me see what you can do at least.”
----------------------------------------
“Yes, now grab the stay. No, not that!” It was not even half an hour later, she was clinging to the mast and Tessem was trying to instruct her standing on the shore on some simple tasks. “The other sail, towards the bow!”
She gave him a confused look. “Which one’s the bow again? Left or right?”
He gave up.
“I’m sorry girl, training you would take about twice as long as hiring a proper sailor and making two runs instead of one.”
She hung her head and ears low and gave him a sorry look. She got down from the boat and walked to him. “Is it that bad?”
“Well, you must see, the cleft is incredibly dangerous, and sailors have two options: taking a small but fast vessel like mine and run the risk of falling to the dangers of the cleft or get hired on a larger but slower ship that transports much more cargo and have their own shipmage or soothsinger to protect them from dangers.”
He ears suddenly flipped straight to the horizontal. “Did you say soothsinger?”
“Yes, but those are really rare!”
The crolachan leaned in closer. “Are they like shamans?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
The girl had a sneaky look to her as she stepped even closer and almost whispered.
“I’m a witch in training.”
Tessem had to laugh out loud. “Girl, you amuse me. You must be really desperate to save that little coin with a trick such as this.” He had seen her hand, there was no seal there. He wanted to pat her head, but when he looked down to her,she had something in her look, something... unnerving. She was angry and disappointed, but also planning. With her hand she reached for a pouch on her left hip, out she drew a piece of paper, held it in front of her chest, holding her cloak above it to shield it from all sight but his, and snapped her fingers.
The paper went up in a puff of fire, and in its stead, she held a sphere of light, which she gently tossed up and caught a few times, then she lobbed it towards Tessem. He caught it instinctively. It seemed to be hard, but completely weightless. With another snap of her fingers, the sphere disappeared.
The crolachan looked back at him. “I can also talk to spirits. If you tell anyone in this city, I will make sure it will be the last thing you say, understand?”
He only now realized his mouth still stood agape. He closed his mouth and nodded slowly. A gifted one to simply walk around in dirty sailors’ dives was unheard of.
“I don’t have a seal or license, I am on this journey to earn them, but I need to get to Northbridge to continue. If you take me with you, I’ll sing as much sooth as you want, no need to give me any share.”
He realized what opportunities had suddenly opened. “But you’ll leave in Northbridge?”
“Yes.”
“And you need to hide it from the authorities?”
“Technically no, but also yes. Getting found out would mean no consequences for the long run but I’d be an inconvenience to explain and prove my circumstances to them.”
“Well then. Let’s assume you talk to the spirits and get me safely to the other side; I’d be stuck there unless I want to take five days and much more risk on the way back.”
“I can’t help you with that.”
He thought for a while. Half a fast job was still better than no job at all.
“Alright, but only if you can get at least the simplest tasks of how to handle Fiona right by the end of the day.”
A gleam appeared in her eyes “I’ll do my best!”
Tessem couldn’t help but notice that the mood had just suddenly shifted completely to the other side. The threatening crolachan had turned into a cheerful kitten. He’d make sure to instruct her as best as he could, teacher her the rest as they went along tomorrow.