Mar awoke with a groan as his body rolled over one last time to try and find a comfortable position on the pile of straw that passed for a bed in this inn. There was something hard under his head, and reaching around for it he realized it was a stone. Not just any stone, but the stone. The warlock’s totem. Jinn.
Or at least it had been. There hadn’t been a peep from the demonic spirit for the last two weeks, and Mar had taken to just leaving it in his room. It was a bit large now and Mar didn’t entirely trust the stitching of his pockets to hold. And despite what his conscience was telling him he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw the stone away.
Mar tried to settle himself back to sleep despite the sunbeams streaming onto his face from the hole in the wall that passed for a window, but he suddenly remembered his conversation with the orc Krellak the previous night.
That’s right, he had to get to that smugglers ship and talk to the captain. This was his opportunity to get somewhere a bit further away from Orlem. Then he could begin his new life. Maybe he’d start off doing scribe’s work to save up some money, or maybe he’d go right to an adventuring guild and sign on with them. A whole wide world was just a boat’s ride away.
There was much Mar wanted to ask the stone, though he was hesitant, remembering how it had used him during the trials. He’d reviewed everything he knew about demons though and he knew that while they could twist the truth in remarkable ways once they swore on their name they would be forced to keep their word. Mar had been preparing what he’d say to the demon if it ever woke.
Mar quickly re-dressed himself in the same rapidly deteriorating clothes he’d looted off that guardsman back at the royal palace in Orlem. Luckily the guard hadn’t been wearing a uniform underneath his clothes, meaning Mar’s dress was unremarkable enough to not draw attention. Unfortunately, that also meant it consisted of light underclothes meant to be worn underneath armor, and was a bit flimsy.
Having put on his clothes, Mar exited the inn and started walking the now familiar route to the docks. He counted berths until he came to the ship the orc described. Altogether it was a very average ship, with a wide hull and plenty of space. A bit smaller than most of the merchant cargo ships that pulled into port but it was the same general shape. It was completely unlike The Winking Maiden in the fact that there was nothing at all impressive about it. If not for the name of the boat, Hidden Jewel, written on some sailcloth and thrown over the side he might never have found it.
Odd that the captain had decided to write the ship's name on a bolt of cloth rather than on the hull itself. It made Mar suspect that the vessel changed names often.
He approached the ship, as expected, a crew member was on deck keeping watch.
“What’s your business aboard the Shimmering Gem?” The bulky bandana-wearing sailor demanded.
“Err. This is the Hidden Jewel, right?” Mar asked in confusion, peering back at the cloth that had the ship's name.
The sailor glanced at Mar and the cloth. “How they hell should I know? Name changes every time we’re in port.”
Mar shrugged. “I’m just reading what the cloth says.”
The man upturned his nose. “Reading. If you ask me it’s a skill for tricksters and con artists. Honest men speak face to face, and don’t need to hide behind scribbles. Are you a trickster or con artist?”
“Neither, I’m a dockhand who wants to be a sailor.”
The sailor snorted. “You don’t look like you’ve been a dockhand for very long, and you certainly don’t look like a sailor.”
“I can learn.”
The sailor seemed to doubt Mar’s conviction. “I’d darn well hope so. I could pick any boy urchin off the street and have them learning numbers and navigation and whatnot and all manner of scholarly nonsense. It’s the doin’ that’s the hard part.”
“Well, I’m no navigator but I can name many of the stars. And I’m quite good with numbers.”
That caught the sailors attention. “Know yer numbers, you say? Could be useful, but divvying up pay and taking inventory requires a darn sight more knowledge of numbers than counting apples in a barrel.”
Math was something Mar could tackle with confidence. “Give me a handful of measurements and I can calculate the variance in pressure on this ships hull at different depths as this ship encounters larger and smaller waves. Given solid numbers to work off of I could figure out the ideal—”
The sailor cut Mar off. “All that sounds like gibberish to me. Answer me this. I buy a load of cargo at one port for a hundred golden krowns, and I sell it three months later at another port for two hundred golden krowns. Docking fees, supplies, and ship repairs come up to thirty golden krowns. If I have to split the take fifty ways how much does a tenth-share cabin boy get?”
“Fourteen silver krowns.” Mar replied instantly. He wasn’t as familiar with the dwarven currency as he was with denari, which were more common in Orlem, but he’d come across them often enough that he’d learned the system. The dwarves placed great value on money, so it was little wonder that their currency was very stable and easy for outsiders to use. The dwarven banks had been steadily increasing their influence over the last few centuries, and with them they brought their money.
“Huh.” The sailor remarked. “Don’t let the cabin boy hear that! I’ve only been payin’ him twelve!”
“Oh, so you’re the captain then?” Mar asked.
“First mate.” The sailor replied with a wave. “Been ever since me and old Cap’n Rolli first set out twenty years ago. But yes, I’m in charge of hiring new crew for this next run.”
“So, do you think there’s a place for me, and one other on this ship?”
The sailor nodded slowly. “If nothing else you can check over my numbers. That’s worth a tenth of share right there. If you can actually do some sailing, even better. As fer yer goblin friend, I’m sure we can find a use for ‘im.” Noticing the look on Mar’s face, the sailor continued. “That’s right. That big orc fellow stopped by a short time ago and had a word with the captain. Rolli told me that somebody by your description might be hopping aboard, and that I otta’ keep an open mind.”
So it seemed Krellak had spoken with the smuggler captain himself. That was interesting.
In the end, first mate Jimson signed Mar onto the ship's crew, even after Mar mentioned and mentioned Grob was a goblin. And so Mar headed back to his room at the in with pep in his step. Things were looking up. As a sailor he’d go all over the world and see dozens of cities. And when he found one he liked he’d leave the sailor's life behind with a bit of coin in his pocket to show for it.
He glanced at the portal building out of habit. Not a peep still. His pace slowed as he was reminded of Orlem, and the destruction he had allowed to come to pass. He mentally backed away from the memories and shoved them into a distant corner of his mind. He’d have time to feel guilty someday, just not now. As well as time to ponder whatever it was that Darrik had been babbling about. Since that moment during the Trials Mar had had horrible dreams of being thrown in a pyre and burned.
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Mar purchased a bit of stale bread from the inn keeper and brought it up with him to his room, taking bites out of it along the way. Grob was awake, and Mar broke off a third of the loaf for the goblin. He nearly tripped over the silver lined jewelry box that was lying on the floor. Something was strange though, there seemed to be a massive dent in it.
Mar tried to offer the bread to Grob but the goblin was ignoring him, staring intently at the dented jewelry box while clutching a makeshift wooden club.
“Grob? You want the bread or not?” Mar stooped down and picked up the heavily damaged jewelry box. “Now why’d you go and do that? It was fairly well crafted, and likely would have sold for a decent amount as it was. Now the silver is the only valuable part about it.”
Just as Mar was about to hold it up closer to his face, Grob slapped it out of his hands, threw it on the floor, and hit it with his club. “Don’t touch. Grob saw it twitch. It’s evil. Talking rock says so.”
“Evil? Grob it’s a box. And what do you mean the… talking… rock…” Mar dashed over to his bed, where the Warlock’s totem was laying out in the open.
“Hello, Jinn.” Mar said hesitantly, using his nickname for the demonic spirit in the stone.
Mar blinked at the authoritative tone. It was spoken so casually he might have abided the demand strictly out of habit from a lifetime of working under various stuffy supervisors at one job or another. But Mar had thought long and hard about what had happened in the spirit realm, and ways to prevent it from ever occurring again.
“Not happening Jinn. I’m the one with a body, you’re a lifeless hunk of rock. In fact…” Mar took a deep breath to steel his nerves.
“Stay here Grob.” Then Mar picked up the stone and began walking the familiar route to the edge of dockyard.
But Mar was silent as thoughts of Orlem flooded his mind. Of the death and destruction he had rode through after the destruction of the Realmstone. Of how Jinn had taken control of his body and used him to destroy a city, an action that would cause pandemonium throughout the world, causing the deaths of hundreds of thousands. Millions, if the League of Free Cities was no longer able to repel the advances of the Empire.
“Yes I’m angry. You imprisoned me in my own body!” He shouted in reply. Faces turned towards him at the sudden outburst. Mar thought he could sense a smirk coming from the stone.
Jinn answered the unasked question
“You say that as if it’s a good thing.” Mar snarled. He received more odd looks.
“Unstable… tell me, do you even care about what you did?” Mar demanded in a hushed whisper as he increased his walking pace, he was more than a bit annoyed at Jinn’s condescending tone.
“By destroying the Realmstone you condemned an entire city to destruction. Thousands of innocents will die. Perhaps millions if this results in an invasion from the Empire.”
Mar closed his eyes and let out a breath. “I should have figured as much. I had my hopes, but if you’re not a demon you’re cold-hearted enough that you might as well be.” He had reached the dockyard. He picked the longest jetty and began walking to the end of it.
Mar didn’t reply until the came to end of the jetty. He lifted the stone to eye level, holding it over the open water below him.
“Did you know there are sandstone quarries all over this area?” Mar asked casually. “Apparently, this bay used to be much larger. Long before men walked this world this place was a swamp, filled with plants and fish and all manner of algae. The dockhands say that the tides come higher every year, so perhaps it will be a swamp again.”
“Over the years those fish and plants died. Their flesh rotted and their bones turned to stone. Bit by bit layer by layer by layer. Over time the pressure of the water and soil above turned the layers below into the solid rock that is quarried today.”
That gave Mar pause, and he remained silent for a moment. He took a breath and reminded himself the stone’s words were honeyed lies. Even if it spoke the truth Mar knew it would betray him at the first opportunity.
“I imagine it would be cold and dark, encased in stone like that. And the waiting… the world could be a very different place when you next see the light of day again. Perhaps the gods will walk among us as they did in the old days, or perhaps this world will have returned to broken specks of dust scattered about the aether.”
“You’re a demon. You’ve brought nothing but pain and misery. You’ll only bring more of it. To me and others.”
“Any bargain I struck with you would only lead to me becoming your puppet, as you did with me during the Trials.”
“And before that you manipulated my mind with your tricks.”
“Yes, and I’m sure you’ll continue to push me in whatever direction you think is best.” They shared a long silence. Eventually Mar broke it. “I should drop you in the sea. I’d be doing the world a favor.”
“That’s not good enough for me. No casting spells at all without my explicit permission.”
The demonic stone seemed hesitant.
“Those are my terms, demon.”
“I’ve heard it said that a demon cannot lie if they swear on their name.”
The stone hesitated.
“Swear on you name!” Mar insisted.
The stone snarled in reply.
“I’ve heard enough of your lies. If you will not accept my terms then I might as well throw you into the waters to be encased in stone for years beyond counting.” Mar pulled back his arm and made to throw the stone as far out into the water as he could.
Mar stopped his arm seconds before releasing his grip on the stone. Slowly he brought his hand back over the edge of the jetty.
“Then our bargain is struck. Tonight, you teach me magic.”