TheGunAndTheBladeIndex Espérance/Swan: The Gun and the Blade Before Espérance can, Hugo enters first, moving into the room and slowly regarding the scene. He gives off a soft growl as he sees Doctor Altair, against the wall nearest the door. He is unconscious, and is bleeding from the nose. Slumped over the table near the far end of the room is the Captain. He does not appear to be injured, but his body language is like that of a puppet whose strings have been cut. There is the pungent smell of something long and thin smoldering on the floor. Near this thing is a stranger, a woman with silver hair. She seems to be rousing from unconsciousness… "She wakes." Pridus says. While Hugo turns to regard the rousing woman, he has pointedly decided to remain very close to the still unconscious Doctor Altair. Hamzah in the meantime has gingerly moved in the direction of the slumped-over Captain. Espérance steps over to the silver-haired woman and crouches to examine both her and the long thin smoldering thing. One hand is on her sword, but she hasn't drawn it yet. "Good," she says in a neutral tone. "Maybe she can tell us what happened, from her point of view." Swan groans softly, covering her eyes against the light with her forearm. Fragments of thought swirl in her head like confetti on Devil's Night. She recognizes the sensations of her body, the pain and discomfort of lying on a floor. But where she is remains a mystery for the moment, and not entirely one she cares to explore. Nor does she recognize the voices nearby. But she can tell one of them is within striking distance, if she so chooses. However, since breathing makes her brain feel like a bag of glass shards, Swan decides to just lay there in agony instead. "I think I dropped my gasper," she says in a pained voice. "Can I bum another?" Espérance's nose wrinkles at the smell of the smoldering object, which is unfamiliar to her, thin and choking; in her world, tobacco is only smoked in pipes. "If you mean this smoldering thing, it's right next to you," she says in a neutral voice. Swan reaches over, plucks the gasper from the floor, and puts it to her lips. She takes a long drag and then gives out a contented sigh. “Oh yeah. That’s the stuff.” She opens her eyes and regards Espérance for a moment, before giving her a sultry grin. “So, doll. You come here often?” Pridus watches the interaction between Espérance and Swan with a slightly bewildered air. Espérance straightens, so that she's standing over Swan. "Why you're here is more questionable than why I am," she points out. "What are you and your ship doing out here so far from land, and what did you do to the Captain and Doctor Altair?" The tone of her questions is cool and unemotional, a request for enlightenment rather than an accusation. "The Captain is alive." Hamzah says, looking at Espérance. "However, I seem unable to be able to rouse him." Hugo gives off a soft growl as, on the other hand, Doctor Altair is slowly starting to move toward wakefulness. His body shifts slightly, and a soft groan escapes his lips. Swan puffs on her gasper, raising a cautioning brow to Hugo. “Stow that thought, Bruno,” she says. “The Capt will live. Start a dance with me in my current mood and you won’t.” "His name's Hugo, and I think he's reacting to Doctor Altair, not you," Espérance tells her. In response, Hugo turns from Doctor Altair and regards Swan. The hound gives Swan a startlingly human look and stare, and then returns to watching Doctor Altair intently. [Swan] blows out a ring of blue smoke, eyes drifting to Espérance. “As to the why? My pals and I are here to babysit a twist called Espérance. Mommy bird wants her baby chick back in the nest. I told the Doc over there, but he thought I was grifting him. Stuck his beak where it didn’t belong, so I broke it. Savvy?” From what she knows of the Doctor, Espérance doesn't find this difficult to believe. "I am Espérance St. Vier," she tells Swan, her eyes narrowing slightly, "and as you can see, I stopped being a baby a long while ago." Swan smiles lasciviously around her gasper, her smoky eyes exploring Espérance’s figure like a Spanish conquistador. “I’ll say,” she purrs. She slowly begins to rise to her feet. “Cazaril can give you the true lowdown,” she says, rubbing her aching brain. “But the short and curlies of it is that we’re taking you back home. And to help you avoid getting ventilated by the Jesby goons currently on your pretty, little tail.” Swan casts a quick look over the others gathered in the room to make sure they aren't getting any stupid ideas. Hamzah still looks over the unconscious captain. By some sort of unspoken agreement, Pridus has taken a position at the door out of the room. "Huttner and I crossed paths with a few of these Jesbys in Niejwein," Espérance responds. "As you can see, we're still here. But yes, I would like to talk to your Cazaril. Huttner has mentioned him to me before." Almost as if speaking his name invokes him, Huttner appears at the entrance to the room. After a nod to Pridus, he squeezes past him and into the room. He looks around, and then focuses on Swan and Espérance. "Cazaril has filled me in a little on what's happened." he says to Espérance, with a nod. He turns and regards Swan. "You must be Swan Cainesdottir." The brown haired young man bows his head. "I am Huttner, of House Sawall." “Ah, so you’re the triggerman Caz told me about,” Swan replies, giving the younger man a once over. “Good to finally rub shoulders with you. Just call me Swan. Dad doesn’t acknowledge me, so I don’t acknowledge him.” "Swan" Huttner says with a nod. He looks back to Espérance after the introduction to Swan. "The sailors are starting to get restless." he says. "They're distracted by the arrival of Cazaril's boat, but I think they are starting to wonder what is happening in here." "I'm still not entirely clear on that," says Espérance. "It would appear that the Doctor offered this young lady some...insult?" She raises a questioning brow at Swan. "And that she retaliated. I'm not sure where the Captain comes into it, or what's wrong with him. Swan turns her chair upright and collapses into it. She begins rubbing her temples, her face pained. “The Doc tried to mind-diddle me after I warned him not to. The gink didn’t listen. So, I hurt him. Then I hit the captain with a table. Not hard though.” She puffs on the last of her gasper, “Just enough to make a point.” Huttner turns and glares at the mostly-unconscious body of Doctor Altair, glances at the Captain, and then turns back to Espérance. [Espérance asks,] "What does Cazaril say?" Swan listens to Huttner’s answer to this question with some interest. "He gave a thumbnail sketch of his story since finding Alex. That was the other Sawall we were looking for. He found her, and in the process of trying to find you, encountered Swan here and joined forces to find you. They've tangled with Jesbys themselves already. The old Jesby-Sawall rivalry has flared up again." "So this has been going on for some time," Espérance notes, then adds wryly, "Probably since time immemorial, if I know anything about feuds between noble houses." "My lord Cazaril also suggests." Huttner says "that we might use their sloop from here on out and travel together. I explained to him about the need to find your father before we leave the shadow, and he and your cousin are amenable." "That's good," says Espérance; she'd thought she might have to argue on that point. "Is a ship that small suitable for a journey of that length, though?" "It looked improbably small for an encounter in the middle of the ocean." Pridus puts in. “The Skid Rouge will get us wherever we need to go,” Swan says with some confidence. “As long as you give me the lowdown on your pappy. I know a few short cuts through Shadow.” Altair gives off another groan. Hamzah shakes his head. "The Captain still will not waken. He is in a deep sleep of some kind." Huttner frowns and looks at Espérance and Swan. "It is possible that the Captain will rise only once the Doctor regains consciousness. I think that his influence over the Captain is much more of a Puppeteer than I thought. I was right to teach you some mental protection." Espérance frowns. "I don't think that's a desirable state for the captain of a ship to be in," she says. "Can we do something about it?" Huttner begins to shake his head, interrupted by Swan's answer, which turns his shake into a nod of agreement as she responds. “Caz is all Abercrombie with the mind stuff,” Swan says. “He can glom what the Doc is up to. And then he can free Captain Stubing here from the Doc’s Jedi mind-tricks. “ She takes a last drag from her gasper. “Afyer that, I’ll put a bullet in the Doc noggin,” Swan says in a flat tone. “Free of charge.” "If your Caz can free the Captain from control." Pridus says, crossing his arms. "It should be up to the Captain to decide what to do with the Doctor. His ship, his rule of law." Pridus pauses a moment and then looks at Hamzah."Hamzah" he says to the dark skinned man. "Go and call this Cazaril up here .Tell him his companions need his services." He looks at Huttner speculatively. "Better take Huttner with you. Don't want any misunderstandings." Hamzah nods, looks to Huttner. Huttner gives a reassuring look to Espérance before heading out of the cabin with the swordsman. "Would I regret a fuller explanation of what this is all about?" Pridus says, looking at Espérance and Swan. "Your Hugo, too, seems to know much more about what is going on than I do." The hound continues to watch Altair keenly, giving off a soft growl again in warning to his mistress as Altair continues to struggle toward consciousness. "Hugo generally knows when something is dangerous," says Espérance. "Doesn't mean he knows why... though according to Huttner, he's something more than an ordinary dog." Swan smirks, “Trust me, pal, I’m still trying to catch up and I’ve been up to my ta-tas in this mess from the get-go.” She rummages through her stuff and finds a crushed deck of gaspers, “Oh that’s just great!” She tosses the flatten coffin sticks and begins rummaging again. This time she comes up with some horse jerky. She tears off a strip for herself and offers the rest to Hugo. “Sorry Bruno. Looks like we got off on the wrong paw. Friends?” Hugo briefly looks up from Altair at Swan's gesture. He turns his eyes at Espérance briefly before returning his gaze to Swan. He takes the piece of jerky and begins to chew it, turning his attention back to Doctor Altair. At this point, there is a knock on the Door. Hamzah enters, followed by Huttner and another man. This man is dark haired, somewhat older looking than Huttner, and has a serious look on his face. His eyes look about the room in a tactical sweep of exits and positions that says to Espérance that he understands more than a little of tactics, strategy and war. He gives a nod to Swan, and then he finally looks to Espérance and bows. "Lady Espérance, I am Cazaril, the son of your half-brother, Lord Despil Sawall. It is pleasing to have found you at long last. I apologize for the delays incurred in reaching you." "Lord Cazaril, is it?" Espérance returns his bow. "Or perhaps I should say 'Cousin'. But there's no need to apologize. Until Huttner arrived in Riverside I had no idea anyone was looking for me, so it isn't as if I noticed any delay." Swan purses her lips, "Next time we'll give a ring first and avoid all the bloodshed in between." She gives Caz a look and then returns her attention to Hugo. Cazaril nods, curtly and waits for her to continue. She turns once more to scan the rest of the room. "Do you think there's anything you can do for the Captain here? I hesitate to leave the White Maiden without its commanding officer." "This is your birth-shadow." Cazaril says to Espérance. "It is reasonable that you would not wish to leave things untidy." He walks over to the Captain and crouches down. He puts a hand on the Captain's shoulder, closes his eyes and remains like that for a half minute. As they do so, Hamzah and Pridus exchange glances with each other, nervously. Huttner looks watchful, and Hugo continues to watch the unconscious Doctor Altair. And then Espérance feels it. Swan even more so. The first tentative steps into a more esoteric world for Espérance has allowed her to feel the change, even if she can't articulate it. Swan, somewhat more familiar with such matters, is able to realize that Cazaril has undone a spell of some sort, with the dispersal of its energies noticeable to her, Espérance, and Huttner. Swan rubs her temple as the queasy feeling of disenchantment disturbs her already troubled mind. She observes Cazaril’s arcane manipulations, studying his technique, despite its unsettling effect on her. For Espérance the disenchantment has something of the effect of a low, persistent noise that you don't really notice till it stops. She blinks once, startled, then focuses on the Captain. Immediately, the Captain begins rousing. At the same time, Doctor Altair seems to be slumping into a deeper sleep. Huttner's eyes flicker from one to the other. Hugo looks a little more relaxed, but still watchful of the Doctor. Cazaril runs a hand through his hair and regards the room. "Doctor Altair had a control spell on the mind of the Captain. Not a very good one, but one all the same. That enchantment has been broken. In addition." he smiles with an air of malice. "your Captain will indelibly know the source of that unnatural control." Espérance's answering smile is bladelike. "The Captain always struck me as a decisive man. I think we can perhaps leave retribution to him, and to the law of the sea." Pridus gives a nod to Espérance. Hamzah glances toward Doctor Altair and gives a glance that might be interpreted as pity. Or regret. He says something in an unknown tongue, under his breath, that feels very much like a prayer. "It will take some time for the Captain to fully awaken and be fully aware." Cazaril adds, turning fully to Espérance. "So I would make my farewells to everyone else that you care to do so so that we can depart." Cazaril finishes. Swan slowly rises to her feet and stretches. She feels her legs go rubbery for an instant, but recovers just as quickly. “Right then. Time to make like a baby and head out, I guess,” she says. “If someone needs me, I’ll be getting a snort and a drag on the boat. Give the Capt my best. Sorry about the ribs.” She starts heading toward the door, wavering a little as she walks. "We'll wait on the Skid Rogue." Cazaril says. He gives a short bow to Espérance, and a nod to Huttner. A smaller nod is given to Pridus and Hamzah as he heads with Swan toward the door. "I should also repack my trunk, I suppose," says Espérance, "and you too, Huttner." Huttner nods in agreement. She looks at Pridus and Hamzah. "I'll speak to the Captain and the crew before I leave, though." "I will try to rouse him fully for your departure" Pridus promises. "He would want to speak to you before you leave in any event." "You've been part of our family for this part of the journey, Espérance-Ji." Hamzah adds. "And I've appreciated that," she tells him warmly. "I'll miss our sparring sessions, and trading tunes with you and Magnus and Christoffer. But apparently," she adds in an odd voice, "I have family waiting for me elsewhere." =Family,= she thinks, as she starts for her cabin. =Waiting for me. What a strange concept.= She continues to ponder this as she empties the small dresser back into her trunk and fastens it securely. In the meantime, in the adjoining cabin, Espérance can hear Huttner packing his far fewer possessions. He is back out first, and returns to the deck of the White Maiden and awaits everyone's preparations. Swan leans on Cazaril after leaving the room, “You are teaching me some Jedi mind tricks after this. No one is giving my brain the shakedown ever again.” She looks away from him, humiliated. “I should have killed him.” "It was your choice, either way, to make." Cazaril says. Her hand seeks his. She hates this sense of frailty. But until now, she’s never had a family. Not a true one. And for this private moment, she needs her new brother’s strength. If only to not let her mask fall around ‘Lex. “Thanks,” she whispers. "You're a good friend, Caz." He laughs slightly. "I'm only a scion of House Sawall who had's to run about trying to put together, what do you call it, an egg, back together after its been broken and scrambled. I'm amazed that, with your help, I've found both Alex *and* Espérance. And Huttner apparently has done a good job on his own." "But I appreciate the vote of support." he adds to Swan as he leads her toward the center of the White Maiden. "Hopefully as a larger party, our friends the Jesbys will decide to bide their time and not put in any more appearances." Swan pats Caz’s head and sighs, “Oh, my big, feeble-minded lug. Haven’t the last couple of weeks taught you yet that we left Lady Luck at the altar and now she wants to use our pink parts for castanets? I’m sure Saxon or one of his chopper squads will be up in our business before you can say ‘ bumpin uglies.’” She chuckles, “We’re destined to have interesting lives.” "I HAD planned on returning to a locomotive and get onto a Black Road." Caz continues. "Although, now with a ship...I think you, me, Alex, Espérance and Huttner can sail most of the way to the Courts, and easily. Together." Cazaril squeezes her hand. Swan squeezes it back and grins. “You’re going to make me all weepy.” She plants a genuine kiss on his cheek. “Our little family is growing.” He then turns as, bracketed by Pridus on one side, and Hamzah on the other for support, the Captain, awake, slowly comes out of the wardroom. The sailors of the ship stop and look, and the Captain looks in the direction of Espérance's and Huttner's rooms expectantly. It's not long before Espérance emerges, carrying her trunk, which she comes and places not far away from Swan and Cazaril. Then she straightens and addresses the Captain. "Captain Clarion. I'm glad to see you on your feet, sir. Huttner does not seem to have a trunk, merely a backpack of some sort. As he emerges to stand with Espérance, some of the rest of the crew gather to watch the farewell. In particular, notably for Espérance, Magnus and Christoffer come out of wherever they were assigned to watch the proceedings as Espérance speaks. "I don't know what Pridus and Hamzah may have told you already; and I expect it's rather unusual for a passenger to disembark in mid-ocean, but..." She glances toward Swan and Cazaril. "...circumstances have changed." "So they have." Captain Clarion says. He gives a nod to the two men, who let him go, gingerly, to stand on his own feet by himself. He walks forward to Espérance and Huttner. He stops a few paces short of the pair of them, and speaks. "It has been a most educational trip, for all of us, I am given to understand." His gaze looks over Espérance and Huttner, and then he looks around at everyone else gathered on deck. "And while this trip has been far from peaceable, I wouldn't have missed it. "I might have you sign a writ for her Grace the Duchess that you are departing here and now." Captain Clarion adds. "However, I am not sure that even with one, she would believe this tale." "Oh, she might. She =is= the niece of the Mad Duke, after all," says Espérance. "In any case, I'll be happy to sign off on a document that will ensure you get paid." "Your point is taken." Captain Clarion says. He looks at Magnus. "Magnus! A quill, ink and a sheet of paper. Hurry." Swan looks down at Espérance’s trunk and then to Caz. She says in a half-whisper, “She doesn’t expect us to carry that for her, does she? I mean she’s got nice gams and all. . . But manual labor? Not going to happen.” "It could be far worse." Cazaril says quietly. "There's a shadow near the courts where the wood taken from a certain type of tree is aware and awakened, mentally. Items made from this wood have a mind of their own and can also move on their own. Including trunks." Swan wrinkles her nose, “Go climb up your thumb! Really?! Okay. That’s just damned hinky, Caz. I’m not sure I can take living in a dive lousy with walking, talking furniture. I sleep in the buff and don’t need my four-poster sprouting wood in the middle of the night, savvy? I mean, serious splinter time. Ouch.” Hamzah bows. "Goodbye, Espérance-Ji. I will regret losing a sparring partner to challenge my skills." He looks at Huttner. "Protect her, as I know you will." Pridus nods his head toward Espérance. "Good luck in finding your Father. Although, who knows, we're still headed in that direction..." He grins. Christoffer, red faced, smiles in Espérance's direction. "I'll look out for you, but I don't know how long we'll actually be in Panaji," says Espérance. "My father and the Mad Duke may have headed out into the jungle, for all I know." She sobers. "Keep an eye out for those Jesbys, too. They may or may not have any way of knowing that I'm not on board the White Maiden anymore." "Yes." Pridus says glumly. "We will be on guard for any further encounters with their ilk." Then [Espérance] looks over at Captain Clarion and asks, "Have you decided what to do about Doctor Altair?" Swan crosses her fingers, her face scrunching up. “Kill him, kill him, kill him. . .” she mutters hopefully. "Doctor Altair has violated my trust, the trust of my crew, and the trust of all that is on this ship. Including my passengers." Captain Clarion nods his head toward Espérance and Huttner. "I mislike what he has done. The Law of the Sea is harsh. Doctor Altair has attempted to remove our free will and have us dance to our tune like a painted whore from Riverside." "And without even getting paid for it," Espérance murmurs under her breath. "I have decided, then." Captain Clarion continues. His voice turns sepulchral. "That Doctor Altair can practice his arts of persuasion on the fishes of the sea and the birds of the sky. After you depart, Miss St. Vier, he will be lowered into one of the spare rowboats, with a day's worth of food and potable water. If his Gods are merciful to him, he will live and somehow reach land If his Gods have decided, as I have, that he has violated the trust of myself, my crew, and you, then they will see to it that he reaches no safe harbor alive." Espérance nods. "That seems just to me." Swan frowns, muttering, “Oh yeah. ‘Cause we all know how that worked out for Captain Bligh.” She flexes her hands, “Now, if you give me three minutes with the rowboat and a drill, we’ll be five-by-five.” She jerks a nod to Caz, “Not that I’m bitter.” Captain Clarion furrows his eyebrows at Swan but does not comment. Cazaril puts a hand on Swan's shoulder. At this point, Magnus returns, juggling the three items uncertainly in his hands. The Captain directs a barrel to be put in front of him. He writes in a clear script, and finally gestures Espérance to come and sign it. In a blocky, not very elegant, but readable script, Captain Clarion has written a short missive saying that Espérance and Huttner, the passengers contracted with her Grace the Duchess, on this day and date, in the midst of the Middle Sea, are releasing the Captain from his duty to see to their journey and intend to continue on their own power and volition. This revocation of the agreement is amicable and mutual. "You should sign, too." he says, looking at Swan and Cazaril. After carefully reading over the document, Espérance takes up the quill and adds at the bottom, "To this I agree and attest in my own hand," and signs, "Espérance St. Vier", adding her paraph. Swan shrugs and walks forward. She picks up the quill and initials the document, ‘SM.’ “As long as this isn’t for a time-share or magazine subscription, I’m rate.” She offers the quill to Cazaril and then turns to Espérance. “The Skid Rogue ain’t the Hilton, your highness” she says. “Hope you don’t mind rubbing elbows with us until we make the Courts.” Cazaril signs in a script that might be classified as 'secretary hand' "Lord Cazaril of House Sawall." Espérance grins, suddenly. "Friends, I grew up on the streets of Riverside. Believe me, I've seen lots worse places than your ship. And frankly, it's going to take a while for me to get used to this 'Lady' business." Swan meets Espérance grin with one of her own, “A street rat, huh? Well, sister, that’s a relief. And it looks like you and I are going to be eggs and coffee. The first time someone called me ‘Princess,’ I thought they were playing me for a roundheels and broke the poor sap’s jaw. Heh. “But we can chin about it on the boat. We’d better screw before those Jesby dicks show up again.” "They'll be in trouble in more ways than one if they do," says Espérance, thinking of the outcome of her duel with Acestes, "but I agree with you." Stepping over to her trunk, she hefts it up on one shoulder, then whistles for Hugo. Hugo is at Espérance's heels a moment later; a minute or so after that the group is at the edge of the ship and ready to transfer to the smaller vessel. A brown haired young woman stands at the bow of the sloop, waving as the group makes its way in her direction. "We're ready to cast off, Alex." Cazaril calls down to the woman. "Alex, this is Espérance, and Huttner." he pauses and gestures toward the hound. "Oh, and Hugo." He pauses a beat. "Espérance, this is Alex." "Hi!" Alex chirps. Espérance makes a gesture of greeting that is half wave, half salute. "Hello, Alex." Swan waves over the side, “Hey, baby.” "If you'll stand out of the way," Espérance goes on, "I'll make things simple and just heave this over." Alex beckons the group to come over, stepping back on the sloop to make room. Which she does, once Alex is clear -- suggesting that she hasn't packed anything especially fragile in her trunk. This accomplished, Espérance herself vaults lightly over the rail of the White Maiden. She lands on the deck of the Skid Rogue with only a soft thud, as her knees bend to absorb the shock. She straightens and smiles at Alex. "If I remember rightly what Huttner told me, you and I are some sort of cousins. Is that right?" "Actually." Alex says. "From what I understand, you're really my Aunt, kinda. I'm the daughter of your half-brother Jurt." Alex gives Espérance a look of sympathy. "Caz has been trying to explain to me the family tree of my...our new family ever since we started our train ride, and I still can't figure it out. Maybe if he has you and I together, we'll figure it all out." "We can give it a try," says Espérance, then goes on to explain, "Having family is a new experience for me." "Me too." Alex says. Not to be outshone, Swan leaps over the side as well. She lands quiet as a cat and then cracks her neck, grinning softly. While the others talk, she goes to collect her guns. “Where’s my babies?” she coos, “Ah there you are. Did you miss mommy? Yes, you did. Mommy sure missed you.” She straps them to herself with a contented sigh. Feeling whole again, Swan calls up to the men. “Alright boys. Move your keisters. Time to drift. You may want to lower the dog, rather than toss him.” Cazaril looks at Huttner, and both look at Hugo. Cazaril solves the dilemma by vaulting over the railing, suddenly. His jump, with a slight roll, brings him to his feet right next to Espérance and Alex. Huttner takes his time, with Hugo nearly smothering him in the process, in making his way down the rope ladder. On the shorter jump from the point closest to the sloop, Hugo launches himself, landing next to Espérance expertly. The force of this, however, in a scene that Espérance has seen before, causes Huttner to be carried off of the White Maiden... And into the ocean! Swan blinks in shock, steeling herself for a possible rescue attempt. She rushes to the railing, looking down. "I think he just wanted a dip." Cazaril says sotto voce to Swan, Alex and Espérance. "Water-Aspected, you know. Alex, let's get sailing." Cazaril's reassurance keeps Espérance from leaping to the railing and possibly going to her guide's rescue; but she remembers now what Huttner said about his Marid ancestry. A few moments later, dripping wet but grinning, Huttner climbs up the side of the Skid Rogue and onto the deck, giving everyone a slightly sheepish look. Espérance still can't help asking him, "Are you all right?" "Just embarassed." Huttner says reassuringly to Espérance as he reaches the top. Swan purses her lips as the young man climbs aboard. “Listen, bub,” she says sternly. “I may be over a hundred years old, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna play mommy to pack of brats, savvy? Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll tie your nards around your ears. So, no more impromptu swims.” She pauses, a smirk rising to her perfect lips. “At least, not without taking off your skivvies first, ‘kay?” She waggles her eyebrows. Espérance blinks at Swan, startled. A hundred years old? Swan smiles at Espérance, "Yeah, I know. I don't look a day over sixty. What can I say? Good genes." "I don't think, Swan." Cazaril says. "That the young ladies are quite aware of the extended lifespan, theoretical anyway, of those who are members of the families at either pole of the universe." Swan laughs, "Caz, you seriously need to invest in a sense of humor when we get home." "You are not the first to make that observation." Huttner says wryly. Alex giggles. "What's our course anyway" Alex says, looking at Cazaril. Cazaril looks at Espérance. "We still need to travel to Panaji to find my father, Richard St. Vier," Espérance replies. "My...mother requested it." Swan circles around the group to join Alex, "Do you have any trinkets that link you to daddy? It might be easier to seek him through shadow." Espérance shakes her head. "I bear nothing of his save his name and his blood -- and whatever may go along with that. Though the message I received implied that he might have a 'token' of some sort." “Message? Did the old man pen it himself?” Swan asks. Espérance shakes her head again. "No, the message was from my mother. In fact, I'm not sure he can write..." “And the blood. Well, that might help.” She scratches the pink scar on her arm, “Caz. Can you find that token of his in Shadow? You’ve got light fingers. Can you glom his location for us?” Cazaril holds up a hand and looks at Espérance and then looks at Huttner. His eyes widen. "You managed to hang onto the Message Stone that Lady Dara gave us!" He looks proudly at Huttner. "That must have made explanations and introductions a little easier." Cazaril turns to look at Espérance. "So, Lady Dara asked you to find your father. And he has a token." He looks thoughtful for a minute or so. In the meantime, the White maiden starts moving away from the Skid Rogue, leaving it alone in the sea. Alex has busied herself with getting the Skid Rogue prepared for movement. Huttner sits down, next to Hugo, and watches the byplay between Cazaril, Espérance, and Swan. "Well. I am fairly certain that I can." Cazaril says. "And draw us to it, and Lady Espérance's father in the same bargain." He turns toward Espérance. "The token should have a prefiguring resonance with you. And if not with you, with your father, and you are his blood relation. So, all I need is a drop or two of your blood." "Be assured that I do not." Cazaril says "have any Vampire ancestry. That's a Helgram preference, not a Sawall proclivity." Espérance gives Cazaril a puzzled look -- the word "vampire" is not in her vocabulary [1] -- but the symbolic resonances of blood are well within her cultural experience. She grimaces only slightly before producing a thin, sharp dagger from somewhere up her sleeve. "It's been drawn before, for less cause," she remarks wryly. Swan nods, “I’ll leave it to you, Caz.” She strolls over to Huttner and slaps him on the shoulder. “Alright beefcake. Get off your keister and make yourself useful. That rigging won't move on its own.” She scratches the dog’s ear, “Up front and nose to the wind, puppy. You’ve probably got better peepers than any of us.” Hugo looks at Espérance for a long expectant look before moving toward the bow of the sloop. Huttner looks at Swan with a slightly confused look. "She's really the Captain, Huttner." Cazaril says. "Think of it as being back on the Shaa, but with no Lessimans taking potshots and less aboleths in the water." Cazaril pauses. "Or so I believe." Huttner nods, offers a salute to Swan, and after a moment to puzzle it out, starts working on the rigging as if he had conjured the ship. [Swan] offers the wheel to Alex, “You steer and I'll stand here and look gorgeous.” "I suspect you will do more than that." Alex says confidently. Swan smiles, “Well, I don’t know if we’ve got time for /that/, doll.” She gives a playful wink. Cazaril takes the dagger from Espérance and after a reassuring nod pinpricks her thumb with the dagger. He says a few words as a couple of drops appear on the thin sharp weapon. Cazaril pivots on his heel, extending the dagger outward. The drop of blood from Espérance gleams with a bright red light, as if it were a bright red star in the sky. "I have it." Cazaril says, with only a trace of emotive satisfaction in his voice. He turns to look at everyone. "I can bring us there quickly, but the passage might be somewhat unpleasant and slightly hazardous." "If it brings us to Panaji ahead of the Jesbys, it's probably worth it," says Espérance. Swan calls, “Ready when you two are, I gather.” "Then we do so. Now." Cazaril walks to the bow of the ship, still holding the dagger. His back is to everyone except Hugo, and after a moment, Hugo moves without being called to Espérance. Espérance lays her hand on the dog's shaggy neck. Nothing happens. For a few moments. It starts with the senses of touch and sensation. To Swan, the feeling engendered in Cazaril's actions is familiar, and unpleasant. The creepy crawly feeling covers her entire skin, from eyebrows to toes. For Espérance, this is new, and strange, but not quite as unpleasant. It's mostly unfamiliar and exotic, but also something slightly familiar, as if it were something that Espérance not only could be exposed to, but *should*. Hugo barks, once, as a sentinel for Espérance. Espérance's fingers involuntarily dig deeper into his thick fur. These sensations are next accompanied by the visuals. Ahead of the ship, in a narrow band not much wider than the sloop itself, the water turns black, blacker than the dark of the midnight sky, darker than coal. And as the ship, thanks to a breeze that was not there five minutes ago, sails into the dark water, the world, on the ship, and outside of it, suddenly is drained of all color. Everything and everyone in and on and around the Skid Rogue appears to the eyes to now be a shade of black, grey or white. For Swan, the intensity of the sensation on her skin has only increased, with an additional sensation of unnatural chill. Huttner seems to be taking it all in stride, working the rigging. Alex keeps her hands on the wheel, looking around in wonder. Cazaril remains at the bow of the sloop, silent and back still turned. Swan, already sick from the recent mental assault, feels a wave of nausea as the effect intensifies. She grabs the railing to steady herself, closing her eyes against the onslaught of grey. She steals a few breaths of sea air and leans back. “All right Mr. De Mille, I'm ready for my close-up,” she says aloud, running her fingers through her spiky hair. “Steady as she goes, I guess,” she says, touching Alex’s arm. "I suppose." Alex says. She shakes her head and keeps her hands on the wheel. =This is magic. This really is magic,= Espérance finds herself thinking. Even the induced illusions of Huttner's mental exercises were not so convincing. The relative calm of the others keeps fear at bay for the most part, but she kneels next to Hugo and finds comfort in laying her arm across his shoulders. At least he hasn't changed -- he's always been black. Hugo shifts slightly, moving closer to Espérance. "We're on a black road. A temporary one." Huttner says, looking to Swan and Espérance. "To be precisely, we're on a black waterway, since we're on the ocean." "This is hard on those who only have the Blood of Amber."Huttner says, motioning Espérance's head to Swan. "I understand that the Lady Dara, your mother, and the grandmother of Alex, does have Amber Blood, and thus so do you, but in both of your cases, your Chaosian heritage is greater." Swan rolls her eyes, cheeks colored with nausea. “You don’t say.” Despite her continuing discomfort, she listens intently to Huttner’s explanation, intrigued by the Chaosian ancestry lesson. After having been starved of information all her life, she finds the group’s openness refreshing. At this point, Espérance does feel slightly queasy, but it might even be mostly psychosomatic, given the strange environment the ship is traveling through. Cazaril remains silent and continuing to stand at the bow. Through the strange monochromatic view, there is the view of land of some sort on the horizon, approaching rapidly. "I think we're nearly there." Alex says, trying to inject a note of cheer. What she does not yet see, but what Swan and Espérance do, is something large, and tentacled, to the rear and starboard of the ship, trying to catch up with the sloop. "Something's following us," Espérance says sharply, straightening and turning to face the creature. "Something big." Alex turns from the wheel and her eyes boggle in surprise. Swan gazes over the railing and narrows her eyes, “That ain’t Moby Dick.” She pulls out her rune-pistols and starts loading them. She calls over her shoulder, “Caz. Can you ditch this squid with your mojo or do I have to go all Nemo on it?” Caz does not answer, fixated as he is at the front of the ship and the pathmaking. Huttner walks forward and puts a hand on his shoulder, to break him out of his reverie. He turns and looks at the creature. "The creature is inextricably linked with us in shadow." he says. "I will not be able to easily lose it. I shall attempt to do so." He turns back around. The ship starts to pick up speed, the wind blowing harder. Alex returns to the wheel, trying to keep the ship on the path. Her smoky eyes catch Espérance's gaze. "You better get ready to use that pig-sticker of yours, sister." Espérance nods grimly and unsheathes her blade, ready to use it on any tentacles that might come slithering over the rail. Huttner moves to the back, and Hugo gets into a standing, aggressive stance. "Its up to us." he says quietly to Espérance and Swan. "Alex and Caz need to keep us on course, or we'll run into even worse than this thing." A large, cephalopodic head with malevolent googling eyes breaks the waves behind the boat with a splash. While the beak that serves as its mouth cannot yet reach the ship to take a bite out of its inhabitants or the ship itself, the two large black tentacles, thick and suckered, rising from either side of the boat certainly can... “Squids. Why’d it have to be squids?” Swan mutters, snapping the rune-pistols closed. Espérance moves quickly to engage the tentacle on the side of the boat nearest her. As soon as it is within reach, she will go for a quick, slicing stroke with the edge of her blade. At the same time she calls, "If anyone has a distance weapon, go for the eyes!" Swan doesn’t answer verbally, ignoring the tentacles for the moment. Instead, she takes aim on the creature’s eyes with Muninn and activates a rune-bullet. Fire won’t work here, she knows. Nor can flechettes and their ilk do much damage against that tough muscle and fatty tissue. So, she chooses a lightning round and pulls the trigger. The black powder gun roars. "Eat your heart out, Ned Land," she hisses. Hopefully, electricity plus water plus squid equals calamari. The tentacles of the creature are fast, dextrous and a difficult target for an ordinary swordswoman. Fortunately, Espérance is far from an ordinary swordswoman. She catches the meat of the tentacle as it makes a grab for Huttner. Espérance is not fast enough to keep Huttner from hitting the deck, and the disruption of what seemed to be a magical working of some sort he was attempting. She is fast enough to use the edge of her blade to cut into the tentacle, deeply. It exudes a black ichor and the creature draws it back in pain. It also pulls back its main body for a moment. This provides Swan an extra moment to line up and take a shot. The bullet fires, and the lightning round strikes it just to the right of the pupil of the left eye. The creature roars in pain, anguish and anger as the eye looks ruined, destroyed by the round, and the squid creature convulses. What this results in, though, is the other tentacle smashing against the side of the sloop, in the same way that blinding pain and electric shock can cause a woman to flail her arms. The Skid Rogue starts to rock back and forth perilously. Two more tentacles rise out of the water, and reach, half- blindly, toward the two women and one man at the rear of the ship. "Just a little bit longer!" Alex shouts, as she holds onto the wheel for her life "We're almost clear!" With the deck pitching under her feet, Espérance makes a leap for the rigging. Even a single fastened rope will give her a pivot point, to use the ship's motion to her advantage rather than her disadvantage. She lets her momentum power her next slash at the nearest tentacle. The pitching ship makes Espérance's leap much less graceful than she might like. It is her skill in footwork with a sword that saves her from undeniable disaster, as her hand clasps the rope. The swing carries her through toward the nearest tentacle, blade flashing. A sucker-covered tentacle grabs her leg, its intent clearly to pull her over the side! Her slash is a little awkward. The creature wails, the tentacle leaks ichor from the wound. The tentacle starts to withdraw over the side of the ship...with Espérance's still firmly grasped by the leg. Swan grits her teeth and flexes her knees with the roll of the ship. Once the footing is somewhat steady, she begins retreating toward Huttner. Huttner comes to his feet easily. Anger flashes across his eyes as he regards the creature. Both guns blaze in her hands, pumping the high-caliber rounds into any threatening tentacles. “Back to back, pretty boy!” she yells at Huttner. “Let’s see if you can do more than look good.” Hopefully, with the Chaosian’s help, the gunslinger can keep further assaults at bay. "I'm more used to more esoteric combat. I leave swordplay to the Lady's daughter. Cover me!" Huttner waits for Swan to launch a barrage of withering bullets at the nearest tentacle. This causes the tentacle, and its mate, to retreat in pain and wariness. It also gives Huttner the opportunity to strike. As the squid creature's head reaches over the stern of the ship, he speaks a few words, his hand and fingers extended and poised much in the shape of a claw. Swan can feel the energies of a bolt of liquid, something like water but gleaming black and silver. This bolt flies through the air and strikes the one good eye the squid creature has left. With a roar of pain the creature, now clearly blinded in both eyes, starts to pull back its mass, and its tentacles...including the injured one that still has managed to hold onto Espérance by the leg, just below the knee. Hanging on to the rope for dear life, Espérance aims another sword-stroke at the tentacle just below the sole of her boot. At the same time she twists her trapped foot in an effort to slip it out of the boot. Swan chambers a rune-bullet and aims at the offending tentacle, targeting a spot a few feet below Espérance’s leg. She waits to take the shot until the ship arches back, thus providing Espérance more leverage when (if) the offending weight drops away. She pulls the trigger, the pistol bucking in her hand. In mid-air, the rune-bullet transforms into a scything blade that hurtles toward the creature’s limb. The scythe bullet from Swan's gun hits the tentacle with vicious force, nearly cutting it in half then and there. This allows the tentacle to finally start to slacken, and with that bit of slackening, Espérance's sword stroke can strike home, true. as, for good measure, her boot falls to the deck below. It is at this moment that Hugo chooses to intervene as well. Espérance's faithful hound leaps up, teeth barred and bites the tentacle close to where Swan's bullet and her sword has struck. Hugo's teeth dig in, worrying the already wounded tentacle like a piece of underdone calamari. He lets go, fang marks adding to the damage to the tentacle, and the tentacle releases from Espérance's foot completely. Pieces of the tentacle fall beside the boot as the stump remainder, still dripping ichor, slips back into the sea, as does the rest of the creature. And it is in that moment of victory and escape for Espérance that the scene turns from monochrome to color. The black road disappears, the weather turns suddenly hot, and humid, and only a few miles away, a lush green coast Behind the Skid Rogue, there is no sign of either the black road or the cephalopodic creature. "We made it!" Huttner says in relief. At the bow of the sloop, Cazaril has gone down to one knee, with Alex crouching over him. There is some bruising on Espérance's leg, but otherwise, she, and everyone else, have escaped unscathed. As the ship rights itself, Espérance drops lightly to the deck and looks around, assessing the situation while she continues to hold her sword at the ready. Seeing that everyone else seems to be all right, she lowers the blade and steps toward Cazaril. "Are you all right?" she asks him. "Just a bit drained on forcing the passage so quickly." Cazaril says, standing up with an effort of will. "The shortcut we used usually spins out over days, rather than the shortcut I used. It was difficult to cut corners in such a manner. I will recover in time." Swan spins her pistol and then holsters them with a flourish. She takes note of Cazaril’s condition, but moves to the wheel instead. “Huttner, go grab some water and the medical supplies from below,” she says. She begins studying the coastline, trying to find her bearings. "Medical supplies. Water" Huttner says, ducking into the hold as he does so. This gives Swan some opportunity to scan the coastline. It looks like nothing she has seen in this shadow to date. Its not the dusty desert in the area around Akhiqar, that's for sure. It's far, far too lush, too tropical. Beyond the beaches and coves, the land rises up into green-colored hills. This island or continent stretches to the northwest, to the left, and the southeast, to the right. The hills and terrain look to be rougher and higher to the northwest. There are some fishing boats not far away, and a number of villages visible on the coast from the vantage point that the Skid Rogue has, bobbing some distance off of the coast. It's certain that this lush land is well populated. "Get directions from the locals?" Alex suggests, as Huttner pulls up a small barrel of water and a box with a red cross on it. For his part, Hugo sniffs the air, scanning the coast. Leaning against Espérance to get her attention, he points his muzzle to the north and west, along the coast in that direction. Espérance, seated on the deck pulling her boot back on, takes note of Hugo's actions. "Presumably this is Aveshq," she says, peering at the coastline, "though I don't see a city that would be Panaji. But then, the Duchess did say that my father and his... companion might have gone exploring. In any case, Hugo seems to think we should go that way." She points toward the rougher terrain to the northwest. Swan fumbles through her things and retrieves a coffin-nail. She lights it as she scans the horizon. Twin spears of blue smoke emerge from her nose. The battle ended far too quickly, adrenaline still hammers in her ears. “The nose knows,” she says. “I’d sooner trust Hugo than some Jasper." Huttner nods in agreement. Cazaril, sitting down at this point, regards Hugo and looks at the horizon thoughtfully. “Still, couldn’t hurt to chin with the locals.” She turns on her heel, “’Lex, steer us toward the northwest. If you get the chance, pull along side one of those trawlers. They might be willing to spill something.” "Probably in exchange for something, no doubt." Alex says, changing course easily and effortlessly. The ship is far enough away from the coast to avoid crosswinds, and the current follows the coast to the north. A relatively rapid current, judging from the speed that the Skid Rogue makes in moving closer to the fishermen that dot the area. “Well, if it’s /goods/ and /services/ like last time, the new guy needs to shell out,” Swan says, sharing a smile with Cazaril. Cazaril smiles. Huttner looks slightly confused. The "trawler" in question has a ribbed sort of sail and is made of some sort of exotic dark wood that looks a lot like teak, of all things. The fishermen on board, in straw hats, bow as the Skid Rogue look by. It is clear, by the way they stare, that Swan's ship is as exotic to them as their ship is to Swan, Espérance and her companions. They point and talk to each other in a language only familiar to Espérance for hearing the accent as being similar to Doctor Altair and Hamzah's, or at least in the same family of dialects. "Now." Huttner says to Espérance. "it would have been useful to have Hamzah along." "It would," the swordswoman admits ruefully. "I don't think he'd have come, though." Properly booted once more, she comes lithely to her feet and scans the coastline and the nearby boats. "I expect we'll have to hire an interpreter once we're on shore." Cazaril looks at Swan. "Isn't the gift of tongues one of the gifts of the Unicorn?" Alex laughs. Swan gives Alex a wry grin and a wink, “You would know, wouldn’t you Doll?” Her smoky eyes suddenly stab into Cazaril, “And, you palooka, just lost your chance to find out.” The false frown transforms into a laugh, her cheeks reddening. She walks by her companion and slaps him playfully on the shoulder. “I’ll barber with the jaspers, nil perspiration. And the new chippie can join me.” She grins at Espérance, “Ready to make some friends, Pins?” "Sounds like a plan to me," replies Espérance, now busy cleaning the yucky giant squid ichor off her sword with a cloth taken from her belt. "Alex, Huttner and I will keep the ship ready as needed." Cazaril says. He gestures to Alex, who maneuvers the Skid Rogue until it almost touches the strange-sailed ship. Gestures soon have the fisherfolk lower a temporary gangplank lowered across the short distance between. Further hand gestures and a bow from what seems like the leader, in a manner very similar to Hamzah's custom, welcome Espérance and Swan to cross. Espérance sheathes her sword and turns to Swan. "After you," she invites with a grin. "You're the one who can talk to them, from what I gather." Swan smiles back at her, “Well, we’ll see if I can barber soon enough, I suppose. “ She hops across the railing and onto the deck of the opposite boat. “Hail,” Swan says to the leader, bowing respectfully. “I’m Captain Swan and this is my first mate, Rosemary. We’re traders that got caught in a squall and lost our bearings. Can you point us in the direct of the nearest port? Panaji, preferably, if you know of it. In exchange, we can lighten you of a few fish at above market price.” The head of the fishermen looks very puzzled at Swan's words, until she speaks the word "Panaji." The fisherman's eyes widen at the word, and he begins to nod. When he speaks, Swan can understand him. And, what is more, Espérance can as well, although for both listeners, the voice is heavily accented. Espérance blinks, once, in surprise, not having expected to be able to understand a word of the native speech. She wonders if it's something Swan is doing, or ... something else. "We would be honored to sell you some of our fish. In return, we will direct you to the Maurya city that you require. If you are traders, you would do wise to beware the craftiness of the traders you find in Panaji." Swan grins brightly, bowing her head. “Thank you for your kindness and your advice. It is well accepted and appreciated.” "Do the women of your land act lead of the men?" the fisherman asks suddenly, glancing past Espérance and Swan to look at Huttner and Cazaril. “Although we are considered equals in most things,” Swan says, “our women led in matters of finance and rulership. Our men have no head for it.” She winks at Espérance. "Wouldn't you agree, my friend?" Espérance smiles slowly. "They have other talents," she notes, her grey eyes twinkling. At the same time she considers her friend, Duchess Tremontaine, who certainly excels at both. "It is not the custom of our land to divide labor in such a way." The fisherman leader replies. "However, we have heard stories of distant travelers on the sea, whose women control the purse strings and the wheels of their ships. Surely, given your strange color, dress and mannerisms, you are from a place as distant as those stories." He looks thoughtful, scratching a bare chin with his right thumb for a few moments. “Oh gee, you have no idea,” Swan chuckles. “We’re a /long/ haul from the homestead.” Maybe even more distant than that, Espérance thinks, judging the truth of what she's been told of her own heritage by what has happened to her recently. "If your money is made of copper, silver, bronze or gold." the fisherman finally continues. "We care not if it depicts a foreign Queen. Let us get to setting a price." One of the other men speaks up. "Perhaps the women might wish a chart, Balram? So that they do not run on the reefs near the Bay of Three Stars?" "Yes!" he claps. "Included with the price of the fish, of course." "A chart would be good," Espérance agrees with a nod. “Maps good. Reefs bad. We’ll take a chart as well, my friend,” Swan says. Covertly, she studies the other speaker’s face for signs of deception. A child of Caine isn’t unfamiliar with old pirate tricks, such as offering up false charts that lead the unsuspecting onto the rocks rather than away from them. The unnamed second speaker doesn't look, to Swan, anything more than avaricious, and he has that in spades. There doesn't seem to be malice or malfeasance in his eyes or in his body language. Just the chance to soak the strangers for some more money. Swan puffs on her gasper, relieved. Although her body is still humming from the recent squid-encounter, it’d just be rude to kill these shadow-dwellers. Fun, sure. But rude. Espérance will note that this one, as well as Balram, are the only armed fishermen, if somewhat hidden knives count as weapons. From her perspective, the weapons are awkwardly placed and not conducive to being drawn quickly. Probably more tools than weapons, she guesses. “What price do you want for your catch and the chart?” Swan asks. "We've got a good catch of mackerel that we were going to sell for fish paste to make siomay." Balram explains. "We probably could sell our catch today for twenty gold rupiah. With the chart..." he looks at the other man. "Perhaps twenty five rupiah?" "Twenty five" Balram says. Even if the unit of exchange is unfamiliar to the two of them, the impression that Swan and Espérance get is that it's a quite high of a price for fish and a map. In any case, Espérance has had quite a lot of practice in haggling in the Riverside markets, and she knows that once you're branded as a soft touch, it's very hard to shake off that first impression. "That must be quite a large catch to be able to sell it for twenty rupiah," she says with a deceptively sweet smile. "I'm sure we could never eat so many, and what a waste that would be." "It is a large catch, and our fish are prized." Balram says proudly. Swan smirks around her coffin nail, “Not to mention, that’s if you have a lucky day at market, gee. So, tell you what I’m gonna do. For ten rupjah, we’ll take the catch now, along with the map. That’s guaranteed money. Whatever else you catch today is bonus cabbage.” She taps some ashes away, expecting the customary shock, indignation, and protests that all played a part in haggling. "Ten?!" Balram looks shocked. His assistant shakes his head. "These Saudari do not have families of their own, or else they would not wish to impoverish us and our families with such an offer." Swan listens, but her poker face remains unaffected. At least the fisherman hadn’t claimed that half his family was lame and in desperate need of medicine. "Peace." Balram says. He turns, regarding the two of them as if deciding which of Swan and Espérance might be an easier target. He finally sighs. "Perhaps you strangers to our lands spend less coin on food." He looks back at his ship and the fishermen, and seems to make a mental calculation. He looks back, having decided to speak to both Espérance and Swan equally. "Seventeen rupjah for both the map and the catch." The assistant begins to speak in protest but Balram holds up a hand. "These travelers may seem rich, but we do not want to impoverish them, Gajendra. I think its a reasonable compromise." "Do you not agree?" he prompts Swan and Espérance Espérance gives a considering look to the boat and the fishermen, then slants a glance over at Swan. Her own inclination would be to close the deal; having established that they're not easy marks, it couldn't hurt to buy a little goodwill by generosity. But on the other hand, she realizes she's not sure what the resources of Swan and the Skid Rogue actually are. Swan lets the fish hang on the hook for a moment. Finally, her stoic expression becomes a grin. “Aye,” she says. “I’m your meat. Sounds a little high still, but you blokes have been kind enough to help out when you could have just told us to climb up our thumb.” Balram shakes his head with slight confusion at Swan's answer. She reaches into her formerly empty pocket and removes a small money bag that has to be there. It jingles as she offers it to Balram. “Seventeen rupjah,” she announces. “From our family to your family. May the winds forever touch your sails and your mast remain firm, Balram.” Balram bows in a manner, as Hamzah would, before accepting the money bag. He does not look in it immediately, instead gesturing to Gajendra and the other fishermen. What he says is not clear, it comes across as very accented Thari, hard to follow. Over the next twenty minutes, several nets of a moderate sized fish are produced from the hold. Also produced as well is a bamboo tube with, what proves to be a map. Although the notations are in an unfamiliar alphabet, the gist of it, and the warnings, are absolutely clear. Balram finally looks in the purse, and nods in satisfaction. "We are here." he points helpfully at a spot on the map. His finger runs along past a bay and to a spot marked further up. "This is Panaji, where you and your family are going." Espérance studies the map, trying to determine what it says about the terrain surrounding Panaji as well as the waters. "Have you ever been there yourself, Balram-Ji?" she asks conversationally. The terrain is mountainous and dotted with lots of coastal towns, but not so many in the interior. Few roads are indicated. It's clear to her that the primary way to get around this part of the world is by traveling along the coast. Balram relaxes visibly and even smiles slightly at Espérance's use of the honorific. "Respected lady, our fishermen and I travel to Panaji once every five years, for the dual festival of the Twin Gods, Hastinapur and Yudhisthira." "Arey" he says in an exclamatory tone. "many in the city will pay a high price for the freshest of fish to eat and to offer in thanksgiving to them, holy be their names." Espérance nods in what is meant to be a respectful manner. "I am aware that the gods of Aveshq are many," she says. "Are there festivals going on in Panaji now of which we should be observant?" Balram laughs. "There is always a festival, but some festivals are larger than others, eh?" He scratches his chin for a moment and then turns to look at one of the other fishermen. "Utpal! Your wife's brother has as Dyausa as his Ishta Devata, doesn't he?" Utpal nods, uncertainly as Balram continues. "Isn't there a festival to Him and that's why that lazy snail isn't on our boat this week?" "Yes, Balram." the man says. BBalram turns to look back at Espérance. "There you are. Dyausa, the Shining God. Or one of them anyway. Give a donation to his shrine when you arrive, and you will be considered pious and hopefully avoid negative attention. If you really want to join the festival in the city, you'll probably want to wear yellow and white only and avoid wearing black." "I shall keep that in mind, Balram-Ji," Espérance tells him, and notes, "I was warned previously by one of your countrymen about wearing black, and the deity associated with it." Swan remains silent, busying herself with memorizing the map. While the others speak, she mentally pictures the best route in her head, as well as navigating several escape routes for later use. Considering their string of luck, she knows they’re likely to need them. . . and soon. The reefs and coasts are a tangle. The map shows a number of offshore islands, allowing for a lot of possible routes, especially ones that might rightly be called labyrinthine. “Have these reefs been fully charted?” she says, pointing to a nasty-looking section of the map near Panaji. "Yes." Balram says, turning his attention from Espérance to Swan. Behind him, the fish is being loaded onto the Skid Rogue with the help of Cazaril and Huttner. As if sensing how negotiations went, Alex has taken on the mien and manner of bossing the two men about. "As I told the Respected lady, we have run the route every five years, last two years ago. The currents change and the reef changes slightly, thanks to the blessings of Parvati of course, but this map is the one I would use, if I were in those waters making the trip to Panaji." Swan nods to this, “Then I’ll pray to the Ocean Queen that you and yours forever have her blessings, Balram.” Balram looks pleased and relieved by this. She pats him on the shoulder, and then the smile fades. “Now, my Sea Brother, I must tell you to beware of another ship such as ours. The master of the helm is a blackguard. Avoid this ship if you can. But if you cannot, feel no shame in telling him where we’ve traveled. I’d rather face his wrath than know you’ve been harmed Balram. Savvy?” "I understand." Balram looks as the last of the fish is loaded. "You are being pursued by unclean and uncouth foes who would be dishonorable as to harm into speaking any such as we who might know of our course." Balram spits on the deck of his ship. "By the Loving One, these sound like worshipers of the Lover of Blood or some other foul God." "Fear not." Balram says seriously to Swan and Espérance. "We may tell the direction you have gone. However, we will fail to mention anything about giving you a map for the reefs." Espérance grins, bladelike, and says, "Reefs? What reefs?" Swan shares the grin, “Hey, if they don’t ask, they don’t ask.” Balram bows his head. "Agreed" She pats Balram on the shoulder gain, “Peace be with you, my sea-friend.” She jerks a nod at Espérance, “Let’s beat feet before we lose the sun.” With a last farewell, she returns to the Skid Rogue. Espérance accords Balram and his crew the type of bow she learned from Hamzah, and follows Swan. Balram returns the bow and watches as the two women return to the Skid Rogue and the company of Alex, Huttner and Cazaril. "Lots of fish and a map to boot." Alex says appreciatively. "At least we won't starve, or get lost." "Where did you two learn to negotiate like that?" Huttner asks. Cazaril chuckles slightly. Espérance grins. "That's the usual way of doing business in Riverside. What I picked up from Hamzah didn't hurt, either," she observes. "You can further see, Huttner, why her Highness chose this shadow." Cazaril adds to Huttner. The younger Chaosian gives a nod to Cazaril and then a more respectful nod to Espérance. After kissing Alex on the cheek, Swan finds her gaspers and lights one anew. She smirks around it, “As for moi, I picked up the grifting in the Beast. You’d be surprised how many gonifs get tight with their cabbage when they’re hiring a hatchetgirl, such as myself. You learn quick or be on the nut, Bo.” She blows a self-satisfied smoke ring into the air. Alex grins appreciatively. “Listen,” Swan adds, “Since we’re saddled here, I’ll leave you mugs in change. I want to be heeled and ready pump metal before we make landfall. So, I’ll be up front working on rune bullets until further notice, ‘kay?” "Yes" Huttner agrees. "Now that you've done your part." he says, with a hand indicating both ladies. "We'll get the ship up to this Panaji that we're going to. And thence to the real task." he looks at Espérance with a nod. "Finding your father, as I've promised I would help you do. But you can leave the sailing to us for a time if you like." He adds with a grin."I won't go off swimming." Espérance grins back. "We could always tow you along behind," she points out. "But I don't mind knocking off for a while." She turns to Swan. "Where do you want me to stow my gear? Since we didn't really get around to that." Swan smirks at the banter between Huttner and Espérance. “My father says you’re not a true pirate until you keelhaul someone. So, if you’re up to it, I’m game.” She gives a playful wink and begins unstrapping her pistols from her waist. She offers Espérance a smile, “Well, we’re pretty loose-goose here on the Rogue. I think there’s a few free cabins.” Her smile becomes shameless, “Or you could bunk with me and Alex. We don’t hog the covers.” Alex flushes slightly. With another wink, [Swan] begins unpacking her gunsmithing tools. "Thanks for the invitation, but I like my space," Espérance says easily. "Besides, you might have room for me, but what about Hugo?" A thump of the tail from Hugo emphasizes Espérance's point. Swan cocks her head and then looks at Hugo sadly, “Sorry, Gee. You’re tooting the wrong ringer if you think I’m gonna risk getting a wet nose on the feet mid-woo.” She gives a shrug and begins etching runes into a brass casing. [Espérance] slings her trunk onto her shoulder and goes to inspect the free cabins. If there's an empty one with a window or porthole, she'll choose it; apart from that, she's not fussy. She stows her trunk in an unoccupied cabin after extracting a few cleaning supplies from it. She then comes back on deck, perches on a box or coil of rope, and starts cleaning her sword more thoroughly than she had time for after the fight with the giant squid. As it emerges, the Skid Rogue has several unoccupied cabins, allowing Espérance (as well as Huttner for that matter) a choice of cabins, both port and starboard. All of the choices have portholes and are functionally identical. The size of the quarters is not quite as large as her previous ones, but then, the Skid Rogue is a good deal smaller of a vessel. Nor, Espérance reflects, are they likely to be aboard her as long. Huttner briefly takes the time to choose a cabin next to Espérance's, and moves back to the deck. He, Alex and Cazaril soon busy themselves with the actual running of the ship, allowing the two women free and clear opportunity to clean weapons, relax and revel in their successful negotiation. In point of fact, both of them have several hours to do as they wish. In the meantime, both will notice that, sailing the boat out of their chain of command, the still drained looking Cazaril seems content to allow the much more water-aspected Huttner to take the lead on matters in keeping the ship on course. Once her blade is cleaned to her satisfaction, Espérance takes a gander at the rigging to see if there's a good, out-of-the-way spot where she can perch and get a view of where they're going. There isn't a crow's nest like on the White Maiden. However, the bow of the ship is a relatively uncrowded portion of the sloop. There is even room for Hugo to sit nearby and watch his mistress, as well as their course. Espérance takes up her position there, observing the Skid Rogue's progress with interest. Swan lets the dark memories of the last few days fuel her magic, ensnaring her rage and binding it deep within each rune bullet. Power flows where attention goes. She recalls that from her old training; what little she had. And considering how hack off she was, that meant a great deal of power. Just when she thought she’d gotten out from under the Mayor’s thumb, another highbinder had to go and declare vengeance on her. Well, this time she intends to be a little more proactive. When she slams the loaded breach shut, she realizes just how much time has gone by. Indeed, by the time Swan has finished her dark reverie, and the binding of that darkness into her new bullets, time has passed. Hours, in fact. In that time. Swan closes her gun-case, straps her pistols on, and then attends the rest of the group. She brushes by Alex’s shoulder and gazes out at the ocean. Espérance has seen the entire course of the ship in the meantime, taking it away from the encounter with the fisherfolk, and up along the tropically adorned, fractally complex coastline toward Panaji. The picking up of speed, however, is what draws Swan's attention to what is going on. The coastline here has changed. Small atolls create a multitude of small islets, some barely large enough for Espérance to stretch out on. In the clear water, both she and Swan can see that these atolls are the tops of a forest of extensive, pretty and sharp looking coral reefs under the water.. Alex, too, peers over the edge to look at the outlier reefs that the Skid Rogue passes. "This is the course on the charts?" Cazaril asks. "Yes" Huttner says. "Without those charts as a guide, we'd be dashed to pieces, or have to go way out to sea and take the long way 'round." Espérance regards the aquatic maze thoughtfully. "We don't have as shallow a draught as those fishing boats, either," she points out. "You may all wish to hold on." Huttner adds, apologetically. "The currents through these atolls and reefs look like they will be similar to a storm tide in their intensity." Swan appraises the situation and recognizes the real dangers lurking beneath the waves. A single miscalculation and they could be dashed to pieces. She feels the electric thrill this threat offers her and smiles to herself. Such a challenge could not go unanswered, but still there are other lives to take into consideration here; strange as that thought that it may be. It takes everything in her to err on the side of caution, rather than rushing headlong into the maze. “Caz, ‘Lex, drop the anchor ad give us some time to think this through. Huttner, get me a knot reading on those currents,” she orders. “Glean me exactly what I’ll be dealing with. We need to run these with the high tide. Better we handle them on the way in, rather than the way out.” "Right." Cazaril and Lex work together to get the anchor dropped, stopping the forward motion of the boat.The Skid Rogue rocks slightly as it sits at the entrance to the channel. In the meantime Huttner fusses over the current readings, finally lowering himself into the water. Swan goes over to the chart and begins to memorize it; referencing it with any clear geographic references she can see from the ship. The charts are full of these islands, showing most of them, even of modest size. It takes a minute or two to get her bearings, but the path is clear. The smallest of the atolls are not on the map, however. The map is crucial, but it will take judgement and decisions to make it through the labyrinth. [Swan] gives Espérance a serious look. “Ezzy? Think you can guide me through this mess from up front?” "I can stand as lookout and tell you if it looks like we're going to hit something," Espérance replies, "but I'm not a sailor." Swan replies with a serpentine grin, "Nil perspiration, Ezzy. Neither am I." So saying, she goes the ship's wheel and readies herself for the upcoming run. Huttner pulls himself up and back on the ship, dripping water on the deck as he regards Espérance and Swan. "Current is inbound into the Bay, I make it at 5 knots, right now. We're heading toward the high tide, so I think we'll kick it up to 8 or 9 shortly. Maybe even 10. Now's our best chance to get through it. It would be a mess to get through here when the tide is going out or low. But as I said before, its going to be a bumpy ride." "Hey." Alex says suddenly, pointing to the horizon to the south, in the direction from which the Skid Rogue has sailed. "I see a sail." Espérance looks in the direction Alex is pointing. "Company. Lovely. Something tells me they're not here for tea and cakes." She flicks a glance at Hugo to see if he's reacting. As Espérance turns her attention to the sail, so, too, does Hugo. The bristling of his fur, and the low growl suggests his absolute and implacable dislike for the distant ship. He takes a position on the Skid Rogue between Espérance and the stern of the ship, as if putting himself between Espérance and the trailing vessel. Swan follows Alex’s motion and curses. “I ain’t riskin’ those being trigger boys,” she says. “We run this now or not at all. Everyone get useful. Raise the anchor and trim the sails. I want the Rogue ready for this.” "Right." Alex says. Espérance accordingly takes up a lookout position at the bow, taking a firm grip on the rail. [Swan] retreats to the wheel, wrapping her hands around the wood tightly. In the back of her head, she begins to summon the Pattern. At the very least, she hopes its presence provide her an edge in this shadow and even her odds as she runs the gauntlet of coral and rock. “Any time, kiddies!” "Ready," says Espérance. "Sails ready." Huttner says. "Anchor's aweigh" Cazaril adds as he works on lifting it off of the bottom. He furrows his eyebrows and looks at Swan as he continues the effort. "If you are going to use the Pattern, I'll hold off myself." And with the anchor off of the bottom of the water, the current and the breeze allow the sloop to start moving, and quickly. It is all that Swan can do to avoid the nearest obstacle as the perilous passage. Over the next twenty minutes, Swan and Espérance and Huttner work together. The former can steer, the last has the charts to read, and Espérance has point to work on the minutae of the smaller channels between the unmapped atolls and islets. Through it all, the ship's passage is rapid, with the currents and breeze conspiring together. Alex and Cazaril busily keep working the sails and the ship. And then comes the choice, at the twenty minute mark. In terms of distance, the ship is just past the halfway mark in the Bay. The chart from the fishermen show two choices. A long outer route, with few islands on its route on the map. Espérance can see, too, that there seem to be fewer of the small islands as well. It would be an easier route than the part taken to date and would allow the crew a bit of respite on that front. The inner route is the shorter way, almost half as long as the other. However, it looks even more complicated than the navigation performed to date. A false move on that route could have the Rogue run aground in short order. Oh and the sail on the horizon has resolved in sight to be a ship, a ship a little larger than the White Maiden. Its clear that the ship is trying to avoid the Bay entirely, and is taking a longer route, albeit at a speed that is allowing them to slowly catch up. Swan puffs angrily on her gasper, considering this new development. Her fingers clench the wheel until the wood creak beneath them. “They’re trying to give us the Bum’s Rush,” she says. “If that ain’t Saxon or some of his goons, I’m a monkey’s uncle. Probably knows where you dad is, Ezzy.” Cazaril says something under his breath in a foreign language that definitely sounds like swearing. [Swan] turns to the crew, “Your call, kids. I’m sure I can snake us through this hole. But I’m not risking your necks without your permission.” "I'm game," says Espérance. She shrugs. "We can always swim. And maybe we can lure them in." "In" Huttner says without hesitation. He looks at Cazaril and Alex. "I don't like it." Cazaril says. "But the both of you are right. In." Alex grins. "In, of course. Who am I to argue?" And in it is. The current picks up pace as Swan steers into the channel. Corals pass dangerously near to the Skid Rogue as the sloop makes its perilous passage. In the end it takes combined efforts to keep the ship intact and through. Espérance on point, warning of sudden atolls in the path (and there are many), Alex, Huttner and Cazaril doing the physical work of moving sails and watching the sides. And Swan steering. The ship manages to get through in one piece and into clear, open water. Caine might even be proud. Once the ship is beyond the Bay, it’s clear that the sail is much more distant on the horizon, the short passage having done its work to give the Skid Rogue a much bigger lead than it had. "Dare you," Espérance murmurs under her breath, looking at the distant sail. "We've sprung a leak." Alex calls from the interior. "I think we must have hit a reef on that last tight passage." "Damn. I thought I felt something," says Espérance. "How bad is it?" she calls to Alex. "Not good." Alex calls back "I'm running out of towels to try and plug it. It keeps seeping through." To Swan’s credit, she maintains a professional calm, despite the string of obscenities running through her head. She stays at the wheel, guiding the boat across the bay. “Caz!” she yells. “Get below and help ‘Lex. Conjure us a patch if you can. Grab a can and bail if you can’t. We just need to get to the harbor. Cazaril takes the stairs into the interior two at a time. “Ezzy, Hutt. Keep an eye on our tail. If they get too close, get ready to put some daylight in them.” Espérance continues to watch the channel in front of their bow, to avoid any more possible collisions, but keeps an intermittent eye on the following ship. [Swan] tests the wheel again, offering up a silent prayer that the rudder didn’t take a hit as well. The wheel is somewhat sluggish. Oh, the Skid Rogue still maneuvers, but with much less response than Swan has been used to since she acquired the ship. It could be the water in the hold and the leak, but Swan suspects the rudder took a minor hit when the boat hit the reef. A minute or so later, both Espérance and Swan feel the tingle of something arcane, that characteristic Chaotic sensation that is much more unpleasant for Swan than it is for the daughter of Dara and Richard St. Vier's. As the feeling fades, both ladies can hear muffled words and discussion between Cazaril and Alex below. Swan fights her nausea, dismissing it with cool self-control. She’s stood on two broken legs and held a conversation; a little stomach upset is nothing in the grand scheme of her life’s experiences. She continues puffing on her gasper, drawing focus from its sweet, biting smoke as she navigates the ship toward their destination. Meantime, Espérance's quiet murmur seems to be bearing fruit, as the distant sail ever so slowly seems to increase in size. Hugo is firmly in the back of the ship, between Espérance and the stern, watching the sail intently. It is at this point that Espérance feels a bit of the same sort of arcane, Chaotic sensation--but not from Cazaril, but rather, distantly, in the direction of the sail. As she does so, Hugo practically bristles as well. Perhaps fortunately for Swan, she senses nothing. Remembering her lessons with Huttner, Espérance takes a few moments to visualize the mental barrier she developed while working with him. And in about 45 seconds of concentration, the sensation is dulled, and then, mental shielding in place, the sensation affects Espérance no longer. "Just around this headland and we'll just be in the harbor." Huttner calls, looking up from the charts. A spit of land, right in the ship's path, looms closer and closer. The path to port and clearing the headland is clear, but the turn is becoming more difficult by the second. Ignorant to the chaotic forces allying against her, Swan sharpens the Pattern in her mind, feeling the waves, currents, and winds of this Shadow, so she might use them to her advantage. “This is going to be a tight one,” she calls to the crew. “So grab your britches when we make the turn. Hutt, turn the sails on my mark.” "Right." Huttner calls. At this point, Alex has come up, although Cazaril remains below. Espérance doesn't wait for the turn itself to take a firm grasp on the bow rail. In Swan's mind, the currents, waves and winds are intuitively grasped, ready to be employed. She angles the ship with the current and wind. She knows they’ll be moving faster as they round the headland, increasing the size of the waves. Like a surfer, she tries to maneuver the ship into the swell, and allow it to increase the vessel’s speed. It’s highly dangerous, of course; the likelihood of grounding them much higher than she likes. The Skid Rogue streaks toward the rocks and sand, until finally Swan shouts, “NOW! Sails, full to port!” She spins the wheel to port, hoping to catch the wind and slingshot the ship around the headland. The force of the tack and slingshot is so powerful, off of the rocks, nearly throws the entire crew overboard, even given the reduced rudder. The ship groans and tilts as it accelerates ahead and away. Hugo barks as his paws slip on the deck, finally finding purchase against Espérance for safety. She lets go with one hand and grips his collar to anchor him further. And then it's over. The ship slows down, the wind reduces to a light gale, and everyone is accounted for and still on the vessel. The rudder is still sluggish of course, but there is no sign of the enemy vessel. Even better, against the rising heights ahead, is a city of terraced buildings in orange and yellow marble, dominated by a statue large enough and tall enough to be visible even from here, on the mountain heights behind the city Panaji. Espérance gives the rest of the crew (and especially Swan) a grin over her shoulder. "Looks like we made it!" Alex whistles. Huttner grins. Footsteps suggest Cazaril is returning to the main deck. Then she turns back for a good look at the city, and especially the towering statue. Swan breathes a sigh of genuine relief, her arms and back strained by the violence of the turn. She remains curiously silent as the Rogue continues its now lazy path toward the harbor. She simply returns Espérance’s smile, offering up a polite nod. The city’s design stirs her heart with melancholy. It remains her of Amber, and she finds herself missing it for the first time in many months. She takes the time to light another gasper, hoping the smoke will burn away the feelings inside her chest. From the viewpoint of Swan, and more especially the more discerning gaze and study given by Espérance, the city is not overly large. Probably smaller than Riverside, at first blush. The buildings are not high, few of them getting above three or four stories. The statue, however, is definitely meant to be eyecatching. As the Skid Rogue slowly wends its way toward Panaji, the statue's size can be estimated as around 200-250 feet in size, perhaps taller. The statue seems to depict a bald man, or a humanoid, wearing a robe, with half closed eyes, and in a seated position. Cazaril, now on deck at last, gives a long look at the city and the statue beyond it, standing next to Swan and Alex. "One of their million gods?" Huttner says. "Perhaps" Cazaril says. He looks at Swan. "Nothing like this in Amber, or the Courts." Swan chuckles, “Yeah, we’re less hinky with our gods. One is all we need.” She gazes up at the statue, “That’s pretty darb though. These people must have the bees, sure as $*&^. Rhodes had one of these. Shadow Earth. Before my time, anyway.” Alex looks at Espérance. "Hey. Do you think your Dad might have gone to see it?" "I've never heard that he was much of a sightseer," Espérance replies thoughtfully, "but if he's with the Mad Duke... I can easily see =him= taking an interest. How long they would have stayed there is a different question." Huttner gives a nod of agreement with Espérance. "Hmmm." Alex says. "We need to find their trail, somehow. I was casting about for ideas." “We won’t ignore that suggestion, ‘Lex,” Swan interjected. “You’ve got a good nose for things. And it is the highest point here. Good place to watch for chopper squads.” "It may just be a matter of asking around," says Espérance. "The Mad Duke, especially, is a rather ... conspicuous sort of person, even in Riverside. And they'd both tend to stand out even more here." “We need to get the lay pronto, kids,” Swan adds, guiding the boat toward an empty dock or safe anchoring point. “We still have those guns on our keister. No telling when they’ll catch up to us. But we need to gate when they do.” There are more than a few empty docks, and even as Swan picks one and guides the Skid Rogue toward a berth, a high hatted official is walking down the dock. With obvious practice, he manages to stop on the dock right across from where the gangplank would be lowered. Swan ties the wheel in position before taking a lazy walk toward the gangplank. When she sees people approaching, she pushes back her coat to make sure the pistols are well in sight. Not that she expects trouble, but one sight of Huggin and Munnin usually helps keep it that way. Espérance, hand on sword-hilt, falls into the familiar stance that says, "This person/place is well protected, so nobody you know is going to *try* anything, are they now?" "Welcome..." he squints behind a pair of eyeglasses and seems surprised at the makeup of the crew. He doesn't show surprise at Swan's arms, and Espérance's sword gesture, although he gives both a glance. He continues with a rapid-fire delivery. "Ladies and gentlemen to the Port of Panaji!" "Besides handling your obvious needs for berthing in the City of a Million Gods, at a reasonable price, I might add, how else may sub-Magistrate Ramelan serve your needs?" “Greetings and salivations,” Swan chimes. “We’re the Skid Rogue. In port for a tick. We have some cargo of fish to unload and a place to sell it. If you can glom us a buyer, a small commission will be involved. "A lowdown on recent goings - namely people like us - will fetch some coin too. There's some pilgrims we intended to meet earlier, but we ran into a... squid."" "It was most unpleasant." Cazaril says, deadpan. "Nevertheless you are here. Traders in fish and information." Sub Magistrate Ramelan rubs his hands together with obvious glee after giving Caz a sideline look "The Port of Panaji welcomes all traders of goods which are not prohibited by common law or the current divine festivals." "At this time, you are prohibited from bringing into the city of Panaji: live cows, bronze weapons, wood from deciduous trees, glass objects smaller than a cubit in length or diameter, beans of any color other than red, black peppercorns, fermented garlic, jewelry made of white gold, and any clothes of the color mauve." Espérance reviews the list in her mind and decides she doesn't have a problem with leaving her oak sea-chest on board ship for the time being. He continues on in his rapid fire fashion. "A 5% deposit on the estimated value of your cargo will secure you storage facilities in one of the city warehouses as well as the right to a first-come first-serve open stall in one of the three markets devoted to non-citizens of Panaji. You may negotiate with a private warehouse and stall, of course, and forgo the 5% deposit, however, you must then pay an immediate 2% tax on the transaction and provide evident proof of an agreement before offloading your cargo." "For accurate information on current doings, I would recommend the Office of the Prefect, off of the Square of the Azure Tiles. A donation to the Goddess Kwai Lung is recommended." he finishes. He bows and then regards the group, focusing his gaze on Swan and Espérance. Swan tries to follow the nattering list of do’s and don’ts and whatever, but she – as her father so delicately put it – is still a blunt instrument. She phases out roughly around the private warehouse portion of the conversation. But to her credit, she doesn’t kill anyone out of sheer boredom. “Caz!” she says, perhaps too loudly. “You’re our resident Abercrombie. So, how about you handle the whole trading-thingie-ma-bob stuff? Just get us a good price. And Huttner. Uh-um. You stand there and look pretty. "In the mean, Ezzy and I will dangle at the Prefect’s pad. Maybe sniff out her Pops.” She turns to ‘Lex, “Make sure we’re ready to sprint if our tail shows up. Feel free to warn us with a few cans of soup, if you feel so inclined.” She winks playfully, knowing her moll will jump at the chance for some creative demolitions. "Huttner and I will handle the cargo negotiations." Cazaril says confidently. "I am certain that the Sub Magistrate will allow the two of you to go ahead into the city while we handle the matter of the fish." Alex grins back at Swan. "Actually, I need to make some more soup. So I will stay behind and do that." She seems positively gleeful at the prospect of making more demolitions. The Sub Magistrate takes all of this in, his eyes showing he is uncertain just who to address now. Finally he settles on Espérance. "It would be my pleasure to welcome you and give you the freedom of the city while your men here negotiate the matter of your cargo. "The parade for the Festival of Dyausa is about to begin." He looks at Swan as well as Espérance. "Only if you are wearing yellow and white, of course, might you join the parade." "That's all right, I think we'll take a pass on that," Espérance tells him easily. "I take it then" he continues, giving Espérance a nod at her response. "you are not devotees to him." He looks at the pair. "If you are looking to make a donation to the temple of your personal deities, perhaps to thank them for a successful journey, the Office of the Prefect has a map, at a reasonable fee I might add, to all of the temples, shrines, and catacombs in the city." Espérance finds herself wondering if it's an *annotated* map. She could easily imagine the Mad Duke checking out some of the weirder cults. She also wonders if there's a deity for swordsmen -- besides the obvious one whose devotees, according to Doctor Altair, wear black. Ramelan steps to the side of the dock, as if giving the pair permission to pass him. Espérance turns to Swan. "Shall we go?" She also glances around to see if Hugo is ready to accompany them. Fortunately Ramelan didn't say anything against bringing large dogs into the city. Hugo has remained on board, and out of sight, for the entire negotiation. At the words from his mistress, however, he bounds out of his hiding spot and lands next to Espérance. Swan nods lightly, "It's your show Ezzy." She makes room for the dog to accompany them and follows them into this bizarre city. Sub Magistrate Ramelan looks surprised and seems ready to say something, but Cazaril and Huttner step up and start engaging him in negotiation. This allows Swan, Espérance and Hugo the time and space to slip by, and into the city. There are many things to catch the senses in the city of Panaji in the ladies' initial minutes. The buildings of orange and yellow marble, ranging from the blocky and short to the tall and spindly. The mass of people, people. This city certainly has more people than Espérance has seen--and more than Swan has seen in Amber city, anyway. The variety of people is astonishing, with a full spectrum of skin colors, hair colors, eye colors, and most especially, clothing. In the space of ten minutes, the two ladies and Hugo pass by men wearing little more than loincloths, others dressed in a full body robe, women with very little on, and others who are covered head to toe, and veiled. And in a variety of colors. Many are wearing white and yellow, as the sub Magistrate mentioned, but nearly every hue, but black and mauve, are represented. The smells of food and the sounds of languages both familiar and unfamiliar echoing in an endless cacophony around the three travelers help complete the sensory experience of the masses of humanity that is the city. Espérance finds herself looking up at the rooftops rather longingly, but decides that now is not the time for that. She keeps a hand on Hugo's ruff, to prevent losing him in the press. "What do you think?" she asks Swan. "Should we look for this Prefect's office? It won't be secretive, but it might be faster." Busy enjoying her surroundings - particularly the dangly bits poking out from behind the loincloths - it takes Swan a moment to realize she's being addressed. She blinks at Espérance blankly. Comprehension sets in and she blows a smoke ring into the air. "Faster pussycat kill, kill, I always say. Gets the job done and may attract some attention. I like attention, if you hadn't glommed it yet." She snakes her arm through Espérance's, a mischievous smile forming around the gasper between her lips. "So, Ezzy, tell me. Do you like a bit of the old ultraviolence? Or are you a huggy-kissy twist?" "Put it this way." Espérance lays a hand briefly on her sword hilt. "This is business, not pleasure." Swan laughs softly, "Honey. My business /is/ a pleasure." Espérance nods. "So I gathered. For myself... When I want to relax, I do something else." "Oh-ho? Now that sounds promising," Swan chuckles. She pauses long enought to stub out her gasper. "You're an interesting doll, Ezzy. When we have more time, you need to show me how you relax." "Simple enough." Espérance smiles. "Do you like music?" Another glance at the rooftops. "Or climbing?" Swan laughs and hugs Espérance, "Do I like music, she says. I'm a professional torcher, doll. Spun a few records back in the Beast. And I free-run whenever I can. Roofs included." "When we get the chance then," says Espérance, her eyes lighting, "--because it's always business before pleasure, isn't it?--I'll race you. And then harmonize afterwards." Swan grins brightly, "Races usually have bets attached to them. I'm sure we can come up with something interesting." She gives a bawdy chuckle, "Mrm-hrm. Harmonizing. It certainly will be." Her eyes scan the street ahead of them and spot building with civic-looking symbols on it. "That might be it." "Worth a try, anyway," says Espérance, turning toward it. There is a line of people waiting to get into the Onion-domed structure that Swan points out amongst the many other buildings. As Espérance and Swan approach it, it seems more and more to be the promised destination. It sits on a square that, at the center portion anyway, is composed of bright blue flagstones. The line seems interminable, but, providentially, a bit of the ultraviolence is not needed to get Swan and Espérance into the structure. The line moves rapidly, and it seems to replenish itself behind the pair just as rapidly. A few minutes later, inside a large and grand hall dominated by a mural with a multitude of what must be Gods and Demons, Espérance and Swan are at the head of the line. A very bored young woman with cocoa colored skin and hair the color of jet looks a little more alert at the arrival of the two ladies. "Salaam." she says. She looks at the two women. "If you are looking for the blessings of Saldana, Huntress and Eater of Men, the temple is thirteen streets to the north and is a red and gold structure, topped by her symbol, the Arch." "Not today, thank you," Espérance replies pleasantly, though with a twinkle in her eye at the way the young woman seems to have an eye for people's predilections in gods. "We have a different errand. We seek news of a distinguished foreign visitor: Damil, Duke Emeritus of Tremontaine." "Distinguished foreign visitor." The clerk says thoughtfully. She turns and bends over, briefly, showing the crimson red that makes up the lower half of her outfit, in contrast to the lily white top. She pulls back around with a large scroll and opens it. "There may be news I might be very possibly capable of relating." the clerk says, looking at Espérance. "Are you concubine, kinswoman, child, wife, slave or employer of the Duke?" Swan idly wonders if they'll have time to visit the aforementioned temple. It sounds right up her alley. Maybe they sell t-shirts. She pretends to roll her neck and scratches the back of her head while Espérance talks. In truth, she's scanning the other faces around her, looking for any that might not fit into the norm. The clerk's engagement with Espérance allows Swan the opportunity to scan and look at the people in the room. Aside from the line they stand on, there are clumps of people here and there. They talk, they look at the murals, they look at pieces of parchment held in their hands. In the midst of all of these clumps of people, people who are here by themselves are as rare as hen's teeth. There are a couple of them. And out of them, individuals who don't *quite* blend in, in terms of ethnicity or fashion, are even rarer. So the tall, pale skinned, close-cropped red haired man with green eyes and wearing foreign clothes (dark green tunic with white pants, finely made) is definitely out of place as he, too, seems to be surveying the room. (Casting Call: Sean Bean) His eyes meet Swan's briefly, and he holds the gaze for a moment, and then continues looking around the room. Backlinks |
