Turn 138

"Captain!" Yestin fairly bounds down to greet him, visibly checks himself, and throws a crisp salute, though he can't stop grinning. He does refrain from hugging Hiro, who permits himself the smallest hint of a smile. As the crew hurries down after him, a rapid babble of questions and explanations breaks out until everyone remembers that there are important people waiting for them. Inez, who has been standing off a little ways as the reunion takes place, gives a decorous and completely out of character curtsey; if her smile at Emmett has daggers in it no doubt it's in the viewer's imagination.
    Emmett, initially oblivious to this, run-skips down and slaps hands with Valarin. "Glad you're back. Stop doing that crap." He then looks Hiro up and down, nods once with a grin, and then heads over to Inez. "Hi Honey, I'm home. Man, the day at work I had. You would've hated it."
    "Can't wait to hear all about it... dear." She's clearly a bit nettled at being third in line for attention. "Can we go now?"
    Ibn Fadil appears genuinely pleased to see them both, yet there is a certain wariness there; the reader may recall that Hiro and Valarin both missed a certain important conversation.
    Val lets out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.  He'd been expecting a lot more flak from Emmett.
    * **
    In the pause after Hiro's news summary, ibn Fadil exchanges a darkly significant look with Emmett, and clears his throat. Is he nervous? He hasn't said much up to this point, and is definitely avoiding meeting Hiro's gaze. "Seems like time to bring you up to date about something, Captain," he says, without a trace of the Zakharan accent he's been affecting since they returned (now he sounds more Bralian than anything else). "See, the worst thing about screwing up and having to leave Bral in such a hurry is that I was actually stationed there to collect information. About anything and everything. At the moment I'm kind of operating independently, but normally I'm a professional spy for my family."
    After the initial shock of that statement fades, Val looks at Emmett as if to make sure he'd heard correctly.
    Emmett looks over at the two prodigal crewmen. "It's OK, I've already walloped him for it."
    "And that is supposed to make it all better?" Val asks Emmett irritably. Having had a rather shadowy history himself, the young captain is at a loss as to what to say to ibn Fadil. If that really is his name. "So who are you and where do your loyalties lie?" he asks the half elf woodenly. He does not want to turn this into a shouting match. And he really wasn't expecting *this* upon his return.
    For once Hiro's expression is plain to read, the tear-drop scar almost hidden in the tightness of his eyes; he is *not* happy about this revelation.
    "For what it's worth, my real name is Faris Arif ibn Hassan Dawud Fadil Olnfar al-Quadir. I really am Zakharan." (He doesn't *sound* like it right now, though.) "As to my loyalties, my first concern is whether a thing will help or harm the interests of my family, then Zakhara as a whole, then whoever I happen to be working with. Or for.
    "At this time, I have decided that the activities of the Hextorians here and possibly elsewhere, especially combined with their use of the resources of V&S, are far more important than whatever news of Three Trees' explorations I might have been able to pass on. So, I have revealed myself, since role of the cheerful and feckless 'ibn Fadil' was getting in the way of investigating these things. And," he adds, "I was damn tired of it anyway."
    "And everybody is 'okay' with this?" Val asks after a moment, half amazed that it is apparently so. He studies the half elf before him, trying to sort through his own feelings of-- Of what? Betrayal? Irritation? Anger? Oddly, he feels very little of any of these.
    "Very well," he continues, "I guess I have some thinking to do about your 'status' on the Distraction then. For the time being, you are relieved of your duties until I come to a...decision." His words are deliberate and decisive, quite unlike the reckless Valarin the rest of the crew has come to expect.
    "I trust I do not have to place you under arrest for this? I doubt it would serve any purpose other than making us all...uncomfortable."
    In response to Val's tone, he straightens a little from his casual pose. "Of course not, sir. You hired me as crew for this voyage, and I'm still at your orders."
    Val studies the Zakharan for a moment before asking, "And what we call you now?"
    "Ibn Hassan, sir. Or, if you like, al-Quadir. That's a nickname given me by some of my colleagues a while back. It means 'the capable.'"
    "I see," is Val's only response. He turns to his first mate and Emmett, obviously ending this interview with ibn Hassan. "A word, gentlemen?"
    The Zakharan watches them go, oddly relieved that Valarin is taking this so poorly, though he isn't sure why; perhaps it is simply that he himself regards it as a serious matter. Not that anyone looking at him could tell that this is going through his mind.
    In the other room, Yestin looks at Val queryingly, all business now.
    * * *
    "Tell me everything," is Bendek's simple order to Lynden, his eyes alight with interest.
    Taking a seat on a large comfortably overstuffed armchair (something he would never have dared to do without permission before) Lynden looks calmly at his master assessing what degree of 'everything' he should disclose. "Master, it was a shock to discover that these vermin from offworld have infiltrated and subverted our people so successfully but I think with this knowledge their activities can be restricted if not curtailed. For myself I fought alongside the crew and though I barely know them have come to trust them, at least the ones that I journeyed with," he adds making a mental note to watch Hiro and Valarin closely.
    "I defeated the Hextorian priest and captured him for interrogation. He seemed afeared of what I might do to him but I held off dispatching him knowing that his information would be valuable to my betters.
    "On board the ship the metal beast drew me to it and caused me to faint, though I suffered no ill effects of which I'm aware." His voice drops reverently as he adds, "But while I was unconscious Gerik allowed me to look upon his greatness and commanded me to travel to the other worlds to hunt these invaders."
    Chewing his bottom lip nervously Lynden shifts a little on the chair wondering how his revelation would be received.
    Bendek looks momentarily shocked, then frowns. "These are grave developments indeed. I am sure that interrogating the prisoner will prove valuable. You have done exceedingly well in this, better than we had hoped. If you are indeed commanded...." He looks faraway for a moment, then nods sharply. "We" -- by which he probably means the entire upper hierarchy -- "will consider this with great care."
    Lynden begins to rise from his seat ready to defend the veracity of his statement before slumping his shoulders and sitting once more. " Master, I will await your advice on this matter." But secretly he thinks, *Either way I _will_ hold to my oath and hunt offworld.*
    He asks many more detailed questions -- about the _Distraction_ and her crew, about what Lynden observed in Highfort, about the Hextorians which Lynden answers in as much detail as possible without disclosing anything that be detrimental to his new friends. Then pleading fatigue he requests that his debrief continue after he has slept.
    This is granted, though again with a thoughtful look.
    The next day, a rather contrite-looking Bendek appears at his door.
    "I hope your evening was a restful one, and that we may continue our discussion this morning? There has been much talk of your situation, and I have been ordered to see to it that you are provided with any resources that may be needed in your... your mission."
    * * *
    Trailed by Michal, ibn Fadil inspects the carpenters' progress in the hold as they construct additional living quarters at a breakneck pace, and then leads him up to the unoccupied galley. "Have I mentioned that I hate winter?" he asks as he efficiently starts a fire in the stove and puts the kettle on. Then he leans against the counter and turns his full attention on the boy. "Questions, lad? Remarks? Intentions? Plans? Speak. I'm not interested in doing all your thinking for you."
    "Me?" He looks a little surprised at the question. "You folk sure do seem to have an interesting time."
    "I'm afraid so." The half-elf studies Michal for a long moment, as if trying to see into his soul, or else make him uncomfortable. "I want you to know that I have no intention of ditching you somewhere, Michal. I was raised to take my obligations seriously, even when they arise from what I have to call a sentimental whim."
    A slightly wary shrug. "Since I'm not going anywhere in particular, I don't think there's much to worry about where I end up. There's nothing to feel obliged about."
    "So. I do have plans for you, if you're willing to go along with them, and I figure that before we leave is a good time to share them with you. I intend to teach you to read and write, knife-fighting, and how to pick locks, to start with. Later, there's arithmetic, ciphering - that's writing in code - lip-reading, and a few other things. Probably even the sword. And that's not to mention how things are out among the spheres. In a couple of years I hope to turn you over to my uncle, who will know best what to do with a spy who'll never be pegged as having anything to do with Zakhara. That's my home sphere.
    "On the other hand, I may conclude that I was wrong to think you've got what it takes. In that case, you'll also have learned something about spelljamming and could take that up as a career, or perhaps something else. We'll have to see. If you're willing to give it a try. And, of course, if any of us survives the journeys ahead of us."
    The boy blinks a few times, then rallies a bit. "Well. That's... that's very interesting. Um. I think I'd have to know a bit more about all of this first. I mean, I've just sort of been along for the ride here... what if *I* change my mind?"
    "It's a risk I'm taking, that I'll get some return on the time and money I'm going to spend on you," the Zakharan admits. "But this isn't the sort of job a man should take unless he wants to. It's difficult, dangerous, and also very boring a lot of the time. And there are other things you could do, as I said. Zakhara has ships, and soldiers, and plenty of perfectly ordinary business, if that's what you prefer. If you want to go off on your own --" He pauses, considering. "I'm not going to ask you for any promises on that score, or not right now. It will come up later. For now, I'll start teaching you and see to your clothing and such. All I ask in return, for now, is that you carry out whatever tasks I give you, pay attention, and ask questions. We'll see how we stand when we get to our next destination. Fair enough?"
    He's an impulsive lad; that's what got him into this situation in the first place. "Sounds grand. When do we leave?"
     * * * A couple of days after meeting with the king:
    "I understand that you wished to see me," Steelhand says to Emmett once the courtesies are out of the way and the wine has been poured. "Your mission for the king accomplished a great deal, or so one hears?"
    Emmett smiles "It was not unsuccessful. Durrell's threat has been weakened and delayed, but not averted. Still, That's not why I wanted to see you."
    He takes a drink, remembering to stick with the script he'd worked out before, "It's obvious that the company we represent is going to be coming back to this world to trade with the high king. I have an affinity for your people, and would hate to see you left out of such an opportunity. If you are interested, I'll arrange for our next ship here to contain a one or two Dwarvish traders. I hope that this will help open up your people to the greater community."
    "I'm not asking for any agreements now - we have no time to make them. Just an acknowledgement of interest from your people." Emmett gives him another smile "I'm afraid, friend Steelhand, that by being ambassador to these humans you have inadvertently become their contact to the entire community of worlds. If you turn this arrangement down, we won't send Dwarven traders along, but our next ship will no doubt have someone to offer this overture to you again unless you say now that you will *never* be interested. I realize that you need time to contact your leaders, and if you haven't had it, I don't want to pressure you, either now or in the future."
    "Still, you told me before that our presence here has changed everything. I don't think people as adept as yourselves would fail to adapt to that change."
    Steelhand's bushy brows are slightly raised in surprise. "But of course we are interested. I can speak for my king without fear when I tell you that to hide in our tunnels now would be a foolish cowardice. The times being what they are, we can ill afford foolishness. We will be pleased to entertain whatever emissaries arrive, though I fear King Roald will be less so." He shrugs a bit, however, as if to say that the pleasure or displeasure of humans is of little importance, the world being what it is.
    "One other thing: I have spoken to you of my God, yes? Our priests are as much craftsmen as clerics, and I think that we could have much to teach each other. Would you be adverse to some pilgrims coming to see your people?"
    "Not so long as they have better manners than these other interlopers I have heard rumor of...."
    * * * Later on, experimenting with his gift, ibn Fadil/Hassan/whatever makes a calculated guess and attempts climbing the wall of his room. The feeling is rather uncanny, as if hands and feet have become supersensitive to finger and footholds. What would have been an easy climb is now effortless as a ladder.
    * * * The next day, Emmett takes a break from anxiously minding his egg -- free of the stasis spell at long last -- to inquire, "Lynden, are you coming with us off planet? Your people would be well served by an ambassador of some sort learning what the spheres are like, and, well, you're one we trust and we're the only way off." The half man did not go into how comfortable he was with the young priest, instead changing tack. "Plus, many gods find it helpful to have priesthoods on multiple worlds - you might not want to carry the message quite the same way as the Hextorians, but there are advantages."
    A small smile plays at the corners of Lynden's lips as he listens to the half-man's proposal. "I have indeed been considering where I may best be able to serve Gerik and going off-world would help me hunt down these evil doers. I have become accustomed to your company but..." he pauses briefly before reluctantly continuing," I believe that you are not now at liberty to extend this invitation yourself, welcome though it is." He looks closely at the halfman hoping he has not caused offence before a grin brightens his face. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to introduce me to your Captain?"
    * * *
    In the end, the departure is made with minimal fanfare, it being quite impossible to provide something sufficient to memorialize the impact the small damselfly's brief visit will have upon the future of Rigol. In the days and weeks to come as ships and men are mustered for the coming war with Durrell and additional catastrophe foreseen by the auguries, some will wonder if the entire event was not a dream in the winter's depths.
    The members of the _Distraction_'s crew suffer no such doubts, as the ship moves slowly out from Rigol's tumbling disk, gaining speed as it works free of the planet's influence, once again flying into the endless night of the space between the worlds. Only Nyala seems the slightest bit saddened to leave the place behind, but soon the routines of spaceflight impose their soothing rhythm.
    There is no doubt that the ship is crowded. A damselfly, which can be perfectly well crewed by two people, now has the captain, oversized first mate and problematical quartermaster; two pilots plus Lynden, whom Pham begins to teach the art [GM: Hazel, you'll need to put something into a piloting skill next level if you want to use this for much]; Emmett, Hiro and Nyala as a defensive contingent, ibn Hassan's young lackey (who at least doesn't take up much room), and the amiable Emil. [GM: How are you guys treating him, by the way? Is he going to spend the entire trip locked in his room or what? Captain?]
    A month later it also has a griffin. The hatchling is cute is anything, eats like something many times its size, and that beak has a wicked nip; Cog soon learns to keep his distance. Inez, whose mood improved as soon as they reached the atmosphere's edge, is alternately charmed by the clumsy young creature and annoyed by the amount of Emmett's attention it takes up. [GM: You made your Handle Animal check.]
    Some time after that, they reach the crystal shell, and the long-unseen Flow surrounds them. Rather than heading back toward distant Bral, they tune their sails toward a closer destination. Tagret is an unusual system in that it consists of more than one nested sphere; Alais happily explains why this is technically impossible, at least according to the theories commonly espoused on the nature of the spheres, and expresses pleasure that he'll be able to see this place before the universe is destroyed. [GM: Remember that?] According to their information, the outermost space contains two suns and a single large earth-type planet, refreshingly spherical. A largely water-covered world whose small continents are all but barren under the erratic influence of its two heat sources, Abbarille is still well-situated to serve as a crossroads, and as with Bral, most of the major intersphere players maintain a presence there.
    It is many weeks before they see anyone or anything; the phlogiston appears deserted of life except for the occasional drifting bed of sluk. The only ship they spy for two months is an elven flitter speeding through the distant Flow; though presumably not alone, they see no sign of a larger vessel that might have launched it. "You weren't kidding about the boring part," Michal remarks at one point, shaking his head as he stares at the endless, unchanging Flow.
    Once within the shell and approaching the planet, things change sharply; wildspace is just as crowded with animals life as the phlogiston was deserted, and the ship has to do some fancy flying once in a while to avoid threats before linking up with one of the Abbarille convoys. This is a new development in the sphere, they learn >from the captain of one of the two hammerships that guard the convoy, but one that many spheres are adopting since space has become so crowded with previously rare natural threats. They'll travel more slowly as the convoy spirals inward, collecting ships that might otherwise become prey, but in considerably more safety and with the added benefit of a chance to collect some news from the dozen other ships that have already joined up, and even do a bit of informal bartering.
    The emptiness of the Flow is well known, but no one seems to have an explanation beyond "Just one of them phenomenons." There has been some kind of trouble on Bral, but the rumors conflict and no one has first-hand information; some sort of attack, at any rate, but whether it was pirates, mindflayers, a mad dragon, or some other agency is unclear. The _Magnus_ has already gotten a wide-ranging reputation as a give-no-quarter predator, and 3 Trees has suffered an astonishing number of lost ships in the past year thanks to the _Audacious_, which now leads a fleet of three, (though they are content to steal cargo and leave the crews alive). No one at this far remove knows anything about Samuel Victor personally, but V&S as a whole seems to be running along much as usual. Two people have heard rumors of ships being attacked by Hextorians in distant spheres, of entire ships crewed by the reclusive priests, and Pham is universally viewed with suspicion.
    [GM: Anything else you want to ask about, here or once you hit the surface? I'm assuming for convenience that you'll accept the convoy's escort.]
    The main city, also named Abbarille, is a low, sprawling place ringed with docking facilities for the constantly arriving and departing spelljamming craft, the streets teeming with people and animals. After their long travels and isolation, it's enough to induce some degree of shock.
    [GM: So here you are. This place only looks like Mos Eisley (except for the part that consists of rather nice seashore); it's quite civilized and mostly peaceful unless you're actively looking for something else. I expect you'll want to visit the 3 Trees office, and ibn Hassan wants to get in touch with his family. You may want to try offloading some or all of what you picked up on Rigol here, and those of you who banked your profits from the mosquito sale back on Bral with the company can draw on your accounts at the office here. And at some point, some number of you are going to bump into a dwarfish druid.]
    After a few days on the surface, Alais visits Valarin with some surprising news; he's going to leave the crew. He has found a berth on a ship going further into the Loop. He's going to the university on Lamond, he says, where he will finally convince those stunted minds of the correctness of his theories.
    * * *
    Barrend, dwarf of the distant clan Rumnaheim, is enjoying a quiet drink in the Happy Argos when the newcomers walk in. Barrend has been crewing the _Blackbird_ for the past couple of years, a decent enough tradesman with a comfortable crew, but something of a milk-run between Tagret sphere and the nearest neighbor; hardly a stretch for his navigational skills or a meal on which his native curiosity can feed.
    

| Top |