Turn 51

    Emmett looks from Theo to Valarin and back. "Count me in. Definitely." He gives Val a hearty slap on the back. "Snap out of it and say yes, ya big dolt! Sorry - Captain Big Dolt."
    Val recovers enough to mumble, "Of course, sir." It is obvious he is still dumbstruck by the offer. Captaincy! And a chance to possibly buy the _Distraction_!
    "Of course," he repeats more firmly. With limbs weighted like lead, Val slowly stands to shake Theo's hand. "It would be my honor, sir."
    "OK, Captain. Let's get on with what needs getting on with." Emmett stands up, the meeting obviously over. He nods to Theo, "Captain. I'd like to thank you again for this opportunity. I won't let you down."
    Theo stands as well, shaking hands all around. "We have every confidence in all of you."
    Emmett is also thinking that this further investment in their potential means Three Trees is even more likely to take their side should Victor do something. The hairs on the back of his neck are still prickling, and despite Alais' statements this time he didn't think it had anything to do with his digestion.
    Emmett heads to the door and waits for the other two to say their good-byes, ushering them through and closing the door behind them. He walks quietly after them until they exit the Three trees building, then leaps into the air, yelling his bloody head off and no doubt startling several of the the locals.
    "OK, now that has made this a damn fine day. The only thing marring it is I can't go find my lady and take her out on the town." The half man gets a little more serious. "This doesn't change our essential problem, which is dealing with whatever the V has up his sleeve."
    "I know," Val says soberly, "I haven't forgotten." Much as he would like to forget, the Victor is still very much on his mind.
    "Let's try and get a feel for what's been happening in our absence, shall we?" Emmett starts looking around at the crowds, trying to find a bard, Pham, or a bar that he knows has a good ear to the ground.
    Meanwhile, Pham walks the streets of the Rock for several hours, occasionally stopping at a street vendor for a drink or something to eat. That nagging feeling of something wrong bothers him. Preoccupied, he almost doesn't notice as his feet carry him back towards the Three Trees offices and the docks.
    Pham hears a familiar shout - Emmett! Perhaps the Victor ... no, wait, that was a happy shout! The brother hurries his pace, and catches up with the group just before they get lost in the normal crowds of Bral.
    "Friends, it seems you've been hearing happier tales than I have. What's the good news?"
    Emmett breaks into a huge grin "'The gears of the gods mesh unseen by mortal man.' We were just about to start looking for you!"
    He strides over to meet the brother, the crowd still parting before his bristling array of weaponry. "Good news? Nothing much. Three Trees wants to make us the permanent crew of the Distraction, install Val as Captain and send us off on a 5 year tour for fact finding, new trade routes and seeking out new life and new civilizations. At higher pay. With a chance to buy the Distraction eventually." Emmett shrugs with fake calm. "Been a slow day."
    "What've you been up to? And come on, one celebratory drink at the Wyvern won't hurt us while we put our ears to the ground for local news."
    The quartet make they way through the streets back to the Wyvern, where, for he and Val at least, this whole affair began.
    Once inside the Blue Wyvern, Val relaxes a bit. It has been quite some time since he could relax in the company of friends while not being restricted by cramped quarters or large crew like Yestin. Yestin...
    "Hey Emmett," Val says to the half-man once they've taken a seat and ordered pints all around, "Didja happen to notice who Yestin was off talkin' to when we parted ways? I thought for certain he'd be avoiding them."
    "Maybe we should look him up," Val suggests after some thinking. "He'd be a welcome addition to the _Distraction_, you know." Putting aside his own worries, the soon to be captain mulls over what to do about the young giff.
    Other crew begin to come to mind as Val thinks about the voyage to come. He really should patch things up with ibn Fadil. That one was certainly a quick thinker. Sharp-tongued, but a quick thinker... And Nyala's skills with the bow would also be welcome on a journey of exploration.
    But what to do about first mate? Up until now, Val hadn't thought of who would take his own position as he would take Delmar's. Someone with spacemanship skills would be ideal, but most of those he could think of had little in the way of experience in that field. Maybe it wasn't necessary for a ship as small as the _Distraction_, either. The pilot controls the vessel in the flow, and a minimal crew is needed for traveling the spheres. And he could always *teach* someone the ropes, so-to-speak. He'd have to think more on that later...
    Other thoughts come to mind as Val drinks with his friends. What *would* he do about Victor? It was time he looked up some old friends in the market and dig up some news... Val starts to form a plan on what he'd like to do later. First things first though, he'll need a place to stay and make ready.
    Finding a place to stay is somewhat complicated by the presence of Val's two watchdogs, ready to answer trouble with trouble; he can't exactly slip off on his own. Then again, Val can also feel fairly confident that he won't vanished between the two ends of an alley. With cash in hand the prospect of more--maybe a lot more--in the near future, there's no reason to be parsimonious, and the three find rooms at the Lion's Tail near the docks. It's kind of strange to be in among these prosperous sorts and think that they might soon be joining their ranks on a more or less permanent basis.
    In the morning, Val disguises himself and slips out to wander Bral's crowds and see what information he can find. It's hard to adopt a new identity on Bral, where there are few ships in at any given time, the permanent inhabitants frequently know one another by sight, and he's had no time to form contacts on the asteroid's shadow side; in the course of the morning more than one person gives him an odd look and only vague answers, as if suspicious of what he might be about.
    He can confirm that Samuel Victor is on the Rock right now, at least, and presumably busy after a year away from company business. A couple of leaflets penned by anonymous satirists are still floating about, speculating graphically on why the oligarch's wife might have looked beyond her marriage for satisfaction. The girl whose identity had been borrowed by her mistress for the journey had prudently left the Rock of Bral shortly after Ginevra's departure.
    Over the course of the morning, however, as snippets of information collect, he becomes more certain that it is not in Victor's character to take this as a life lesson learned and forget about it. He'll want to do *something* -- but what?

* * *

    Hoping the effort will cause the dwarf injury, ibn Fadil glances around to locate any thugs and then gives him a wary look, just on the edge of being hostile.
    "Well, this does complicate matters," Parrak says as if continuing a conversation.
    "Quite. What is your position on them?" This comes out more sharply than the Zakharan had intended; seeing Parrak again is more unsettling than he would like to admit.
    "Position? Me?" He sounds slightly offended at the suggestion he might have such a thing. "No doubt you've heard about my former employer."
    "That he disappeared? Yes, of course. -- I take it you have a new employer?" He is watching the dwarf closely now, trying to read his manner and expression.
    Parrak is doing the exact same thing, of course. There is the barest hint of a satisfied flicker, as if he knows more of the situation than ibn Fadil had said. "Indeed. He is the sort of man who pays attention to details." Like him. "You've done well for yourself since you left."
    "Well enough, I believe. If you happen to have a number for me ..." He lets a trace of his discomfort and worry show.
    "Well, you have been gone a year," he says meditatively, enjoying said discomfort. "That's a lot of interest. And while you used to be a good customer, I'm afraid your recent behavior has left some question about that. 25 all told, right? Being generous on the interest, for old times sake, I'd say you owe us about 300 by now."
    "More or less," ibn Fadil agrees mournfully. "Shall I just give it to you, then?"
    Parrak looks surprised for a split-second. "That would be splendid," he says gracefully, recovering.
    During this little chat they have drifted into an eddy in the traffic flow, with Nyala watching silently and unregarded. Sighing, ibn Fadil extracts his purse and starts counting 30 of his hard-earned gold coins. "Who am I paying all this to again?" he asks, unobtrusively watching Parrak's face.
    The thug looks slightly uncomfortable behind his smile. "My boss."
    He stops counting and gives the dwarf a suspicious look. "Your nameless boss? An untrusting man would wonder if this person even exists."
    "Oh, he exists all right. You don't want to cross him, or even to know him." He doesn't seem to be putting on an act; he's scared, and doesn't like that much.
    "Really." Doubt is audible in his tone and expression; he pretends not to notice that it is now Parrak who is nervous.
    He shrugs. "Right now, you're a detail. You want to be more than that, you're more of a fool than I took you for."
    "Thanks so much," ibn Fadil grumbles, but he is convinced, resumes counting, and finally hands over the money. "Good-bye."
    "Thank you." He tucks the money away. "Be seeing you."
    "Not if I can help it," the Zakharan mutters under his breath, watching him go away and then watching the spot where he disappeared until Nyala interrupts his churning thoughts.
    "I am grateful for the demonstration of 'interest' in action," she murmurs, "but I hope there are to be no further dealings with such?"
    "Hmmm?" He almost seems to take a moment to recognize her. "Somewhere to sit down," he says vaguely, and leads her to a courtyard cafe.
    "That was very strange," he finally adds, indistinctly, as he has come out of his abstraction with his mouth full of breakfast. He has reverted to Elvish; speaking Common seems too much of an effort at the moment. "I mean, Parrak was afraid of his new boss. So he must be responsible for his old boss's disappearance. And those others?" His thoughts are clearly quite distressing.
    "A possibility, but not necessarily the case," she replies, spreading jam on a freshly baked muffin. "There is a sufficient unpleasantness in the universe for two individuals to be involved. Much may have happened during your absence here."
    Hearing her speak so clearly (and in a very precise language) helps him stop and regain control of his thoughts - perhaps he has been spending too much time talking with Alais Zeremin. "Bral is a small place. Two of the disappearances were probably related: Parrak's former employer and that Joffe, who dwelt at the same level." The form of the last phrase indicates that he means a metaphorical level. "The other two, so far as I know, had nothing to do with that sort of thing. Of course, I could have missed something, or something may have changed. But still, it is a small place."
    He shifts in his seat and sighs. "Of course, it is none of my business, and too dangerous to get involved in."
    "Of course," she nods gravely. "I am beginning to see ways in which this place is like my home, those who remain here being somewhat... self-enclosed. It is difficult to keep secrets in such places."
    Ingrained caution prevents him from agreeing too fervently. "Yes. Parrak will no doubt be upset if the salvage money from Three Trees turns out to be as much as it might be."
    "Do you think he is likely to cause trouble on his own?"
    "Only if he thinks he can get away with it." Ibn Fadil smiles and waves at someone going by. "Do you mind if we spend some more time visiting with people? And we can find out exactly what ships are going where."
    The two spend much of the day visiting old haunts and finding out about the ships in dock. Aside from the _Distraction_ there are three ships in. The tradesman _Jessalee_ came from the Loop and is headed back that way in the morning
    "'Course, our schedule's blown all to hell," the _Jessalee_'s second mate tells them moodily. "Locator's been acting up the whole way here, and we stopped in four different ports in Nuru sphere and not a damned Arcane to be found for any amount of money. That one here--Ormyx--they say it's not seeing anybody but I'd bet a month's pay it's skipped town, damn its blue hide. No way to treat good customers in my book."
    The squidship _Rover_ has come in a few days before after making the long journey from isolated Vilmos and will be spending at least a week in port after taking some damage from pirates--emboldened perhaps by Fang's recent success in the neighborhood; and the tradesman _Rohana_ hopes to set course for Heromin in a few more days. The last lies in the same general direction as Zakhara, a bucolic, deadly dull place where ibn Fadil was once stranded for a bit.

* * *

    "Yes? What do you want?" the man asks, glancing up from his work.
    "Collection today, sir."
    "I am unaware of any collections scheduled for today."
    "This one came in late, due to some, uh, unusual circumstances." Parrak explains.
    "I see. Excellent; always nice to see a detail cleared up. Put it in the strongbox." He returns to work and glances up again as he realizes that the other hasn't moved. "Is there something else?"
    "Just thinking that we might be able to get a fair bit more out of this, uh, resource. I heard some things today...."
    "Yes, yes." He waves a dismissive hand. "Hardly secret. I've told you before, stop thinking so small. I have far more important business; there may be a very large commission in the works."
    "He seemed curious about you, sir."
    That gets attention. "Was he." Plain brown eyes gleam in the lamplight. "Let me know if he remains so. I have many customers to please."

* * *

    The second morning it's hard for all of them to keep from showing up extra-early for the meeting aboard the _Distraction_. Although Delmar doesn't seem to be present yet, there is plenty of excitement as another ship comes into dock--a large, flattish, ungainly-looking thing with two large "wings" and an articulated beak, currently closed.
    "Blood of the Huntress," Nyala mutters in a rare display of emotion--namely disgust. "Dohwar." The deck of the ship swarms with four-foot-tall penguin-like avians, all garishly dressed and talking a mile a minute. The giff in charge of the dock patrol takes one look and sends for reinforcements and the harbormaster. The vendors of Bral, who know when they're outclassed, have largely abandoned the square to the impending invasion, except for those few who are in the business of buying as well as selling.
    Flanked by a couple of extra squads of giff and visibly bracing himself for the coming encounter, Beinish the harbormaster appears. Two dohwar, with some long-suffering giff employees of their own in tow, come down the gangplank.
    "Greetings to you honored / harbormaster of Bral we are / hoping and most fervently praying to offer your citizens / a chance or indeed as many chances as they wish to examine and purchase the / hundreds nay thousands of fine wares to be seen within our vessel and also / of course to allow our fine crew to disport themselves / provide additional sales / make purchases / among your community," the two say.
    One of the many things other species find annoying about Dohwar is that mated pairs share a telepathic bond and frequently take turns talking. This means they never have to pause for breath.
    An animated discussion ensues, interrupted soon thereafter by a very loud squealing sound from the dohwar ship. Penguins scatter for cover as a large, pig-like creature appears on deck and rushes this way and that, squealing anxiously and ignoring the dohwar on its back. A few moments later it seems to become aware of the open dock; it spreads feathered wings and flies over to the now almost empty square, where it lands and resumes running about--no doubt it merely wants for exercise after the voyage, but the discussion by the gangplank is rapidly devolving into a shouting match. It seems that space swine are absolutely not permitted on the asteroid. Repairing to the _Distraction_ seems like a good idea, particularly as Delmar has now joined them.
    Just another day on Bral.
    Gathered around the table in the galley, they give their full attention to the man. "Two things," he says. "First, on behalf of Three Trees, I have an offer for you." He outlines the contract as it was explained to Val, Emmett, and Hiro. "Since Val has accepted, please let him know if you're interested in remaining with the ship for either the long or short term, so we'll know how many contracts to draw up. I'm at your disposal if you have any questions.
    "The second matter is of course that of the _Twist_. I understand that Master Alais," he nods at the mage, "is still investigating some of the items found aboard, but the rest have been thoroughly appraised. I'm pleased to tell you that your collective share works out to 2,500 apiece in gold."
    

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