Startup 62: Child Labor

Rova 15, morning

Slavery is bad. So is child ****, and child labor. These kinds of hard hitting, highly controversial opinions set me apart from many captains in the Shackles, but such is the cross I bear. I wasn’t so rigid that I refused to bend on every point, but I had limits. I didn’t sell any goblins in the port where they’d have a serious chance of being an entree, for example. I had quite a few questions, however, when presented with a large cage packed with tiny green kids.

Sosima had purchased a dozen goblin children in Dragonsthrall, who were apparently on the cusp of adulthood. They were cheap, only twenty gold pieces for the lot, and would be old enough to be allowed to learn a trade within a few months. They were, on paper, a great investment. However, when I came to inspect them for the first time they were not what I expected.

“What...” I said, “the fuck… is this?”

“I say that too.” Rowe answered. “Pups dangerous! Cage too big. Almost escape twice.”

As if on cue, the goblins all rushed the side of the cage together, laughing their heads off, causing it to rock dangerously. In fact, if they hadn’t bounced off the bars and scattered, they probably could have managed to tip it over. Since I’d come down to the hold, the pups hadn’t stopped chattering or moving even once.

“I thought they were supposed to be nearly adults!” I said, trying to not take out my frustration on her. “They’re acting like hyperactive toddlers!”

“No job, no focus.” Rowe said, shrugging. “Apprentice first, only few hours daily.”

I groaned. This was not going to fix my labor shortage. They’d been cheap and, according to Rowe, wouldn’t be hard to feed. That didn’t mean I was happy to be running a goblin orphanage.

“We don’t have time to teach them a whole trade if we can’t trust them to behave better than this.” I said, “You’re sure they are a danger?”

“Oh yes.” Rowe said.

Three of the goblins got into a fight over which one got to sit on top of the others, since apparently that was more comfortable than the metal floor. They’d already shredded and tossed out all the bedding the cage had come with, creating a cloud of ripped cloth tassels that some of them were using to weave ropes or tying around the bars.

She frowned, then shifted into goblin. She'd been doing so since finding out I spoke it, at least for more complex ideas.

“The pups do not know the proper ways, the limits, the secrets and truths. Release them with a harness already secure, that they not go astray. Show them a path and they will walk it, once it becomes what they know. Allow them to run wild, and they will fight the world and lose, like the feral tribes in the north.”

“Can you figure out some way of keeping them in line?”

“No want kids yet.” Rowe said, swapping back to common. “I keep fed and watered, but not mother.”

I grumbled under my breath, but adopting 12 kids was not in her job description.

I’ll need to figure something out myself.

••••••••••

Rova 15, evening

Daggers flashed through the air, embedding themselves into the demon. It shrieked its rage from a black beak, its armored body flailing around to look between Cog and I as we struck it down cooperatively. We both held back, far outside of the range of its twin bladed sword, a weapon that looked only slightly less ridiculous in person than I imagined it. Not that it could really use that weapon to full effect, given that its arms were bound to its sides by invisible ****.

So it’s more like a glaive with blades on both ends? I mean, I guess that’s a little more practical.

I had summoned it on top of a large piece of waxed sail cloth, covered in icy diagrams of binding. That kept it from teleporting away well enough or closing in on its tormenters with its blades, though its ability to spew curses at us proved slightly more problematic. Enough to pick my partner quite carefully.

“Kill!” It shrieked, “Kill!”

Will save vs Murderous Command 9+8=17 Success!

The urge to **** Cog passed so quickly that it barely even registered. Even when one of those spells pushed through, I had about a fifty fifty shot of spoiling the frost blast Autopilot aimed at him. Even if I managed to land a hit, Cog was probably the only person on the crew I couldn’t kill even with a maximum damage critical hit from my frost blast. Cog, for his part, had a slightly lower success rate when it came to resisting, but wasn’t quite good enough at offense to seriously be a threat to my life in the six seconds that Murderous Command could drive him mad for. That was a big part of why we stayed in opposite corners of the room, as well; he was much more deadly in close quarters.

Thoxels were harder to kill than Schirs, but not as much as I might have expected. It didn’t have any DR, for one, so Cog’s thrown knives reliably did full damage.

Cog dealt 6 damage to Thoxel D

Cog dealt 6 damage to Thoxel D

“Stop!” I said, “it’s almost finished.”

The confused thoxel demon went down to another few frost blasts, falling face first onto the tarp. It was the fifth and final demon for the day, and already we were starting to settle into a rhythm.

Cog didn’t bother checking in with me before walking over and stripping the boots and heavy chainmail coat off of its corpse. Next came its two bladed sword and longbow, the latter of which was rendered useless by the narrow confines of the diagram. It simply didn’t have enough space to use its dedicated ranged weapon.

Sosima was the only person on my crew that could use a thoxel’s bow effectively, but she’d have all the ammo she could possibly need since each demon carried a sheaf of arrows.

Once we’d stripped the demon, who mostly looked like a hairless guy covered in white scars under the armor, we wrapped him up in the tarp and brought him down to Syl.

“Call it.” Cog said, tossing a silver coin into the air.

“Heads.”

He caught the coin and slapped it onto his arm, revealing the face of some long dead king from Taldor. With a sigh, he went to pick up the demon’s head while my shadow puppet took the rather pungent feet. I was pretty sure that he could have rigged the coin flip, but so far he’d been sufficiently straight with me to lose three out of five times.

We hauled the demon down to the hold, where Syl had stowed a massive copper kettle, apparently once used on some dragon’s sugar plantation. Poor Jape had spent most of the day looking for one at a reasonable price.

It was large enough that the corpses of 5 human sized demons hadn’t even filled it up half way. I estimated it could hold six or seven more, though it was possible that more efficient stacking would allow for a larger number. From what Syl told me, this kettle would be our main bottleneck. She had a plan to melt the bodies down into abyssal quintessence and bottle it for future use, but that would take time away from her duties as my first mate so we intended to do so in bulk.

“Another one?” Cog asked.

“No,” I said. “I’d like to keep some magic in reserve. I’m already pretty depleted. With that in mind, I’m going to ask you something and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Cog sighed.

“What is it?”

“Did you kill the gillmen?” I asked. “You’re the only one I can think of who has the skillset and knew they were a threat.”

“I didn’t.” He said simply, “So, do you trust me enough to share what information led you to me, or am I still a suspect?”

“Can you give me something a little more concrete than a flat no?” I said, “I know you’re willing to lie if you think it’s worth doing.”

Cog rolled his eyes.

“Besides the fact that I was running an operation on your orders? I wouldn’t have killed those two if it was me.” He said. “Lubo is much more of a proven threat. I’d have also brought along… I’m thinking Dierdre, as backup. Assuming I wanted to keep it from you, obviously.”

“Oh.” I said, momentarily taken aback. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

I laid out what I knew, including an explanation of my chat log.

“So they died without seeing who did it, and were crushed to ****.” Cog said, scratching at his stubble. “So it’s someone strong, who knows about Vishgurv, and probably someone that’s a bit of an amateur.”

“Where’d you get that last bit from?”

“Their choice of targets.” Cog said, “they killed two people in different parts of the city in quick succession without taking out the highest priority target. If your assumption about motive is correct and they aren’t a third party like Gobron trying to eliminate our aquatic defenses, that is.”

“Almost certainly not him.” I said. “Those two have entirely new faces compared to the last time they might have seen them. They’re the people he’s least likely to target.”

“Yep.” Cog said, nodding with approval. “So that leaves Creed and Filli.”

I blinked. Cog rolled his eyes and started counting on his fingers.

“One: knows about Vishgurv.” He said, “Creed works for Chelish nobility. Filli sits in on most of our meetings to take notes for you, not to mention that she spends so much time with Cave Mother.”

“Right…” I said, feeling rather dumb.

“Two, both are strong enough to completely overpower someone.” He said. “Three, opportunistic. Honestly, Filli seems like the more likely of the two.”

“No way.” I said, shaking my head. “She wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.” Cog said sharply. “I think you got a little too comfortable thinking of her as someone you rescued and forgot she’s lived her whole life as an attack dog. Didn’t she kill around six goblins when you touched down on Gobron’s ship? She’s not half as squeamish as you are.”

“Shit.” I said, heart sinking. “How do I respond to that?”

“Be glad she’s on your side?” Cog said, raising an eyebrow. “It was a bit sloppy, but she managed to kill two people and get away with it clean. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

“I’ve got to talk to her about this.”

“Obviously.” Cog said, “I’m gonna wash up. Let me know if you decide to kick her off the ship, by the way.”

••••••••••

I was happy to find that Naomi didn’t always guard Sosima’s door. From what I’d seen, she started spending a lot more time around Aaron and Cave Mother. That was good, because I needed to ask Sosima about something fairly sensitive. I even dressed up for it. Of course, I didn’t get out a word before she looked me once over.

“Where are your trousers?” Sosima asked, glaring at my perfectly well covered legs. She was still in her tiefling disguise, and the horns really did help her glare seem particularly savage.

I looked down, pulling my red jacket to the side, and winced. I was wearing some secondhand breeches I’d picked up in Goatshead; they didn’t quite fit with the more dignified jacket, but I thought they were close enough for a work day.

“I’m afraid they went up in smoke.” I said, “Aashaq incinerated me; it didn’t seem wise to strip completely while she was waiting.”

Sosima pursed her lips while she examined me.

“This is why you need a tailor.” She said bluntly. “You care about how you are seen, commendably so, but you clearly never learned how to manage your wardrobe beyond the day to day. You honestly didn’t buy a backup of some kind?”

I held up my hands.

“I asked Yael if she could find anything nice in my size, but to be honest I don’t think white leather pants would be a great fit on the high seas.”

She’s on the front lines now; can’t be wasting resources indulging a friend. It’s lucky I have a slim build now; people in the shadow world don’t seem to go for a lot of bulk. If it was Cog or my old body who needed pants, we’d be screwed.

Sosima tutted at my words, turning and allowing me in.

“You didn’t accept the offer? White trousers would have looked splendid with that jacket.” She asked, then rolled her eyes, “You should have brought them over and kept them wrapped in wax paper. You’ll need them. We are going to Quent, are we not? A place where we may actually have cause to meet with government officials unlikely to subject us to conflagration? What will you wear then?”

Shit, good point. I need to get my flags formally registered, plus that work Cog and I requested at the temple of Callistria.

“If there’s an opportunity, I’ll ask her.” I promised. “She’s a busy woman; I can’t just call her whenever I want to chat anymore.”

I needed to summon her secretary, a fetchling woman named Lilah, to make an appointment; even if I wanted to speak to her immediately, I couldn’t risk yanking her out of a sensitive situation like a battle or strategy meeting.

I didn’t get the impression my friend was in the vanguard, but I still worried about her. I would have made her a follower to boost her durability and rate of healing, but she was natively level 4; I couldn’t do that until next level. I’d just have to feel content with the armor I’d made for her; hopefully that would keep her safe.

“Please do.” Sosima said, “Now then, I’ve gotten no indication you enjoy being admonished, so I doubt you came here in slovenly attire to bait me. What brings you to my room this evening?”

“I need to call in an inquiry.” I said. “There’s something I need to know.”

We hadn’t discussed the ritual much, except in dry technical terms, since our initial discussion when I’d listened in. I’d tried to politely ask about her family, but she didn’t seem to feel like sharing. It would be hypocritical for me to demand someone else talk about their old life, so I let it lie.

“I’m willing to try.” Sosima said, folding her hands in front of her. “I can only demand information known by spirits I’m strong enough to bind; that is usually no great impediment, as the lesser spirits have more exposure to our world, but it is worth noting. Anything known only by more powerful beings I would need to coax or request instead.”

“That’s probably fine.” I said. “I need more information about Stanley’s ****. I know you can bind Vishgurv.”

Sosima’s red face went pink as blood drained from it.

“I don’t think it would be wise to bind Vishgurv.” She said. “The ritual of inquiry is considered quite rude by most spirits. He wouldn’t like it.”

“Even when investigating the **** of one of his binders?”

“It’s the principle of the thing.” Sosima said. “Don’t worry. I have an alternative in mind who might even know more. He’s quite fond of ****, and Vishgurv allows him to look in. He will know.”

A friend of Vishgurv that likes ****… great. Sounds like a swell guy.

“Is there anything I can do to help?.” I asked, “I don’t get the impression this is someone we want to take lightly.”

“No, Al’kra is not someone I had any plans of associating with.” Sosima confirmed. “I don’t have his ritual memorized, give me a moment.”

“Tomorrow,” I said, holding up a hand, “there’s someone else I need to talk to tonight.”

••••••••••

Filli wasn’t much of a sailor, so she spent the night shift sleeping despite having darkvision. With Worthy Crew in play, basically anyone that wasn’t a follower of mine would just get in the way during normal operations. That made it pretty easy for me to find her.

I walked in with more confidence than I felt, past several other sleeping women, and pressed against her arm with mage hand. She was strong enough that I didn’t want to risk startling her awake while in arm’s reach. That wasn’t enough to wake her and I didn’t want to start tossing crap around my crews’ bedroom, so I just shook her by the arm.

“Filli.” I said firmly. “Wake up. I need to talk to you. In private.”

Her beady black eyes blinked away sleep, and she quietly stood over me. She hardly made a sound, trying as hard as possible to be unobtrusive. When I actually examined the delicate way she moved, I realized how easy it must have been to sneak around the ship even with her massive bulk. She cocked her head to the side, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

“Why night?” She signed, “Danger?”

“No.” I whispered, steepling my fingers. “Hopefully not. Walk with me to my room. We have some things to discuss.”

“Yes.” She signed, and followed me to my cabin.

I left Cog and a particularly sleepy Aaron in the hallway outside my room, pretending to make small talk. It was possible this situation would go south, and would do so in a big way. I didn’t want to think about killing or even fighting Filli, but if it did I needed someone that could burn her wounds to stop regeneration. Aaron fit the bill, and more importantly he was older and steady. I didn’t have to worry about him getting excited and firing off energy rays because he panicked.

“So.” I said in Undercommon, sitting down in my chair. “Why did you do it?”

She stiffened, guilt clear on her face. For all her surprising skill at stealth, her poker face needed work. (Opposed Sense Motive 9+11=20)

Maybe to you. I’m not up to date on my rodent body language. She just seems to be sitting still. Maybe a little stiff?

“What I do?” She signed.

“I believe you may have killed two members of my crew.” I said, calmly, “I would like to know why.”

She went very still again, so I went for the direct approach. I peered into her mind; her mental defenses weren’t nonexistent, but it was clear she’d never been trained to resist such things.

“Oh no, he’s angry. Is it because I did it wrong? Should I have killed Lubo instead? Probably. She’s the leader. I’m so stupid. Or is it because I didn’t tell him? He probably already had a plan and I messed it up. Did I put the crew in danger? Is he going to send me away?”

In contrast to her panicked self recrimination, her hand formed only a few carefully chosen words.

“Crew danger. Needed away.”

I stared at her, relief and frustration warring in my head.

“Filli.” I said, leaning forward and putting my forehead in my hand. “We don’t just kill people because they are inconvenient.”

“Why?” One gesture, loaded with meaning.

I blinked. Was she really asking me why **** was bad?

“Can’t see reason. Sorry. Not smart.”

Of course she’s asking that. Why wouldn’t she?

“If everyone just killed people they didn’t like, there would be a lot more dead people.” I said, trying to explain basic morality. “We couldn’t get anything done.”

“Not not like. Stanley not bad. Sad, yes. Danger more yes.” Filli signed emphatically, using both hands for extra emphasis. “Not monster. Not want kill.”

“I see your point.” I said, sighing. “I really do. It would be easier if we could just kill everyone we didn’t like, but that isn’t right. It’s not what good people do.”

Filli took a long time to process that.

“More dead better if we don’t kill?” She signed, her hand slow and tentative.

“What? No!” I said, “Those people are sick, though. They won't always be possessed, if they last a year they won’t be bound anymore.”

“Sick.” She signed. “Sick make sick. Still danger. What do instead?”

Her voice in my head was so utterly bewildered it would have been funny in any other context. Here, all it did was make me feel awkward. I didn’t actually have an answer. What I was doing, hoping for the best while they ride it out and looking for a perfect solution, obviously wasn’t working.

“You are smarter than I gave you credit for.” I said. “Talk to me in the future before you do anything this drastic, but you’re right. More right than I am, anyway.”