Startup 97: Winding up

If you should ever find yourself asking whether or not you should ride a small flying iceberg through the sky, guided by only a single sail? Don’t. Unlike the magic raft that Sandara built for us, the iceberg was basically just my best approximation of a canoe, it started melting almost immediately in the tropical climate, and was prone to flipping. We got back to Queen Bes, but I’m genuinely not sure if I would prefer to repeat my first trip to or from the Blessed Isle.

I relied on Autopilot for most of the return trip, since unlike Sandara or I he didn’t get dizzy. That was enough to get us back to the harbor, where Sandara and I staggered onto shore, supported by my shadow puppet since neither of us could walk in a straight line anymore.

Eventually my puppet hauled us onto the Enterprise, and the world was only shifting beneath our feet the appropriate amount. Filli helped us to the break room and sent for Salyar to bring over something for us to eat, signing cheerfully about her progress with the new primer Linu had sent. I had to ask her to hold on when I saw a skeleton in a soaked floral print dress sitting at the break room table. Alone.

“Mariana…” I said evenly. “How did the operation go? Where’s the rest of the team?”

“I’m not sure.” She said, sounding more irritated than concerned. “Last I checked, Miss Lonegan was mounting a rescue operation for Miss Aulamaxa. I don’t know the details, but I believe there was some kind of trap. The elves threw me off a cliff then tried to kill Aulamaxa.”

“Then why are you here?” I demanded. “You didn’t even stick around to find out?”

“I wasn’t hired for that.” Mariana said. “I was hired to speak to one corpse.”

I glared at her.

“Then I’m ordering you, per our pact, to go check to see if the corpse is ready to talk to you.” I growled. “If it isn’t, I’d appreciate you telling me what’s in the area so I can decide how to respond.”

She let out a faint whistling noise that I think might have been an irritated sniff. The important thing is that she vanished in a pulse of conjuration magic, and barring extreme passive aggression that meant she was complying with my request. I sank into the chair opposite from where she had been sitting, and leaned forward on my arms.

Everyone seemed to be stable based on their character sheets, and I really hoped that I wasn’t going to need to mount a rescue. Autopilot had a few more spells in the tank, mostly first circle tricks like summoning ponies, but I was just about wiped out.

“Come on, mate.” Sandara said. “Relax. Let’s get something to eat. If we need to go again, you won’t be in any better shape just because you stood around being tense.”

“I’m just sick of everything going to hell whenever I’m away from the crew for five minutes.” I grumbled. “Is this normal? Did Fairwind have to deal with this kind of shit when she was starting out?”

“No, if I remember right she was still a swab three months after she stepped onto a ship.” Sandara said. “So I guess it’s not all bad.”

Filli nodded her agreement.

“Captain does too many things at once.” She signed.

“Don’t complain, girl.” Cave Mother snapped at Filli. “Someone who knows how to pace himself would not have bothered with you. He’s not likely to change.”

••••••••••

“… and now I have become an invalid!” Dierdre huffed, “My only hope is that this weakness does not persist when I am dismissed and summoned again.”

“That is just awful.” Sora said.

“So awful.” Kiko echoed.

“The worst.” Sora said. “But you were so brave.”

“Super brave.” Kiko agreed.

Conchobar didn’t chime in. He’d given all of his condolences after Dierdre’s first retelling of the day’s events, and by the third he had run out of contributions. He let her sit in his lap, and probably would have enjoyed that fact if almost any aspect of the situation had been different.

Once Shishe had returned to the Hippocampus, it had staggered away. The crew of the enterprise were alone on top of the archway, and there wasn’t much to do anymore except sit down and listen to the waves and wish they weren’t being rained on.

At the very least, it had grown a bit more pleasant. The rain washed away much of the blood, and Syl had passed the time by looting the corpses and putting them in order. There wasn’t much in their pockets except for a few minor healing potions and some change, but she’d insisted that it was important.

Any corpse with an intact head stayed, lined up and covered with cloth. Spare limbs and headless corpses were tossed over the edge for the Karkinoi. Meanwhile, on the hanging plank, Captain Harkalm laid perfectly still.

Harkalm was a swarthy Rahadoumi man that had died in the prime of his life, with a few strands of silver in his dark black hair. He’d lost his leg just beneath the knee at some point, but even his prosthetic showed no signs of wear or age. He could have been sleeping, if not for his clothes rotting off of his lean frame.

Conchobar couldn’t decide what he found most unsettling. The dismembered elves, the Pure Legion Zealot that looked like he could wake up any moment, or the fixed emotionless expression Sosima was regarding everything with. She stood at attention, hands behind her back, staring directly at Harkalm. Occasionally her mask slipped and her whole body twitched or shuddered.

We all saw her crying. There’s nothing going on right now. She’s allowed to cry.

Conchobar tried not to think too hard about how the scene they’d found came to pass. Sosima had been fighting in self defense. She had every right to use whatever tools she had left to survive… but even she seemed disturbed. Conchobar could be forgiven for being unsettled, though he tried hard not to make things harder for Sosima by being obvious about it.

By Caiden, he needed a drink. He would have liked to play something to sooth his nerves, but didn’t want to risk drawing any more attention from the Karkinoi. His nerves were so shot that he barely reacted when the skeleton woman popped into existence a few feet away from him.

“Finally.” Syl said. “Is Emrys finished with the Besmara thing? Will he be coming to pick us up soon?”

“I would assume so. The cleric girl brought back a small speck of divinity, and I can’t imagine where else she might have acquired such a thing.” Mariana said, “Shall I go tell him you are well?”

Syl looked at the skeleton suspiciously, then nodded.

“Come right back, though.” She said, “Everything is ready for you now.”

“Tell him to dismiss and resummon me immediately!” Dierdre demanded. “This indignity is beneath me!”

She turned to Conchobar and patted him on the cheek weakly. She showed clear difficulty every time she shifted her weight.

“It is no failure on your part, incidentally.” She said. “You have comported yourself most adequately.”

“Thanks?” Conchobar said.

He’d only really been acting as a chair. It was possible she meant that he managed to go a few hours without touching anywhere ungentlemanly, but he wasn’t an asshole. She was pretty, only a little shorter than he was, and any time he looked down he got an eyeful of orange cleavage, but this wasn’t really a time to be making a move on anyone.

Mariana vanished while they were speaking, presumably returning to Emrys as requested. Dierdre tensed up, as if she expected to vanish at any moment, and turned out to be correct. She exploded in a burst of green-gold sparks that got all over Conchobar, and tiny droplets of faintly golden slime splattered all over Conchobar’s lap.

“Don’t put your hands near your mouth or eyes.” Syl said, snapping her eyes towards him. “I think that’s the venom Dierdre’s body hadn’t processed yet.”

Conchobar sighed and leaned back against the wall, trying to rub the faint residue off with a faint sense of despair. Mariana returned a few moments later, stepping out of the air as if through a door, and smoothed her skirts. She turned her head towards Harkalm.

“Good.” She said, “At least all of that unpleasantness was enough to convince you all to be reasonable. So, what, precisely, am I to ask him? I can extract only three answers, assuming he is feeling cooperative. Given that you wish to extract information about his treasure, he may prove cryptic.”

Everyone looked at Sosima; she and Emrys had workshopped the correct questions ahead of time. She was the one in charge of this part of the mission, after all. She shook her head and walked over to kneel beside the corpse. Everyone crowded around and held their breath; it wasn’t as if they had anything better to do.

“First, ask him where the Horn of Freedom is hidden.” Sosima ordered, breathing deeply to center herself. “If we can get the answer quickly, we ask clarifying questions.”

Mariana nodded, and placed a gentle hand upon the man’s chest.

“Wake up.” She said. “You are needed, shell. Tell me where the Horn of Freedom is hidden.”

The body shuddered, and Harkalm’s glassy eyes opened to stare at the sky. He took a long, deep breath and spoke in a deep bass voice.

“Beneath… my trousers.”

Several seconds passed, and the corpse’s eyes stared at the sky.

“Did he just answer with a dick joke?” She asked.

“I… perhaps?” Mariana said. “If this man earnestly referred to his genitals as the Horn of Freedom in life, even occasionally, he could. He’s definitely fighting me, in any case.”

“Ask him where he keeps the artifact known as the Horn of Freedom, which is part of a set of three magical metallic horns known as the Three Reasons to Live.” Sosima said, face set. “First, though, can anyone think of a way that he might be able to wriggle out of that one?”

Nobody could, so Mariana dutifully echoed the question word for word.

“I kept it encased in wood,” Harkalm said. “Close at hand, whenever I slept.”

“So it’s probably on his ship.” Syl said, nodding to herself. “Hopefully this one isn’t haunted. Or repossessed by the Besmarans. Damn it, they probably know all about how to find hidden compartments. We might need to steal it off of someone.”

“Oh right, that was you people.” Mariana said, amused. “Emannuel still complains about that whole fiasco.”

“Quiet.” Sosima said. “Let’s focus on the task at hand. Do we all agree he kept it on his ship, perhaps in some secret compartment?”

Something itched at the back of Conchobar’s mind. That felt wrong. Syl was right. It seemed almost unthinkable that the kind of person the Besmaran faith would hand over Harkalm’s ship to wouldn’t think to check for hidden compartments. For their own use, if nothing else. Someone would be running around showing off their magical horn by now.

“No.” Conchobar surprised himself by saying. “How long do you have until you have to ask the last question?”

“Between four and five minutes.” Mariana said. “As of this moment.”

Conchobar pulled his belt knife out and started cutting away at the leg of the corpse’s trousers, revealing the peg leg. It was thicker than most, much thicker, and strapped to his leg just beneath the knee. He summoned a flute, and used it to tap the leg at several points.

“I don’t know if it’s the horn,” he said, “but this thing is definitely hollow.”

Syl answered that question very quickly, pulling out the small war pick she’d brought for the Karkinoi and cracking open the leg. The bright red glint of untarnished copper caught the light just beneath the wooden shell.

“Good job, Conchobar.” Syl said, “That could have been bad.”

“Oh my gods you are smart!”

“Super smart.”

“A genius.”

The Tengu both grabbed Conchobar and hugged him together, pressing soft tufts of feathers against either side of his head. They let out delighted squeals and continued to volley praise back and forth. He couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the moment.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy being appreciated, he just realized that this third horn was going to be yet another artifact shoved into his hands for him to figure out. He’d do it, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.

The songs from the first two were already rattling around in his head, quietly rising like the tide whenever he didn’t have another song drowning them out. He’d heard Bardic Masterpieces could do that, and though he didn’t have much experience with those legendary songs he had to assume that’s what he was dealing with. Supposedly they weren’t exactly dangerous, but they were overwhelming, even to masters. He’d heard of musicians losing all will to create original work, instead dedicating their lives to perfecting their performance of the masterpiece.

“So next we ask about Redclaw’s treasure, right?” Syl asked. “Where it is? Maybe why the trio didn’t take it already?”

“I doubt he would give us a straight answer if we ask too broadly.” Sosima said distantly. “Ask what is needed in order to access Redclaw’s treasure. What are all of the ingredients one needs?”

Harkalm’s body shuddered back to unlife to answer.

“Foolishness, piss poor luck, and a song.” He said, and then his eyes closed again forever.

Mariana, with all due respect for Besmaran funeral services, waited for the copper horn shaped like a goat’s head to come out of the leg, and then tossed the dead captain back over the side of the plank to fall back to the center of the archway. The corpse bounced, and would likely swing like a pendulum for hours or days.

“Uh… that seems like a waste of a question.” Sora said.

“Yeah, just cryptic bullshit.” Kiko added. “Lame.”

“No, it’s good.” Syl said. “He said we needed a song, not the horns. You can play the song embedded in these things on any instrument, right?”

“Uh… probably?” Conchobar said. “I think they’re the best instrument for it, but I might be able to manage it on my flute.”

“That means that we don’t necessarily need to hunt down all three once we track down the location of the treasure.” Syl said. “It would still be risky, but if you only need the song to get to to treasure…”

“Oh come on!” Conchobar said. “You don’t know that. He was being deliberately misleading this entire time! That could be what he wants you to think! It could also be really, really precise. I can get pretty close but it might not be quite right!”

“It’s still the best option we have, Conchobar.” Sosima said, “Unless we can track down Varossa’s underlings, we only have two horns to work with.”

Conchobar sighed, and adjusted his assessment of the situation. He didn’t need one drink. He needed to drink until he could forget as much of the day as possible.

••••••••••

I was relieved when I was able to summon Dierdre, mobility intact, ten minutes after dismissing her. That relief was somewhat soured, unfortunately, by her report that when she was sent back to the First World as a Danthienne she’d remained a borderline cripple. The regenerative magic of the first world hadn’t done much to strengthen her.

“I managed to fix up my legs enough to walk, at least. Walking doesn't require as much strength to support me as flight,” Dierdre had said thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to bring myself to do something like that outside of an emergency, though. Danthienne do not walk on the ground, and they definitely don’t visibly struggle. It doesn’t seem to have done anything at all to me as a pixie, though.”

“Oh by the gods, I’m sorry.” I said. “Why the hell does this kind of thing always happen when I’m away?”

“You can’t be everywhere at once, Milord.” Dierdre said. “Things are going to go wrong sometimes, and you can’t blame yourself for not being in more than one place at a time.”

“Yeah, mate.” Sandara said from the doorway. “You’re not a Thrune.”

Sandara swept into the room with several glasses and a bottle of wine she’d made about a week back. She and I got normal sized glasses, and Dierdre got a shot glass that was still a bit big for her. I noted she also slid a glass in front of Filli just in case, though we all knew by now that Filli couldn’t taste anything and was functionally immune to alcohol. It was just there to include her.

“I’m working on it.” I said, sarcastically. “Making clones seems like a handy trick.”

Also disorienting as hell, but hey. Can’t possibly be as awkward as dropping into some guy’s life and inheriting his powers, debts, and psycho wife.

“So, are we going to go pick them up now?” Sandara asked. “I’m pretty sure we could get to them in pretty good time.”

I shook my head, and cast Keep Watch upon myself. As long as I didn’t do anything too intense, I’d get back all my spells in four hours at around dusk.

“I’d like to,” I said, “but if we go in the Enterprise we are likely to rile up the Karkinoi. If we aren’t taking the ship, then I’d just as soon wait for nightfall so people don’t see Dierdre and I towing everyone back. Not to mention that my best plan requires Filli to act as a living boat so we don’t need to take a half dozen trips. We can’t leave the ship unguarded.”

I’m going to be very curious what the hell was such a big deal that Cog and Rowe both needed to be there to handle it. Hopefully nothing too bad. At least nobody appears to have gotten hurt.

Dierdre went to explain the plan, hauling a small bag with cheese and hard tack for everyone. I'd have liked to send more, but eight pounds was already pretty heavy for Dierdre to fly around with as a pixie.

Filli was eager to show us her progress; apparently Cave Mother and Rowe had been helping her work her way through the second primer on eidolon crafting. She was still pretty far from calling up anything substantial, but over the last few days she’d reached the point where she could manifest ectoplasm. The cool, clear, squishy slime would dissipate within a minute of her creating it, but she was already to the point where she could tint it with different colors or make it slowly creep along the surface of the table like a beetle.

“One part.” She signed. “More parts later. Big parts. Link together, make anchor.”

“That’s all in the primer?” I asked. “It’s like three pages!”

“No. Only slime. Cave Mother gives more.” Filli said, looking over at the bust.

“Creating an anchor will allow her to make a mold for the shape so she doesn’t need to rebuild it from scratch each time.” Cave Mother said, “Spirits sometimes use a similar technique to make empty vessels for ourselves. I’d suggest jewelry, or a mask. Masks are traditional, since they have more space for runic carvings.”

“Does it need to be masterwork?” I asked. “Maybe Yael could get you something nice?”

I mean. They literally use masks as proxy faces. I’m pretty sure she knows a good mask maker.

“No money!” Filli signed, then went very still for a moment. “Ask after debt. Have month before training after debt. Only if safe!”

“Fine, fine.” I said, smiling at her. “I’ll ask Yael next time we have lunch, but no money will change hands unless I can get one hell of a discount. Deal?”

Filli nodded, but I could tell she was suspicious.

Come on, I’m not suicidally generous. It’s just a price check!

The only thing left to deal with was getting everyone back on board, and shipping out before Captain Laurent recovered enough to make her way through the highlands. Before I could do that I needed to track down where Naomi had run off to, and deal with the small crowd of bleak faced women Rowe and Cog led back to the ship.

In other words, back to normal.