63a: Good Recommendation

Rova 23

Dawn light shone through the window of a loft apartment in Port Peril, where six dresses draped over their stands, half finished but already lovely. The quiet, rhythmic lapping of waves against the cliffs was slowly joined by foot traffic and voices from the morning crowd. The young woman who owned the apartment rolled over and pulled the blankets up.

Alas, it was not to be. The curved mirror she’d specifically positioned for this purpose caught the light, beaming three shafts of sunlight into her face. With a shrill squeak of distress, she reached out with her mind and seized a quilt, telekinetically tossing it over the mirrors. The damage was done, however: after summoning up the focus needed to use magic, it was almost impossible for Cabbie to get back to sleep. Her pale green eyes would remain open for the immediate future.

Muttering a stream of impolite things about the fully awake version of herself that cared about productivity, Cabbie sat up and held out a darkly tanned hand. A stein filled with stone cold coffee lifted off her tiny counter and flew to her hand, where she sipped at it absentmindedly. It tasted awful, and only improved slightly when she warmed it up with a quick charm, but actually making fresh coffee was beyond Cabbie first thing in the morning. She’d prepared this mug mostly to give her the strength to start her day.

Her telekinetic field quested out, giving her a topographical map of everything within thirty feet. Everything was largely where she expected it to be, which was a relief considering she lived alone. She only tolerated the exorbitant rent in High Eastwind because it was safe, after all. Safe, and admittedly it had an amazing view. Oh yes, and she could save a lot of money on food.

Cabbie crawled out of bed, checked the pattern she’d made for herself, and conjured floating tools made from telekinetic ****. As she read through her plans, each invisible needle went to work following her precisely programmed instructions. They threaded themselves and wove through the fabric in eerie, silent unison.

Once the work was underway and she needed only to let it happen and monitor her telekinetic hands for errors, she added more tasks to the queue. A brush and ribbon to fasten up her blonde curls, several golden hoops for her large, catlike ears, and a toothbrush and basin to clean her teeth. She used her real hands for that last one.

https://postimg.cc/tsTHDnSZ

She sat in front of the vanity, uncovering the mirrors and examining the room with touchsight. A few envelopes lurked patiently under the mail slot, waiting for her to read them. She ripped into the one from Lady Faizel, which contained a few much needed gold coins, but it seemed that her sister’s book club had dried up as a source of work for the time being.

With that said, one of the letters was from Pepper, explaining her situation and itinerary. Cabbie’s insane sister refused to talk to their father recently, but was still a fairly good correspondent. The blonde Amurrun girl skimmed initially, not needing the gory details, but stopped when she saw a more immediate concern.

Emrys is an enchanter? Huh. I never would have guessed. I guess I can make a few masterwork suits if I have extra time and material, if she’s so sure he’ll want to buy them for resale.

Cabbie had only met the drow briefly at the Temple of Callistria, though he’d made a rather good first impression. He’d managed to bring her to climax in record time, to the point where she wished she’d taken notes. Then again, maybe it was for the best. Cabbie didn’t have the best luck with men, and she didn’t want to risk losing a good one by overtly comparing them to a married man she’d slept with once.

Hair fixed and makeup on point, Cabbie checked in on the progress with her dresses, stopping them all at precisely the same point. She’d tried leaving telekinetic tools to work unattended in the past, and it always ended poorly. At best she’d have to undo a massive amount of work, at worst the whole dress would need to be reworked to accommodate.

Cabbie dressed herself, slung her satchel over one shoulder, and headed out. She only needed to walk two blocks to get breakfast at her parents’ place, and to be perfectly frank, cooking for herself was both more expensive and objectively worse than getting something at the Raging Linnorm.

The front doors of the Raging Linnorm were still closed, though a few regulars congregated outside. The door was left unlocked as always, but nobody was about to enter uninvited. It wasn’t that they were scared of ol’ Blackpowder Svartur; everyone knew he’d become a total softie after he had kids. It would just be terribly rude to interrupt him while he was having a discussion with his wife.

Not that that’ll stop them from listening in.

Cabbie didn’t break stride, nodding at the old salts, mostly retirees that had watched her grow up. They parted before her; Cabbie was family, and it was her divinely ordained right to listen in on her parents. She stopped just outside the door, ears perked up, curious about what could possibly make her parents open the bar late.

“Imma!” Svartur said, his booming voice carrying out into the street, “It will be fine!”

“Fine? Fine?” Ai’mira Black, known mostly as Imma, shot back, “You and I agreed on this! No politics!”

“It is not politics, Imma!” Svartur said, “It is a favor for a friend of Pepper’s.”

“This is not a simple favor for one friend, Svartur!” Imma said acidly, “It is a mess! A domestic dispute! No, Svartur.”

Ahh. Something about the drow, I guess?

Cabbie slipped into the room quietly, her bag floating behind her, intending to set up in her normal corner of the room. She paused when she saw the topic of conversation: three hulking figures even taller than Svartur, who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Each was a mountain of rippling muscle, unevenly distributed and without anywhere near enough fat to smooth things out. Despite their sheer size, they mostly managed to give off the air of children waiting to see if they would be punished.

“He gave us money for their lodging.” Svartur said, “enough to pay for a year, easily. More if we manage it carefully.”

“And if it draws unfriendly eyes to us?” Imma said, “I doubt they will simply accept the loss.”

Cabbie marked out the edge of her mother’s touch sense and fastidiously kept her own field from overlapping it. She didn’t wish to interrupt her parents’ long established pattern. Her parents never stayed mad at one another for long, but they needed to hash things out or else the tension would hang in the air all day.

“Heslandaena has no pirate lord.” Svartur said, “Any **** contract they might have is invalid in Port Peril.”

“I’m not worried about what they might do through the legal system.” Imma growled. “You’ve met Dovnu. I doubt she’ll let that bother her.”

“You seemed happy to intervene last time.” Svartur said, crossing his arms.

Imma floated two feet off the ground, allowing her to meet her husband’s gaze despite their two foot difference in height, tail lashing menacingly. The two were unusually focused on their argument; Cabbie generally needed to put more effort in. She counted it as a minor victory every time; distracted or not, one does not casually evade a former pirate lord and his mage.

“That was different. Nendra was attacking people in my home.” Imma said, “We don’t allow brawling in the tavern, no matter how subtle. Then she tried to use her magic on me.”

Imma’s voice grew dangerously low at that, full of aged venom. Svartur leaned back with a smug expression, but knew better than to press the advantage.

Cabbie pulled out her project for the day, a blanket she was crocheting. She used real hooks to manipulate the yarn when she was working in public; it was slightly easier than making them out of ****, but mostly they caught the light. Working in public kept her mental hands busy, but more importantly it was an advertising opportunity.

“Regardless, we should wash our hands of the whole thing.” Imma said, “What do you think will happen if Dovnu finds out we are harboring her slaves? Think of the kids!”

“Which one, Imma? Who will I be putting in danger?” Svartur said, “Pepper, who is exploring cursed islands? Salmon, who can lift a ship with his bare hands? Even Cabbage is full grown!”

Cabbie winced at her legal name. Her father tended to call her Cabbie as a courtesy when he knew she was around, but he always insisted that the name he’d chosen for her was a good Ulfenkottr name to be proud of. Cabbie respectfully disagreed. She’d have been fine if he’d used the Ulfen word, like his own name. Käl would have been a fine name; a little boyish, but great compared to Cabbage.

“Full grown?” Imma asked, “She might be nineteen, but that doesn’t make her an adult.”

“I like seeing her every day!” Svartur said, “Besides, you know she needs to save money.”

“Only because she insisted on a loft apartment in High Eastwind!” Imma said, “She’ll never have her own shop at this point.”

Cabbie stiffened. While true, that was for her own safety. High Eastwind was expensive because it was safe, and besides. She was selling luxury dresses. She wouldn’t find customers in the Knotworks that could pay.

“Even if not, she could always inherit the Linnorm.” Svartur said, “I think she will manage, though. I don’t know why you worry so much.”

“Because I don’t know what we did wrong with her!” Imma said, “Salm started making bets just to get his name out. Pepper set sail the moment she could get her hands on a ship! I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cabbie gamble in her life.”

Cabbie’s ears stiffened. That was just rude! She didn’t even care if mother didn’t know she was around, one did not say such things. A prickling heat ran up the base of her neck as her real hands smoothed out her skirts repeatedly.

She reached out with her telekinetic hands and rifled through the strange bag her father had indicated. It was, as advertised, full of gold. Easily enough to rent a house in the Knotworks for a year, including groceries for three normal sized people.

Or two months in Low Eastwind. Still close enough for business, as long as I can keep these three as security. If I put this together with my savings, and that drow boy is even half as interested in enchantable clothes as Pepper says….

“I’ll take them.” She said, standing up quickly enough that she had to catch her chair.

The bag flew to her hand, and she glared into her mother’s shocked eyes.

“If you’re so worried about the risk,” Cabbie said acidly, “then I suppose someone needs to take care of them.”

Cabbie tried a few languages, and the thinnest of the three seemed to understand Elven well enough.

“You keep me safe,” she said, “I’ll keep you safe, healthy, and fed. Deal?”

The three ogre sized individuals started waving their hands at one another wildly. Cabbie wasn’t familiar with whatever code they were using, but in her aggravated state she felt mildly offended at the fact that they didn’t immediately agree. It gave her time to pack up, which wasn’t too hard since she’d barely started, all the while standing in front of the ogres with her fists on her hips. Eventually they came to some sort of agreement and nodded at her. The one that could speak elven held up a slate with a few elven words written in an unsteady hand.

“Two months. Then stay or go.”

This perfectly reasonable trial period was an affront to the riled up catgirl, but she thought better of having an extended negotiation in front of her parents. Cabbie rode the wave of indignation all the way out to the street, her hulking new employees falling in line behind her. The crowd parted before her, and unlike normal days, it just kept parting after she got through the crowd of Linnorm regulars.

Only once she was a few blocks away did she even consider the holes in her plan, starting with the largest one.

They can certainly protect me from any normal ruffians, but what happens if I need protection from them?

Alas, at this point turning them away would require going back to her parents and proving herself incapable of risk taking. Unthinkable.

••••••••••

“She’s leaving towards her apartment and stopping for food at that dumpling cart.” The spirit whispered to Svartur from half a mile away, “She got some for the big fellows as well.”

“Yep, she’s taken them on now.” Svartur said smugly. “Hopefully she will actually follow through with her plans now that she has charges relying on her.”

“I still say we should have just shipped them off to Bag Island.” Imma said, without a trace of heat. “A bunch of big fellows with a sob story about slavery? Someone would have taken them on as laborers.”

“Bah, maybe, but they would have just as likely ended up as something like slaves again.” Svartur said, “Cabbie could use the responsibility, and I think she will do right by them.”

“Mayalaren is on the way.” Another ghost told Svartur telepathically, “She will be on time if nothing goes wrong.”

“Did I really have to be the bad guy this time?” Imma asked, telekinetically lighting all the lanterns and stoves, “What if she never speaks to me again, like with you and Pepper?”

“Oh? I need to be the one to push all three out of the nest?” Svartur said, putting his hands on his hips, “I know I swore to protect you from all harm, but they are my children too, Imma. Besides, Salmon already calmed down. Pepper is just a little bit too much like me. Can not turn once she chooses a path.”

“I suppose.” Imma said with a sigh. “You’re sure that Nendra and her mother won’t hurt Cabbie over this?”

Svartur shrugged. Nothing about his easy smile or casual tone changed as he flipped the chairs and opened the front door. He was completely confident in his ability to deal with such a situation.

Svartur looked like a bruiser, and he was one. He preferred to keep his more magical talents quiet, even from his children. It was fine if they joked that he knew everything, so long as they didn’t realize how true the jokes were. It was best they not know how closely he watched them all. Imma knew, and a few old blood brothers, but no one else.

His eyes went distant for a moment as he borrowed the sight of his fallen brother, Roud. The sight crossed over a hundred miles to reach Svartur, but it was easy; basically a parlor trick at this point. He saw Pepper huddled in an abandoned house with her friends, Winsome and Caulky. Pepper was making a breakfast stew for them all out of scraps of dried meat and potatoes.

She really could have done quite a good job running the Linnorm. A shame she is capable of far more than that. She would have never been happy staying here forever.

They were exploring an old ruined city, last he checked. Roud wasn’t as good at remembering things as he’d been in life, but he’d sat through enough meetings to pass along the details.

“If anyone tries to hurt Cabbage, Vit will tell us.” He said, “If they **** me to intervene, I will break their neck within the hour. Just like if something happens to Pepper or Salmon.”

Svartur didn’t like politics much, but if it came to his doorstep… well. He would handle it.