Startup 86: Sensitivity Training

Lamashan 11

Blue and red eyes met as the elven woman’s gaze bored into me. I’m fairly sure she thought she scored a point when I looked away first, but I was just trying to take in as many useful details as possible. She was around the same height as me, with a similar build and a cold, unfriendly expression. Shiny black hair framed her face, straight and loose. Her hand hovered deliberately next to her revolver, ready for a shootout that I really didn’t want.

“Heretic?” I asked, “Is that what Harkalm was? All I know is that he’s the last person to see something I’m looking for.”

“What, shroomlicker?” The elf said, “What is your kind seeking on the surface?”

My friendly smile grew ever more wooden as she spoke. I scanned her power level with What a Man Can Do, and was relieved to see that she was only one level higher than me. Given how much bullshit my menu pours out onto me, I figured we were on roughly even footing.

“Not my kind,” I said, “Me personally. More importantly, I’ve already answered your question, and you haven’t even given me your name. I don’t have long conversations with rude strangers, ma’am.”

She sneered at me, and held up her hand to show a glowing pink pearl embedded in a silver ring. She flicked her wrist, and the pink glow extended and formed into a cutlass that looked like it was made entirely out of iridescent pearl. It glowed with enchantments, as powerful as Fairwind’s sidearm.

“Captain Matilde Laurent of the Hippocampus, but this is the only authority I need.” She said, “I’d suggest you find a different source of information, drow. I’m the law in Queen Bes this month. Try anything, and it’d be my pleasure to gut you in Besmara’s name.”

I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward, injecting a chill into the atmosphere for effect.

“Look, I’m willing to put up with this kind of treatment from pirate lords,” I said, “I can’t really do anything about it. You, Captain Laurent, are no pirate lord. If you **** my hand, you’ll learn that I’m a bad enemy to have.”

“Are you threatening me, shroomlicker?” She asked, her voice deadly serious.

“No,” I said. “I’m warning you. Any conflict between us will be your fault. How about you point me in the right direction, and I’ll be out of this port in a few days with no harm done?” (Diplomacy vs target with starting disposition: Hatred. Failed)

She smiled at me, the expression full of venom. She twirled her cutlass and elaborately pointed it towards the harbor.

“If you head that way, you’ll be able to find an exit route.” She said with a voice full of faux sweetness. “Since no one on your crew is here for the Voyage and I doubt anyone here but me remembers about Harkalm, you should probably just leave before I slit your throat. I’ll give you two days, eh? Just to be neighborly.” If you defy my orders that long. I’ll have justification to kill you.

“I’ll think about it, assuming Sandara doesn’t change her mind.” I said, deliberately casual. “I don’t want this to escalate, of course. No one wins if that happens.”

“No one wins when demonfuckers are allowed to fester.” Captain Laurent said, “You’ve no legitimate reason to be here. Clear out.”

I saluted at her, and she left. With that said, I was inclined to believe she’d have people watching me and the enterprise just as soon as she could put together a posse.

“That seemed personal.” Naomi said when I approached. “Do you two have history?”

“It wasn’t.” I said with a sigh. “Most likely she’s had bad experiences with drow, or maybe they just seem like a safe group of people for her to hate. Come on inside; if I remember right Rawna said she’d also be serving dinner for the men.”

I suspected that I wouldn’t be half as sanguine if I’d been putting up with interactions like that for a long time, but it’s not like I really identified with my new drow heritage. I didn’t have a ton of baggage making the experience worse, I just had one elf being a bitch to me. Honestly, my default assumption upon meeting a new drow wouldn’t be particularly welcoming either based on my experiences in Heslandaena.

It’s just irritating. Harkalm is apparently old enough news that only people who are pretty damn old will know anything about him. For all I know, she’d be a great source of information if I were anything but a drow. Wait…

••••••••••

Lamashan 11

Very few people in my crew questioned my decision to rent out an entire brothel for me and the boys. I had very complicated feelings about the fact this wasn’t considered noteworthy based on my past behavior.

“Alright everyone, I’d like to thank each and every one of you.” I said, “I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but you gents have earned your keep in the last few weeks and I wanted to be sure you got your chance with the girls before we need to clear out. With that said, I’d like to threaten you a bit before I leave you to it.”

I kept my tone light, and there was a round of chuckles from the men. I gestured at the girl Rawna had placed out front to serve as a representative, a tall Arabic woman with an aristocratic bearing, shiny skin that could have been carved from marble, and a patched dress that didn’t really fit her in multiple senses of the word. Behind her was a gaggle of other women with varied appearances, including a few halflings and gnomes standing only three feet high, a bald hobgoblin woman whose skin looked shrink wrapped onto ropy muscle, an extremely pale half elf who I suspected to be part drow, and two Asian women who were actually quite pretty but had noses as long as my hand.

“I’ve hired these ladies for the next few nights.” I said, “As far as I’m concerned, that means they are my employees. I think you all know what that means as far as how you’re supposed to treat them?”

A rumble of assent, some more disappointed than others.

“Don’t get me wrong, they have a job to do and I expect they will do it quite well.” I said, then turned to the woman. “You and your coworkers should each report to Mister Cogward or Miss Naomi after each encounter. If anything happened that you disliked, I want to know about it. I take care of my employees.”

I swept my gaze over my crew with an uncharacteristic chill. I didn’t particularly want to kick anyone out when I had so few loyal men, but it seemed like a bad idea to let moral standards slip just to bring up head count.

Keeping it nice and vague. They’d need to verifiably cross some serious lines for me to kick them off the ship, but these girls aren’t just contractors. They might be new coworkers, so you should be on your best behavior.

The marble faced woman nodded at me, smiling slightly.

“So, how will we be split up?” She asked, her voice clear and firm.

“First will be the men who gave their lives when Gobron attacked.” I said, “A night of fun isn’t really proportionate for that, so consider first pick tonight to be a thank you for coming back.”

The four gnomes and halflings were snatched up by the newly goblinized gentlemen, and I briefly sighed at the sight of a dwarven woman with thick red braids in the lineup. I acknowledged that Narwhal would have probably liked the look of her and very deliberately returned to the task at hand. The rest of the people present had earned some mild preferential treatment and a degree of trust. Jaundiced Jape had earned his place by successfully binding a spirit, making him the third successful binder after Naomi and Filli.

Sure, it was a Ravager spirit and we needed to restrain him to stop him from sexually harassing the women on the crew, but he’d actually bound it well enough that he didn’t need an exorcism to get it out. Better than most have managed, and he apologized profusely.

He’d been eyeing the girl with skin like polished marble, but Cog had requested that woman’s first shift and I didn’t think it was for sex from the look on his face. I’d told Jape to choose someone else, and he went with the half-drow that reminded me of Ve’ra. Pretty, but very thin and with haunted eyes. Once I knew everyone was accounted for, I headed back to the Enterprise. I had work to do, some pointed questions to ask, and plans to make.

••••••••••

Lamashan 12

With just one more data point to work with, that he was a heretic, I had enough information to find out where Harkalm was by the next morning. The problem was that “he’s one of the preserved corpses in the Queen’s Procession” really didn’t narrow it down half as much as I was hoping. There had been enough bodies out there that a systematic search would take days even with permission.

I’m just going to go out on a limb and assume Riptide and his boys wouldn’t like it if I ran around grabbing every vaguely middle eastern looking pirate corpse. Better to be a bit more targeted, I think.

I was going to assume for the sake of operational security that every single member of my crew had been seen and marked as my associates. The chances that Laurent was anywhere near that good at information gathering were close to zero, but a bit of overkill would stop me from making any mistakes that were excessively stupid.

That meant that there were three people in my crew that would be most valuable for whatever operation I slapped together. Dierdre, who had been seen as an orphne but had two other forms that could both be invisible, Sosima who could be absolutely any race she wanted to be, and Sandara, who was the only person on my crew with a reason to be here that Laurent couldn’t completely dismiss. Syl insisted on coming along to the meeting as well, mostly because she didn’t have anything better to do than discuss tactics over breakfast in my ship’s common room.

“I’m going to need you to at least pretend to be here for the Voyage.” I said, “I don’t really know what the hell it is, to be honest, so what would you be doing if you were?”

“Probably finding that information out myself.” Sandara said, shrugging. “I know that any Besmaran who takes themselves too seriously is supposed to at least attempt it once, that most survive failing but some don’t, and that the ones who succeed get one of them pearls. I think the rule is that I’m supposed to get to the island where the proper temple is.”

“So… further upstream where that magical storm is raging?” I asked, “I mean, at least the reward is good. That elf who was threatening me pulled a magic sword out of hers and I didn’t get the impression that it was just storage.”

“Wait,” Syl said, “I thought you said Besmara probably didn’t care about the trial. Why would she reward those who succeed with magical items if she didn’t care?”

Sandara shrugged, disinterested.

“Maybe she does like the show, but I doubt she’s upset if we don’t do it.” She explained, “I’ve met Besmarans who came to the Shackles from all over, and not a one of them came for the sake of the Voyage. If pirates around the world haven’t even heard of it, it can’t be that important.”

“As stirring as theology is,” Sosima cut in, “I believe we have more pressing concerns. Emrys, I assume you have interest in the rite for reasons beyond the academic?”

“Right,” I said, “Laurent put us on a timer, but I doubt she’s allowed to interfere with the Voyage. It’s sacred; even if she can fuck with us, it’ll be without institutional backing, whatever that means in a place like this.”

“Probably a bunch of octopus men.” Syl said dryly. “Which would be a problem.”

“Exactly.” I said, “If we look into the Voyage, we can wait till later to decide whether or not to do it, or start it, or whatever. If it seems like something we can handle, or something we can start and back out of, then we use it to buy ourselves more time.”

“More time for what?” Syl asked, “We aren’t exactly getting a lot out of sitting around here.”

I smiled and locked eyes with Sosima, then turned my gaze towards a small shelf where Dierdre sat with an air of disinterest. As a Danthienne, she wasn’t very engaged in matters of religion or politics. Drama, however, would be far more to her liking.

••••••••••

Naomi knew going into this that one or more of them men might make the girls uncomfortable. That was the whole reason Naomi was here, to put the fear of the gods into anyone who forgot themselves. She wasn’t expecting her first complaint to be about Crimson Cogward, however, nor did she know how to respond to the complaint itself.

“He sat there with me and asked questions.” Tuya, the woman with a face carved from smooth stone, said. “Personal questions about my life. Mostly ones I didn’t even have an answer for. Please, make him stop. I’m perfectly happy to perform, but I don’t really talk to men much.”

“What kinds of questions?” Naomi asked, genuinely curious. “If that’s alright.”

“If I had a family, and what my earliest memory was.” Tuya said, her discomfort plain on her face. “I can’t tell him, because I don’t know. I just woke up one day on the Sacred Isle of Besmara.”

“You don’t remember your childhood?” Naomi asked, “How odd.”

“It can’t be that strange.” Tuya said, “Can it?”

The woman averted her eyes from Naomi, and she felt Milo’s hand on her shoulder. He didn’t speak often, usually only piping up when he thought Naomi was about to do something foolish.

“Be gentle with this one, Dame.” He said. “She’s more fragile than she looks.”

“It’s not something I’ve heard of happening before.” Naomi said, “It’s possible he just wanted to ask because you were in a holy place. Cog is a very religious man, devoted to Pharasma.”

Tuya’s breath hitched at the goddess’s name, and she immediately moved to smooth her skirts.

“That threw her off.” Milo said, “Any ideas how to pull it out of her?”

“Are there any questions you’d like to ask?” Naomi said, “Cog isn’t bad for a man, but he can be a bit blunt. It’s very likely that he didn’t explain anything while he was pestering you.”

“Who is Pharasma?” Tuya asked.

“The goddess of the dead.” Naomi said, “I believe she judges souls after they die.”

“There are…?” Tuya stopped mid-sentence. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“There are other goddesses.” Milo finished for her, his voice thoughtful. “Sounds like she really was born yesterday. Wonder if she’s curious? Definitely no way she’s gonna leave this joint on her own.”

“If you’d like, I can ask what it is that Cog thinks he knows.” Naomi said, “It’s possible there are more things you’ve forgotten than you think.”

Tuya nodded very slowly, then fled.

Over the rest of the night, Naomi made sure to ask the other girls about their pasts. Milo suggested asking if Rawna fed them anything special. The rest seemed quite a bit more typical than Tuya; just normal if **** women. Whatever was happening with Tuya, it didn’t seem likely that Rawna was responsible.

After the debriefing about their encounters and some basic personal questions, Naomi asked each woman about Rawna. It wouldn’t do to offer employment to someone truly loyal to the orcish woman. The loyal girl would tell tales, and they might be thrown out of the brothel.

On that first night, the only women who got a clear invitation were the twin Tian women with the unusual noses, who’d erupted into a back and forth about how demeaning it was to never be allowed to take their true forms in front of customers with only the slightest prompting. Once they felt the least bit comfortable, they dropped the magic that was disguising them as humans as well as any pretense of dignity or refinement.

As it turned out, they were a pair of human sized ravens, beaks included, with heavily feathered arms instead of wings.

“Just look at this plumage!” Kiko said, brandishing her ebony feathered arm, “I look fabulous and nobody ever sees it.”

“No culture at all,” Sora agreed, “Rawna has no faith in her clients. Some of them might be proper men of culture who would pay double for us!”

“Triple!” Kiko said, “Easily!”

Naomi nodded thoughtfully. These girls apparently knew enough about illusions to partially disguise themselves.

“Have you two ever considered a different line of work?” Naomi asked, reaching into her coin pouch. “If you’re unhappy here, I think the Captain would be very interested in hiring you. He pays well enough, and if you’d like, I imagine you could find somewhere more to your liking to disembark.”

Two sharp, obsidian beaks turned to point at Naomi as the twins narrowed their eyes. She could hardly understand the flurry of overlapping questions they threw into her face at that point, since neither woman seemed inclined to stop talking long enough for Naomi to speak.

••••••••••

Captain Laurent lived upon her ship, as was arguably demanded by the decrees of Besmara. No true pirate was to put down roots on land, which apparently some of the faithful interpreted as never sleeping for more than one night anywhere but a ship’s cabin. Sandara was fairly sure that was more bullshit to make themselves feel special, of course. Laurent, it seemed, disagreed.

Sosima and I approached the ship arm in arm, smiling and nodding at anyone we met. The Hippocampus was a very pretty ship, kept in excellent condition and decorated with a figurehead of an elven maiden. The crew, predominantly elves and half-elves, were perfectly civil upon seeing two elves approaching and even agreed to bring their captain a message on our behalf.

Technically I was a sylph at the time and Sosima was a disguised Gillman, but they could be forgiven for the mistake. My gloriously Caucasian passing visage was temporary, but for the next fifty minutes nobody could possibly connect me to Captain Emrys M’Dair, and with any luck I’d have enough of a distinct identity to Captain Laurent that ordinary change blindness would kick in and she just wouldn’t notice that her new buddy had exactly the same facial structure as that mean ol’ Drow she met. If even that wasn’t enough, I’d come into this battle loaded for bear.

When we walked in on Laurent, she was meditating on a small sofa in the corner of her room. Some elves could learn how to replace sleep with meditation, though my spell was of course more efficient. Dovnu could do it, but she said that actual sleep was more restful. She turned to look at us, her eyes snapping into focus as we were escorted in.

“So, I’m told you have information about the drow?” She said, not bothering with pleasantries. “Why is he here?”

I exchanged a glance with Sosima, catching a flash of white divination magic out of the corner of my eye. I hoped that Laurent would interpret my brief delay favorably coming from an elf.

“She wants to destroy you, or at least the drow you.” Dierdre whispered invisibly from her perch on my shoulder. “The you she sees now, she finds quite handsome.”

“There is a treasure he seeks.” I said, turning to face Laurent. “I believe Captain Harkalm was the last to possess it. I beg you, Captain. Help us to secure the Horn of Freedom. I shudder to think what that filthy shroomlicker might do if he gets his hands on it.”

Sorcerer? Nah. I’m a grand wizard today.