360 260 – Boots of Danton

When the captain opened the hatch, there were two others with crossbows.

“You,” he said, “have a problem.”

“I’ve done some testing on escape methods, but I’m fairly certain I’ve only an inconvenience.”

“Two members of my crew went missing last night. Vanished into thin air.”

“That seems unlikely. Are members of your crew prone to turn themselves into vapor?”

“Don’t be a smarmy ass. You know what I suspect.”

“That two rapists have vanished from your crew?”

“Rapists or not, they were crew. One of them might even have been loyal to something other than bits of shiny metal.”

“Well, I’m innocent; you can have anyone who can talk to the Aware question the spiders here.”

.....

“No real man talks to bugs.” the captain replied. “And I suspect the lasses of nothing more than self defense.”

I spread my hands to indicate helplessness. “The fact that you’re talking to me about it indicates otherwise.”

“No.” he said. “No, you don’t get to talk back to me, not while you’re locked in the bilge.”

I sighed. The fool had locked me with access to the keel of his ship, and thus direct access to his ship’s ward. If I didn’t mind burning my body and soul up into a crisp, I could do some major damage, if not sink his ship outright.

“In any case, the crew is talking about making some of your womenfolk vanish. Or you.”

Laughter echoes weirdly in a bilge. “I seem to be unable to run or hide, but I assure you I will defend myself.”

“Aye, and there’s where it becomes more of my problem.” the captain said. “Cat-Met’s been wandering through my crew, telling them how you’re the weakest and least combative of them all.”

I blinked. “There was doubtless a time when that was true.”

“Thing is, the Black Hound is a braggart and a liar, but he tells a different story about you. Says if I let you out of that bilge, you’ll be running my ship within a week.”

“Gamilla has more desire for your ship than I do.” I told him. “You should invite her to talk about her plans for Danton, and by extension, yourself.”

“And what if I were to say that those plans weighed less on my mind than the flatulence of rats?”

I shrugged. “It’s your mind. You decide what to expend your Sanity and Serenity on.”

“My mind wonders if I shouldn’t throw your entire crew into bilge with you.”

I shook my head. “The others couldn’t survive down here.” I said. “You would be forcing us to attempt an escape.”

“I have a good crew; they’ll break you like you broke Bernard.”

“Bernard was an accident, but I’m not sorry about that. I honestly believe he would have killed me.”

“Won’t hear me telling you different, but Bernard was crew. You and yours aren’t, not yet.”

“Ah, and the friction has you concerned.” I said. “Ask me your questions, I’ll tell you no lies.”

historical

“Your wounded girl with the red eyes. She says you kill entire crews.”

“An exaggeration.” I said. But not by much.

Why did that scare me, rather than fill me with confidence?

“But you know your way around a mutiny, if you wanted to do one?”

“We have become very accomplished at killing those who would otherwise kill us.” I said.

“But you know your way around a mutiny?”

I shrugged. “No. I’d say we’d bungle it, end up having to kill most of your crew.”

“See? And there’s the rub. This isn’t a crew of the failures; every man here has their first breakthrough, most of the officers their second.”

There was more than one breakthrough?

[System Help Files cost one hundred development points to unlock. Focus...]

“You still think your crew, a crew of eight, would win?”

“My crew is four.” I said. “The other three are Black Hound’s crew, although I’m not certain of Corvina. She has her own agenda.”

Captain Harcourt squinted. “And what is your agenda?”

“Danton’s Boots, a mask from a vampire at the Caldera, a belt from the Exporer’s Guild in the Girdle. A small task with those items, and then I can get out of these islands and go home.”

“Close up the bilge.” he said. “Either I can’t trust a word he says, or he’s mad, or he truly has the power levels the Dog says.”

“Tell Martins I want our heaviest padlock on that door, and Edward to post guards. He stays in there until we reach Danton.” I heard through the door.

It wasn’t an entirely miserable two days. The spiders liked hearing my stories, and their own were filled with drama and romance, puzzles and mysteries, horrors and discoveries. They lived in a castle of giants, and their adventures were many and varied.

I was even honored to ask them to Lifeshape their Aware children to have blue eyes. (Yes, I had to actually buy that ability, which took some creative digging into my cultivation pools.) Sadly, I only had the time to alter one of their females before we arrived.

“Let me explain what’s going to happen. We’re going to lower a ladder, which you’re going to climb. Then, we’re going to the deck, handing you a bar of soap, and lowering you into the ocean for a bath. After that, you’re going on a boat with your coinkeep to Danton’s boat. They’re going to lower a ladder for you, and you’re going to go aboard his vessel. At no point in this process are you going to cause trouble.”

“A moment, please. I’d like to take a roll call of my allies.”

“Take your time.” the man said. Coming to the bilge hatch, I saw him. If Malosians were built to the size of Norvik, and raised doing quarry work, they might look like this man. He was dressed in rough-spun linen, which was cut in a mockery of a suit jacket and slacks.

“All right.” I said. “I agree not to start trouble, but reserve the right to defend myself.”

I’d had worse escorted walks. Nobody spat, nobody cursed... they actually seemed wary. Not afraid, just wary.

Sluicing off the bilge contents took two overall coatings of lye soap, and a third to touch up the worst areas underneath the scales. They didn’t give me time to get completely clean.

Other than that, it went much as planned. The four of us, Corvina, and the the Hound were loaded into a longboat, and ferried over to the Blood Sucking Widow.

“Affectionately named after his first wife.” the Hound told us.

“Don’t stir up trouble here, Mister Hound, sir.” one of the rowers said. “Admiral Danton isn’t the forgiving sort.”

He barely seemed like the living sort. His skin was pallid, pale, listless. Wait a moment.

[Serious Condition – Anemia.] my reticule confirmed, along with other information that it isn’t my place to pass on here.

“I am told,” he said, “that one of your lasses wants my boots.”

“That would be me.” Madonna said.

“The boots are cursed.” he said.

“But I have a cloak they would just go with. As though they were fashioned to be worn together.” she replied.

We had the attention of perhaps two fifths of the crew. The rest...

Kismet kicked the side of my ankle for bothering her.

Danton noticed, pointed a finger straight at Kismet.

“I’ve heard tales of you, lass. Do what you want with your own, but even TRY bullying my crew, and I’ll have you thrown overboard.”

“That sounds fair.” Kismet said.

“I’ll make a wager with you, lass. If you can get the boots off my feet without harming them, they are yours. But cut my feet in the slightest, and I’ll chain you to the foot of my bed and have my way with you for as long as I care.”

“Get a chair.” Madonna said, “or at least a sturdy barrel.”

She slid her hands up the boot laces of one shoe, whispering in the devil tongue. I hadn’t heard enough of it to learn it, but I could recognize it upon her lips. With almost sensual stroking, she encouraged the boots to loosen their hold upon first his right foot, and then his left.

She didn’t even need to apply a lot of force; with a series of slurping and sucking noises, the boots came free of feet.

They were withered feet, wrinkled and filthy, and covered in sucker-like wounds, some of which still seeped blood. And yet, as they were exposed to the air, the captain sighed as though having pain removed.

“Aye.” he said. “Aye. Those boots are yours. Wear them, hurl them straight to hell, I care not which.” With a grimace, he set his bare feet upon the deck, and stood upon them.

“Get Surgeon Caprice to my quarters! Set sail for Neo Leonen!”

He set his eyes upon the Hound. “You and your crew, such as it remains, are invited to join me for dinner in the mess tonight.”

He turned his gaze downward. “Merciful gods, I’ve still got eight of my toes.”

I forgot to say what a bilge was, didn’t I? It’s basically the ship’s septic tank, a collection of waste water, trash, and fecal matter. DO NOT put anyone with the ability to harness and weaponize diseases down there.