Arsari had supposedly had a great plan for negotiating with the Flazeans for a boat. Unfortunately for the Brinn standing over her pummelled corpse, she had not shared what that plan was.
Jaetheiri rooted through her pack. “There were a couple dozen gold Datrean coins, some copper wire, a roll of canvas, and a pair of wax ear plugs.”
Yethyr frowned. “Maybe it will make more sense to the Flazeans?”
“One can hope.”
“We should just take the boat,” Grokar spat as he stared down at his partner’s smashed-in head. Grethyr, I think his name was. He had not wanted to go on this suicide quest. None of Yethyr’s guards had, but they all “volunteered” anyway.
According to Yethyr’s calculation, of his five Huntguards, only Jaetheiri and Vezemar begrudgingly came out of devotion to him. The other three came because they would have been branded a coward otherwise.
Yethyr pretended that Grokar’s lack of faith in him didn’t bother him.
“They broke the agreement laid down by your father first,” the guard was saying.
“Are you suggesting we steal?” Yethyr said, aghast.
“Of course not. I’m suggesting we duel whoever owns the boat we want.”
“This town is enthralled to the King,” Jaetheiri said sharply. “That would not be appropriate.”
“That hardly matters if they attack—”
“Enough.” Yethyr straightened. “The plan stays the same until we are forced to change it. We are not deer to be startled into hasty action. Jaethe, take Arsari’s pack. Grokar, collect Grethyr’s things for his Tezem.”
Grokar frowned. “But you killed his killers.”
“I know, but I am releasing his spoils to his Tezem.”
“His mother will appreciate that.”
“She would have appreciated having her son return more,” Jaetheiri said dryly.
“Well that can’t be helped,” Yethyr said testily. “Let’s find this dockmaster and move on.”
Wes could not comprehend the Brinn argument bouncing around him, but he could recognize the dismissal. “What about the bodies?”
Yethyr frowned. “What about them?
“Are you…are you just going to leave them there?”
“They were Brinn. I will not deny them the chance at Heaven by touching them with necromancy.”
“No…I meant aren’t you going to…” Wes struggled to explain. “I mean, don’t you people do funerals?”
Yethyr blinked. “Of course, but you only need the body for the passing of divine inheritance. Arsari was a thrall and Grethyr was no lord. It won’t be required.”
Yethyr walked on and his surviving guards followed him as if any of those words were supposed to make sense.
Wes sighed.
They reached the docks and I had a moment to be in awe at the great wooden structures floating atop rushing watersong. They were made from the pine trees, Arsari had said, and I marveled at how that was even possible. What great craftsman the Flazeans must be to transmute those prickly and alive dark ancients into those smooth pale wood hulls.
Yethyr didn’t deserve to own something so beautiful, but we would need a boat to chase down the Council so I did my best to stomach the injustice.
After several uncomfortable requests for directions, they found Piermaster Tunda’s hut. They hovered at the doorway, comedically uncertain.
Yethyr looked to Jaetheiri. “You’re going to have to do the negotiating.”
I was confused. Her?
Even more confusing was that Jaetheiri didn’t question it. “I can’t speak Datrean, my prince,” she only said. “You’re going to have to come with me.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Yethyr worried his lip. “Do you think that will be alright? I don’t want to infringe on—”
“It is a necessity. There will be no issue.”
Yethyr’s obvious discomfort baffled me. This man stepped into Hell without flinching two nights ago and yet seemed to balk at the idea of trying to buy a boat.
I expected Grokar to call out his prince’s cowardice, but to my growing confusion, Grokar seemed even more squeamish.
“Well, I’ll be staying out here,” he said sharply, planting his feet firmly outside the hut.
What did I not understand about buying a boat?
Wes was clearly as oblivious as me. He followed Jaetheiri and Yethyr without much apprehension.
Jaetheiri hid her own nervousness well. She strode up to an old woman behind a wooden counter that we all assumed was Piermaster Tunda and announced in Brinn as confidently as she could, “we would like to acquire a boat.”
When the woman just stared blankly, Yethyr sighed.
“Are you Piermaster Tunda?” he asked in Datrean.
The woman scowled, the creases in her wrinkled face growing deeper. “Maybe.”
“She says she would like to acquire a boat.”
“You’re Brinn. Can’t you use all the boats you’ve already taken?”
Instead of answering her, Yethyr translated her response into Brinn.
“We aren’t with the Brinn that took your other boats,” Jaetheiri said and Yethyr repeated it back into Datrean.
Wes tilted his hood from Jaetheiri to Yethyr to Tunda and back again and looked as baffled as I felt.
Tunda scoffed. “Unlucky that your kinsmen left none for you, but that’s hardly my problem.”
“Left us none?” Jaetheiri arched her eyebrows once Yethyr had translated. “I saw the boats at the docks.”
“We need those for the fishing season. They are not for sale.”
“We are willing to pay.” Jaetheiri dumped the contents of Arsari’s pack onto the woman’s counter, and dozens of golden coins clattered onto the wood.
“What are you doing!” The woman panicked. “Get that blasted metal out of my house!”
Jaetheiri frowned.
Yethyr opened his mouth to translate as Tunda jutted her finger into his face. “You, with the witchwild hair! Tell this woman that—” There was a shriek from a room behind her.
“Mother! MOTHER! It’s happening again. Get the rope!”
Jaetheiri’s hand flew to her hilt, but it had nothing to do with the sound. She was livid. “I know that word. Did she just call you a witch?”
“No, she was just commenting on…”
“Just get that metal away!” Tunda hissed. “Give me a moment.” She turned from her counter and scurried into the next room to handle the commotion beyond.
Jaetheiri blinked. “What was that about?”
“She wants us to get the Datrean metal out of her home.”
Jaetheiri swept the coins back into Arsari’s pack. “Strange.” She went to leave the pack with Grokar by the door.
“This seems like the most inefficient way to do this,” Wes said drily.
Yethyr looked at him. “What?”
“Why don’t you just treat with her directly? You’re already the one talking to her and the boat is for you anyway.”
Yethyr was just confused. “Trade and currency is a sacred feminine art. I would never dare impose.”
I barely held back my cackle, but poor Wes was not so strong. He giggled until he saw Yethyr’s frown.“Oh. You’re being serious?”
“Of course.”
Wes stared up at the ceiling. “Demons preserve me. You Brinn are insane.”
Jaetheiri returned and Yethyr ignored Wes. “Any thoughts?”
“No, though that noise is making it hard to think.”
The commotion in the next room was pretty loud. Tunda was trying and failing to hush a man I assumed was her son. He seemed to be alternating begging her to do something and cursing her out, but I couldn’t be sure. I barely heard anything he said.
The sound of a hellish deathsong was far more distracting.
Its melody threaded itself through his every word. It was insidious. It was unmistakable. The chord progression reminded me of Z’krel.
Yethyr cocked his head. “Jaethe, her son is possessed.”
“Is that what’s going on?” Jaetheiri huffed. “She really should get a necromancer to…” She trailed off. They looked at each other, coming to the same epiphany at the same time.
Yethyr hesitated. “Would it be acceptable to—”
“Do it.”
When Tunda returned, Yethyr was done translating.
“Piermaster.” He cleared his throat. “There appears to be a denizen of Hell in your son’s body.”
“Really?” She sneered. “What gave it away? The screaming threats?”
“Actually it was the deathsong of the spirit clearly possessing him.” Yethyr coughed when Tunda looked at his steelsinger robes doubtfully. “I’m in…disguise. You look upon a deathsinger.”
She peered closely at Wes, only then acknowledging that there was definitely a skeleton beneath his hood.
“What of it? I’ve made sure he can’t hurt anyone. There’s not much more that can be done.”
“That can be done by you perhaps, but there are many things that I can do.”
Tunda suddenly looked Yethyr in the eye. For the first time, she seemed to actually see him. For the first time, there was a flash of hope in her weathered face. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
Yethyr glanced at Jaetheiri and she nodded.
“Give us the boats we require,” the Prince straightened, “and I’ll duel the demon for your son.”
Thank you so much for reading! What did you think? I love comments and often respond to them.
Reminder that the new schedule is Tuesdays and Fridays. See you guys on Friday!
What are your preferred funeral arrangements?
