Chapter 21 – The Caravel (3606)

Chapter 21 – The Caravel (3606)

Roztov spent the rest of the evening fidgeting and pacing up and down.

‘Just sit down,’ said Meggelaine. ‘You’re causing a draft.’

‘I need tobacco, Em,’ he groaned. ‘I’ll never make it through these next three days without a pipe to smoke.’

‘Just make yourself one.’

‘I’ve not tobacco to put in it though!’

Meggelaine tutted at him and waved him away with a dismissive gesture and went back to her cooking.

He sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. Meggelaine went over and patted him on the head. ‘Just calm down.’

‘Lost pipe. Lost pouch. Lost Broddor. All is lost.’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ she said, being the less anxious one for once. ‘Besides, you know, those holy knights, sometimes they come back.’

‘That’s just stories.’

‘Well, what about that pouch you had from Moletown?’

‘I finished it ages ago. Nothing since we got to Stovologard,’ groaned Roztov, his head still on the table. ‘It was pretty nasty anyway. How did it come to this? How can Broddor be dead? We should never have come here.’

‘There’s no use crying over every mistake. You just keep on going, for the ones that are still alive.’

Roztov looked up at that. Meggelaine was a fine one to give out such advice, having been the one that had shed the most tears and voiced the most regrets by far since Broddor’s death. He almost said something to that effect, but then decided against it. ‘I’m going to bed.’

Later that night, Roztov found he could not sleep. He waited until Arrin was taking his turn on watch, then snuck downstairs to wake up Floran. The wizard was downstairs in bed with Tankle, they were both asleep. Initially Roztov thought twice about waking him and made to leave the room, but in the end he reached out and gently shook the wizard’s shoulder.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Floran as he got dressed. Tankle was sitting up, rubbing her eyes.

‘You don’t need to get up Tankle,’ whispered Roztov. ‘Me and Tup are just going to go on a secret mission.’

Once they were dressed and outside, walking along the fog choked streets, alone in their black cloaks Floran spoke. ‘What are we doing?’

‘We are going to get me some tobacco,’ said Roztov. He didn’t need to say that Floran was the only one out of his friends left since the death of Broddor that could be trusted to join him in some madcap scheme unquestioned, this was well understood between them.

Floran cast a spell on the top of his staff and it began to gently glow, giving off enough light to penetrate a few yards into the foggy darkness. There was a light drizzle in the air and no wind.

‘I’ve a few places I think we could try to find some, but we’ll start with the place I think most likely,’ explained Roztov in a low voice as they walked. ‘I heard them talk about it in the tower, the largest apothecary in the city, where dragon medicine is made.’

‘Dragon medicine? Really?’

‘Apparently so. I suppose they get headaches, bellyache, you know, sores and things, just like us.’

‘I wonder if a dragon can get piles,’ mused Floran.

‘That’s the first thing that came to mind when you thought of dragon medicine?’ asked Roztov.

‘Oh I don’t know. It just amuses me to think of it. Why do they not use magic to heal themselves?’

‘They have no healing magic,’ answered Roztov. ‘Most other kinds, but not that. Wizards are rare here, the dragons are too lazy to learn it and they rely on humans for when it’s needed.’

‘Huh. It’s possible they mistrust magic too, since most of it originates from the Spire.’

They walked on through the night until they came to the building that Roztov had picked out for their midnight raid.

‘You could have warped the wood of this door to get in,’ said Floran as he held up his light and looked at the entrance. ‘You don’t really need me here.’

‘I might need you for translating if I have to talk to someone.’

‘I suppose so.’ Floran then waved his hand at the door and it gently swung open. Together they skulked in and shut the door quietly behind them. The first few rooms they walked through were full of drying herbs, jars, pestles and mortars, arranged on high tables where people had been working, making medicines.

‘Incredible,’ said Floran as he picked up a jar and sniffed at it. ‘Salves and lotions. Prepared by men for the dragons.’

Roztov sniffed. ‘It’s here somewhere. I can smell it.’

‘Druid’s noses,’ sighed Floran and put the pot he had been holding down on the table. Roztov motioned for his friend to shine his light into the next doorway. Something moved around in the darkness then a sleepy rock lizard emerged into the light. ‘Here! What are you fellows doing here?’

‘Ah, we are inspectors,’ replied Floran in draconic. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

‘How’d you get in?’

‘We have a special inspector’s key.’

‘Oh right,’ said the lizard, sitting down in the doorway.

‘Ask her where they keep the tobacco leaves,’ said Roztov, tapping Floran on the shoulder.

‘How do you know it’s female?’ asked Floran looking over his shoulder at Roztov.

‘I’ve been around them long enough to tell, just ask.’

‘I’ll take you,’ said the lizard, leading them through to another room. ‘They dry the leaves here. Hey, what language are you two speaking?’

‘Special inspector language,’ said Floran.

‘This is the stuff,’ said Roztov with a smile, picking up some brown leaves that were hung on a drying rack at the back of the room.  He held them up to his nose and breathed in the aroma. ‘Sweet Etruna, I can’t describe how happy I am to find some actual tobacco!’

Floran led the lizard off to one side to ask questions of the other plants, seeds and herbs while Roztov stuffed his pockets.

Once they were ready to leave, Roztov took some vegetain bacon in his pocket, for the express purpose of bribing rock lizards and gave it to their friendly guide. She munched on it happily as they left through the door they had broken in through.

‘Are you happy now?’ asked Floran as they walked back. ‘That stuff isn’t good for you, you know?’

‘It’s good for me,’ replied Roztov. ‘We’ll be up on top of that tower with a hundred dragons in a few days. If a sly puff behind Lorkuvan’s back is what it takes to steady my nerves through it all, then that’s what’s required. You want it all to be buggered up because I was gasping for a fag?’

Roztov stooped to pick up a dragon cinder from the street. He then started to shape it into a pipe with druid magic.

‘Dragon cinder pipe,’ remarked Floran. ‘Nice.’

The pipe was long, with a round bowl, about an inch and a half wide at the end. Roztov took some of the smaller dried leaves and crumbled them into the bowl as they walked. Then with a magical finger-snap he lit it up.

Once it was properly going he took in a lungful of smoke, then breathed it out in a big cloud in front of them. Floran waved it away as he walked through it. ‘This place is smoky enough,’ he remarked. The rain was off, but the cobbles were wet and the fog hung thick and heavy in the street. Only a few lights were still on in the buildings above.

They were about halfway home when a group of ten or so men emerged from the foggy shadows of an abandoned building. One of them, a tall bullay, approached Roztov and addressed him angrily.

‘I don’t speak the lingo,’ said Roztov, jerking his thumb at Floran.

‘I said,’ growled the bullay, ‘I want your food, script and coin.’

‘Well, I could spare you some script, I dare say, but I’ve no food on me,’ said Floran amiably.

Floran reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded up roll of script and offered it to the bullay. He didn’t take it.

‘Is this a mugging?’ asked Roztov.

The tall bullay took a closer look at Floran and noticed the talismans and pendants that the wizard wore around his neck. ‘Forget that rubbish, give me all that jewellery you are wearing.’

‘Certainly not. You can have the script though,’ said Floran smiling benignly as the men fanned out around them, brandishing daggers and clubs.

The gang of runaways seemed rather puzzled at how un-alarmed these two out-of-towners were acting in response to their threats and menaces.

Roztov puffed happily on his pipe, largely oblivious to what was going on, waiting for Floran to sort it all out.

The bullay looked over to the druid. ‘What in seven hells is he doing?’

Two of the other runaways moved behind Roztov and he watched them from the corner of his eye.

‘He’s smoking a pipe, clearly. I wouldn’t provoke him if I were you.’

The bullay took a knife from his belt and pointed it at Roztov, who ignored him. When the bullay took a step closer, Roztov sighed and blew a cloud of smoke in his face. The tobacco was mostly finished in the pipe so he put it in his pocket and waited to see what happened next.

One of the other men, a smaller darker fellow, perhaps losing patience, took a swing at Roztov with his knife, but overbalanced and fell over when suddenly there was no man there, but a furry tailed rodent that squeaked aggressively and landed on the cobbles. It then scuttled off to the side of the street and up onto the windowsill of a first floor window.

Everyone except Floran watched with open mouths.

‘Interestingly,’ said Floran, as if it needed explaining, ‘that’s not a squirrel he just turned into, it’s a numbat, the only animal that Roztov can turn into wherever in the world he is. I have no idea what land it is native to... oh goodbye!’

It wasn’t the numbat that had scared the men off though, it was the dragon that was looming out of the darkness behind Floran. He turned and looked up at this new arrival. ‘Hello.’

‘No men on the streets at night,’ snarled the dragon. Floran observed that the dragon had a blue rune around its neck but that, thankfully, for whatever reason, it wasn’t active. ‘Who owns you?’

Just then, a furry tailed rodent scurried up Floran’s back and sat on his shoulder. It gave the dragon a long withering look.

‘What manner of creature is that?’ asked the dragon, shifting its head to look at Roztov with one of its large yellow eyes.

‘Well, as I was saying, it is not a squirrel as one may first suppose, it is in fact a numbat. I’m not sure where they come from, I suppose my friend would be able to tell you.’

‘Where is your friend?’ asked the dragon as it looked up and around.

Floran looked down at his shoulder and looked at the numbat which shrugged back at him.

The dragon, having had enough of their nonsense, began to activate its anti-magic rune. Roztov changed into a bear and swiped the talisman from its neck before it could react.

Floran, thrown backwards, pulled himself to his feet just as Roztov turned into a seagull and flew as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The dragon roared and swiped at Floran, but its claws slid off his magical armour. Not wanting to battle the dragon, Floran raised his hands and from each of them spewed a jet of large angry bees. He stepped further back as the dragon reared and tossed its head.

‘The bees!’ cried the dragon. ‘The bees!’

Floran poured on thousands more, then turned and ran. The dragon breathed fire into the air, trying to rid itself of the torment of the magical bees as they buzzed around its head, more and more of them finding their way into sensitive parts between its scales. It finally beat its wings and took off into the air and was lost to the night.

Half an hour later, the bullay and his gang arrived back at the scene and cautiously looked around. One of them saw the rune, lying on the cobbles, still attached to a length of gold chain. Just as he went to pick it up, a creature a lot like a squirrel but larger, shot between his legs and grabbed it. The man leapt up in alarm, but the creature was gone, squeaking and chittering into the night.

Two days after that, it was time to go back to Lorkuvan. It was decided that only Roztov and Ghene would go.

‘How will you understand what’s going on?’ asked Floran. ‘I would like to be there.’

‘It might be better to help Meg with the ship. Also, I don’t know, but if that rune-keeper we met after the apothecary is there he would recognise you.’

 ‘Dragons can recognise humans?’ asked Arrin.

‘Yes,’ replied Roztov. ‘You may as well take this as well.’

Roztov then took the rune he had stolen from the dragon from his pocket and put it on the table. ‘Only Tup can activate it anyway, so you may as well take it.’

Floran nodded and put it in his bag.

‘I’ll never get the ship ready without you doing the talking Tup,’ put in Meggelaine. ‘All those two need to do is watch what happens and stay out of trouble. We, on the other hand, have a lot of work to do.’

And so it was decided and they all said their farewells to each other. Roztov and Ghene went up to the roof and Meggelaine followed them.

‘We’ll not be back until after the Diet,’ said Ghene as he hugged her goodbye. ‘It will all be fine.’

Meggelaine instantly began to tear up. ‘Be careful you idiots,’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t lose any more of us. Oh dear, oh dear. Please don’t get yourselves killed.’

‘We promise,’ said Roztov leaning down to give her a hug once she had disengaged from Ghene.

‘And you, most of all,’ she cried into his shoulder. ‘No more changing into a dragon. If you do it again it will kill you.’

‘You take care too,’ said Roztov. Eventually they soothed and calmed Meggelaine enough that they could leave. They then turned into seagulls and flew towards the tower.

The next morning Meggelaine resolved to keep herself and the others all busy by sorting out the caravel out at the mines. The harbour was getting more chaotic, as gendarmes were called up into the army and moved south and the dragons lost interest in anything other than the war. More and more of the thralls were not turning up for work, or simply wandering around looking for trouble. There was a heavy smog and this helped hide their activities.

Meggelaine, Floran and the two sailors walked the quayside untroubled by sailors or gendarmes.

‘What we want is a ship with sails we can use on the caravel,’ said Meggelaine.

Eventually they found something suitable. ‘That scow has probably got enough canvas for us. I don’t know for sure though, I’m not an expert,’ said Arrin.

‘Well, you’ll have to do,’ said Meggelaine. ‘We could always swipe some more at the mines if need be. Righto, so we are having that ship. All we need now is a crew.’

‘Wait though,’ wondered Tankle. ‘Is there anyone onboard?’

There was no gangplank, so she climbed up the mooring rope and disappeared into the mist. A few minutes later she clambered back again. ‘Just lizards,’ she reported.

‘Fine, good,’ said Meggelaine with a nod.

‘This is the plan then, you two stay and keep this ship secure,’ she continued, gesturing at the sailors. ‘Me and Tup will go get all the stuff and then see if any of the nice people in our street fancy leaving this island forever.’

‘We are leaving for good?’ asked Tankle in astonishment. Arrin whistled.

‘I think so, my dears,’ replied Meggelaine. ‘I’ve a feeling whatever happens at that tower... well, if I know those two fools, which I do, we’ll be wanting to get out of here quickly after it all kicks off.’

By the end of the day Meggelaine and Floran had assembled a crew of twelve from the local population, all young and dark skinned. Eight of them were women.

‘These ones are all very keen indeed to come with us,’ explained Meggelaine. ‘Healing all the sick and injured made us popular around here, but they would want to come anyway, or so Tup assures me.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Floran. ‘They are all runaways and the gendarmes would kill them if they found them.’

‘Well, twelve is enough to get this scow to the mines, Meg,’ said Arrin almost apologetically, ‘but we’ll need more for the caravel.’

‘Can these people even sail a ship?’ put in Tankle. ‘They all look like they need feeding up. Have any of them sailed a ship before?’

Arrin smiled at one of the short dark-skinned women and gently took her hand and looked at it.

‘They are tougher than they look,’ he said. ‘They are all fishermen, so they've only ever been in smaller boats. As long as they can haul a rope I suppose.’

‘Well...’ mused Tankle. ‘Have any of us sailed a caravel before? I’m not sure...’

‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Meggelaine with forced joviality. ‘It will all be fine. I’m sure some of the miners will want to join us. We’ll sort it all out when we get there. Let’s get out there now, before we lose the light. Chop, chop!’

As the scow slowly made its way out of the harbour, Arrin and Tankle manned the rudder and talked.

‘Who’s going to be captain of this caravel then? Assuming we actually get the thing under way.’

‘I only ever did the tops,’ replied Arrin. ‘I know nothing about anything else.’

‘I only ever pulled on ropes. When the midshipmen told me to pull a rope, I pulled it,’ said Tankle. ‘I know nothing about captaining a ship.’

Meggelaine had overheard them talking and came to join them. ‘We’ll all just muddle along then won’t we? You can both be captain, no? There is no nautical law against it?’

She pointed at one of the local sailors. ‘That lass over there, Vedi, she seems to know what she’s doing. She can surely operate a rudder at least. Put her in charge of something.’

‘Yes, Meg,’ said Tankle with a smile, as the nervous torm prattled on, jollying everyone along as they sailed out to the mines.

It took them the whole of the next day to get the caravel floated and underway. Tankle and Arrin were astounded that it had worked, but Meggelaine and Floran had powerful magic to help them. Meggelaine fixed all the holes with wood-shaping magic and threw out all the water in one giant wave that washed out over the deck and into the sea through the scuppers.

Floran, flying on the back of a giant bee went from mine to mine, landing on each one in turn and gently inquiring if anyone would like to join the crew. He discovered that during times of trouble and war the miners, sailors and stevedores would often talk of taking a ship away from the island, but that they were always too fearful of being found and sunk by the dragons. There were always one or two people desperate enough to want to leave though, even when salvation came in the form of a strange-spoken man riding a giant bee.

They had a crew of twenty by the time they were ready to go, the ship was afloat, the masts repaired and the sails hung. They spent the night at sea, making more repairs. None of them got any sleep. In the morning they sailed back towards the island.

Some of the sailors were very concerned when they realised they were not immediately leaving, but Floran explained that they were going to get two more very powerful druids and that would be very helpful for whatever perils awaited them when they set off into the open ocean.

It was a fine morning, the skies were clear and the fog and smoke that shrouded the city was being blown inland by a strong wind. The caravel creaked and groaned as they sped up and Arrin climbed up the main mast to reef in the topmost sails, shouting and pointing at the sailors that joined him. None of the local sailors had been on a ship with such tall masts before and they were nervous of the height.

The wind blew them swiftly towards Stovologard. Meggelaine was at the prow of the ship and for a while she shut her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the clean air on her face.

The ship penetrated the fog barrier and made its way to the harbour.

 ‘Oh my Etruna! Look at that!’ she Meggelaine and pointed up at the central tower. Floran and Tankle turned to look.

The top of the central tower, rising out of the smoke below, and still at least a mile away, was lit up with distant flames and the unmistakable fireworks display of destructive magic. A black mushroom cloud of smoke rose from the carnage.

‘That’s not good,’ remarked Floran.

(G373 13/10/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA48

(G373 13/10/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA48

DAY 411 (19th Tarsakh)(April)

After some discussion it was decided that Veets would take the 'Boatmurdered' dwarves to another area, while Fenrir, Veddic and myself explored this area. Drypp was given as much food and drink as he could carry from the magical supply box and sent back to 'civilisation'.

I was only half listening to what was going on with the dwarves if I'm honest as I was too busy looking at some really fascinating fungus, but then Fenrir patted me on the shoulder and off we went.

Well, I'm sat down now, writing this journal entry by the light of Veddic's everburning lantern. After a good rummage around in this dungeon I'm still not sure who made it.
I think it is the work of many hands, starting with ancient drow possibly, then dwarves or duergar or someone, adding passages where they felt they needed them. There are also crudely hacked out side tunnels, and other passages that may have been done by Stone Shape spells. It's all very interesting, but given how dangerous this area is I think I'd rather be back in the true Underdark and not this labyrinth.

Still, we encountered rust monsters in one of the first rooms. I'd not seen one since Sasserine, but they were the same species. They eat metal and Veddic's morning star was gobbled up by one of them. I turned into a lion to avoid loosing my metal items and between me and Fenrir we killed them all.

Quite a few of the next rooms we explored after that were full of rust monster litter and bones. Even with no monsters around these rooms could still be dangerous as many of the doors and floors were magically trapped. One set off a spell that hurt Fenrir as he passed through a door and later on a floor plate triggered a strange unpleasant mist that luckily did none of us any harm.

As we progressed deeper into the dungeon we encountered a room full of undead shadows. Fenrir blasted most of them, Veddic turned some of them and I summoned crocodiles to distract them. We cleared them out, looted the room and moved on.

After a series of tunnels we entered another room that was being used as a campsite by a large group of lizardmen. Fenrir initially thought they were troglodytes and started talking about the sacred beasts and things, but they had no idea what he was on about. They did not want us to join their camp so we moved back to one of the first rust monster chambers and made camp there for the night.

Fenrir is quite chatty tonight, I think he has enjoyed using his magical blasts to destroy everything in his path and take their treasure. Veddic is as quiet and sullen as ever. He rarely speaks.

DAY 412 (20th Tarsakh)(April)

I was awoken by a commotion from the room to the south. By the time I was on my feet Fenrir arrived from through the southern door and reported that he had just killed seven basilisks and chased away a witch.

As he had apparently dealt with the situation, I went back to bed.

Chapter 20 – The Mines (4458)

Chapter 20 – The Mines (4458)

In the following days, they did their best to stay out of sight, keeping to their rooms. It didn’t last long though, all of them were too curious about the city, its people, its food and its buildings to stay indoors for long. The war too, continued in the south of the city, and the druids went down to heal the injured behind the lines, using all their magic and only returning when they were spent, tired but satisfied they had at least saved some lives.

While the war went on the dragon’s hold on the people of the city loosened a little and the slaves and servants began to rebel against the gendarmes. The streets were growing chaotic, the dole carts were constantly being raided, which seemed odd to them as the food and drink was given away free anyway, and gangs of runways lurked in the side streets, looking for trouble.

‘The word on the street is that there was a rebellion in a southern quarter, the Stovologard dragons killed a hundred of their own people,’ said Meggelaine when they returned from some afternoon food shopping.

‘We should go down their again,’ said Roztov although he did not relish the thought. There was always more suffering than the three of them could handle.

‘Let’s eat first,’ said Meggelaine. ‘We’ll need our strength.’

‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ asked Arrin. ‘I’ve been feeling a bit useless these last couple of days.’ Tankle nodded her agreement.

‘I might have a job for you two later,’ said Meggelaine, who always like to have a secret.

‘Oh well, good then. It’s just that it’s so unjust. Broddor would have sorted them out,’ said Arrin with an angry tremor in his voice. ‘He’d soon sort out those dragons killing those people.’

They all knew Broddor was Arrin’s hero, so no one cast any doubt on his statement.

‘He was fearless, right enough,’ agreed Roztov.

‘And that armour, and his sword...’ continued Arrin with the enthusiasm of a teenager. ‘I only saw him fight Mordran that one time, but what a battle. I wish I had been there to see him fight that rune-keeper dragon. What a battle that must have been. And that time, when me and Salveri were fighting those manhunters with him in the forest, he was holding off all their spears, none of them could land a blow on him. Salveri... Well, they are both dead now...’

Roztov could see tears in Arrin’s eyes, glistening in the gloomy light from the cracked windows.

‘There will be some great tales told about Broddor, when we get back. That’s what he would have wanted. I’ll never forget how all this started, that dragon attacking the ship out of the mist, and Broddor thundering past me, across the deck and right along the bowsprit. He must have leapt ten feet in the air off that thing. Probably gave that dragon the scare of its life.’

Arrin laughed and wiped his nose. Roztov knew he was changing the tale, in truth Broddor had got no more than three steps along the bowsprit before falling, but what did that matter? He had still been attacking a dragon and in a dwarfish tale about the honoured dead it was the essence of the story, not the details, which mattered.

Roztov noticed that Meggelaine was weeping now too. ‘Broddor and Ophess, and Sal and all the others. Oh Roz... I’m going to boil the kettle.’

As Meggelaine went over to the fireplace Tankle tried to distract her little friend a little.

‘What was that language he spoke? He often said things like “Conusmig”,’ she asked. ‘It was like no dwarfish I ever heard.’

‘Oh it was dwarfish,’ laughed Meggelaine even as tears wetted her cheeks. ‘Or rather, dwarfish with a very strong Stykian accent. There have been fortress in the Vales for generations, I suppose their dialect has changed over the years. If he ever said anything in Stykian dwarfish, believe me, it isn’t repeatable.’

Meggelaine boiled the kettle and made tea for everyone, calming her emotions with this simple ritual.

When they had time, Roztov and Ghene would turn into rock lizards and skulk around in the building to eavesdrop on the residents. It appeared they were in no current danger of discovery, the conversations of the locals was primarily about the war, the street gangs and the availability of food. The people in their street all worked at the harbour. They sailors, stevedores, fishermen and the like, thin, but hardy, used to a tough life. Most of them were Sunda, but there were some Bullays and Yats,  and quite a few mixed-race people.  It seemed that they were safe enough, certainly while the gendarmes were struggling to keep control of the population.

‘They don’t seem to understand the concept of men living anywhere other than Tanud,’ remarked Roztov after one of their visits.

‘They are simple folk, by and large these city people,’ said Ghene. ‘Maybe out in the towns and villages the people are a bit less ignorant. Honni realised we were outlanders after all.’

 ‘Aye, he must have got it from somewhere,’ agreed Roztov. ‘In the city though, some people can rise higher than a mere servant certainly. Lady Fiewa for one, admittedly she’s a Spire spy, but she had my card marked straight away.’

‘True, she’s not the only one too, I’ll wager,’ mused Ghene.

‘I’ll have a wee sniff about for them, next time I’m there,’ said Roztov. ‘Delivering messages is a great way to get into people’s houses.’

 ‘I'm amazed you are still getting away with it,’ Meggelaine remarked from her place by the fire. ‘Right under their noses. What about those Rune-Keepers? Presumably if one gets close to you, they'll see a rock lizard transform into a man or elf?’

‘It’s fine,’ Roztov assured her. ‘We know what we’re doing.’

In truth though they had already had already some very close calls.

Roztov and Ghene went to the tower the next day and left to her own devices Meggelaine took Arrin and Tankle down to the harbour to look at the ships. It was not the first time.

‘So, what have we got today?’ she asked the sailors.

‘Little fishing boats as always,’ replied Arrin as they walked along the harbour wall in the fog. ‘There are colliers over there, but they are little better than lighters. I can see some sloops moored over there.’

‘Are they any use to us?’

‘No, it’s the same as last time, there is nothing oceangoing here.’

‘Drat it,’ said Meggelaine, snapping her fingers in irritation. ‘Look though.’

They were at the harbour mouth now, as far out as the wall went and lost in the fog. Sea spray occasionally lashed up from below and splattered their cloaks and faces. They could no longer see the city, they couldn’t even see the other side of the harbour mouth, but they could see an empty collier going out into the sea, a dark silhouette moving slowly through the fog.

‘It’s going somewhere, right enough,’ admitted Arrin.

‘And they come back laden with coal and hematite. I’m not a miner, but I know you don’t catch iron ore in fishing nets,’ said Tankle.

‘There must be another island,’ speculated Meggelaine. ‘Beyond the fog barrier. We should come back with Tup later and go out on one.’

As they walked back Arrin was deep in thought. ‘I saw something that looked a bit like a scow the other day. We should go out on one of them.’

‘Why?’

‘They will be going out further than the lighters. I mean, probably.’

It did not take Floran long, with a gold coin pressed into the captain’s hand, to arrange them passage on a large scow out beyond the harbour wall. There were only three sailors crewing the boat, but a further ten people, men and women, onboard who were presumably miners.

After an hour of sailing they left the fog barrier behind and all four of them felt a huge weight lift off their shoulders.

‘My word,’ exclaimed Floran. ‘When was the last time I saw the sky free of fog and smoke?’

Meggelaine closed her eyes and held her face up to the sun. ‘It’s glorious.’

‘Look yonder!’ cried Arrin pointing out over the clear blue sea.

Ahead of them were dozens of tall towers, sticking straight out of the sea, each bigger than a tenement block.

‘What are they?’ gasped Tankle.

Floran asked the captain, and then translated the reply. ‘They are the mines. They are offshore mines, apparently.’

As they got closer, they began to appreciate the scale of the things. They were broad and tall, with flat tops and wooden ladders that led up to doorways usually one or two stories up. There were cranes too, further up that were used to load the colliers. The captains sailed the scow past the first of the towers, evidently going to one further out. They watched the towers go past, seeing them close up they could see they were made from dark red bricks, patched and repairs with yellow mortar.

When the scow arrived at its destination, they all climbed up a ladder and into what appeared to be an administration room.

‘This man is wondering why we are here,’ said Floran, gesturing to a confused looking old man. ‘I think he is the foreman of this tower.’

‘Just give him a gold coin,’ said Meggelaine as she looked up. There was a central well that coal was being drawn up in baskets. She could hear a capstan being turned somewhere and could smell oxen or something, but couldn’t see any.

‘Ask him how they turn the capstan, Tup,’ she said. ‘They can’t be using vegetains, they are too lazy.’

Floran asked the question, and the recently bribed foreman, smiled, bowed and led them up a series of ladders to a room full of gears and pulleys with a large capstan in the middle of it.

Meggelaine gasped in horror as she saw that the huge wooden wheel was being pulled by two chained dragons. They had no claws or wings and their jaws were bound shut with irons. They looked weak and emaciated, and whenever one faltered, a man with a whip struck them on the back.

Floran was equally dismayed at such a sight, but translated what the foreman told him. ‘These are chasm dragons, captured in previous wars. They are sent here as punishment. They have their claws and wings removed to stop them escaping and their mouths bound shut to stop them breathing fire.’

‘How do they feed them?’

‘Oh dear,’ said Floran once he had received the answer from the foreman who was gesturing at the side of the dragons’ heads. ‘They have cut a hole in the side of their cheeks and they feed them slops through it.’

‘This is horrible. Please let’s go,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Can he take us to the top?’

Using ladders they moved up the tower, sometimes moving through areas that were used as sleeping quarters. ‘Apparently they live out here for years at a time,’ explained Floran.

The top of the tower was flat covered in wooden beams covered in tar. A few miners, presumably on a break, were also here, enjoying the fresh air. In the distance a dragon wheeled around, high in the sky away from the island. Floran spoke to the foreman then reported to the others.

‘He’s no idea what that dragon is doing, maybe hunting for dolphins. He seems to think we are auditors sent from the city. I wonder why the chasm dragons don’t attack these towers, they look like easy targets to me. This old man has no idea about that either. Still, what a view.’

‘It’s incredible,’ admitted Meggelaine as she wandered around the edge of the tower, taking in the panorama. ‘Dozens of towers just like this one. How many bricks I wonder? Oh look over there.’

She pointed to where a tower had collapsed, some way off, and around it were dozens of ship wrecks, piled up against the rubble.

‘What’s all that lot, Tup?’

Floran asked the foreman then explained, ‘It is as it appears. That tower collapsed a long time ago, a hundred years ago he says. Now it is used as a ship’s graveyard. They pillage it for spares when required.’

Both Tankle and Arrin were shielding their eyes and squinting at the wrecks and continued to do so when Meggelaine and Floran wandered off to the other side of the tower.

‘Notice how she acts when Roztov and Ghene are not around,’ remarked Tankle. ‘She acts like a child when in their company, but now look at her, ordering the men about.’

Arrin laughed. ‘Yes, she’s a character. Do you see anything interesting in that lot?’

‘Piles of junk. I think I see the masts of a caravel on the other side of the tower. It must be an antique.’

‘Even so, an oceangoing vessel. I wonder how it got here.’

When they reported this to Meggelaine she ordered the captain of their collier to detour around the collapsed tower on the way back.

‘He says it’s not safe,’ said Floran.

She looked at Arrin. ‘It’s safe enough,’ he said, ‘if he keeps wide of the wrecks. We are laden down with coal, but the wind is with us.’

‘Give him another gold, Tup and tell him to get on with it,’ she said testily.

The captain made some token objections, but the gold was a convincing argument and besides, he didn’t like the look in the eyes of the little girl that was giving out all the orders.

As they passed the far side of the graveyard, Arrin and Tankle were able to get a good look at the wrecked caravel.

‘It would have been a fine enough ship in its day,’ remarked Tankle. ‘It’s like an Elbonian trader, but from a hundred years ago.’

‘Shame about the big hole in her hull though,’ said Arrin with a sigh.

‘It was oceangoing though?’ asked Meggelaine. ‘We could get away in it?’

‘Well, there are no sails. One of the masts is broken and there is that big hole...’ said Arrin.

‘Yes, yes, but if all that was fixed?’

‘She’d get us home for sure,’ said Arrin with certainty. Tankle nodded in agreement.

‘Don’t worry about the hole and the mast. Druid magic can fix that. The sails are more of a problem though. Oh, and a crew I suppose. How many would we need?’

‘Twenty, maybe twenty-five,’ answered Arrin.

Meggelaine then went over to the other side of the ship to talk to the captain, using Floran to interpret her questions.

‘Do you think she’s trying to hire a crew?’ asked Tankle. ‘I don’t see how.’

‘I’ve no idea. Maybe Roztov could summon some... um... monkeys or something.’

Tankle made a ‘pff’ noise with her lips.

‘Yes,’ agreed Arrin. ‘We’d need proper sailors, I’m not sure about these fellows, they seem sturdy enough, but these scows and lighters will have never been sailed beyond the mines.’

‘We’re the last of the Red Maiden. We’ll get of this island somehow,’ said Tankle with determination. Arrin, thinking about it just now, realised he had never doubted it until the death of Broddor. Now he wasn’t so sure.

At the harbour, they disembarked from the collier and went to get a drink at one of the quayside taverns. They sat in the late afternoon sun, a stiff sea breeze blowing the smoke from the tower out over their heads.

Floran went to do some shopping and left Meggelaine with the sailors to continue talking over nautical matters. After a short while Tankle, who was sat facing the other two, noticed a commotion down at where the collier had been moored.

‘Here comes trouble.’

The collier captain was leading a group of gendarmes towards them. He pointed to where they were sat and with animated hand gestures bid the armed men follow him.

‘Typical,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Just when Floran’s not here to translate. Let’s just see what they do. If it all kicks off, I’ll do... something.’

One of the gendarmes addressed himself to Arrin, ignoring the two women. Arrin had picked up a few words of draconic from being on Tanud. ‘Me, village man, run dragons,’ he said, gesturing towards the unseen mountains, trying to imply they were refugees.

The gendarme pointed at Tankle and Meggelaine and told them to pull back their hoods.

‘Wife,’ said Arrin nervously. ‘Daughter.’

The gendarme, a man in his forties smiled and tickled Meggelaine under the chin. She faked a childish laugh.

‘Wait,’ said the gendarme. They waited ten minutes, then a large black dragon bearing a blue stone around its neck landed and waddled towards them. All three of them were terrified by this huge dark beast, but stood as still as they could as it shone its stone on them and when nothing happened it snarled and took off again. The gendarme turned to the collier captain and cuffed him hard around the back of the head and then walked off, gesturing his men to follow him.

The captain gave them a dazed look then ran back to where his ship was moored.

‘What did they expect? We were a bunch of dragons in disguise? What a nerve after all that gold we gave him. Call the watch on us, eh?’ growled Meggelaine. ‘I’m going to teach that fellow a lesson he won’t forget.’

She hopped down from her chair, adjusted her belt and stormed after the captain.

‘In the name of Blimaron,’ gasped Tankle. ‘What do we do?’

‘We’d better follow her.’

‘Should we do something?’

Arrin gave a couple of notes of script to the waiter, settling the bill and set off after the torm. ‘If the captain goes for her, you grab her and run for it. I’ll punch him on the nose.’

Meggelaine, walking quickly, had reached the moored collier and was facing down the captain. Arrin and Tankle arrived behind her, but stood a few steps back. They respected Meggelaine too much incur her wrath by stopping her giving the captain a piece of her mind.

‘Give me the gold back, you hooligan!’ demanded Meggelaine, waving her finger at him. She then pointed at the palm of her hand. ‘Gold? See? You idiot. Stop smiling at me.’

The captain laughed, but then stopped when he realised he was beginning to draw a crowd. Meggelaine continued to scold him in a language he didn’t understand and not wanting to seem a laughing stock in front of his fellow sailors he decided to do something very foolish and pushed Meggelaine to the cobblestones. Meggelaine squealed, and then raised her right hand. A blast of magical wind knocked the captain from his feet and he too landed on the cobbles. Meggelaine stood up and as some of the ship’s crew rushed at her, she blasted them away with a magical wind too, sending them rolling back, tumbling head over heels, half of them falling off the quayside and landing in the sea, yelling and screaming.

‘I’ll show you,’ snarled Meggelaine, raising both hands. ‘You dirty rotter!’

She lunged at the captain, making him clamber backwards on his rear end. Meggelaine then went over to the collier and with a sweep of her hands, magically caused a large dip in the water that the ship rolled into, spilling the cargo that had not been taken off it yet to spill into the sea. With gurgling groans the ship sunk, pulling its rope off the mooring post with a twang.

With a sweep of her hand, a strong wind blew the captain off the quayside and out into the harbour where it deposited him a hundred yards away. When near the sea, a druid’s ability to control the wind was strong.

‘I hope he can swim,’ gasped Arrin.

Tankle found her mouth was hanging open as Meggelaine turned to them and said, ‘let’s go.’

Meggelaine summoned up a thick mist to hide their retreat from the harbour, with hood up and heads down they returned to their apartment.

Once she’d had a nice cup of tea and her anger had subsided, Meggelaine was remorseful.

‘What have I done? Maybe he genuinely thought we were chasm dragons in disguise. That ship would have been his livelihood. What if his family starves now?’

‘Meg, what are you talking about? You kicked arse back there, it was amazing!’ gushed Tankle.

‘Aye, don’t worry about that old tosspot,’ agreed Arrin. ‘The boats all belong to the dragons anyway, remember? This isn’t like back home. Even back home, generally the captain doesn’t own the ship. Well, our captain owned the Red Maiden, but that’s not always the case.’

‘Oh, well...’ sighed Meggelaine, warming her hands on the tea cup.

‘That was amazing Meg,’ said Tankle who still could not get over how the small torm had thrown back all those men then sunk a ship.

‘Yes,’ agreed Arrin. ‘Hey, who do you think would win in a fight? A druid or a wizard?’

‘Oh well, even so,’ said Tankle with an apologetic bow to Meggelaine, ‘I think a wizard.’

‘You’re just saying that because you’re in love with Tuppence!’ joked Arrin.

Meggelaine snorted with laughter at Arrin’s remark. Floran and Tankle were not making any effort to hide their relationship anymore though as they spent each night downstairs in the big double bed.

‘A wizard would kill a druid instantly with a fireball,’ Tankle argued.

‘A druid would change into a bear, or a dragon, shrug off the fireball and rip the wizard’s head off.’

Arrin made wild gestures with his hands in an attempt to illustrate his point.

‘Only Roztov can be a dragon,’ said Tankle.

 Meggelaine finished her tea and started preparing the evening meal. The friendly argument continued until Floran returned, and not long after him, Roztov and Ghene.

‘Well, actually, me and Floran did fight once,’ said Roztov, having overheard some of it.

Tankle and Arrin gasped simultaneously.

‘We’d been captured by Nog pirates, north of Fiarka, on our return from Joppa. They thought it amusing to make their captives fight each other.’

‘Who won?’ asked Tankle.

‘Well, I think I won,’ said Roztov with a smile towards Floran, ‘I tied him down with roots then beset him with a swarm of stinging insects.’

‘Bah,’ grunted Floran. ‘I remember that. I was holding back though.’

‘Hardly,’ said Roztov holding up his hands. ‘You set fire to me!’

 ‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Meggelaine. ‘I’ve heard this pissing contest discussed quite a few times before, it never leads anywhere good.’

‘But how did you escape the pirates?’ asked Arrin.

‘Yes, how did we escape?’ wondered Roztov, pulling on his beard. ‘I think it involved Broddor doing something stupid. That was probably it.’

As they ate together they went on to tell each other how their days had been. Roztov and Ghene agreed that the caravel out at the mines sounded interesting.

‘If Floran can translate for me, I think I can find sails and a crew. You pair of fools finish up your tower nonsense and we can be on our way.’

‘Not long now, Em,’ said Roztov. ‘In truth, part of me will be sad to leave. There is so much to learn here. We know more about dragons now than anyone back in Nillamandor I’ll warrant. Here, the dragons are aggressive by nature, more so than men, but they do not universally mistreat their human thralls and servants. Just as a man may be kind to his horses and hounds, another man may be cruel. So it is with dragons. Even a kind man, when he has no use for an old horse, will most likely kill it.’

‘Men are not animals,’ Floran commented.

‘Of course yes, but that is what we are to them. The people of the Stovologard have no more rights than the rock lizards.’

Once the dinner things had been cleared away they brought out the cards and Roztov, Floran, Ghene and Meggelaine played a few hands of the four player game they had learned while living in the city.

‘I think I’ve worked out why the tenements are half empty,’ said Roztov. ‘They don’t write down human history here, but the dragons are long lived and I hear them talk. Stovologard was once much more populated than it was, but two hundred years ago there was a very big war and half the population were killed.’

‘There must be some racial memories about it though,’ said Floran. ‘The top floors of tenements are considered bad luck to live in. As are the bottom floors. The middle floors are considered the best bet.  This may be because they are safest from dragon attack.’

‘I have heard stories of population purges too,’ put in Ghene. ‘The dragons keep down the human population the same as men do with rabbits.’

‘Oh don’t,’ shuddered Meggelaine. ‘I don’t want to hear about it. Stop finding out about miserable things. Has anyone found out where the chocolate comes from?’

Roztov gave her a smile and tried to ruffle her hair, but she ducked out of the way with a growl.

‘I’m going back to see Lorkuvan in a couple of days,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask her about it then.’

Roztov did indeed return to speak to Lorkuvan on the day she had told him to come to her.

‘There will be a diet,’ she told him. ‘Blavius will meet Primus. There will be a delegation from the Spire. I will be there as a diplomat to the Chasm. You can be there as my advisor.’

‘Can I bring a friend?’

‘If you must. They apparently want to talk about the terms of a cease fire. It is usual sort of thing. It will hold for a few months, a year or two maybe, then it will all flare up again.’

‘When is it?’

‘Come again in three days. Then stay here, it will be on the third day, or the day after.’

At lunch, in the long, gloomy servants hall Roztov and Ghene went over their plans, sat as far away from the other men as they could.

‘It’s probably best to lie low from now until this diet. We have enough food back at the apartment. We should just shut the door and keep our heads down.’

Roztov was already getting nervous and fidgety about it. 'It will kick off, I just know it. Something really big and bad is going to happen and we'll be right in the middle of it.'