Book of Altera

[Fitz]

this is my second attempt to write an altera based novel as some of you may know. a few of the characters will stay the same, however there will be a lot of changes to the original plan. Although I wrote a lot of the original lore canon, i understand that it has gone through A LOT of changes since I was last active.

sooooo I guess just take this as loosely accurate lore and not as canon. Dont wanna smush any little toesies.

Also I dont write for kids so there will be the occasional naughty word, reference to naughty stuffs and the very occasional use of a big word.

also I will be using my own version of a calendar.

so here is the intro to what will hopefully not be another one of uncle fitz's abandoned projects:

FEEDBACK IS NOT ONLY WELCOME BUT IS WANTED!!

This story is set after the cataclysm and before the exodus

Chapter 1

Kartisport; Felony Flats; 1547 PC; Month of Rain

Jaxson, the seven year old fish carver, was sure that he was indeed one of the luckiest boys in the city when he found the rich man dying in the alley that morning. As he came upon the man the crooked alley was abandoned, the man’s blood mixing with the mud. Weakly the man asked for help, his eyes already starting to lose focus, but Jaxson had seen this before on these streets and knew there was no helping this man, His silk clothes soaked through from multiple stab wounds. He quickly surveyed the body and noted the cut belt and empty scabbard attached to a bandoleer. Either the man didn’t know where he was or was not as tough as he first imagined. Rich folk didn’t come here, but the city was flooded with outsiders due to the coming festivities. The dying man’s purse and buckle were already gone, but whoever did this had left a large silver ring on his fat thumb in their haste. Quickly looking around to ensure he was still alone he cut the thumb off with his fillet knife and hurried away, leaving the man to die alone in the alley.

Rather than going to work as he ran back to his small apartment a few blocks south, getting rid of the thumb along the way and cleaning the blood off of the ring. He breathlessly gave it to his mother, Sherrah, telling her he had found it in the mud of an alley on his way to work, before hurrying out the door and running to the docks. When he ran past the man again he was dead and his expensive clothes were gone.

Upon arriving to cut fish for the day he received a rap on the head from his employer, Rowney, for getting there after the bells rang for morning service. It was worth it though, that silver ring was worth more than he would make all month and his family needed it. Work was far busier than usual due to The Parade of the Chosen Children of the Gods, or The Parade of Children as everyone called it, which would start in three days and would last the next five days until the last day of the Month of Rain.

All of the surrounding lands within Kartisport’s governance were required by Divine Law to bring their children less than ten years old to walk in the parade. This happened once each decade. Each day those in the district of the day would parade past the high priests and priestesses in a spectacle of fun color and costumes. The priests and priestesses would be told by the Gods who their chosen children were and there would be a feast that evening to celebrate. Children dressed in costumes to represent their favorite heroes of old and it was commonly believed that the better the costume the more likely that the Gods would favor you.

Those chosen by the Gods would be taken to the Holy Island of the Gods to begin their training to be a high priest or priestess. Their immediate blood relatives would also be moved and would know every luxury for the rest of their lives. It was for this last reason that Jaxson spent the day daydreaming while he gutted fish earning him several more disciplining raps as he fell behind. It would mean his mom, sisters and he could move to a rich person mansion and his bully of an adopted father, Jork, would stay here to pull in fishing nets for the rest of his miserable drunk life.

When it was well past dark the customers had dwindled to a point that Rowney was willing to close the shop. He looked happily over to young Jaxson handed the boy 3 copper. This was three times what the boy normally earned but the day was easily 5 times busier, they had almost ran out of fish several times. Fortunately the fishermen were also working later and going deeper than usual, so that they had been able to keep up with the increased demand. He decided hiring the boy was a good idea as it seemed he lived up to his name. Jax was the god of luck. Rowney knew the lad’s adopted father from work and knew the brute of a man had named him so because ‘The little bastard must be the son of Jax, since I didn’t drown both him and my cheating whore of a wife the moment that black haired little bastard was born!’

“Good job today lad, you earned it. Tomorrow don’t be late or God’s help me I’ll rap ya twice as hard!” he shook his fist at the boy in mock threat while he tousled his raven hair with his other fish covered hand, “Now get outa here and get some sleep, tomorrow will be even busier.” he said with a grin.

Jaxson, despite his exhaustion, ran all the way home. He was eager to see his mother and sisters. With the extra money he got from the ring and gutting plus the extra business the day brought Jork, even he was sure to be in a good mood. When Jork was happy it made for everyone else being happier. Sometimes he even told jokes, which their mother would admonish him for through stifled giggles, as they were often crass and inappropriate for young ears. Jaxson’s favorite was the one about the fisherman, the priest of Bilworth and the whore, that one always made his mother laugh so hard that she cried. Even if he didn’t get it himself, he loved seeing his mom genuinely happy.

As he came to the building where his family rented what amounted to slightly more than a closet the smile fell off his face and fear gripped his heart. Their neighbor, Old Woman Merryl, stood outside their door looking grim.

“Go see to your mother dear, Allie is already on her way to fetch the healers.”

When he went inside, the boy who had that morning cut the thumb from a dying man, cried.

 

[Fitz]

Jaxson’s mother sat against the wall on the sleeping mat, holding a dirty wash rag to her eye in a vain attempt to stop the flow of blood streaming down her swollen face. Her jaw hung open at an odd angle and more was pouring down her chin at an alarming rate. Her other eye was swollen shut. Jaxson could only stare at her through the blur of tears until his younger sister started pounding his arms and chest with her fists, crying the whole time.

“This is all your fault you big jerk!” Donna wailed through her sobs, “If you wouldn’t of found that stupid ring Daddy’d still be happy! All your fault! All your fault!”

Jaxson finally was able to control the younger girl’s flailing arms and hugged her tight until she collapsed into his arms and was just crying. His tears were gone now, replaced by something else.

“Donna, what happened?” he knew the answer before he asked.

“Daddy came home *sob* all happy cause he sold lotsa fishes *sob* then he seen that ring on the table and went crazy,” she was talking faster now, like she didn’t want to say it but needed to get it all out, “he was callin’ her a whore an’ a cheat an’ just kept on punchin’ an kickin’ til she finally stopped movin an’ he stormed out, I tried to stop him but I couldn’t *sob* an’ now mommy’s gonna die an’ it’s all your fault!” at that she collapsed into pile of sobbing six year old on the hard packed floor of their “home.”

Jaxson went numb. His eyes focused on something in the middle space between the world and his mind. His body seemed to be moving without him, like he was in a dream. He watched himself leave his mother there. He heard Old Woman Merryl say something to him, but whatever it was was unimportant. He shuffled down the street, nearly running into a few people on the way. Finally he walked into the Hook and Peg. He didn’t notice, but as he crossed the dirt floored bar the room went silent. Fortunately for Jaxson, neither did Jork. With the massive man’s back to him, hunched over on a stool with a half a bottle of spirits on the table before him Jaxson’s thought process became crystal clear.

He drew the fillet knife he had used all day and drove it into the man’s lower back again and again. It felt good. The hot blood spraying across his face, the sinking of the razor sharp blade into soft flesh, the scream of pain he had never before heard from the man he had lived in fear of for his entire life, the end of the beatings. It felt amazing.

Then the moment was over as he was driven to the ground by some other man in the bar and the knife was taken from him. As he lay there, with his face smashed into mud, beer and vomit, a man pinning him to the ground, his eyes met those of Jork and he saw fear in them before they went blank.

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The rest of the night went by in a blur for Jaxson and seemed less real than the initial shock of seeing his mother. One of the men from the bar turned him over to the city watch in exchange for the bounty slip if Jaxson were to be found guilty of murder. His hands were bound in a chafing rope and he was led several miles to the dungeons, which were below the House of Justice. He was dropped into a cramped one person cell with two men who already occupied its small space.

One of the men was nice to him and let him take his corner, which had less shit in it. Eventually he passed out from exhaustion, resting on the nice man’s arm and sitting in the fecal matter of other men. He woke some time later to the loud clanging of metal on metal. The nice man informed him that this meant they were to put their hands up to get their food. A gaoler walked over the grate above their hole and ladled a warmish pasty substance down into their outstretched hands. It tasted like sawdust, fish, gruel and something even less pleasant, but Jaxson was ravenous.

When the other man tried to take the “food” from Jaxson’s hands before he was finished the nice man hit the mean man’s head into the wall until he stopped moving. Ten more feedings went by before the gaoler came by to tell the mean man he was due to see the Magistrate. That was ten feedings that it was Jaxson’s job to pinch the dead man’s arms between his own at feeding time and they both got more “food”. The nice man informed the goaler that the mean man had fallen and hit his head. The gaolers removed the body from the hole without question and replaced him with a woman who was missing her hand.

The nice man gave her some of his food since she could only get half as much, so Jaxson did too. It was another three feedings before the gaoler called for Jaxson to see the Magistrate. By that time he was so hungry, so tired, and could hardly move his legs for so long that he could barely walk when they dragged him from the pit with a length of rope. He led to a room with a pool of water in it where they stripped his clothes off and scrubbed the filth from his body. They gave him a long grey roughspun tunic which he had to hold up to keep from tripping as they lead him to the Magistrate.

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The room was enormous with vaulted ceilings held by stone pillars with a raised dais in the center. Upon the dais sat an old man in red and gold robes and a tall hat in a wooden chair inlaid with gold. Flanking him on either side were city watchmen bearing halberds. Jaxson entered the room through a long recessed walkway ten feet below the rest of the room’s floor. Ahead of him were a line of men awaiting judgment. Above him, on ground floor, people jeered and threw things at him and the other prisoners while moving with the turtle’s pace of the procession. Others he noticed were crying, both in the line of prisoners and in the mob above him.

After what seemed like forever but far too soon he was at the front of the line and before the magistrate. The guard directed him to climb the stairs and kneel. With knees trembling from weakness and fear he obeyed.

Reading from a scroll the magistrate said in a voice that seemed bored but powerful for such an old man, “Jaxson, you have been charged with stabbing Jork Skoonicks, fisherman, nine times until death took his poor soul. How do you plead?”

Trembling and knowing not what else to say he meekly replied “Yes sir. I did it sir.”

For the first time since Jaxson had approached the magistrate looked from his scroll to see the boy before him. “The penalty for murder is death boy, now I will ask you again. How do you plead?”

Jaxson couldn’t think through the hunger, exhaustion and fear but knew he had killed Jork and was glad he did. “I did it sir, I’d do it again if he were still here sir.” At this the crowd nearest the dais collectively gasped and fell silent.

The magistrate furrowed his brow in frustration and said in a voice meant to carry, “Is there anyone present who can offer defense for the accused that I may show the leniency of the courts for one so young?”

From the front of the crowd a man’s voice rose and Jaxson knew it immediately as Rowney, “I do, most honored… sir… magistrate… sir… ahem, the boy thought his adopted dad had killed his mom you see. And sir if ya could look on her now you would see why sir. Jaw’s broked, lost an eye, barely still livin’. Can’t move her the healer said or she’d be here now. If she were able to walk she would be I can promise you sir. He’s a good boy sir, worked for me for nearly a year, sir magistrate sir. Hope I’m not bein’ too bold sir but the boy deserves to keep his head.”

The magistrate seemed nonplussed by the coarse manner of the man and allowed a shadow of a smile to reach his thin lips and nodded ever so slightly to him, “Very well, in light of this evidence and the youth of the criminal, he shall be given a reduced punishment. He shall be marked as a murderer and be sold into servitude.” With that he tapped his scepter on the stone floor and while a guard escorted Jaxson out through the back of the courtroom called the next name.

Thus justice was served once again in the Empire.

 

[Fitz]

CHAPTER 2

 

[Fitz]

The Harliquin, eastbound to Westport, 1547 PC, Month of Rain

Korik was an eight year old Earthspawn on his way to a better life, the sea spray felt good on his hard gray skin. His black eyes watched the “dolphins” jump next to the ship. A sign of good luck he was told. He had been aboard the ship for a month now and was happy for the first time since his world was turned upside down. The sailors kept their distance initially and he could tell that they were wary of an Eartspawn on board and not in chains. Even though he was still a child he was as big as some of the smaller pinkskins. They had warmed up to him now and he enjoyed listening to their stories. Mister Arun kept him and the other children he had bought well fed and he could feel his strength returning. The other children were all seasick and stayed below deck with buckets. They still looked weak.

Earlier that year he and his brothers and sisters had been kidnapped from their village in the southern wilds when another clan raided it and sold them into slavery at Lomboko. The adults were all slaughtered. His moms, his dads, all of them. Early in the raid he was hit in the head with a club and was knocked out. He wished he could have helped fight the Red Faces, and was so sad that his clan was killed that he cried for the first week. He was also grateful that he didn’t witness the slaughter, the other children didn't cry, they just stared at nothing like their spirits had been sucked out and there was nothing left inside them. He felt guilty for being grateful but still was.

None of his brothers or sisters were on this ship, they were all bought by the plantation owners in the western isles, Indys Ves. His new brothers and sisters consisted of a boy from the Bloodspear clan, a cute girl from the Ghosts clan and a small boy from the Blackhand clan. He had never heard of any of these clans but that was not a surprise, the Southern Wilds was a big place with hundreds of smaller clans.

Mister Arun approached and stood at the railing next to him, watching the dolphins play. The chubby pinkskin wore funny clothes that covered his whole body, even his chest! His chest was covered in a metal shirt that he said would stop swords. Korik’s fathers would have called this man a coward but it made sense to Korik. He also had a sword! A real sword made from steel. Only the northern clans had steel and it was said to be magic. His dog Jasper followed him everywhere and was fun to play with below decks where you wouldn’t get in trouble.

“How are you today Korik?” Arun asked the youth in Earkzain, the native tongue of the Earthspawn.

“Good, me is good, how is you Mister Arun?” Korik knew he had screwed that up but was learning. He had only been exposed to the language of the pinkskins three months ago and was learning fast.

“I am well, how are you?” Arun corrected, “You are really picking up the ‘pinkskin’ language quickly Korik, that’s great. Also, I am well. We will be stopping at the islands of Naashi to resupply our fresh water and unload a bit of cargo. Would you like to join me and Jasper for a bit of shore leave?”

“What is ‘shore leave’” Korik asked, he was pretty sure he knew the answer but did not want to get too excited for nothing.

“When we dock, in an hour or so, we will be able to go onto land and explore the village for a little while. Maybe get something to eat. Maybe visit a shop. Maybe I’ll get you and your brother’s and sister a gift? Who knows what could happen?” he said the last with a wink and the youth’s face lit up.

“YES YES YES! Please Mr. Arun, can I go tell the others? I am sure they will be so happy!” Arun nodded and Korik shot off like a bolt with Jasper on his heels.

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An hour later they were docked at the small port town and the captain of the ship was wise enough to grant a full day of shore leave to the crew. Happy crewmen were hard working crewmen.

Arun took the children to the market and got them food they had never eaten and showed them things they had never seen. They actually looked happy for the first time since he had bought them, and they were definitely glad to be on solid ground. This was his favorite part of his job, bringing a little bit of light to those who had seen such evil.

He was like them once, some thirty years before, then he was bought by the Unkindness. He went through the training and education that all Ravens did but had only seen one battlefield, and fortunately never had to kill in that fight. His talents were more suited for talking to people and less for killing them. So his job was to travel Altera finding good candidates for the Unkindness and buying them. He wished he could buy them all but there were those who were too broken, those like Korik’s clan brothers and clan sisters. They were damaged beyond repair and would never be able to be Raven’s. Korik however, showed promise. Children were resilient and though some scars never heal, he was sure the four he bought today would pull through.

Five years ago he wouldn’t have been able to buy all of them and would have had to choose, but the Lord General had given the order to all of the “recruiters” (as they called themselves with more than a bit of black humor) to purchase all candidates that they thought had a chance of surviving the initiation and training. It was as if the man was building an army instead of maintaining the numbers of Altera’s most expensive mercenary company.

Harrk'Nally, the female, broke his reverie with a very un-earthspawn like squeal, she was at a vender selling various exotic animals from both the southern wilds and Indys Ves. She started talking at him in rapid Earkzain that he couldn’t quite follow, it didn’t help that her clan had an odd accent to which he was not accustomed.

“Slow down Harrk'Nally. These stupid pink ears can’t understand you when you talk so fast. Start again, this time slower.”

“The baby jaguar! Can I have it? It could be my hunting cat! You say we willdoalotofhuntingcanigetitmisterarun?” she pointed franticly at a small bamboo cage in the shop. Her large black eyes looked up at him in pleading and he absolutely melted. He felt bad for whoever was going to be in charge of her education in Raven’s Nest. He put on his best card face and went to the cage to inspect the animal. Almost immediately he realized it was not a baby jaguar but rather a baby manticore. The spines half hidden in the cub’s tail fur and it’s smaller size being the first indicators, the barely visible split in the lower jaw being the next. A rare find indeed, if he bought it for the girl there was a chance that she would be able to keep it after she reached Raven’s Nest but that was far from guaranteed. He explained this to her as best he could.

An hour later a human, four eathspawn and a manticore walked into a bar. Actually the manticore was still in it’s cage so it didn’t technically walk into the bar… meh, you get the point.

 

[Fitz]

CHAPTER 3

 

[Fitz]

Westport; The Cut; 1547 PC, Month of Birth

Jasmin was a rentgirl. A rentgirl was different from a whore or a courtesan in that the latter were paid for services rendered and worked willingly. Rentgirls were slaves and their masters were paid for services rendered. Jasmin was happy as she sat on the edge of the bed getting her massage while her “renter” knelt before her for a change. Jerris was always gentle contrary to what seemed to be cold eyes and paid top coin to reserve her for one full night every tenday. He treated her with more respect than any of the other renters, didn’t last long doing what he paid for and she could actually talk to him. Which is what they spent most of their time doing.

He was currently rubbing her feet and going on about how he loved her and would one day pay enough to get her out of there for good. She knew this was unrealistic but it was nice to hear anyway. Jasmin was an elf and a life slave in a pleasure house, not a nice pleasure house either. Crund, the owner of the establishment and of her, couldn’t have ever afforded to buy her but rather won her in a game of cards. Given the long lifespans of elves and their unnatural beauty he would make more money off of her than any other four girls combined. Not to mention her daughter, Sapphire, which as law dictated was his property as well, since Jasmin had given birth while he owned her. The first thing that wretched man had done when Sapphire was born was to take her to get her contract and tattooed her face with his mark. She couldn’t leave her little girl with that man, even if somehow Jerris could somehow muster up enough money to pay for her own contract. Then something he said caught her ear and brought her from her thoughts.

“I have saved over 500 gold radiant, I want to buy you.”

Her mind spun, 500 gold? The average man in this city might make 5 silver in a tenday! That was a ridiculous amount of money for even a mercenary like Jarris to have saved. Being a resident of Westport she knew about the Unkindness, one of the most feared mercenary units in all of Altera, but she had no idea that they earned that kind of money. She was speechless for a minute, but eventually found her voice, “How?! You better not be fucking with me, are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. I make good money and did a few profitable jobs this year. When not in the field I’ve been living in the barracks and doing side jobs as a second on retainer to rich merchants.” Jobs were what he called it when he needed to go to some far away battlefield, and a second was a man that one challenged to a dual could call upon to fight in his stead, though it was considered a loss of honor it had kept more than one wealthy man making money.

She looked down into his eyes and saw no lies, though with him it was always hard to read those eyes, “My daughter, can you buy her instead? If you truly love me as you claim you would do this for me. I can’t have her live this life. Crund hasn’t rented her out yet and I never want her to have to go through that.” Her eyes pleaded and tears of hope streaked her face.

His face was flat, unreadable and for a long moment she feared he would say no. Then he simply blinked and said, “Yes, but if I do you can never see her again. She will be adopted by the Ravens as I was and will live the life I do. Are you sure that is what you want? There is no other home I can give her and with that tattoo on her face nobody would take her as an employee. She would end up begging until she ended up doing exactly what you don’t want for her. The Ravens are my family. We are all killers but nobody will ever take anything from us without paying for it. Nobody crosses us, but that respect and independence comes at it’s own cost.” He looked up into her green eyes as that sink in. Slowly she nodded and started to cry, with joy this time.

Hours later, when she fell asleep in his arms he slipped out into the night. He would meet with Crund in the morning but there was a small matter of payment to attend to first.

When Jasmin awoke Jerris was snoring softly next to her but she knew that he was faking, He never slept through her climbing from the bed. She went to brush the tangles from her hair and saw the five leather pouches on the table. She reached for the closest, timidly, as if it might disappear the moment she actually touched it. Inside were definitely coins, she opened it to see the glimmer of gold and whipped her head around to see Jerris standing behind her, in all his naked scarred glory, grinning wide. She had not heard him move get out of bed but had years ago learned to not let this startle her. She nearly tackled him back onto the bed.

An hour later Jerris descended the stairs of the renthouse and ordered a warm beer from the sleepy eyed mass of muscle behind the bar. Sapphire was busy cleaning the wood planked floor. He nursed his drink in silence as he waited for the officiator to arrive. He had left the note requesting an appointment on the officiators door nail while running his errands the night before. It took less than an hour but longer than Jerris would have liked for the man to show.

The man was balding and overweight but looked like he still had energy in surplus. Accompanied by two of the largest earthspawn bodyguards Jerris had ever seen, he came into the first floor bar in a shuffle of fine cotton robes, leather scroll cases and smiles. Glancing around the still empty room he rightfully assumed it was the man in polished leather boots, expensive clothes in the flamboyant style of a dualist in muted colors, and the patchwork rag cloak that was the uniform of the Unkindness.

“Good man I assume you are Jerris? You wished to officiate the transfer of property? ” the man’s gold teeth shone while he smiled. Jerris returned his winningest smile, which wasn’t and nodded to the officiator.

“Barkeep! Please be so kind as to get these gentlemen each a beer and fetch the house master.”

“First aint no problem mister, but Crund’s still sleepin’ and don’t like bein’ woke.”

“I assure you he will like it when you tell him it is over the matter of him becoming several hundred radiants richer.”

The big man’s eyebrows raised and he evidently forgot about the beers in his haste to fetch Crund. The officiator sat at the table across from where Jerris sat with his back to the wall. One of his bodyguards moved to stand behind him while the other moved a few feet off to the side where he could see all of the doors to the room. Both carried large maces on their belts and wore chain mail in good repair. Jerris respected their professionalism but was hoping they would not be need this morning.

The officiator spread the tools of his trade across the table, two small scrolls of paper, an ink pot, quill, a bit of sand, two official seals and eight ornate silver weights to hold the paper in place at each corner.

A few minutes later Crund hurried down the stairs, still assembling what Jerris assumed was the nicest clothes he owned. He was accompanied by a hardly clothed Jasmin, two of his prettiest human rentgirls, his only two earthspawn rentgirls (hey some people are into that kind of thing) the man from the bar and another big man in shoddy hardboiled leather with a massive club resting casually over his shoulder. The girls he brought with him and Mr. Bigclub had obviously both been roused from sound sleeps, and though Crund looked the same, he was wide awake now at the prospect of profit. Jerris rose to greet the man and they grasped arms as was custom.

“So I understand you are interested in the purchase of my property.” The slimy smile on the man’s face and the reference to Jasmin as property made Jerris want to cut the man’s throat. On cue Jasmin pulled herself close to Jerris while making sure the maximum amount of her beauty was visable and her slave tattoo was away from him.

Jerris looked lecherously down at the nubile woman, “Indeed I am. Very interested. In the purchase of your… property.” He said the last word like it was something said in the bedroom.

“Tache, go get everyone some spirits so we can start this meeting. None of the cheap shit, go to the top shelf. And clean cups damnit. Make it quick!”

One of the human girls hurried to the bar and retrieved the order while the men sat in their seats and the girls sat on their laps. Sapphire was young but knew what was transpiring between her master and this man, she had seen other women sold before. Tears started wetting the floor where she cleaned the floor.

Teche returned with two bottles, one clay and one glass as well as enough cups for all in the room. As she poured the drinks Crund instructed her to fill Jasmin’s from the finer bottle.

The officiator started the ceremony of Bilworth with the traditional toast, “Let all these dealings be honest and profitable for all concerned.” Everyone echoed the man’s toast and the drinks were quaffed. Jerris noted with an internal grin that his drink was refilled almost before it hit the table and pretended to sip on that. Crund on the other hand had stopped drinking.

In a tone that suggested this was a recited series of questions the officiator continued, “Purchaser do you believe the seller has goods which you wish to purchase, you have brought funds sufficient for payment upon the completion of negotiation, and if a payment cannot be agreed upon are you willing to forfeit one tenth of the funds with which you came to the Church of Bilworth as payment for services rendered?”

“Yes Your Holiness.” Jerris replied solemnly.

“Seller do you believe that your goods are in good repair and hold no faults of which the purchaser is unaware? If there are faults of which the purchaser is not aware now is the time to reveal those faults for gods and men to hear so as that this transaction may be completed in good faith.”

“My goods are good Your Holiness, a little used, but good.” Crund seemed as if he were sizing up Jerris in a game of cards, clearly anticipating the coming back and forth but determined to get absolutely every last coin this man had. When he had won Jasmin in the first place he had bet the ownership of his building against her. If he did this right he could buy another building in a better part of the city and really be set then.

“Purchaser, your full name?” the officiator asked, his quill inked and ready to apply to the document he had prepared earlier.

“Jerris, Your Holiness.” *scratch scratch scratch* the quill moved quickly and elegantly across the paper.

“Seller your full name?”

“Crund Guller” *scratch scratch scratch*

“Jerris, what is it you wish to buy?”

“The female Elf slave, Your Holiness.”

“And did you bring coin that you believe to be sufficient for this transaction Jerris?”

“I did, Your Holiness.” At this Jerris gently lifted Jasmin from his lap and removed one of four belts he wore. The one he removed held the five pouches of gold coin, the other three held his sword, pants, and another five pouches, these filled with copper coin. He made certain Crund saw the other five pouches as he removed the first and sat down. Jasmin, as talked about earlier that morning did not return to his lap, but rather stood looking transfixed at so much money.

“What is your initial offer for the aforementioned slave?”

“500 gold radiants and not a red cent more.” He said this with just a hint of nervousness but Crund caught it immediately and laughed in his face.

“Jasmine is worth twice that! You’ll have to do better than that, or you are just wasting my time and losing money to the church. Try 1000 and we may have a deal.” With the last the man’s tone darkened in a way that was conveyed how serious he was. The bodyguards in the room, all of them seemed to tense a just a fraction. Jerris looked for all intents and purposes as if he were relaxed.

“I never said that I was buying Jasmin. I’m buying Sapphire, and now you will sell her for 400.” His expression and voice turned absolutely ice cold and his casual position in the chair only emphasized exactly how dangerous this man was and how little he was fucking around. Now hands rested on weapons, the officiator looked nervously at the papers before him, Sapphire looked up through her tears, Crund realized he had made a mistake and couldn’t find his voice. Jerris let three seconds pass before he spoke again, this time in little more than a whisper, “Go. Get. The. Contract. For. Sapphire. ” The man looked like he had let a cat into his house only to realize all too late that it was a manticore.

Crund stood and returned up the stairs from whence he came only minutes before. He walked down the hall to his bedroom, the largest in the establishment, his mind spinning as to what he would do about the situation. He wouldn’t be bullied by a Raven. He would sell the girl of course, she wouldn’t be ready for rent for another five years, and that was five years he had to feed her. He would not go below 500 however, that was the going rate for Elven virgins and he would be damned if that little stone eyed bastard down stairs would rip him off. He’d had better men that that merc try to push him around and the Sleazy Seamstress still stood, was still under his ownership, and he didn’t pay a single coin to any of the city’s gangs (unless you counted the city watch but everyone paid out to them).

With his resolve hardened, he moved the table where he counted his coin each night and opened the hidden panel in the wall behind it exposing his strongbox. It was made of riveted bands of steel and too heavy for a single man to lift. For added security was chained to a supporting beam. He unlocked the three heavy padlocks and his breath caught in his throat. There in the bottom of the box all was as he had left it the night before, three individual boxes for gold, silver and copper on the right and a leather folio containing all of his contracts of ownership on the left. On top of the folio rested a fine broad bladed dagger with a raven head pommel made of black stone. The message was clear, ‘I can not only get into the most secure place you have, but I can do it while you are asleep in the room with two other people.’

When Crund came back down the stairs his face was ashen. Jerris was still relaxing in his chair sipping his whiskey while the officiator looked a bit nervous. With shaking hands Crund handed the folio to the officiator, who being literate where as Crund was not, found the appropriate contract of ownership.

Jerris finished his whiskey and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and said, “I was thinking while you were gone Crund. I believe that 300 gold may be a more appropriate price for one so young. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Crund to his credit seemed to pause and think on this for a second before replying, “Yes, that does seem to be a more appropriate price. Also I have a gift that I have been meaning to give you for some time since you have always been such a loyal patron.” He slid the dagger across the table with a forced smile, whereupon receiving it Jerris held it up for inspection.

“Crund, my good man! You shouldn’t have! It is truly a fine piece of work, and a ravens head pommel. You know me to well. I shall think of you whenever I use this blade to end the life of an enemy.” The smile on Jerris’ face had more threat than warmth in it.

The officiator read the contract to both parties, applied the seals of office and church and ten minutes later Jerris left the brothel with young Sapphire, taking her out of the Cut and a life that no woman should ever be subjected to. But not before a subtle warning to take care of the mother, for he would be back in a tenday for his regularly scheduled night.

 

[Fitz]

CHAPTER 4

 

[Fitz]

The Aquilon, Kartisport, Skyport fields, Month of Birth, 1547 PC

Captain Amrynn was getting restless, a trait uncommon among elves, but he was a windblessed and as such had an deep seeded need to stay on the move and never settle. It saw this very birth trait plus a bit of luck which had made him a very rich man. Only the windblessed could communicate with the spirits of air that drove the mysterious airships of Altera. The spirits which drove his ship, The Aquilon, were also getting restless. They were like the sled dogs in the north, only happy when they were well exercised and doing their job.

He had come to Kartisport a fortnight prior to bring a senator’s daughter and granddaughter for the Parade of Children. Nothing was as ostentatious as arriving at the governor’s estate in a chartered airship. Not just any airship either, The Aquilon had quite the reputation.

When the Airship had originally been built by an Elven prince in 1320, it was built as a pleasure craft. Built for speed and luxury it was completely impractical for the tremendous cost of building such a vessel. The entire skeleton of the ship was made from the flexible axelwood and it had more spirits leashed and collared than ships three times it’s size. The result was a ship that could not only achieve speeds so great that one could not go out on the deck without being blown off, but a ship that could handle the stress of maneuvering at these speeds with bone jarring abruptness. However for all this it was made for pleasure, not trade.

Amrynn had won the position of captain fifty years prior when the prince had died of an infection. The royal family had held piloting competitions for who their personal captain would be. He had won and then became the family’s lackey. One fortunate evening while the royal family was traveling from Port Silver back to their palace they were attacked by pirates. With a lot of skill and a little luck he was able to not only evade the pirates but crash two of their ships in the process by bringing them through the jagged peaks and high winds of the Arctis Altus mountain range. The royal family was so impressed and grateful that they granted Armynn ownership of The Aquilon.

Since then he had built himself quite the reputation as being the safest way to get from one city to another. Due to his limited cargo space and his luxurious accommodations his typical clients were nobility trying to make an impression and merchants who dealt with expensive but light merchandise, such as jewels. His less than punctual customer was one such client.

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Hasheem Al’Mushad strode confidently toward the skyport fields. Behind him was a small train of followers, his bodyguard, Rorik, his newly purchased slave boy, and three porters struggling with the chests carrying his personal belongings. He felt good about this trip, the Parade of Children was always good for business if one knew the markets. No one knew the markets better than Hasheem. He calculated his profits from this venture at at least 300 percent and would make good on some debts he had in the next week.

He was pleased when he saw the airship before him, a true beauty of elven design. It looked like it’s waterborne cousin the trimaran, popular in Indys Vas. It’s main hull was shaped like a thin sword fish and the exterior ‘lifts’ were all smooth angles and larger in relation to the main hull than any other airship he had seen. It’s long tail rudder swept out gracefully and it was clear that this vessel was built for speed. The whole thing was painted a deep blue and trimmed with gold. The figurehead was a winged Elven beauty who looked as though she were in the throes of ecstasy, so accurate was the sculpture he actually averted his eyes with a blush. Though he was a worldly man, other cultures’ total disregard for a woman’s modesty still shocked him.

The captain met him on the grass of the skyport, his crew all stood at attention behind him. The captain was tall and lithe as most elves were and dressed as a swashbuckler would be, in colorful silks, fine polished leathers and gold on every finger. His crew, all four of them, consisted of three male Halflings and one female of the rarely seen Caparii, all dressed in practical clothes that matched the ship, deep blues and gold trim.

“Master Al’Mushad,” the captain bowed deeply with a flourish of his feathered hat, Hasheem already liked the man. “may I present to you the fastest vessel to ever cut the clouds of Altera, the Aquilon, and her crew, my first mate, Shella, my deckhands, Harris and Dale and your chef, Vallis. We are ready to depart at your pleasure.”

“Thank you Captain Amrynn, nothing but good things I have heard of your skyship and your crew. Allow my men to stow my belongings and on our way we can be.” Asheem nodded his head to the captain and the other man stood erect again. He appreciated this man’s sense of respect.

“Allow me to show you to the upper viewing deck for a glass of port while our men secure your luggage.” The men ascended the ramp and made their way up the staircases to the top deck.

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As his client approached Amrynn noticed several things immediately. First was that the man was dressed in the traditional turban and light weight tunic of the Rashidi desert people. This was of no surprise given the client’s name, what was of some surprise was that he lacked the harem that typically followed such business men. Either his harem were at home and he didn’t feel it was appropriate to parade them around like belongings or his tastes were for a different flavor of flesh. This would explain the young roundeye with the slave collar and the M branded into his face. If that were the case his client would have a long fall and an abrupt stop.

“Master Al’Mushad,” Amrynn bowed deeply never letting his smile falter ““may I present to you the fastest vessel to ever cut the clouds of Altera, the Aquilon,…”

A few minutes later the men sat in comfortable leather chairs on the top deck and Amrynn was pouring two glasses of average port from an expensive crystal decanter into two fine crystal goblets from Rashidi’s capital.

“Welcome aboard Master Al’Mushad. I trust your dealings in Kartisport were profitable and you enjoyed your stay?”

“Yes my friend,” Hasheem said with a smile, “most profitable! Thank you for asking. This is very fine ship you have. I will only be in the nest of ravens for two days. Do you have customers in Westport or could we perhaps arrange for a, how do you say, “retainer”? And I fly out with you back to Rashidi?”

The smile never left Amrynn’s face as he lifted his glass to his mouth and pretended to consider the offer. What he was really thinking was whether the man would make it to the city or would be a red smear on the landscape below. He despised the fact that so many of the human cultures practiced slavery but was willing to overlook it as a necessary evil with which he had to deal with in order to make the obscene amounts of money which he did. The slavery of children was another matter altogether and if it was for sexual pleasures it was something he was not willing to overlook.

Perhaps it was that he was windblessed but he was fiercely independent and dispised any institution that took freedom from others. This was why his crew was what it was. The small folk, commonly referred to as Halflings, had been enslaved during the first great war of Altera and had since become a nomadic people dedicated to their own freedom. The Caparii were naturally free spirited, but his first mate was a ‘witch’ which meant the ‘most holy church of Altera’ wanted to torture and kill her. He figured if the gods were real then they would know he was harboring such an ‘abomination’ and would strike them both down. This had not happened yet so he figured they either didn’t exist or didn’t care. Either way repairs to the collars on his ship were far easier and cheaper this way than having to hire a priest of Korog to do it.

 

[Fitz]

Either way repairs to the collars on his ship were far easier and cheaper for him like this than having to hire a priest of Korog to do it, and he was able to silently bite his thumb at the powers that be.

“I believe that could work out, the food there is so bland but there is certainly no lack of entertainment. I know my crew will probably be leaving half their wages with the courtesans and gambling houses.” He said the last with a well practiced chuckle and a smile that showed his perfect Elven teeth. “Would you care to join me for an evening? I know some of the most choice establishments where almost anything a man could desire can be found.”

Hasheem sat a bit more rigidly, “I thank you for your offer Captain, however I truly love my wives and to sleep with someone outside the marriage bed would be an affront to the gods and would dishonor my name.”

“I apologize if I have offended you. I only meant to be courteous.” Well that answered his question about the boy.

“No offense taken captain. I am a man of the world and know other cultures, especially the ‘port of pleasures’ do not adhere to to divine doctrine as strictly as I do. Let us start new conversation my friend. As you and your crew will no doubt, how do you say, ‘run into’ more of my potential clients than I ever could allow me to give you free sample of my goods. All I ask in return is you tell them it can be found at Two Twin’s Apothecary.” He produced a small shallow jar from a pouch hidden in his sash and placed it on the table in front of the Amrynn. Amrynn opened the jar revealing the dark brown tar ball within, hul gil, he brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply.

“Smells delicious. I will be sure to get a bit to each of my men, but they will have to wait until we arrive of course. There is work to be done after all.” He lied so well even he almost believed it. There was no way he would give his crew this, he had seen what happens to those who get hooked and it wasn’t pretty. He tucked the little jar into one of his belt pouches and the men continued their small talk until the cargo was loaded.

.....................................................................................................................................................

The trip from Kartisport to Westport would take the rest of the day and a bit of the night. Amrynn hated flying into the sun and if Al’Mushad had arrived at first light like he was supposed to they would have been chased by the sun rather than the other way around. Having such a devout man on board made him nervous so he kept his first mate in the wheelhouse with him, but it proved to be unnecessary since he was in his tar dream before they hit the clouds.

As they broke the clouds there was a timid knock on the door. “Enter.” The captain called out and the slave poked his head in the door, eyes wide with wonder. The brand on the boy’s face was still fresh and scabbed. The elongated “M” streached from above his left eyebrow to below his sunken cheek. It was the mark that the Almairian Empire branded convicted murderers with and was by far the least common since death in the arena was the standard sentence.

“Come in lad, does your master need something?” Amrynn was gentle with his tone despite the disruption, he felt bad for the youth.

“He’s not my master! He’s just a fat oaf wearing a dress and a stupid hat. Him and the big ugly one are both laying down staring at nothing.” Despite his obvious hunger the boy had some fire to him and both the captain and his first mate broke into a laughter.

 

[Fitz]

“Come in lad, does your master need something?” Amrynn was gentle with his tone despite the disruption, he felt bad for the youth.

“He’s not my master! He’s just a fat oaf wearing a dress and a stupid hat. Him and the big ugly one are both laying down staring at nothing. I think they must be broken in the head.” Despite his obvious hunger the boy had some fire to him and both the captain and his first mate broke into laughter.

When they had finally stopped laughing the boy was staring at Shella and innocently said, “Why are your legs backwards?” this brought another torrent of laughter from the two. While trying to catch her breath Shella tried to explain that it was how she was born but it was of no use, they had the giggles. As infectious as the giggles are, soon Jaxson was laughing with them even if he didn’t know why. It felt good to laugh and for the moment he forgot about the last fortnight.

For the next hour or so the boy filled the room with joy and questions about everything. Armynn explained how the collars held the air spirits in place and how each different collar offered a different direction of maneuvering and why he was the only one who could talk to the spirits and fly the ship. He explained how the compass and astrolabe worked and what his star and land charts meant. He explained how his twin gold enlayed thunder wands were not actually wands and did not in fact have any thunder but were actually tubes of deepsteel into which you inserted a gold capsul collar that held a small fire spirit. How if the airspirits that held the ship were like sled dogs then the fire spirit was like a wasp and was very angry. That when the spring loaded scoring hammer broke the enchantment runes the fire spirit would escape in a short lived ball of fire that would propel the lead and steel bolt out of the tube. The small bolt which was only the size of Jaxson’s thumb would go faster than any arrow and could punch through a centurions breastplate like it was paper. These were very rare and as such were very expensive and were more of a status symbol than any of his other belongings with the exception of the ship. Why the wheelhouse was called that even though it didn’t have a wheel.

While they talked he fed the boy bread with goat cheese and olives, and the boy’s lack of manners didn’t end with the things that came out of his mouth but included putting things in it as well. The Captain sent Shara for another serving and when the boy had finally eaten his fill he asked his last question around a mouthful of bread and goat cheese, “Why isn’t the porter allowed to come up with everyone else? Did he do something wrong that made you mad?”

Shella head whipped around and the captain’s smile fell from his face. While stowaways were one thing and he would rarely turn them over to the authorities, rival ship captains had been known to eliminate the competition by hiring desperate men to stow away and burn the competitions ship at the next port where it could not be tied to them. His most hated rival was at on docked in Kartisport a week prior. The captain pulled a thunderwand with his left hand and his cutlass with right, “Stay here Jaxson. Shella go get Harris and Dale, then meet me at the stairs to the hold.”

With that the two of them left the room at a brisk walk. Though Jaxson had many good qualities, obeying adults wasn’t one of them. He counted to five and then snuck after them.

Thunderwand!

 

[Fitz]

With that the two of them left the room at a brisk walk. Though Jaxson had many good qualities, obeying adults wasn’t one of them. He counted to five and then snuck after them.

When the adults all gathered at the top of the stairs that led to the cargo hold three decks below all had weapons drawn. The Elf, Caparii and one Halfling were all armed with swords, though the halfling’s sword looked more like a big knife. The other Halfling was holding a set of bar manacles like a club. The captain went down first, leading with his thunderwand. While one of the halflings followed him with three pronged candle holder, holding it high. Oil lamps were too dangerous on a wooden ship when there may be a scuffle. After the last of them disappeared down the stairs Jaxson followed them into the dark of the hold, moving as silently as he could. He REALLY wanted to see that thunderwand and it’s magic bolt.

He couldn’t really see and continued down the stairs when the captain called out to the dancing shadows, “We know you’re down here!, Come out now and nobody gets hurt! We will just drop you at the next town we come by. No authorities. No mess. So you just come on out now so we can do this peaceably.” The small room was dark and filled with crates and barrels.

Jaxson must have made a noise because the in front of him swung around and brought the heavy iron manacles down on his collarbone. He heard a sickening snap and was knocked flat to the floor. Then everything seemed to happen all at once in slow motion. The Halfling realized almost immediately who he had hit, his face making a funny look as his eyebrows shot up and his mouth made the shape of an O. The other three spun around ready for a fight. A shadow sepperated from the wall and a big man bull rushed the captain. His thunderwand filled the small space with a deafening boom and a nearby barrel of water abruptly sprung a large leak. The captain fell and when he did Jaxson could see the long bloody knife in his hand. The halfling swung his sword, opening the man’s leg, but the follow through lodged the sword in a wooden beam. Two of the candles went out as he dropped them. The man, though injured was far from dead and grabbed the small man by his curly hair. He then backed up with his knife held to the side of the Halfling’s throat. Shella and the other Halfling backed him up until his back was to the bulkhead. Jaxson had seen this play out before in Felony Flats. He knew the man was cornered and desperate, that he would fight and though he would die for it he would kill the Halfling at least and probably injure the others. Blade fights were messy and ended fast.

Jaxson picked himself up off the deck and walked forward. He pulled the second thunderwand from the captain’s sash pointed it at the man’s chest and pulled the trigger. He wasn’t ready for the recoil and smacked himself in the face with the heavy piece of metal. The man’s head snapped back then he fell forward on top of the Halfling. Where the back his head once connected to his neck was a gaping hole of gore. Recovering from hitting himself in the face, time seemed to go back to normal and Jaxson looked in awe at the smoking thunderwand in his hand. The Caparii and Halfling not pinned by the dead man in turn both looked at him with wide eyes.

 

[Fitz]

The Caparii and Halfling not pinned by the dead man in turn both looked at him with wide eyes.

Then everything got frantic and Jaxson realized his collarbone was still broken. He sunk to the deck as pain washed over him. The adults did a lot of shouting that he didn’t pay attention to and then the Caparii opened the Captains shirt, revealing a mess of blood and a stab wound in his chest. His eyes were starting to glaze and his breath was shallow and rapid. He was staring right at Jaxson. Before the light left his eyes Shella cut her palm and placed it against his chest, there was a bright light that shone between their skin and Armynn took a deep breath that arched his back. He lay there for a second before sitting up. The wound was completely healed but he looked tired. The woman then approached Jaxson and repeated the process after an obvious internal debate. It was the oddest sensation, Jaxson could feel the bone work its way back into place, but it didn’t hurt. It felt amazing.

The Halfling who had been pinned under the dead man hurried upstairs as the captain knelt in the water and blood next to Jaxson. “Jaxson you can’t tell anyone about what you just saw do you understand? If you do the inquisition will come and kill her and probably me too. Do you understand? You can never ever tell anyone what you just saw… do you understand?”

“Yes captain, I understand. She’s a witch. But she isn’t at all scary like the witches in the stories. She’s a good witch and if the inquisition finds her they will kill her anyway. I like Shella, I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Amrynn was surprised at just how perceptive the boy was. “Good shot by the way, right in the nose. I owe you my life and so does Harris. Thank you. Now, what we will tell people is that I shot him when he tried to attack me. That way you don’t get into any trouble, okay?”

Jaxson nodded and said, “I was aiming for his chest. But that story sounds good and I promise I’ll never ever tell on Shella.” Jaxson looked at the dead man and started crying. “I didn’t want to kill him but I thought he was gonna kill the short man.”

Armynn hugged him close and let his tears mingle with the blood on his shirt, “It’s okay Jaxson, If you hadn’t acted when you did all of us would be dead because I wouldn’t be able to control the ship. You would have all starved to death flying forever. You did a good thing Jaxson. You did good.”

 

[Fitz]

Chapter 5

 

[Fitz]

Westport, Raven's Nest, 1547 PC, Month of Birth

Jerris knocked on the door of his old sergeant’s office, in his other hand was the tiny hand of a still crying Saphire. “Enter!” As Jerris walked in he smelled the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed oil bean tea, a somewhat bitter beverage of roasted and ground beans imported from Indys Ves which had replaced tea in Westport. This was mostly because it was its first port of contact with the main continent, and partly because it seemed to have more of a kick than tea. Jerris was exhausted from his night out and the tension in the brothel and looked longingly at the clay teapot and service.

Marxin noticed this and spoke up, “Jerris go ahead and help yourself. There’s a bit of Watchman’s leaf in there too, just a forewarning.”

“Thank you.” He led the girl to a chair in the corner and lifted her into it before pouring himself a steaming mug and dropping a slice of sugarcane into it.

“Well I can think of only one reason you would bring a crying girl into Raven’s Nest. Actually I can think of two but you’re not a pervert. At least not that kind of pervert. So where did you get her and why?”

“Down in the cut sarg, and I got her so she wouldn’t have to grow up as a rent girl.” Jerris wouldn’t lie to the man, he had too much respect for him but he wouldn’t tell him straight out that the girl had family.

Unfortunately Marxin saw right through the omission. He had been Jerris’ sergeant for five years, until he lost his left arm three years ago and got stuck pushing paper and counting coin. “What aren’t you telling me Jerris?”

With a sigh Jerris recounted the whole story. When he was done Marxin looked at him straight in the eye and said “No.”

“Sarge I got no place else to put her. The streets would eat her alive, no respectable place would hire her on with that rentgirl tat on her face. This is her best bet.”

“No. We do not recruit anyone with family living in the city. They always come looking for them and it never goes well. There are rules about this for a reason.”

“Sarge, what was the first thing you taught me?”

“Fuck the rules. Make your own. The answer is still no Jerris.”

“I didn’t want to play this card but you still owe me and I’m calling it in.” Two years ago Jerris had dragged his sergeant off the battlefield and applied the tourniquet that saved the man’s life.

“Really? You're playing that card now? Okay, this Jasmin must be pretty special. What did you pay for her?” Jerris told him and the older man let out a low whistle. “Okay, take this to the Master of Coin and you will be compensated over your next three payments. You really think she can make the cut?” He signed and stamped the form and slid it across the desk to Jerris. Jerris in turn passed the contract to his sergeant and took a final swig of his coffee before departing.

“She was born in the Cut, she can make the cut.” He said over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

 

[Fitz]

“She was born in the Cut, she can make the cut.” He said over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

The Cut was the worst part of Westport. It was in a granite quarry that over the past 15oo years had slowly made its way around Raven’s Nest castle, creating a moat 200 meters wide and 600 meters deep. The bottom of the Cut was slightly above sea level, the castle and the nicer districts were of the cliffs above. As such the cut was almost always in shadow and the most vile and desperate of the city’s denizens resided there.

Marxin sighed and looked at the little girl sobbing in the corner of his office. She was a small and dirty mess of tangled black hair rags and scuffed knees. She had just lost her mother and he felt bad for her, but this was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to the young girl. Elves maintained their youthful appearance for over two hundred years and with the epicanthic fold, high cheek bones and strong jawlines that was their birthright they were by most people's standards beautiful. As a rentgirl this would have meant two hundred years of hell.

He pulled out his hipflask and poured two fingers of Dwarven whiskey into a mug from the tea service, filled the rest with cool water and stirred it with a slice of sugarcane before dropping it in. He then went and sat on the floor next to the girl so he was at eye level with her. “ Here, drink this. It will taste kind of funny but will make you feel better.” He handed the girl the mug and she sipped it then made a funny face. “Try the stick, it’s like candy.” She did, and despite herself a smile crept onto her face. “So stir the drink with the stick, take a big sip and then suck on the stick.” She did and seemed to stop crying quite so much. The distraction of the new food and drink plus the process seemed to be adequately distracting her, and soon she would be buzzed from the alcohol. “So Jerris tells me your name is ‘Sapphire’?” Jerris hadn’t actually told him that but the name was on the contract.

“No. My names Naomi. Master Crund named me Sapphire but my mom calls me Naomi.”

“OK Naomi, my name is Marxin. Once you are done with your drink we will go get you some new clothes and a bath how’s that sound?” Marxin spoke gently but did not put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he wanted to, there was no telling what traumas this girl had endured.

“That sounds nice I guess. I’ve never had a bath before.”

“Well I’m gonna take you to meet a really nice lady named Astrid and she will set you up with the most fun bath you will ever take. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

[Fitz]

Chapter 6

 

[Fitz]

Westport, Docks, 1547 PC, Month of Birth

As The Harlequin approached Westport Arun, Korrik and Harrk’Nally stood at the prow of the ship. In Harrk’Nally’s arms she held the manticore kitten. She had named it “Kierz Kaak” which translated roughly into “deathcat”. The youths stared in wonder at the scene before them.

Around the city rose a wall 5oo meters high of solid stone in a perfect circle. Where the lower city met the cliffs the wall rose at an angle and continued above the cliffs. The circle wall was 3 miles across but the city was not contained by it and buildings spread out on all available land along the coast and on the cliffs above.

“How did they build such a big wall?” Harrk’Nally asked in Earkzain, her toothy mouth hanging open in amazement.

“No mortal built those walls child. The gods did. Every city with a Godsway has such a wall. And each city has the statues of their patron gods at the main entrance, you see there? Can you tell me which gods those are?” Arun pointed to the two stone statues that stood to either side of the main gate through which the ship would pass through. Each was the height of the wall itself but stood separated from it by fifty meters or so. The one on the left was a handsome human who was naked except for along buckler shield on his right arm. In his left hand he was holding an elven thinblade with the point on the water and striking a roguish pose. The one on the right was a naked female whose arms rotted down to skeletal hands and whose face was covered with a skull mask, upon her shoulder stood a raven. She was posed with her arms slightly out from her side, her right foot in front of her left and her bald head down and canted.

“The one on the right is the Morigan, the grey lady, goddess of death. I don’t know who the one on the left is. What’s a godsway?” Harrk’Nally responded and looked to the fat human.

“Very good, very good. The one on the right is Jax, the god of luck. Both seem to be appropriate patron gods for this city. It is known as ‘the port of pleasures’ by many sailors since it has so many brothels, the most breweries in Altera, more gambling houses than you could shake a stick at, and law is basically non-existent. This leads to very fun and dangerous shore leave. As to your other question, the Godsways are a series of gates that were made by the gods that all connect to Port Silver. When The Corruption strikes again, we will all flee through these gates to Port Silver and from there we will all partake in the next Exodus.” Arun liked explaining things to kids but was a little sad that in a few hours they would be in Raven’s Nest and he would never see them again.

 

[Fitz]

“Very good, very good. The one on the right is Jax, the god of luck. Both seem to be appropriate patron gods for this city. It is known as ‘the port of pleasures’ by many sailors since it has so many brothels, the most breweries in Altera, more gambling houses than you could shake a stick at, and law is basically non-existent. This leads to very fun and somewhat dangerous shore leave. As to your other question, the Godsways are a series of gates that were made by the gods that all connect to Port Silver. When The Corruption strikes again, we will all flee through these gates to Port Silver and from there we will all partake in the next Exodus.” Arun liked explaining things to kids but was a little sad that in a few hours they would be in Raven’s Nest and he would never see them again.

“Harrk’Nally you may want to put Kierz Kaak back in her cage when we walk through the city. She may be a kitten now but in a year she will be full grown and we don’t need a man eating cat running around the city.”

“She hates the cage.” The girl had the pouty face down.

“There will be lots of new sounds and sights. If she got scared we wouldn’t be able to catch her and then you’d never see her again.”

She seemed to consider this and eventually conceded to logic, “Fine.”

The manticore went back into her cage and they were docking within the hour. They hired a cert to take them to the base of the cliff upon which Raven’s Nest perched. It was difficult to tell where the castle ended and the cliff began. All of the children stared in open amazement. From there they took a lift up the side of the cliff, they could have taken the stairs but Arun wasn’t as young as he used to be and he was getting fat. It was well worth the five silver and two copper (for the dog and the manticore) to not climb those steps. As they went up ravens flew all around them, their nests hidden in the cliff face. Arun had anticipated this and took the loaf of bread out from his bags and tore off a chunk, he watched the aerial acrobatics as the raven’s dove to catch the food. He then tore the loaf in quarters and handed it to the children. This kept them happy and entertained, though Korrik seemed uneasy about heights and wouldn’t get anywhere near the railing.

Arun led them to the gate, where he produced the appropriate paperwork for entry, and took them through to the castle. He needed only go as far as the bailey to find the man he was looking for. “Marxin! Oy! Sergeant Marxin, wouldja gimme a hand here? I have four future Ravens here who are in dire need of a bath!” He never tired of the ‘give me a hand’ joke. Marxin just rolled his eyes and walked over to the group, a small elf girl holding his hand.

“You got the contracts?”

“Right here boss.” Arun patted the scroll case at his hip..

“Okay, put it on my desk and ask Sonja to start another pot of oil bean tea. If today keeps at this pace I’ll need it.”

“You got it boss.” Switching over to Earkzain he said, “All right guys, you’re going with this man now. Don’t pick on the pinkskins too much. They are all much smaller and weaker than you but are now your clan brothers and clan sisters.”

Before he could leave Marxin asked, “You gonna tell me about the furball?”

“Oh sorry, it’s a manticore. I picked it up in Naashi. It’s taken a fondness for the girl and I told her there was a chance she could keep it after initiation. I told her it was not guaranteed but that the odds were good.” He smiled at the grumpy sergeant, turned on his heal and walked toward the castle.

Marxin rolled his eyes and sighed, “This day just keeps getting better.”

 

[Fitz]

Chapter 7

 

[Fitz]

Westport, Merchant District Skyport fields, 1547 PC, Month of Birth

The Aquilon arrived well after sunset. Even so there were porters ready to make coin within seconds of the air spirits being dismissed. The captain stalked down the ramp dragging the corpse by its foot. He left it on the grass and said to the wide eyed group of men “Stowaway.” This seemed to put the men at ease. “You,you and you. You’re hired to carry Master Al’Mushad’s goods to a destination of his choosing. You, you’re hired to take this man to the pyres and to make sure he gets a proper burning. The rest of you are not needed here tonight but I will require your services in the morning.” He handed the man who would be disposing of the body several silver and walked back up the ramp to propose a transaction with Hasheem.

“Master Al’Mushad, I have a business proposition for you.”

“I am listening my friend.”

“I would like to purchase the boy from you. What did you pay for him in Kartisport? 1 gold? I’ll give you fifty.”

“No captain. I am afraid he is not for sale. I am sorry my friend.”

“Everything has a price, as a merchant you know this to be true. What is the cost for the boy?”

“Captain, you must have misunderstood me. The boy is not for sale. I am only in this wretched city to give him as a gift to a man that saved my life three years ago and lost his arm in the process. As a life debt can only be paid with a life I have been searching the slave markets in every city I’ve passed through for three years. I finally found the perfect slave for him. I will not sell him. Hasheem Al’Mushad always pays his debts as soon as he is able. No exceptions. Ever.”

Well that settled that. “Very well master Al’Mushad, now that you have explained the situation I understand. I will fetch the boy for you.” With that he turned on his heel and went to find the child. He was sleeping on a well-padded bench with his head on Shella’s lap.

“That’s a good look for you, ever think of making your own?” Amrynn said with a smile.

“Hell no. The sky’s no place for a kid to grow up and I can’t settle down anywhere for long.”

The elf smiled wide at her and said, “you just referred to your potential child as a ‘kid’ like a baby goat.”

“Shut the hell up.” She shook the boy awake, “Jaxson dear, we’re here. It’s time for you to go.”

As Jaxson woke and rubbed the sand from his eyes Amrynn squatted next to him so their eyes were level and said in a serious tone, “Jaxson I tried to buy your contract from Master Al’Mushad but he would not budge. If you ever need anything, ever, and I can do it for you, I will. Never forget that. You saved my life and you’re protecting Shella’s secret. For that I owe you big. Unfortunately you have to go now.” With that he led Jaxson off of his airship.

Al’Mushad, his bodyguard and Jaxson all slept in an expensive inn near the airfield. Hasheem fed Jaxson well before he went to sleep on a mat on the floor and again in the morning. After Hasheem was done with his morning prayers they set off for Raven’s Nest to pay a debt that had hung over his head for three years. To get from the merchant district to the castle they had to pass over a bridge two hundred meters long with two towers and a large gate at the end. When Jaxson peered over the edge he was amazed at just how far down it went. There was a whole town in the bottom of the canyon. Jaxson was about to spit over the edge when the earthspawn bodyguard grabbed him by the steel collar and growled “Keep away from the edge, your master would be very mad if you fell off and died this close to your destination.”