Tale: Desperate Measures

This next chapter in the ongoing story of the Larks took me a while to suss out, but here it is.

-Nate

Desperate Measures

Once again Lucinda used Polly to do the scouting and thus they were able to track the pirates aboard the Resplendent and Skylark deep into the Sacred Archipelago. This time, too, the Larks stopped short of overrunning their quarry, and instead found a small island with a bay in whch they could conceal their own stolen galley. Some of the crew members set up a crude camp using spare sailcloth and lumber, while others ventured inland in search of fresh water. Uriel hunted down a wild boar for them to roast, and Nar'raw brought in some fish, too.

When they were settled in for the evening, Horace started working on his clever plan—which began by hauling several crates of wine bottles from the stolen galley to the beach.

Lucinda raised an eyebrow. “This is your plan? To get the crew roaring drunk?”

The captain frowned. “Sadly, no. We need to empty the bottles for an experiment that Max has planned.”

“An experiment?”

“Aye.”

For his part, Max had striped off his leather armor and most of his clothing, and stood waist-deep in the water. He carried a large pouch on a carrying strap, one that contained several emptied wine bottles. To one of them he added several small stones, feeling the weight of it before adding more, and then replacing the cork and dropping it into the water. When it floated, he retrieved it, pulled out the cork again, added a few more stones and tried again. This process he repeated until the bottle hovered just beneath the surface. Satisfied, he tucked it back in the satchel before returning the their camp.

“Captain,” the halfling announced, “I think we're ready.”

Thus they began the process of preparing more bottles. On shore, Lucinda and Konrad used a small set of scales to measure out more of the stones; Horace, Uriel and Max led the other crew members in filling and testing the bottles. After an hour's work, they had two dozen ready to go.

“Okay,” Horace declared, surveying their work, “I think the first part of the plan is finished.”

“And what's the second part?” Lucinda asked.

Now Nar'raw spoke up. “That is up to me.”

“What are you going to do?” Uriel asked.

“I will go and talk to my people.”

* * *

Later that night Uriel paddled their crudely crafted boat, with Nar'raw as a passenger and Max as a lookout, and paddled further toward the pirates' position. Once they were as close as they dared go, they pulled the boat ashore on a sandy beach and turned it over; Max cut some brush with which to cover it. While he did so, Nar'raw took a satchel with the prepared bottles, and cinched a belt with a sheathed knife around her waist.

“Wait,” Uriel interrupted. Loosing the longsword and scabbard that he wore on his back, he passed them to her. “Take care of yourself.”

She nodded, and then walked off into the water.

For their part, the men settled in to wait. Mindful of how close they were to their enemies, they talked little. Mostly they watched the stars circle overhead, but none of them could sleep.

It was nearly two hours later when Max spied a dark form approaching through the water. He and Uriel both readied their bows, until they recognized the telltale form of a lizard person.

It was not Nar'raw, however.

“What's going on?” Uriel asked the newcomer. When the lizard person just looked at him, the half-orc switched another, more sibilant language.

The other responded in kind, and Uriel translated. “His name is Sik'kal. Nar'raw sent him.”

“You understand him?” Max asked.

“I've been... practicing.”

The halfling gave a knowing nod, but the half-orc ignored it. Instead, he engaged the lizard man with a mix of stilted language and pantomime. Gradually he was able to translate. “The pirates have them diving on a wreck near here. He was in the water when Nar'raw came to him; she told him what we're doing, and then took his place so that he could come meet us.”

“Wouldn't the pirates notice?”

Uriel shook his head. “No. Sik'kal doubts that they can tell the lizard folk apart.”

Max snorted. “Did she explain our plan.”

“Yes.”

“And they'll be ready?”

“Yes.”

Max smiled. “Good. Those pirates won't know what hit them.”

* * *

From the upper aft deck of the galley Resplendent, Captain Arturo Martelli surveyed the work of his crew and their forced lizard folk laborers. Although they'd been making slow progress, the steadily growing pile of material from the wreck, still imbued with magical energy, attested to the fact that Martelli's efforts were succeeding. Soon, the pirate captain would gain control of an aethership.

Admittedly, he didn't understand all of what that notion implied, but he had a good idea that it made his band of pirates much more powerful.

“Captain?” It was Julius who interrupted his musings.

“Yes?”

“Some of the divers, sir. They've been down there for an unusually long time.”

“What are you saying?” Martelli demanded.

“I'm saying, sir, that I think something is wrong.”

Before the captain could demand an explanation, he heard another voice cry out. “Ship, ahoy!”

Pulling out his spyglass, Martelli looked in the direction the lookout indicated. There, indeed, was another galley, its prow and foremast just emerging from behind the coastline of the nearby island.

Then plumes of smoke began to rise from the approaching vessel.

“Damnation,” one of the pirates swore. “A fireship!”

“Captain?” someone else asked. “Orders?”

“Raise anchor!” Martelli shouted. “Unfurl our sails!”

Several crew members rushed to the capstan, where they struggled to comply—and failed. “Captain!” one shouted. “The anchor's fouled!”

All the while, the other galley continued its approach, the smoke from it grown thicker and darker.

“Captain?”

Martelli hesitated—and in that moment, a dozen lizard people popped up to the surface of the water. Each clutched a corked bottle, and in unison they tossed them up over the galley's siderails, to smash on its decks. The sound of breaking glass was startling, but not so much as the smell of spilled lamp oil.

The pirates knew that they'd been beaten, and most of them leapt overboard, only to be wrestled into submission by the swarming lizard folk. The oncoming fireship hit Martelli's galley broadside, its beaked prow driving deeply into the Resplendent's hull. Flames continued to spread, threatening to set off the lamp oil.

Arturo Martelli stood his ground, however. “Hold!” he shouted, and then, fumbling in a pouch on his belt, pulled out what looked like a black handkerchief. That item he stretched around the blade of his sword. “Hold, I say, or I'll destroy the eggs!”

For a moment, many who were engaged this battle paused, waiting to see what would happen. Then a multi-colored figure dropped out of the air, landing on the sword with a flurry of feathers, and then took off again with the cloth in its talons. Then Polly, along with the pirate's last hope of victory, was gone.

Martelli stared at his empty hand for a moment, stunned. Flames were now spreading quickly over the deck of the galley, and the smoke made him cough and his eyes water. Reaching into a different pouch, he muttered a pinch of some substance, muttered an incantation, and disappeared.

* * *

In the aftermath of that battle, the Larks and their lizard folk allies settled into the camp that the pirates had built on the nearby islet. While the sailors built a few fires and began preparing food, their officers made a solemn presentation. Uriel approached Nar'raw, holding the cloth that they'd stolen from Martelli. Then, unfolding it, he spread the cloth out on the sand in front of her. The moment it was flat on the ground, its surface seemed to collapse into itself, and there was a hole in the ground.

Inside that hole were dozens of eggs.

Nar'raw gasped and, stooping beside the hold, gingerly lifted out one of the eggs. Seeing that, the other lizard folk gave a joyous shout, and rushed forward to join her. As they reclaimed their eggs, the Larks joined them in celebration. Those who had instruments began playing music; there was much dancing, and food and drink flowed freely between all.

A little time had passed before Nar'raw approached Uriel. “Thank you,” she said, and kissed him.

Tale: Answers and Questions

This post carries the d20 Pirates blog into its tenth year. While the focus of it has changed in the past decade, from D&D-based historical pirate material to space fantasy using the Pathfinder rules, with forays into pirate- and supernatural western-themed Savage Worlds content, I'm pleased that it's been an outlet for my gaming-related ideas. Thank you to everyone who reads it, and best wishes in the coming year.

-Nate

Tale: “Answers and Questions”

Max could see that it was only a matter of time before Martelli and his pirates overran the rest of the Navy men, and so he had to act quickly. First he stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle, and then scrambled down the side of the roof closer to the storehouse. Dropping to the ground, he rolled back up onto his feet and then ran across to that building's front door. Pressing his back against the wall beside the door, he watched as the soldiers who'd been on guard duty threw it open and went running toward the dock to help their fellows.

Recognizing his opportunity, Max slipped inside.

“Max?” It was Konrad who saw him first. “Ptah be praised, am I happy to see you.”

The halfling silenced the dwarf with a finger to his lips. “Save it. Martelli and his pirates are attacking the compound. We have little time.”

Konrad nodded and fell silent.

Max stepped over among the prisoners and, unrolling his tool kit, chose a pair of lockpicks. With practiced efficiency he set upon his comrades' shackles. As each crew member was released, he or she took a moment to stand, stretch, and rub circulation back into aching limbs.

While Max freed the last crew member, Horace called to him in something like a stage whisper. “This chest,” and he indicated a wooden one bound with iron, “I think it has our gear in it.”

The halfling jogged over to it and went to work on its lock, too. As he did so, they all heard a distinct three-noted whistle from outside one of the storehouse's shuttered windows.

It was the call of a lark.

“That's Uriel and Nar'raw,” Max announced. “Let them in.”

No sooner had Horace done so than the big half-orc climbed nimbly through the opening. With a nod in the direction from which he'd come, Uriel began helping others back through it, and Nar'raw was there to ease them to the ground. Lucinda, Konrad and Horace emerged after the crew members, having taken a moment to reequip themselves, and were followed by Uriel and Max. Boosted by the half-orc, the halfling did his best to hitch the latch again from the outside.

“What's the plan?” Horace asked.

“We have a boat near here,” Max explained, “but it's not big enough to hold all of us.”

“I think our best bet,” Uriel suggested, “is to make for the interior and wait out Martelli's men. If they don't know we're here, then they won't think to look for us.”

Horace stroked his mustache. “That makes sense. After they've departed, we can send a few people for help.”

Konrad looked from one officer to the next. “Are we in agreement?” The others nodded—but then were interrupted by the crash of the storehouse doors being forced open, followed by the sounds of tramping feet and angry voices.

“That's it, then,” Horace declared. “Start the retreat.”

Max moved to obey, taking the lead and showing the others how to move as quietly behind him. 

Lucinda froze, however, and put up a hand. “Wait.”

“What is it?” Horace whispered.

For her part, the half-elf muttered an incantation and then gestured toward the building.

“Lucinda,” the human continued, “what are you doing?”

As if heedless of him, the wizard produced a small bottle from her component pouch, thumbed the cork out of it, and then dipped a feather inside it. Then she muttered another spell.

“What is she--” Horace started to ask, but Konrad shushed him.

Lucinda concentrated a little longer, and then nodded. “Ah. I suspected as much.”

“What?” Horace asked.

She cast a quick glance at Nar'raw, who was busy attending to other matters. Then Lucinda smiled. “I think I've found the eggs.”

* * *

The Larks made their way inland, with Max leading and Uriel bringing up the rear, the half-orc doing his best to sweep away any tracks that they left. They followed a circuitous route into the island's thickly wooded interior, and then waded across a shallow stream to conceal their passage. Eventually they arced back to the island's southern coastline and there stayed hidden behind a hill from atop which Max could watch the pirates in the bay. Peering through the spyglass that he'd taken from the house, he could see them emerge from the compound and start back toward the ships. A moment later, smoke began drifting up into the sky from inside the compound, and before much longer the light of flames became visible.

Martelli's men paused for a moment to observe the fruit of their handiwork, and then started toward the peer. Some of them carried more torches and flammable materials, and went aboard the docked Luminous.

“Damnation,” Max swore, and then ran back down the hill toward his comrades' makeshift camp.

* * *

The other Larks were resting and sharing a meal of gathered fruits and the last of Uriel's smoked meat, along with water from the stream, when Max returned.

“What's the news?” Horace asked.

“Good and bad,” Max explained. “On the one hand, there's a galley ripe for the taking docked in the harbor. On the other, Martelli and his men are setting fire to it.”

“What!?” several voices demanded together.

“Even so,” the halfling continued, “they are setting sail while we speak.”

“So we could save it?” Horace asked.

Max nodded. “Aye.”

“Good. You and Uriel, take a few hands and salvage that ship.”

* * *

The halfling and half-orc led a small party back along the coastline, careful to stay out of sight of the departing pirates. Reaching the harbor, they rushed aboard the galley, which was only starting to burn. Swinging his sword, Uriel cut away chunks of wood that were aflame, and the crew members—their hands wrapped in wet cloth—tossed them overboard. Before long, all of the flames were extinguished.

“What do we do now, sir?” a crewman asked, turning to the half-orc.

“Cut some greenwood,” Uriel advised, “and throw it on the burning fort. We don't want the pirates to suspect that something is amiss.”

* * *

An hour later, the officers of the Skylark were gathered around a makeshift captain's table in the aft section on the lower deck of the Luminous—one assembled from cargo crates, and surrounded by more of the same that were used for chairs—with a map spread out for viewing. At the same time, Max was poring over the letters that he'd taken from the house in the compound.

“Lucinda,” Horace asked, “what was that spell that you cast into the storehouse?”

She smiled. “There were two, actually—one to detect the presence of magical items, and one to identify their natures.”

Horace nodded. “And what did you learn?”

“Arturo Martelli carries on his person an item that has a strong aura of conjuration magic.”

The others waited for more information.

“I believe it is,” Lucinda continued, “a portable hole.”

“A what?” Uriel asked.

“To put it simply,” she explained, “it is a piece of what seems to be ordinary black cloth, but it is imbued with magical properties such that there is an extra-dimensional space inside it, which allows its owner to store things inside while it is spread out upon the ground, but then to hide it on one's person when it has been folded up.”

The others just stared at her, before Nar'raw spoke up. “And you think that Martelli has my clan's eggs inside that thing?”

Lucinda nodded. “Yes.”

Nar'raw hissed. “But what good is it to know that, if we don't know where the pirates are headed?”

Before anyone else could reply, Max responded. “ I believe I can help with that.”

“What?” a number of voices asked.

The halfling shrugged. “While I was, exploring the house, I found a few letters that can shine some light on this subject.” He produced a bundle of papers from inside his coat and held it up with a smile.

“What,” Nar'raw stammered, “what does it say?”

“It says here, “ Max replied, “that this wrecked vessel was last reported as passing the southern tip of the Morean Peninsula, and that it was headed east toward the Sacred Archipelago.”

“I know that area,” Horace added, pointing to locations on the map northwest of Minotaur Island and eastward from there. It's a tangle of islets and rocks that make for treacherous sailing; if this ship sank, then that's a likely place.”

“So,” Nar'raw hissed, “we can go after the pirates?”

Horace nodded. “Yes, but we must be careful about it.”

“So, what's the plan?” Uriel asked.

The captain smiled. “For now we start rowing; we can figure out the plan along the way.”

Tale: Desperate Times

Here's the next part in the ongoing story of the 'Larks.

-Nate

Tale: “Desperate Times”

As Uriel, Max and Narraw watched, soldiers and sailors from the Luminous took control of the Skylark, raising the bark's sails and steering it to follow after the departing galley. All they could do was continue staring, stunned by the development. 

“Well,” the half-orc grumbled, “what in the nine layers of Hell do we do now?”

“We have failed!” Narraw groaned.

Max was about to reply when, out of the blue, a bird landed on his head. It was Polly, Lucinda's familiar.

“Rawk,” the bird announced.

“Polly,” the halfling asked, “can you follow that ship, and help us go after them?”

The parrot nodded.

“Even if we know where they're going, how can we follow them without a boat?” Uriel asked.

“Perhaps I can help with that,” said Narraw.

* * *

During the next couple of days, the lizard-woman showed them how to gather armfuls of the reeds that grew in the marshy areas along the shoreline, and, using the plants' roots for cords, tie them into long, buoyant bundles. Those, then, they lashed to a lightweight frame made from small, roughly cut trees, and they had a serviceable raft. Max fetched a couple of hammocks from the pirates' hideout, and from them stitched together a crude but functional sail. 

While the halfling was busy with that last task, the lizard-woman and half-orc hunted for food further inland. They managed to run down a wild boar, which Uriel skinned, gutted, and cut into long, thin strips. Then he lashed a simple frame and, after building a smoky fire beneath it, laid the meat out for curing.

All the while, Max noticed that Uriel and Narraw would sometimes sit off by themselves, telling each other stories, or just sharing amiable silence.

* * *

On the third day following their comrades' capture, the three were ready. After loading up their meager supplies—the cured meat, a few spears that Uriel had cut for himself, a few dried gourds filled with fresh water and a pair of roughly fashioned paddles—they hauled the raft into the sea, raised the step-up mast, and set sail.

Max was perched in what served as the boat's bow, watching for hazards. He'd followed Polly's flight path when the bird departed, using the evening star for his bearings, and thus he plotted their course. 

They'd been sailing two more days, seeing naught but desolate passing shoreline to starboard and open sea to port, when a familiar, colorful figure fluttered down from the sky.

“Polly,” Uriel declared, “you are a sight for sore eyes.”

“What have you found?” Narraw asked.

“Rawk, an island,” Polly answered.

“Can you lead us there?” the lizard-woman added.

The bird nodded in affirmation.

“Wait a minute,” Uriel interrupted. “What dangers are we going to find there?”

Polly looked at the half-orc and, by way of a response, tilted her head sideways.

“Hold on,” Max spoke up. “Remember, Uriel, that she can't communicate with us like she does with Lucinda.” He considered for a moment. “Are there building on this island?”

The parrot nodded.

“Are they made from stone?”

Polly shook her head.

“From wood, then, with a stockade—logs, trees cut down and stuck in the ground, with the pointy ends sticking upward?”

She nodded.

“Ah.” Max thought about the bird's answers. “It could be a trading fort, probably located close to some kind of natural harbor.”

“In that case,” Uriel added, “maybe we can sneak around from another side.”

“Do you think,” Narraw asked, “that's where they have our eggs?”

“Unless they're in that galley,” Max replied, “I'd say they're in that fort.”

* * *

Armed with that information, the trio continued on their course. From time to time Polly would fly up and away from their boat, taking a bearing on the island and looking for any dangers. While Uriel handled their one small sail, Max remained in the bow, watching. On the fourth day he announced, “There it is. Land, ho.”

“The island?” Narraw asked.

“Yes.” The halfling turned to the half-orc. “I think it would be best if we struck our sail and paddled the rest of the way.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Uriel loosened the lines on the boat's crude sail, then lifted the little mast out of its post. Wrapping the sail around it, he stowed it in the bottom of the boat and then hefted one of the paddles. The half-orc set to paddling with powerful strokes; as he did so, Narraw slipped over the stern and began to push with her powerful tail.

Turning back to Polly, Max asked, “Can you find us a place to go ashore where we won't attract any unwanted attention?”

The bird nodded and then took wing, and they followed.

* * *

Following the parrot, they made their way to the southwest corner of an island that was perhaps a mile wide and who knows how long. At that point a rocky, jutting peninsula gave way to the island's forested interior, and that was where they pulled their boat ashore, carrying it up under the cover of the trees. Then, again following Polly's lead, they hiked up and over the peninsula, to a high point that overlooked a broad natural harbor.

There, riding at anchor, were the galley Luminous and the bark Skylark.

“Look there.” Uriel pointed into the forest on the shore of the bay, where a thin trail of smoke drifted upward.

“A settlement of some kind?” Narraw asked.

“Yes. Shall we go have look?”

The others nodded in agreement, and so they set off in that direction, careful to remain quiet and to stay hidden by the hills or the trees. They'd gone perhaps half a mile when, in the distance, Max spied the hewn log walls of a stockade. “I think we found our trading fort.”

As they watched, they could see soldiers wearing tabards with the Order of the Lion's emblem, stationed atop platforms inside the wall.

Narraw frowned. “If our eggs, and your friends, are in there, then what can we do?”

Max smiled. “You forget, my lizard-lady, that we have a secret weapon.” Placing two fingers to his mouth, he fave a shrill whistle; moments later, Polly fluttered down to land on his outstretched arm. The halfling fed her a bit of ship's biscuit. “Pretty bird, I need you to find Lucinda.”

* * *

Inside the stockade of the trading fort were two buildings—one a compact, two-storied, whitewashed house, and the other a long, low warehouse. It was in the latter structure that the other 'Larks were being held prisoner. The method of their jailing was crude but effective; each was tied at the wrists with stout cord, as well as bound by a rope to metal rings spaced at five-foot intervals along the walls. They were thus allowed movement enough to avoid becoming too uncomfortable, but not so much that they could tamper with their bindings.

In the three days of their confinement they'd been treated well enough—given adequate food and water, and taken one at a time to use the privy—but no amount of questioning their captors had revealed just why they were being imprisoned. They'd settle into a tired routine of trying to entertain each other with old, familiar stories when Lucinda's eyes went wide.

“Something the matter, Luce?” Konrad asked her.

“No,” she answered—but then she winked at him. “I'm polly just tired.”

“Oh.” It took the dwarf a moment to catch her innuendo. “I see.”

Horace noticed their exchange and recognized its implication, too. Not for the first time he tried to twirl the end of his mustache, but his bonds prevented him from doing so. In spite of that, he smiled. 

“So, now what do we do?”

“We wait,” Lucinda replied, “and see.”

* * *

Uriel, Max and Narraw had been hunkered down behind cover for close to an hour when Polly returned.

“Did you find her?” Max asked.

The parrot nodded.

“In the fort?”

Another nod.

The halfling gestured, with each hand indicating first an object more cubical in shape, and then something broader and flatter. “Are they being kept in the taller building, or the shorter one?”

Polly pecked lightly at his right hand.

“Ah, the warehouse. Are they bound with ropes?” He held up a piece to illustrate.

The bird nodded.

“Good—then it shouldn't take much doing to cut them loose. How many guards—people—are watching them?”

Polly scratched the ground three times with her left talon.

“That should be manageable.”

“You have a plan for freeing them?” Uriel asked.

“Yes—but first I want to have a look in the main house, to see what all of this is about.”

* * *

Max waited until dark to pay his visit. Gathering handfuls of dirt, he darkened the skin of his hands and face. Then, creeping through the vegetation that encroached on the stockade, he found a tree with a branch from which he could watch the guards. His hope was to find a gap of time in which he could go over the wall unnoticed; to his surprise, a guard at the front of the stockade called out, “Ship, ho!”

The halfling watched, tensing, as half a dozen guards and then a pair of officers from the house, headed out through the gate and down to the dock.

That was his chance.

Stepping quickly out along the bough, Max used it as a springboard a jumped over the wall. The rogue landed, light on his feet, and rolled in a somersault that was nearly silent. Back on his feet, he ran across the open space between the stockade and the house, and then scampered up one wall, using a pair of knives for climbing tools. Pausing at a window, he listened for a moment, then used one of the blades to open the shutter and clambered inside.

The room was, as he'd suspected, empty at the moment. There were signs of recent occupation, and Max peered into the closet and under the bed, but he found nothing of interest. After pausing again to listen at the door, he moved out into the hallway.

From there he could see a railing to one side, overlooking the house's main entry below it, and doors on this level leading to other rooms. One of them, centered on the back wall of the house, he chose as his next target; it was unlocked.

Inside that room Max found one wall lined with bookshelves; next to them stood a desk and chair, along with a padlocked chest.

Here we go, Max thought. He closed the door to the hallway and latched it, and then unrolled his pouch of tools atop the desk. The padlock on the chest took some effort, but he managed it; the chest proved to contain coins of various values—copper, silver and gold—along with a small bag of pearls. Max tucked that last item into one of his pouches and then turned his attention to the desk.

Its drawer was locked, but it, too, succumbed to his picks. Inside it he found a sheaf of papers bundled with a ribbon, some of which bore the seal of the Imperial Navy. Max scanned them hastily, and one line in particular stood out to him:

Continue with your recovery plan as you've described, but remember—under no circumstances should you let anyone discover and communicate the objective of your efforts.

Max nodded as he read. It was as they'd suspected; the Navy crew was trying to salvage a wreck of some sort, and whatever cargo was aboard it was important. And that meant valuable.

Folding the letters, he tucked them inside his shirt. He was about to head for the hallway when the crack of a pistol shot stopped him in his tracks.

Heading for the window, he opened the shutter and climbed out onto the sill; from there he could reach the roof, and swung himself up onto it. Then he crawled up to the peak and looked over, out toward the harbor.

From there he could see the situation unfolding on the dock. One uniformed officer, brandishing a pistol, stood over the body of the man from the house. The other soldiers were quickly being cut down by the newcomers, leaving bodies strewn about the dock and in the surrounding water.

Max focused on the officer from the arriving vessel and froze.

In spite of the uniform, Max recognized him.

It was the pirate, Arturo Martelli.

Tale: Bad Business

Tale: “Bad Business”

The bark Skylark once again lied at anchor; this time it was drawn up alongside a pier in the harbor of the religious settlement known as Säis. Horace stood on the main deck, saying farewell to the disembarking passengers—clerics of Gaea, whom the Larks had transported back from their pilgrimage. Max and Urield stood with Horace, sharing gregarious farewells. For his part, Max made a deep bow to the halfling woman who'd drawn his eye.

After all had gone ashore, Horace was about to give orders to set sail; he was interrupted by Lucinda, who emerged from the companionway that led aft to the main cabin. “Captain,” she announced, “our patient has regained consciousness.”

“Belay,” Horace called. “Hold here and wait for further orders!” Then, turning on his heel, he followed her aft. In the main cabin he found Konrad sitting on a chair from the captain's table, which he'd drawn up alongside the narrow bed built against the aft wall. As Horace watched, the dwarf sprinkled water with a ladle from a steaming pot onto the bedclothes in which the lizard-woman was wrapped.

She gave a contented sigh. “Again, I thank you,” she said in sibilant Common.

“It is nothing.” Konrad shook his head. “But, Narraw, can you tell me why you came seeking us?”

Her expression of comfort dissolved into a worried frown. “They... they took our children,” she hissed.

“Your children?” That question came from Lucinda.

“Yes. Our eggs.”

Horace's brow furrowed. “Do you know why?”

“They needed a way to make us work for them, to make us dive in the water and explore a...” She struggled to find the correct word. “A wreck.”

“A wreck?” Each of the adventurers asked that question simultaneously.

“Yes. I did not understand all that they said, but it sounded like it was... important to them.”

Max and Uriel smiled identical wolfish grins; Konrad stroked his beard, and Horace twirled the end of his moustache.

It was Lucinda who spoke. “If we help you recover your eggs, then would you help us recover whatever is in that wreck?”

The lizard-woman nodded. “Yes.”

“It's settled, then,” Horace declared. “All hands to stations; make ready to sail.”

* * *

Because the river provided plenty of propulsion, they set only the topsails to aid in steering the Skylark. While they made a brisk pace downstream, Horace left a veteran hand in charge of the whipstaff so that he and his officers could reconvene with Narraw in the main cabin.

“So,” Horace began, “we encountered Martelli.”

“And gave him and his men a good thrashing,” Uriel added with a grin.

“Indeed,” Horace continued. He turned back to the lizard-woman, and gave her a quick description of the fallen foe. “Is he the one?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

“You said they forced you and your people to dive on a wrecked ship. Did they have a place where they took the things that you recovered from it?”

She nodded.

“Can you lead us there?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Let's go up on deck, then, and see what we can see.”

* * *

An hour later found the Skylark once again trailing behind its longboat. This time, though, it was moving under minimal sails instead of being towed. Konrad was stationed in the bow of the boat, watching and reporting, and Horace stood by the helm. Lucinda, Uriel and Max crewed the longboat, and Narraw accompanied them. They waited while the lizard-woman scanned the passing shoreline, looking for telltale signs of the hideout.

After what seemed like hours, she raised a hand and then pointed at a dense cluster of reeds. Max signaled back to Konrad, who relayed the message to Horace.

“Strike sails,” the human whispered, “and drop anchor.” The crewed moved quietly to execute his orders.

Back in the longboat, Uriel was preparing for action. He stripped off his leather armor and any clothing beyond a loincloth and a belt. Into that item he slipped the halfling-sized shortsword that Max offered him, which in the half-orc's big hand looked more like a longknife. Then he turned to Narraw and gestured toward the water. “After you.”

In one lithe motion she dove into the water, making hardly a splash. Uriel was nearly as graceful following her. For a time they were gone, and then they came back up to the surface.

“This is the place,” Uriel explained. “Max, we need your help.”

The halfling stripped out of his armor, too, and then stepped up onto the boat's gunwhale and dove; he added a backflip to it.

Lucinda, watched that display and then followed their progress toward the shore as best she could; then her eye was caught by a flicker of bright color descending from the sky. The newcomer settle down onto the gunwhale next to her; it was Polly, her familiar.

She looked the bird in the eyes for a moment, and it nodded. Turning back toward her departed comrades, the half-elf considered for a moment and then decided. Taking up the boat's oars, she began rowing back toward the Skylark.

* * *

Before long Lucinda was back aboard the bark, having been hauled up on the carpenter's swing while a sailor took her place in the boat. After asking Konrad to keep a lookout for the others, she approached Horace.

“Captain,” she announced, “I have good news and bad news.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“The good news is that most or all of the pirates are currently away from their hideout.

Horace considered that information. “What's the bad news?”

She gave a rueful smile. “It seems that they've attacked and overrun a Northern Empire galley, and they did it not far from here.”

“What are the odds that they'll return to their hideout?”

“I think it pretty likely.”

“Then spread the word: double the watch and arm the crew, bows and blades.”

* * *

For a time Narraw swam through the water, her powerful tail propelling her like an oar. Max did his best to keep up with her, while Uriel brought up the rear. Both the half-orc and halfling were force to surface from time to time in order to take a fresh breath, and thus it was that she came swimming back to them, indicating with gestures that they should follow her.

She led them to a pace where a narrow tunnel, concealed by the reeds, led up under the shoreline. Urield and Max both recognized that it would be completely hidden at high tide, but partially expose at low ebb. Kicking back to the surface, the two adventurers took deep breaths before diving again and, with Max in the lead, swimming into it.

The tunnel, narrow and sandy, sloped upward, rising after some fifty feet above the waterline. Max and Uriel pushed themselves into the air pocket, and then the halfling began to crawl further forward. After a time the tunnel opened up into a broader cavern, one with stone walls and a sandy floor. It was nearly empty, except floor a hole in the floor, on the other side of the chamber, that led downward and had a ladder sticking out of it. Max scrutinized it and then started toward the ladder—but not in a straight line; instead he kept one hand against the wall to his left. Reaching the hole, he listened for a moment before jumping downward.

The lower level was dimly lit by a few everburning torches set in crude sconces along the walls. They illuminated a chamber that was furnished with hammocks tied to support posts, along with a rough, broad table surrounded by chairs. Against the wall opposite the ladder rested a number of chests, each bound in iron and secured with a heavy padlock. Most notable, however, were the sharpened stakes that jutted up from the ground, ones that were placed directly beneath a false canvas floor in the middle of the upper level.

While Uriel considered that, Narraw dropped to the sand against one wall and began sniffing at it. Both of the others could see numerous small, circular indentations in that area.

“They were here,” she declared. “The eggs were here.”

Uriel nodded. “But where are they now?”

“Maybe they moved them onto a ship,” Max suggested.

“If they did, then how will we ever find them?” Narraw asked.

“Don't worry.” Uriel tried to sound confident. “We can ask the others. They'll think of something.”

“Do you think so?”

“I do.”

The lizard-woman nodded. With a final glance at the small impressions, she turned and headed for the exit. Before long they were treading water in front of the shoreline, looking for the longboat that wasn't there.

“Wait a minute,” Max cautioned, nodding in the direction of the Skylark. They could see that a galley had pulled alongside it, and sailors were already streaming from it onto the smaller bark.

“That's a vessel of the Northern Empire,” Uriel noted, holding a hand over his eyes. “Finally, a little help when you need it.”

“No,” Max cautioned. “Something's not right.”

* * *

Back aboard the Skylark, Horace was overseeing his crew's preparations to receive visitors. The newcomer, a galley named the Luminous, had been secured with grappling lines, and its crew was now laying boarding planks across the gap between the vessels. He moved to stand nearby them, waiting for the traditional request for permission to come aboard.

Instead he saw musket-bearing soldiers come tramping across, with their weapons held at the ready.

“What is the meaning of this?” Horace demanded.

His answer came from an officer who followed the soldiers. “Order your crew to stand down,” the officer declared. “You and your crew are under arrest.”