Chapter 14: Rogue Navigator
Jad reached for his sword but Kalen, seeing one of the men raise his crossbow, grabbed his cousin’s arm. “Let’s wait to see what the captain does.” He whispered. Jad scowled but didn’t resist. He knew as well as Kalen that a sword wasn’t much good against a crossbow at five paces. Meanwhile the Marquess wondered at this well-organized pirate group, their surprisingly composed leader, and what was apparently a Navigator in their midst. But Navigators never participated in anything that would be considered criminal or relating to war; it was supposedly against the rules of their alliance. He also realized with no little irony that suddenly he and his companions, once shielded by the crew, now found themselves on the front line against the enemy who had suddenly teleported into their midst.N’tanga came to the foredeck railing; Tar-esiir came forward as well but back a pace. “What do you wish of us, pirate?”
The man calling himself the White Swan turned to face the captain. “Until a moment ago I would have required only a few of your passengers to ransom back to their wealthy families. However, one of our ships suffered a misfortune, as you no doubt observed. Because of this I must have your ship and its contents to recover that loss. However I am not without compassion even now. If you cooperate fully, no one will be harmed and we will allow you to have your ship back once we have returned to one of my bases and unloaded.”
“Can you guarantee the safety of the passengers?” The Captain asked slowly.
“I offer no guarantees other than that I intend none of you physical harm. I cannot be responsible for the actions of other parties.”
While these two men negotiated his fate, Kalen heard another series of cracks and creaks from the damaged ship, mingled with the shouts and cries of the crew. He risked a glance over his shoulder. The nearby pirate ship had broken along the impact, the two ends tilting up as the center sank. Some men were leaping from the canted deck, trying to escape the downward pull of the wreck as the sea swallowed it. Others clung to rails and ropes, no doubt hoping the broken hull would stay afloat. Kalen wondered if the White Swan and his men had transported from the ruined ship or the other one closing from the north. The second ship was drawing closer. There was no sign of the luminous submarine vessel. Turning back, Kalen caught sight of Lukas in the shadow of his cabin doorway, hands held close at stomach height with fingers splayed outward as if he was preparing to catch a kickball. It looked like he was speaking but Kalen couldn’t hear the words. He suddenly realized that the Viscount was preparing to cast a spell of some sort.
“I will make you a counter-offer.” N’tanga answered after a long pause. “We will rescue as many of your men from the wrecked ship as possible, then allow all of you to board your other ship and go on your way, and we will pretend none of this happened.”
Kalen thought that for a split-second he saw the White Swan hesitate, then the man shook his head. “I have no guarantee that the mechanical demon that destroyed one of my ships will not similarly wreck the other. And I have already suffered considerable loss today. I suspect that your ship—or certain passengers on board—are in league with that machine, and my only assurance of immunity is to have such passengers with me. So, I must decline. And now—”
At that moment Lukas’ voice rose and Kalen could hear him utter the words “Betan varchai!” as a flickering orb of light appeared between his hands then surged out towards the nearest raider.
Kalen thought that it was a brave but foolhardy effort on Lukas’ part. He also wondered at the nature of the spell, since the Viscount had told him that he hadn’t learned anything ‘interesting.’ Then Kalen heard—and felt—another brief incantation that sent a shudder through his body. It had come from just behind Lukas, the words something like “Mabus… ghashu.” A moment later he felt a burning on his chest again—the pendant!
Lukas’ glittering energy bolt struck the pirate and with a burst of light sent him staggering backward—but an instant later there was a wavering of the air near the center of the group near the White Swan and the spell user, like a heat distortion but rippling out swiftly from a single spot. In a moment it covered the circle of pirates in a wrinkling shadow—then the cloud abruptly collapsed in upon itself—and there erupted from it a noise like a thunderclap.
Kalen winced, then realized that he was only in the backwash of the spell’s effect: nearly all the men in the ring were staggering or down, hands over their ears. In the confusion that followed, Jad stepped in front of Kalen and many of the Naristral crew surged forward.
But not all in the ring of pirates had succumbed to the spell; one spun around toward Lukas and fired his crossbow. The bolt struck the Viscount hard in the shoulder, sending him staggering back against the doorframe with a cry of pain. Shouts went up and other shots were fired in the confusion, both by the pirates and the crew. Jad, rather than join the fray, turned and tackled Kalen, knocking the breath out of him and throwing them both down on the deck. “Keep your head down, m’Lord!” the Squire whispered into his cousin’s ear. The raised edge of one of the openings to the hold below provided partial cover. Kalen was secretly relieved: Jad had chosen the prudent move that kept them both more or less out the way—and out of danger. Kalen considered praying to the Lords for their safety, but found himself wondering which Lord to beseech. He wasn’t much of a churchgoer, believing that the Lords pretty much favored who they wanted, entreaties or not. The only point in regular prayer seemed to be if you were a user of Channeling and needed to stay on a god’s good side to keep the energy flowing. He rejected Cay, figuring that the Lord of warriors would find their choice not to fight cowardly. He finally settled on Jaysek, Lord of poets and bards. Jad’s weight on top of him, though reassuring in its way, was a distraction—not to mention the shouts of crew and pirates and the clang of swords as a full melee broke out.
Meanwhile, Patrick, essentially invisible inside his optical distortion field, decided that since the truce was broken he might as well make a contribution. He disabled three of the remaining pirates with his stunner in short order, avoiding targeting either the White Swan or his spell-casting second in the hope that they would realize they were in trouble and transport away. It looked like this strategy would pay off: just as his fourth victim crumpled, the White Swan barked a command in a language he did not understand. Those few still standing retreated from their opponents and closed in around him. The Elf with the armband uttered a phrase and the lot of them—standing and fallen—wavered in a shimmering light, seeming to become transparent… then they solidified again. The White Swan turned angrily to the black-clad Elf. Though Patrick wasn’t an expert in magic, it looked to him like a transport spell had failed.
As Captain N’tanga watched, several of the remaining pirates, one after the other, stumbled and fell for no apparent reason. Only the White Swan, his companion in the center, and three others remained standing. Those who had not been affected by the spell had seemingly been hit by other weapons, but only a couple appeared to have been felled by the arrows of his crew before they closed to engage with blades. He turned to his Navigator. “Some other sorcery, perhaps?”
Tar-esiir frowned, keeping his attention on the conflict below as he held a hand up at chest height, maintaining a shimmering Shield spell in front of him. “That first strike was of course, and there was something strange about that. I don’t think the young Viscount Ridgeston is capable of something quite so powerful or destructive. There are forces at work here which I do not fully understand.”
“One way or another, it looks like we may be fortunate today after all.” N’tanga’s eyes narrowed, even as the golden-haired Elf in black raised his braceleted arm again and said in a loud clear voice “Nateus Bortosh, Ragnesha Tegaem!” A bright flare of light burst from the bracelet and spread to envelop the White Swan’s entire group.
At the same time, Tar-esiir’s own bracelet gem glowed with a rainbow of light— though not nearly as brightly—almost as if in answer to the spell below. The Navigator gasped, staring at his Compass in surprise. N’tanga was distracted by this uncharacteristic outburst by the normally impassive Elf, and when he looked back down to the deck, the White Swan and his entire retinue was gone.
Kim pulled his robe close and stepped out onto the balcony behind Taminger’s bar. There, sure enough, was Tad’s skiff tied up below, and the boy pacing the dock next to it, arms held close to his chest for warmth. “Hail! I am in need of a boat.” Kim called down softly. His breath billowed out in plumes of steam.
Still Tad jumped at the words, though gently spoken, before turning to peer up to the Kitchen’s balcony. “Evening Mister Kim sir, my skiff is available!” He answered back when he had identified the monk.
“Very good, I had a feeling it might be. And simply ‘Kim’ will suffice.”
“Sorry! I forgot; the Nuyan are called by the second name.” Tad scrambled onto the boat as Kim came down the stairs to the dock, then after the monk had boarded, he unracked his pole and loosed the skiff from its mooring.
“Not very considerate of your friends to leave you out here in the cold night air while they are in the nice warm tavern having an ale.” Kim said with a little smile as he pulled his voluminous Changramai robe about him and settled on the forward seat of the long narrow boat.
“Naw, but that’s just like them!” Tad grinned, planting the end of the long pole in the canal-bottom and leaning on it, holding the boat in place. “Where can I take you tonight?”
“We are picking up another passenger at the Manse in Library Quarter, and he will tell us our final destination.”
“Very good sir!” Tad heaved against the pole and they were off. But instead of heading northeast directly towards their destination, Tad went southeast, where the Ale Way joined the Canal of the Wyverns.
Of course, Kim realized, after a moment of confusion, no skiff or poleboat could cut directly across the delta where the Prince’s Isles lay; the water was too deep for poling.
Most cargo—and people when any distance was involved—moved through Sel-kai via the canals, and the canals were dominated by two basic types of craft: the slip (or poleboat) and skiff (or bargeboat). The former measured about twelve feet long and was designed to carry at most four passengers and little or no cargo; it was generally the faster mode of transport as well. The latter was larger, slower, usually less comfortable and less expensive (being designed as much to carry cargo as people) but more stable. Both actually employed a poleman (or men) for propulsion, and so were limited to the canals, which were kept a fairly uniform seven to nine feet deep by dredging. Just deep enough to drown in.
So Kim contented himself to watch the glimmering lamps on the docks of various Old City establishments slip by as they made their way along Canal of the Wyverns before turning north onto the larger Quathe. Tad called out to a few fellow canalers they passed as was custom among their trade, though traffic was sparse this late at night.
They emerged into the Great Circle a minute later; but the central marketplace of the city was sleeping. Tad put his shoulder into his work, pushing them along the stone-lined perimeter of the ring until they came to the edge of Library Quarter. Kim was glad to see the great copper library dome gleaming ahead under the pale light of sickle Orhan; he felt exposed and vulnerable crossing the open water of the Great Circle at night. Soon they were once again gliding between the comforting closeness of buildings hard against the canal walls.
The Manse’s pier was staffed by three porters, who, by the look of them and their gleaming pole arms, doubled as door guards. As Tad maneuvered the skiff up to the marble-flagged quay, one stepped forward and said (in an ironically unwelcoming voice) “Welcome to the Manse, how may we be of service?”
But before Kim could reply, a cloaked figure stepped from the shadows near the inn’s door behind the porters. “I believe they are my ride, thank you.” It was Randae.
The man nodded and the other two porters suddenly sprang forward to help secure the skiff. The Loremaster accepted Kim’s hand to balance himself, but scarcely needed it as he stepped aboard the bobbing craft.
“How did you know we had arrived?” The monk asked.
“I sensed your approach, of course.”
“Some day perhaps you can teach me that spell.”
“Well, it’s more than one, with Typing and all, but you’re of the right Realm, and from what I can tell pretty quick with such things; you should be able to pick it up.” If Randae was put out by the relative modesty of their transport, he gave no sign. “House Tharal, if you please young man!” He called out softly once he was settled aboard, his heavy velvet cloak pulled tightly about him. Elves may not be harmed by the cold, but we can still feel it, He thought with a grimace. And tonight’s chill air had a hint of snow. Snow for New Year’s, how quaint. I came here in part to get away from the cursed snow. Kuor! Why do you torment me so! As they moved out into the water, he pulled his hood up as well, more to hide his face than to ward off a chill. There was little traffic on the canals at this hour, and most of that was cargo skiffs and barges, but one never knew who might be watching.
“Aye, sir!” Tad shot a wary look at the porters as they untied the skiff, then pushed off into the canal. They headed off westward along the Canal of Coins, turned right at the Library along Belltower, then left and west again onto the wider Canal of the Waiting Waters.
“Our boatman is a child!” Randae whispered to Kim when Tad was at the far end of the skiff. “Is he trustworthy?”
“I believe so; I’m acquainted with several of his friends.”
“I see.” The Loremaster raised an eyebrow. “This trip should be routine, but I may have more dicey errands for a capable boatman who can keep his mouth shut.”
“I was wondering what this was all about: a late night trip to House Tharal by skiff. Why not just go by day when it is much safer? Agonar’s residence at Tharal is hardly a secret.”
“Yes, but we Loremasters are not all that popular these days, as I think you know. People think we are spies or information vultures or something. For me to be seen visiting one of the merchant lords on a private visit smacks of intrigue. And, since Tharal has interests in southern Jaiman—coincidentally where I make my home—Hengiis Tharal would just as soon not have it known that I was in his house. Agonar, being more-or-less a permanent guest there, would prefer not to annoy his host. And you know Lord Agonar is almost never seen in public, so asking him to come to me would not only be rude and presumptuous, but futile.”
They were coming onto the intersection with Blackwater Canal just then, and Tad was forced to maneuver around a massive cargo barge. A low chugging sound and puffs of smoke emanated from the rear of the craft: it was Namari-built with one of those steam-motors. Tad shook his head “Those things’ll put me outa’ business!”
“Not anytime soon, my boy.” Randae assured him. “They are expensive to build and maintain, and tricky to operate. Man-power is still cheaper and more reliable, and you’ll have a niche as long at that is true.”
“If you say so, sir.” Tad sounded skeptical.
Along the Blackwater then out across the nearly deserted Great Canal they sped, Tad building velocity to push against the current and jog into the northern arm of the Gap of Charôn and so enter the Black Oak district, home of the elite residences of Sel-kai. Under Valmarana Bridge and past the looming edifice of that family’s house they slipped, then right onto Candlewick Way. Villa Pharnese rose up on the left, then they passed under Chandler Bridge. At the bend in the canal ahead stood House Tharal.
Like all the other large mercantile residences of Sel-kai, Tharal was as much fortress as mansion. The exterior was made of thick stone walls with hardly more than arrow slits on the lower levels, and even on the fourth and fifth floors the windows were fairly narrow.
A small stone pier jutted a few feet into the canal and was also partially enclosed by a niche in the exterior wall; next to it gaped a wide arched opening in the side of the building that extended below the waterline. Kim noted that the dark archway was barred by an iron portcullis, and inside, dim lanterns cast flickering light on barges moored at stone piers.
The pier was lit by a pair of ornate oil lamps, and on it stood two house guards in Tharal livery: deep blue cutaway jackets with shining silver buttons, purple breeches and high boots. Their tall felt hats were a matching purple with blue and silver ribbons trailing down the back and their halberds were also adorned with ribbons, the blades polished to a mirror sheen. At ease on either side of a door set deeply and several steps up into the house foundations, the men stood at attention when they saw the skiff coming down the canal. When it became clear that the skiff was headed for the Tharal pier, the guards stepped up and lowered their pole arms towards them when they still about twenty feet away. “Heel back and state your business!” One barked.
Kim had no doubt that there were a few crossbowmen now targeting them from the narrow slits one storey up. “The Loremaster Randae Terisonen has an appointment with Lord Agonar of Teusilya.” He called back in a low voice. At the same time Tad had already dug his pole into the canal bottom and brought the boat to a smooth stop.
The men raised their poles to vertical again. “You are expected.” One answered gruffly. “Tie up here.” There was a sound of heavy bolts being drawn back behind the door, and then two more men in Tharal livery spilled out and came to the edge of the platform. Kim noted that, while they did not have halberds, they were armed with broadswords and daggers. As Tad started the skiff towards the pier again, he tossed the aft rope towards one of the men, who caught it and wrapped it around the nearest mooring post. Kim, the fore rope in his hand, leapt the six-foot gap onto the quay with the agility of a mountain cat, his robe furling around him. He wrapped that rope around a pole and pulled, drawing the skiff in. As they closed, Tad used his pole against the stone to slow them, and a moment later they touched softly against the wood bumpers bolted to the side of the pier.
Taking Kim’s offered hand once again, Randae stepped off the skiff, and then turned back to Tad. “This shouldn’t take too long if you don’t mind waiting, boatman.”
Tad racked his pole with a smile. “Don’t mind at all, as Kim here said you’d be makin’ it worth my while.”
“Indeed!” The Loremaster smiled with a raised eyebrow, and then turned to the nearest guard. “This is my personal bodyguard; I vouch for him.” He said, with a nod towards Kim
“Very well,” The man said reluctantly as he eyed the Nuyan, obviously not liking his foreign looks. “Follow me.”
Another house guard fell into step behind them as the man led them three flights up a stone staircase. At each level the stairs were of more refined style and open design, until at the fourth level the steps were of smooth white marble and on one side a colonnade opened onto a small atrium. While imposing and fortress-like on the outside, most great houses in Sel-kai had open or glass-roofed atriums in their center, allowing light to penetrate down to the lower floors. This being the middle of the night, however, crystal lamps hung from the pillars, casting a warm light on the inlaid marble floors. The guard led them down a passage that opened on the right onto a larger atrium, while on the left it was decorated with marble pilasters framing fine mirrors. Through a pair of lacquered doors they arrived in an anteroom furnished in polished wood and deep blue velvet. Another set of doors at the far end of the room was closed; a servant—probably a personal secretary—sat at an ornate desk near the inner doors. He rose from the desk, nodded curtly to the guard when they entered and the two men took stations outside in the corridor, then he attention to Randae and Kim. “Please wait here while I announce you, Master Terisonen and…?” He raised his eyebrows at Kim.
“My personal Changramai guard, Kim.”
“Very well.” The man sniffed, turned on his heel and slipped into the inner room.
“Guess he’s annoyed and being kept up so late.” Randae whispered.
Or perhaps, Kim thought, the man knows enough about Nuyan-Khôm culture to realize that I am clanless and so beneath even a house servant. Or maybe I’m being paranoid.
The servant emerged a moment later, pulling the door nearly shut behind him. “Lord Agonar will see you now, Master Terisonen, alone.” The last word was unmistakably emphasized.
“Indeed.” Randae’s shoulders fell a fraction. “Very well then. Kim, do you mind waiting for me here?” He shrugged out of his cloak.
“Not at all.” Kim managed an evil smile at the servant as he took the cloak, “I’m sure I can find some way to amuse myself.”
The servant opened the door again and gestured for him to enter, them pulled it firmly shut after the Loremaster had passed.
Inside Randae paused and took in the large, high-ceilinged room. Three walls were nearly covered by bookshelves, one of those broken only by tall, narrow windows that the Loremaster assumed looked out over the canal. The fourth wall was mostly windows facing the house’s largest atrium. All the windows were framed by heavy blue velvet draperies that matched some of the upholstery on the massive furnishings. Most of the light in the dim room came for a massive marble fireplace, the rest from a couple of oil lamps.
At first Randae saw no one in the room, but then a voice came from one of a pair of huge wing-backed chairs facing the fireplace. “So why have you come to see me, Loremaster? Did you think to frighten me with your little message?”
Randae picked up more than a hint of animosity in that voice. Not the best way to start of his meeting with the infamous Agonar. “That was certainly not my intention, Lord Agonar. I wished you to know that I was aware that you had certain connections, and to get your attention so that you would grant me an interview.”
“Well, you got my attention.” Agonar stood then and strode across the room to a side-table. “Would you care for a glass of wine? This Namarian cabernet is delightful.” He added in a conversational voice.
The change of tone caught Randae off guard. “Yes, if you don’t mind, I would.” He said when he found his voice again.
Agonar poured the red liquid into two faceted crystal glasses and brought them to the Loremaster. Randae realized that Agonar was shorter than he had expected, probably a few inches less than six feet. His ears showed a distinctive point, though less than that of a typical full elf. And there was a gray streak in his long black hair. He presented a glass to Randae then promptly turned back to the fireplace. “So I ask again, why did you wish to see me?”
“I come asking for help.”
Agonar snorted. “The vaunted Loremasters asking for help? What has the world come to?”
“I think you know that indeed things have become dire, though even you may not be aware of our greatest threat.”
“Do you speak of the Jerak Ahrenreth, or their former leader, the Essænce Lord?” Agonar looked into the fire.
“So you do know. I think that Ondoval is the greatest threat. We fear that he intends to destroy the Eyes of Utha.”
“Madness. And impossible, I should think.”
“Madness yes, and impossible to destroy, perhaps. But he may be able to tamper with their functioning enough to cause a catastrophe.”
Agonar narrowed his eyes. “We help in our own way, and our concerns are more with local problems. The Grey Ring does not ‘ally’ with other organizations, and we prefer to operate in secret.”
“Yes, I know, thought all this deception and secrecy seems a bit overwrought. This city has more pretentious ‘secret councils’ than the old Empire of Emer!” Randae scoffed.
Agonar took a generous drink of wine, savored it and swallowed before answering. “You as a Loremaster know very well how untrue that is, even if you did not personally experience the intrigues of the Emerian Court. Sel-kai has a few gatherings of vigilante groups, some gangs of bored and arrogant thugs, and a handful of religious zealots. That hardly compares to the networks of spies, the assassins and saboteurs and rumormongers of Aldain City. What a nest of clei-vipers that became.” Agonar shook his head. “It seems inevitable: with every bureaucracy comes corruption, and greed, and eventually downfall. The form of government seems irrelevant in the end; it is the nature of the men who populate it. Even a well-intentioned emperor must appoint others to help him administrate his realm, and not all may share his morals and goals. And empires do not have a monopoly on corruption.”
“What of republics, such as that of the Komaren Cluster? I have observed their government, and it has many checks and balances.”
“It does function well, but it is a small realm, and as you know their people are united by another common cause which helps to keep their leaders… honest… if you will.” Agonar smiled crookedly. “But it is an interesting form of government, and it holds promise, with its egalitarian ideals. But we shall see if elected leaders are any better than inherited.”
“If we all live that long.”
“Things must be dire if the mighty Loremasters come begging to men such as me for aid.”
“Sarcasm does not become you. And you should also know that I come on my own, not as an official representative of the Loremaster Council.”
“You appeal to my humility?”
“I appeal to your humanity; you care about this world as much as I do.”
“That I doubt… very much.” Agonar said as if it pained him. The planes of his face turned hard, and just then Randae saw a much older man, a man tired of life. “What makes men lust for power, Loremaster? What drives men to want to force their will on others, to rule? I’ve never understood that desire, and yet it seems to lie at the heart of so much misery.” The old Warrior-Mage stared into the fire, swirling his wine.
“No one cause can be blamed. For some it is fear, paranoia, distrust. Some genuinely believe they are superior and deserve to rule over others.
“Insecure bullies or arrogant narcissists.”
“To put it bluntly. Though there are some who rule with humility. I believe the Prince of Sel-kai is one such.”
“I’ve known worse.” Agonar shrugged. His son, for instance, is worrisome. I fear that he and some of the privy council are planning to replace an elected office with a dynasty.
“Do you always assume the worst in people?”
“I grew tired of being disappointed.”
“You and your group intimidate in your own way, taking the law into your own hands. You use fear to help maintain order.”
“Those who obey the laws of Sel-kai have nothing to fear from the Grey Ring. We only help to enforce existing regulations.” Agonar said, almost as if reciting a litany.
“You judge and sentence without legal process.” Randae said gently.
“You certainly have a queer way of convincing me to want to help you, Loremaster!” Agonar snapped. “You criticize me, question my methods. What next, my motivations?”
“I’m sorry.” Randae held his hands up. “Here I am sounding like the stodgiest member of the Loremaster Council. I know you don’t punish unless you are certain of guilt, something that no doubt Veriak can supply.”
Agonar smirked. “Veriak is not a member of the Grey Ring, though that was a fair assumption. I believe he may be one of the Nine, however; maybe you should visit him and ask for their help.”
Randae drained his glass. “So I take it your answer is ‘no’.”
“I’ll consult with the rest of the Ring; I don’t make arbitrary decisions for the group. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Thank you for your time.” Randae bowed. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Agonar smirked. “The Loremasters aren’t as arrogant as I had heard—unless you are atypical.”
“Perhaps you have misjudged us. We are a diverse group.”
“Perhaps.” Agonar sounded less than convinced.
Kim was waiting in the anteroom as Randae had left him, standing, hands hidden in the sleeves of his robes, the picture of patience. The secretary was at his desk again, pointedly ignoring the monk. “How did it go?” he whispered, sweeping the Loremaster’s cloak up from a chair.
“It could have gone… better.” Randae smiled tightly.
“They’re… gone.” Jad whispered. Kalen felt his cousin slowly rise up from behind the hatch wall. A murmuring among the crew began as well. Then he heard the captain call out, “Stand down! Secure the ship!”
He clambered to his feet with Jad’s help. “What happened? I couldn’t see.”
Jad shrugged as he brushed himself off. “There was a big flash and they were just gone, same way they got here I guess. I didn’t have a good angle either, seeing as I was cowering on the ground with you!” He smirked.
“Well let’s go see how Lukas is; it looked like he took a bolt from one of the pirates!”
“I’m sure his ‘tutor’ is taking care of him.” Jad muttered, stalking across the deck after his cousin.
Up on the foredeck, Tar-esiir frowned as he absently rubbed the cabochon gem on his bracelet. Who was the Elf in black and what magical device was he using that he could cast a multiple Jump—and apparently tap the power of my own Compass to do it? And working for a pirate no less! Some sort of Rogue Navigator? And what of that mechanical ship? I must report this news to the Guild Council. The Navigator’s mind raced, leaping from one conclusion to the next, each more alarming. Finally he forced himself to calm. Maintain the façade, never display uncertainty. He sighed. Easier said than done in the face of so much that cannot be explained.
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