Chương 39: 38 Around the Cask

After treating the wounded, we sewed the bodies of the dead in sailcloth—Rossa and Rodeliel, as well as the bodies of the few Kobolds who'd gotten crushed under the crab. We sent them to the depths in weighted bags after a ceremonious silence. With much less protocol and reverence, we dumped the Deep One corpses over the other side and sanitized the deck. My ribs pulsed, a sharp ache flaring where there'd no doubt be cracks. I forced a neutral face, feeling their eyes on me as I headed to my quarters.

I didn't look back. I hadn't dealt the final blow, but I'd drawn the monster's attention for over half the fight, and after dropping onto its back, something had changed with the crew.

"Trident Wielder," a pair of Kobolds whispered as I passed. Mordisco nodded in approval as he oiled his wedge. Vurel's lips pressed together, then eased as he stroked his beard. Bruno slunk into the shadows, his scowl deepening even further when he saw me. Othess—the Naga-kin's expression remained unreadable, but his stare made me feel like an insect under a sheet of glass. I opened the door to my quarters and slid to the ground the moment it closed behind me. Cradling my ribs, I exhaled sharply.

I flipped my eye patch up and bit my knuckle, gagging against the pain. I sat there for a minute, or thirty, trembling as I hugged myself. Eventually, I managed to peel myself off the floor. Sliding the dead bolt, I staggered over to the small mirror set into the wall. I pulled my shirt up, eyes going wide at the swollen purple band that wrapped my torso. This wouldn't work. Without adrenaline, I'd be nonoperational. I scanned my quarters, ensuring I was alone, then I tugged off my ring.

Leaning against the dresser, the gun belt with my brass cartridge pistol flashed into my hands. Several potions secured by leather loops glinted around the edges. Tugging a glass vial free, I unstoppered it. The elixir paused inches from my lips. A health potion wouldn't blow my cover. While they were expensive, they were available on just about every island. My resilience, on the other hand, might draw more questions.

Miraculously recovering after being crushed between a ship and a mammoth crustacean—those were the kind of things my crew might question. The sting persisted, growing sharper rather than subsiding. The vial tipped back. These weren't the greater health potions Naomi had purchased, but general health potions issued from the Armory of Allocation. A tingle spread through my ribs and knee. Two other health potions seemed to look up at me from the belt, enticing me.

There were two primary lines of thought regarding potion management. Some preferred using them to maintain optimal fighting conditions. Made sense to me—bearing wounds would increase the chances of making fatal mistakes. However, in the other camp, potions could bring you back from the brink of death. Potion rationing made a lot more sense when you couldn't count on a resupply. What balance to strike now? With a sigh, I slid them back into their loops and dismissed the belt to my inventory.

Best to save for when they really counted. I tried to check my messages, but in the cabin I couldn't connect to the network. My eyes fell on the shutters at the back of the cabin, and I crossed to them. Sea air and light flowed into the room as I pushed them open and stuck my head out the window. <<High Family Alert: x2>> <<New Message: Naomi>> <<New Message: Lance>> I opened Naomi's message. <<Naomi: Tony, I haven't heard from you in a while. What's the situation? Aunt Springweather lost connection with you.

We ran into a situation with Sirens, but we are about five more hours behind. >> I frowned, rubbing my side, which now only smarted when I pressed on my ribs. The potion's effect was fast, but the tingle was already fading. <<Tony: Sorry. I was wearing the ring, and some crew members were getting a little too curious. Just made it through Mariner's Canyon. We had a situation with a Titan Crab, so you're not the only one who's behind. >> I opened Lance's message. <<Lance: Tony, just checking in.

Kerelev briefed me on your mission. Be careful, cover work is dangerous, especially for new Cousins. >> My neck strained, my head still out the window. <<Tony: Hey Lance, all's good. This is—tiring. I hate playing the bad guy. How's the hunt for Puppetmaster? >> I scanned our wake, the water splitting behind us in a V. <<New Message: Naomi: How are the others? I can't reach them. >> I winced. Almost three days in the brig, they probably weren't great. <<Tony: They're being patient. Real team players.

Hopefully, they'll be able to stretch their legs soon. >> I opened the family alert. <<High Family Alert: The Paradise Embassy on Heim Rock has been closed, and the Storm Titans have expelled our diplomats. >> That hit like a gut punch, and goosebumps formed on my arm. So the world kept on rolling even while I was away. I tabbed to the update. <<Heim Rock has joined the Bloodwake Confederacy. >> I swallowed, my throat itching. So the Giants had joined the Dragons. I thought back to Samirah the Efreet's boasts.

The Bloodwake was preparing for war, and now they had collected a very dangerous ally. This had been a long time coming, but never something I followed closely. For a brief moment, my mission made me feel like a child, running errands while the grownups faced the real threat. I shook my head and glanced at the sky. From my angle, I couldn't make out the crack, but I knew it was growing, the very seam of reality unraveling. I pinched the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes so tight they stung behind the lids.

Focus on the mission. Not only did that help me forget the countdown, but it reminded me that we were also making a real difference here. Hopefully. Right, a difference to the boy and the woman we had abducted. My jaw tightened. What were their families thinking? As much as I'd wanted to go down to check on my partymates, I'd avoided passing the brig. I couldn't bring myself to look at the cabin boy or the woman we'd taken from the docks. I couldn't force myself to watch their terror.

My gut pinched, and my knuckles whitened on the window seal. I punched in another message to Naomi. <<Tony: How are the whispers? >> I waited less than half a minute for the reply. <<Naomi: They grow louder the closer we get to Prime Rock. When we had to deviate, it was as if they were getting farther away. >> Prime Rock—Black Trench waters. I bit my tongue. The dock attack, Naomi's whispers, Deep Folk mutations—it all pointed to Black Trench planning something, but what?

No—I pulled back into my cabin, a frown creasing my lips. Just as I hadn't followed Giant politics, I didn't have the bandwidth for fish cults. Only Puppetmaster and my immediate mission mattered. I glanced out the window, immediately checking my thoughts. That Psionic had done something to Naomi. That meant that I couldn't simply ignore it. Great, just another thing to worry about. Something shifted behind me, and I whirled, jerking my saber free from its sheath. A bottle rolled from underneath my cot.

My brows pinched together as I took a tentative step forward, straining to listen. The sound of shallow breathing hit my ears. There was no way I was peeking under the cot, no chance I'd drop and expose my face. I grabbed the frame suspended from the ceiling by ropes and hauled it up. A Kobold shrieked as he shrank back. This one was tiny, barely more than a child—the smallest of the Warriors of the Trident.

"What are you doing in here?" I demanded, flushing my face. What had he seen? Me using my inventory? Sending messages, would that mean anything to him? Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. He helplessly clapped his hands over his head as if expecting a blow.

"Trident Wielder, I heard a noise!" he said.

"The crab monster!" The runt tugged at his face miserably.

"You were—hiding?" I asked, blade lowering.

"Hiding, yes, I am a coward! Forgive me, oh great Trident Wielder!"

"What did you see?" I asked, voice low.

"Just socks!" The Kobold said, wringing his hands.

"Soap, clothes." I squinted, now more confused than anything. I turned, examining my dresser. Two of the drawers had been cracked open, a shirt sleeve hanging out of one.

"Wait a second," I said, whirling back on the Kobold.

"You weren't hiding; you were going through my stuff." The cracked, shale-like ridges around his yellow eyes opened wide.

"I—" His face hardened with juvenile determination.

"Yes."

"Yeah?" I said, crouching to get in his face.

"Why? A single lash from Ukark would rip you in half." He barred his teeth, the terrified mask giving way to fierce commitment.

"I was looking for the Trident!" I blinked in surprise.

"What's your name, Warrior?"

"Dustnose," he said, thrusting his chest out.

"I am a coward. With the Trident, I'd be the strongest the Warriors of the Trident have ever seen!"

"Dustnose," I said levelly.

"You're an idiot." He snarled, crocodilian teeth barred. I plucked the cord from my neck, drawing the fork out from under my shirt.

"First, I don't keep it in my room. It stays with me. Second—It's a brine fork!" The young Kobold's gaze latched onto the utensil dangling from my fingers. His eyes sparkled as if it were a diamond. I tensed for half a second. I got the impression he might leap for it, but surely he couldn't be that stupid— He lunged, snarling as earthy fingers snatched for the fork. I jerked back in surprise, whipping the fork back as I caught the Kobold by the shirt.

He scratched at my arms, making this the second time a Kobold had done that in less than a week. I slammed him against the wall, a choked gag ripping from him.

"Listen, Dustnose!" I snapped. Rather than listening, he elected to bite my wrist. I jerked my hand back, and he scrambled up my arm as if it were a tree branch. He sprang from my shoulders, fingers closing around the fork. My hand dropped at the sudden added weight, but black tides, there was no way I was losing to thirty-five pounds of fury. I stumbled back, pressing a hand into the Kobold's face, steering his snapping teeth away from my fingers.

"Get off!" I snapped.

"Don't you have to obey me?"

"The Trident chooses me!" Dustnose snapped, shaking the fork. I swore. The dust rat was actually doing it. I flicked his nose hard, and he flinched, yellow eyes watering. Then he doubled down. My grip slipped. He was pulling too hard. I stumbled, jerked by his flailing weight. I smacked his nose again, harder this time. He dropped to the ground. The sudden absence of weight threw my hands back. My grip was already poor, so I almost didn't feel the Trident slip from my grasp—and right out the window.

We both watched the porthole in stunned silence, then turned to each other. Dustnose wailed, scuttling up the wall and leaping into open space. I caught the Kobold before he could plummet to the ocean below.

"Dustnose!" I hissed, ripping him back into the ship.

"Shut up!" I slammed him against the wall, binding his mouth shut with my off-hand. He whimpered, tears blurring his eyes.

"Listen," I hissed.

"That was not a legendary artifact; it was a fork. A tex fork!" The Kobold trembled in my grasp.

"I'm going to let you go, and you're not going to spaz out. You will not jump into the water; it is gone. Do you understand me?" He nodded slowly. I eased off his snout.

"What have I done!" he choked, then he glared at me with fire.

"What have you done?"

"Me?" I snapped.

"You're the one who attacked the Trident Bearer."

"So did you!" he shot back.

"When you took it from Clod the Mean. You showed me power can be taken!"

"And apparently lost, idiot." Dustnose froze.

"What do we do?" he whispered.

"We don't tell anyone!" I said.

"We'll find a new fork. Scuff it up, make it look like the Trident." His miserable head shook.

"Clod the Mean will know. He was Trident Bearer for two years."

"Well, I could throw you all back in the water if this becomes a problem." He went still, considering something.

"We tell them, you ate the Trident." My brow climbed.

"I ate— the Trident?"

"Yes, yes," he said, nodding.

"You consumed its power, and now you're one with its might!" His eyes darkened.

"And I'm the only one who knows the truth." A grin split his lips.

"This means I have a fulcrum."

"Fulcrum?" I asked doubtfully.

"Yes," he sneered.

"I own you now."

"Oh, you mean leverage," I snorted, folding my arms.

"Yes!" his grin deepened.

"Leverage."

"So what you're saying—" I said, in a low, serious voice.

"Is that I should tell your people I ate the Trident, then I should kill you for knowing the truth?" He froze, his gaze shifting to me slowly. No, I wasn't going to kill a Kobold youth, but he couldn't have known that.

"Idiot," I snorted.

"You can't blackmail me. I could drop kick any one of you to Drake! If this is going to work, I need you to be a lot less sneaky." He went back to wringing his hands.

"We could tell them the truth. That their artifact was a crappy fork."

"No!" he exclaimed.

"Even if it were true, it would tear the warriors of the Trident apart." I rolled my eyes, and a knock came at the door. The Kobold stiffened. I thrust a finger in his face.

"Out of sight and stay quiet." I moved to the door, and Dustnose scurried to hide behind the dresser. The bolt shifted noisily, and I cracked the door to find myself face to face with a black cobra.

"Othess," I said, shifting to block the view into the room. His gaze slid past me for just a moment.

"Remodeling, Captain?" he purred, nodding towards the tipped cot.

"Something like that," I said, folding my arms.

"What can I do for you?" His tongue darted, head twitching as if on a ball joint.

"You can tell me what you're hiding." I tensed and immediately cursed myself for the reaction.

"Hiding?" I cleared my throat.

"No idea what you're talking about."

"I think not," he said, his voice smooth as venomous silk.

"I have a nose for secrets, and you—" he inhaled sharply.

"You smell—" he hummed as if savoring the thought.

"ripe with deception."

"I have secrets," I admitted at length.

"We all do, only in this case. They're not relevant." He inhaled, scaled lips twitching.

"Another deceit."

"Do you have a real reason for being here, quartermaster?" I asked, an edge creeping into my voice.

"Yes," he said.

"I've authorized a keg from our stores. To celebrate our victory. I think it might help if you drank with the crew." I glanced past him at the crab shell lashed to the deck in the fading evening light. A few deckhands harvested pieces off the beast.

"I can't—" I caught myself. Why did a rejection feel so natural? Because I was a Cousin and they were criminals? Because distancing myself would make betraying them so much easier at the end of the mission?

"Actually—" I peeked past the Naga-kin to a small huddle around a keg where Drogo, Vurel, Ukark, Sliplock, and even Bruno stood.

"Sure," I said, slipping past the door.

"It's been a long day."

"A wise choice, I think, Captain," Othess said, and we crossed the deck.

"There he is!" Vurel called, hefting a wooden cup. Ukark stomped a hoof twice, snorting towards me, as the others called to me invitingly. I joined the circle, and a heavy, dented pewter mug pressed into my hands.

"What were you doing up there, Captain?" Sliplock asked, whiskers twitching.

"Heard some banging."

"Honestly," I said, hugging myself with my free arm.

"I was crying like a baby; that tex crab crushed me good." Laughter earned a smirk from me, and I wet my lips with the rum. I didn't drink. Not here, not undercover.

"You didn't tell us you could fly!" Vurel said, wiping spilled dark fluid from his chin with a tattooed hand.

"Fly?" I asked, frowning.

"You mean falling. Brine, I was lucky I fell on my sword."

"And it just so happened to line up with a hole in its armor?" Sliplock challenged.

"No, Captain, admit it, you're a terror with a blade." I shrugged.

"Slightly above average."

"Modest too," Drogo said.

"You lot could learn something here. Maybe you could have avoided prison if you had an ounce of the Captain's humility."

"It's true," Vurel said, tracing the ring of his cup with a finger.

"I was never a good kid, and times were rough." He went silent, but the others shifted to him expectantly. He glanced up, recognizing the invitation to share more. The Dwarf shrugged.

"Had to make ends meet. Grew up in the Terrows. When I was little, I stole. But as I grew—" his ink-covered arms tensed with compact power.

"I realized I could take it by force. No discretion necessary."

"Robber then?" Sliplock said before sipping at his drink.

"Never got caught," Vurel said.

"Not until I came home. Found my woman with another man. A halfling—" He went silent.

"Didn't realize halfling bones broke so easily." The group went still, each sipping in a near-ritual acknowledgment of the Dwarf's past. Dustnose slipped from my quarters, hands clasped behind his back as he stomped away, suspiciously inconspicuous. He caught my eye and scampered into the hold. Sliplock cleared his throat, stepping in to go next.

"Can you blame me for being a contrabandist when I was born in a smuggler's hold?" A few nodded, and murmured agreements followed.

"Father, uncles, mother, sisters. A rat does what his kin do." His tail switched behind him.

"And customs, a tithe to the gods of greed." That got a murmur of approval from the others. Bruno sniffed his crooked nose, his grey ponytail swinging.

"I was wrongfully accused—" Instant jeers and laughter from the others made the man flush red.

"I was!"

"Didn't you earn three life sentences while in prison?" Vurel asked.

"No one cares, Bruno," Drogo rolled his eyes.

"Even if you were as innocent as a babe, the wardens did the world a favor locking you up." The others snickered. And Bruno's already ruddy cheeks deepened to crimson.

"What about you, Othess?" I asked, shifting to the quartermaster. This one, I needed to understand. He was my greatest threat.

"What got you locked up?" His lips turned upward.

"Incompetence. A mistake when it mattered most."

"Come now, that's a deflection!" Sliplock said.

"What was your charge?" His smile deepened.

"Insurance fraud." Vurel scoffed.

"No, you expect me to believe you were in a high-security prison for paper crimes?"

"For the fraud, no. The ship going down—that was eight years, max." His black and grey eyes slid my way.

"It was the fifty people who were aboard at the time that caught me in real trouble." Vurel swore.

"Fifty people?"

"How are you alive?" Vurel asked.

"You should have been hanged."

"Allegedly," Othess said, eyes never leaving me.

"Criminal negligence and insurance fraud. That's all they were able to stick me with. It helped that I took a plea deal. Routed out the whole operation." I searched the snake for remorse. There was none.

"Land ho!" A voice called. I spun in the maroon evening. In the far distance, a blinking light flashed in the night—a lighthouse.

"Is that—" I started.

"Aye," Sliplock said.

"Drift Port." <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 01: 00: 00: 52: 59>>