Once she was sure that everyone was asleep, Joy crept from her stuffed straw pallet and slipped out of the room. She was sure no-one would have heard her move because of the constant put-put-put from Makaira’s snoring. But even as she pulled the door closed, she wouldn’t have seen a pair of eyes flick open.
Once outside the room, she muttered some words and felt a flush of joy as the magic coursed in her, and she became invisible to the world, yet fully visible to herself. for not a moment did she consider if her spell had worked, she just was confident in its working.
She padded down the steps towards the open door and stepped out into the night. A cat hissed at her passing and she wondered at the strangeness of those creatures and their keen senses.
From an upper window, Shei gazed out upon the yard, wondering if Joy would be leaving but as nothing came into view, they curled up on the straw and listening to the rhythmic snoring of the older mage, fell back into their nightmare.
Joy could hear the last of the town revellers as she crept along the dirt streets, doing her best to stay in the shadows. One could never be sure if the invisibility was complete and she had seen too many pranks go awry at the Guild when an inexperienced apprentice had forgotten to mask their own shadow as well as their body. Joy would make no such mistake; she had practiced the art of invisibility for slipping off into the woods and watching nature for hours on end.
Finally she arrived at the strange fish-shrine in the town. Someone had left two burning candles there, to the fish-effigy was wreathed in an ethereal flickering light. The trapdoor was still secured.
Outside, across the square, one of the many porthole taverns were closing their trade. Porthole taverns represented the roughest of places – where the clientele wasn’t even trusted to enter the hearth but instead were passed drinks through a small window. She crept closer, careful not to disturb any stones and then she spotted the three unpleasant men she’d spoken to earlier. One, the ringleader, seemed very much the worse for wear and he coloured the air blue with his language.
All three sloped off into a small cul-de-sac and then parted ways, the leader shuffling into a one room shack. As she peered in the window, she could smell only man sweat and fish work and all she could see was a lone table and chair, a poorly tended fireplace with a pot hanging above it and poking out of a dark alcove, two grubby feet.
She debated whether to investigate further but was wary – these were rough people “of the knife” it was said. Feeling slightly defeated she returned to her lodgings and crept back inside.
As she opened the door to their room, she heard Shei hiss “and where have you been”
Shei questioned her at length, knowing the dangers of snooping around at night, and berated her for carelessness and how they’d be sick with worry if she did not return. Makaira made a loud snort that seemed to indicate he was still asleep but then he spoke “Do I have to lock fast your jaws to make you stop wittering through the night?”
Joy related her journey to them both and Makaira surprised her by standing up and starting to dress. Even moreso when he did not put on his ceremonial garb that he went everywhere with. Makaira was not the sort of Wizard to be seen about town so unadorned yet here he was, beard and hair uncombed, ready to step out into the night.
The three made their way in darkness, not bothering with invisibility or any form of camouflage until they arrived at the Shrine. It was now Deepnight and it seemed that anything that had occurred here had long since departed. The candles were burned down to their wicks.
Makaira nudged Shei towards the locked trapdoor and Shei, taking the meaning, obliged. The lock was simple, only two tumblers, and Shei picked it expertly but the mechanism wouldn’t release. “It’s held fast by magic”. Joy wondered at the implications of this when Makaira stood to his full height and uttered a single word “Haba”, which means Raze in the True Speech. Instantly the trapdoor itself was rendered to splinters which hung in the air for a moment as if surprised, and then fell into the darkness of whatever was below the door.
Clicking his fingers, Makaira summoned a magelight which he tossed into the blackness and then stepped into the hole.
Below, lit by the eerie magelight, was a small pontoon at the end of a long cave. There was some evidence it had been used due to the marks of feet on the greenish slime so common to caves and harbours but there was nothing else to be seen. The cavern waters carried the smell of the sea and they all surmised this must lead to some secluded opening on the coast. Joy recognised this a s smugglers hole, not uncommon when folks wanted to avoid taxes or move good unseen.
With nothing else to be gleaned here, they climbed out of the hole. Shei expressed some concern at the trapdoor which lay in fragments, but Makaira ignored them and bade Joy to lead them to the ringleader.
In this odorous little shack, standing above it’s owner, Makaira spoke quietly into the darkness. Both Joy and Shei recognised some of the words. Shei saw them form as certain musical notes which they had used many times in attempts to sway the minds of others. A reminder of the kinship between magic and song.
With his mind utterly enslaved, the ringleader confessed all. He was part of a clandestine gang who were moving people in and out of the lands unseen. He personally was responsible for the deaths of at least six people. Their motives were partly about money but there was a revolutionary aspect to it that left Makaira very uncomfortable. He sent the man back to sleep with no memory and then the three returned to their lodgings.
Rising fashionably late, they decided to inform the wizard Alaric of the goings-on. He again displayed considerable prepared relaxation but promised them he would take action. Uncertain of his sincerity, they made their way down to the port to find the ship they awaited.
The Wanderer was a sleek vessel, narrow of beam but quick on the wind. It’s master, Spicer, was a lean Osslan who inspired confidence and strength. He agreed to their haggling for the trip to round the top of Saaland and out to the West.
As they loaded their belongings aboard the Wanderer, Joy spotted a commotion in the square. A large crowd was gathered. Spying through the eyes of a seabird, she saw the ringleader being hoisted to a pillory. The Wizard Alaric must have made good on his promise. The Wanderer slipped it’s moorings and headed East out into the open sea before turning Northeast. After a day at sea, it rounded the northern horn and set a course due West for Alben.
Spicer took great delight in teaching anyone who would listen about the sails and lines. Makaira spend most of his time in silent meditation with only the occasional snore but Shei and Joy were quick to follow instructions and soon were able to tack and steer without supervision.
Alben came into view a day later, a town brightly lit by greenish magelight. It was clear the place was wealthy, maintained by the lucrative Ironworks in the region. The Wanderer slipped quietly into the dock with Shei and Joy securing her to the harbour wall and Spicer off to unload cargo and collect supplies for the next leg of the journey.
