Erastus 26, predawn

  Osgri’s desk was an imposing edifice, made of dark stained wood polished to a mirror finish. She sat in a wingback chair, fnked by shelves full of books. As I entered, she smiled at me. Not a predator’s smile; no, she looked like a professor surprised to see a favored student.

  Probably not as surprised as she pretends, of course. She called me. Maybe the obvious manipution is hiding something?

  “Captain M’Dair, or would you prefer Emrys?” She said, pouring a cup of tea for herself, two spoons of sugar. “Would you like a cup?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I said, pausing briefly as I entered the room. She’d given me a perfect opportunity to let Dierdre in while I answered. (Bluff 19+12+10=41)

  I did not wait to be asked to take a seat. I grabbed a small chair from the corner of the room and pced it across the desk from Osgri, mirroring her position. She looked a lot like the orcish woman I’d spoken to in front of the building, as well as the guard who led me here. She looked much older, with a face that could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty depending on skin care.

  It’s the neck that’s a real giveaway. Mom always threw shade at the girls who didn’t take care of the skin on their neck. So, mother of two, all working at the temple?

  “It’s so nice to meet with someone who values my time.” I said lightly. “I’ve felt so welcome since I arrived.”

  I’m toeing a line here. This is a temple to the goddess of sex and vengeance, the crazy ex personified. I can’t show weakness. Mild sarcasm is about as insulting as I should risk.

  “Of course.” She said, “I understand you were looking to purchase information?”

  “If it isn’t too expensive, yes.” I said with a smile. “I was wondering how long Cog would let me lean on him. He seemed very embarrassed when I ferreted out his connection.”

  Imply a more adversarial retionship; they’ll be less likely to guess that he coached me.

  “He is a very proud young man.” Osgri agreed, ughing gently. “I suppose it’s for the best that someone outside the faith showed him his shortcomings. It’s so hard to take criticism to heart from those you grew up with.”

  “He seems to take refuge in audacity.” I said. “No one would expect the quiet religious musclehead to be a spy. Once you think about it, though, he’s pretty obvious.”

  “Indeed. It’s a common tactic.” Osgri said, “choose an archetype, live it fully, and people think they understand you. It becomes easy to tuck things into their assumptions. Crimson’s greatest fw is that he tends to rely on one trick too much.”

  “As much as I enjoy gossiping about my friends, were we pnning on talking business?” I asked, “I don’t oppose social calls, but I’m a busy man. If this lead doesn’t pan out, I’d prefer to check my other sources. I’ve got a job to do, and I’d prefer to finish it before my ship is seaworthy.”

  “Please, let an old woman prattle.” She said, an edge in her voice. “I just worry about the boy, you see. If anything were to happen to him, I haven’t a clue what I’d do. I suspect his mother would be even more distraught. I imagine we’d both seek guidance in our dy.” Our dy, The Savored Sting, the elven goddess of vengeance, would think the correct response quite obvious. Extract soce from the screams of the one who harmed him. (Sense Motive to read hidden message 15+1=16)

  “I take care of my crew.” I said, frostily. “If you don’t know that, you don’t know much about me. We can chat, you can offer me a drink, and we can all smile at one another for a time. If you have a specific concern, I’d appreciate it if you eborate. Otherwise, it feels like you’re implying I’m a poor captain for no particur reason.”

  As I spoke, Besmara’s boon hummed within me, spurred by my irritation to leech warmth from the room. Nothing ostentatious, but the orc priestess was observant. She could feel the chill well enough.

  She ughed, a deep ugh that cut my irritation down a few notches.

  “Oh, you are a testy one aren’t you?” She said, smiling maternally. “Well, I suppose we should get to business then.”

  She efficiently drained her steaming tea with a long pull, stowed the cup and kettle, and returned to her chair with steepled fingers.

  “Mister Cogward has been somewhat overstepping his bounds.” She expined, “Not so much as to invite substantial censure, but he has been very free with our resources.”

  “By reading a few files and sharing them with me?” I asked. “That doesn’t cost you a thing.”

  “He kept to information that was not excessively sensitive and didn’t make copies, and thus will not be punished.” Osgri agreed, “However, they are our files for a reason. Knowledge is power, Captain, as I suspect you know. We share it freely with our allies. While you may be Crimson’s ally, the House of the Savored Sting hardly knows you.”

  She pulled a sheaf of papers from her desk and leafed through them as she spoke.

  “Our sister temple has a rather dim view of you, which doesn’t quite match up.” She pulled out a single sheet of parchment. “Skittish, smooth talker, utterly cowed. Not worth approaching for more information. I think they may have sold you short.”

  “You could say that being out on his own can change a man.” I said, smiling. “Might I inquire as to the rest of that file?” (Bluff 11+11+10=32)

  “Oh, it’s just what our sister temple in Port Peril knows about a certain colony of drow.” Osgri said. “Mostly just about the handful of traders who come to port promising the riches of your mines or selling recreational substances from your farms. A bit about some of the prominent families. All interesting, but precious little of substance. I propose a trade, to start.”

  “You want to know about Hesndaena?” I asked, breaking into a cold sweat. “Much of that information is rather sensitive. The Shackles being what they are, there are quite a few would-be lords interested in our mines.”

  Osgri considered that, and while she did I kept a steady, neutral face.

  Quick! Tell me if that was bullshit. Are there other reasons for the secrecy? What are the punishments for bbbing?

  I’ve seen women used as living mulch for esoteric mushrooms after letting slip sensitive details. My father in w pilots the ship himself so that as few people as possible are given the opportunity to share information. I was only brought along because Nendra had heard that married women were more respected. I believe the actual term was “respectable” and it had a different meaning than she thought. Common is a strange tongue.

  Alright, warn me if I ask for anything sensitive.

  Moving at the speed of thought, my exchange with Autopilot finished in seconds.

  “How about this, as you want something from us.” Osgri offered, “you ask a question, and I’ll name my price. We can repeat as much as you like in the next hour. Deal?”

  As she spoke, she waved a round silver amulet in the air. It fshed with golden light, and the room was filled with a vague pressure. It was magic familiar to me: a zone of truth. Of course, I am resistant to such magic thanks to my heritage. (Spellcraft 10+10=20)

  Secret Will Save

  Secret Sorcerer Level Check

  So, how do we know if it affected us?

  If we can successfully tell a lie, then we eluded the spell.

  And if it’s an obvious lie, she will be able to tell something is up.

  “What color is my dress?” Osgri asked, “do try to lie.”

  Answer the way we would if we were affected. Seems like a fairly obvious test.

  “Your dress is obviously…” I cut my words off abruptly, then scowled. “I’m not fond of this kind of magic.” (Bluff 15+12=27)

  “Excellent, now please go ahead. What would you like to know?” Osgri prompted. “We only have a handful of minutes before I must recast the spell.”

  “Who and where is the man who put out a hit on Melku?” I said, hoping to get it out of the way.

  “Why are you doing what you are doing?” Osgri asked. “The man I read about in this file has a life waiting for him if he simply returned to Port Peril and waited.”

  “Not much of a life.” I answered, “My wife hates me and I didn’t have any opportunity to improve my lot in life. I’d be fine never going back to Hesndaena.”

  Osgri’s face was a mask of polite curiosity as I spoke. She nodded affably and pulled out a small file. It contained a sketch of a human man in a top hat, as well as a short description of the house he was living in.

  “A cheap enough question.” She said affably. “We have no particur affection for those who disrupt the status quo in such a tasteless fashion. Was there anything else I could help you with?

  Sure. First hit is free. Getting a better read on my loyalties was just a happy coincidence, I’m sure.

  “Varossa Lanteri.” I said, “do you know anything about her?”

  “Where is Hesndaena?” Osgri asked, “just the isnd would do; we don’t need to know the specifics.”

  If we told someone that, we would be hounded for the rest of our days. If our location became common knowledge, treasure hunters and would-be lords would be the least of our problems. In all likelihood, Aashaq the Annihitor would obliterate or ensve our city personally.

  Who the fuck is Aashaq the Annihitor?

  The ancient red dragon under whose isnd we live far beneath. She provides cover, and will likely die of old age within a century without our intervention. When that time comes, Hesndaena will strike her minions down and take the Dahak Isles for ourselves.

  Well that pn is… uh… ballsy.

  It borders on suicidal, but the matrons have no intention of abandoning their holdings unless they have an objectively superior destination in mind. It would cause them to lose face, which would inevitably lead to civil war. In any event, one does not wish to be the scapegoat for such a conflict.

  “Too rich for my blood.” I said, waving one hand. “I don’t want to go back but I also have no intention to kick a wasp nest.”

  “Regrettable, but understandable.” Osgri said, “anything else?”

  “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to ask a different question?” I coaxed, giving her my best winning smile. (Diplomacy 18+9=27)

  She ughed, cocked her head to the side, and shrugged.

  “Why not, though I’d prefer you not try that more than once.” Osgri agreed, “what are the intentions of the Drow in the Shackles?”

  Not too sensitive.

  Go for it.

  “Integration, of a sort.” I expined. “We are exiles from the north, far deeper below. The Darknds beneath the Shackles are particurly dangerous, so we came here to avoid being followed. Your people have a fairly reasonable path to legitimacy, if we can take an isnd, and we are willing to be patient. We will wait for an ideal opportunity and amass power until then. We don’t have enough popution to justify more than one modestly sized isnd regardless.”

  Osgri pursed her lips and nodded.

  “Very well.” She said, “Varossa has no maiden name we are aware of. She joined up on the Magpie Princess under old Warvil Lanteri a few years back, and before that we know basically nothing. She slept her way into an officer position, married, and then Warvil died under mysterious circumstances.”

  “And her former crew think she is responsible.” I supplied.

  “Just so.” Osgri agreed, “She’s a skilled fighter, and according to reports, she is the next closest thing to fearless. Beyond that, we have only specution.”

  “May I have the specution?” I asked.

  “May I have the answer to my original question?” Osgri asked, her eyes sparkling.

  “Fair point.” I said with a nod. “Thank you, but no. So, do you know the name Hyrix Snowfeather?”

  “Are you devoted to any gods?” Osgri asked lightly.

  “No?” I said, nervously. “I’d like to think I’m on good terms with Besmara and Pharasma, but I don’t pray or anything.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. It was a small question for a small question.” Osgri said with a smile, “Warvil’s old quartermaster, now the captain of the Magpie Princess. The spell is almost finished; was there anything else?”

  I might as well ask.

  “So, any chance you could help me get some fgs?” I asked. “I hope to go independent at some point, but I understand that it’s something of a free-for-all out there. I’d rather not get attacked every few miles on my way to Port Peril.”

  “Oh?” Osgri purred. “That's easy. We have a deal with the dy of Quent, you see. If you promise one favor, we are authorized to give you a six month contract for her protection.”

  “And would this favor happen to include disclosing sensitive information?” I asked dryly.

  “It can, but Lady Fairwind makes it a policy to not demand rge scale treachery from business partners if she can avoid it.” Osgri answered. “I’m sure she’d find some task for you, one which does not conflict with your established loyalties or moral stances. You will need to disclose those now, incidentally. We don’t want you having a sudden crisis of conscience because you don’t like her request.”

  On the one hand, it’s making me beholden to someone. On the other hand, establishing a connection to a pirate lord doesn’t sound bad. I’d have preferred Raffles, but one of his allies can’t be all bad.

  “That seems reasonable.” I agreed. “Though I’ll put a cap on it right now. I’m not working for her for longer than she’s giving me the fgs.”

  “A six month maximum seems reasonable.” Osgri allowed. “Well, I hope this is the first of many equitable arrangements between our organizations. Here is the paperwork.”

  Does she always just keep those contracts on her desk, or was she hoping to get me on the hook from the start? Ah well. Hopefully this will be mutually beneficial.

  ???????????

  I didn’t take part in knocking out Melku’s competitor. The Callistrians didn’t rate him as much of a threat, and I still don’t take pleasure in killing. I didn’t lose much sleep over it; what goes around comes around. He picked a fight with a wealthy, intelligent person and escated directly to hiring assassins. Even if he had managed to kill Melku, he’d have probably ended up getting himself killed soon regardless.

  I allowed the crew to pick through his belongings and take their own shares out of the pile, not bothering to do more than a cursory sweep for magic items. He had surprisingly little for an artificer; a +1 cutss and suit of Armor Padding, some everburning torches, and several magical trifles like a magical music box. I had no idea how he intended to maintain a business in a competitive market like Goatshead. He was clearly an idiot in over his head, throwing around what little power he thought he had.

  I stayed up all night with Sandara and Syl charting our course because it was important work that needed to be done, certainly not out of any sense of guilt.

  “With Fairwind’s blessing, the answer seems pretty obvious now.” Sandara noted, “the main trade route here should get us to Port Peril in two weeks' time. There’s a current we can take advantage of, the few hazards are well charted, and it’s damn near constantly patrolled. A bit boring, but fast.”

  “Boring is good.” Syl noted. “Boring keeps us safe and alive for the next job.”

  “Besides, Miss Quinn,” I said with mock severity, “I believe we can occupy ourselves for two weeks quite easily. Tell me about the ports we might see along the way. Anywhere we might be able to offload enchanted armaments?”

  ??????????

  We spent the next day in Goatshead tying off loose ends. I paid Jerry back before interest had even started accruing, thanks to the pay from Melku. I met briefly with Varossa to make sure she was still pnning on coming aboard, since she’d been slightly under duress during our first meeting. She refused to provide me with any more information about our destination, only confirming that Port Peril was a perfectly acceptable first step. I tried to read her mind for more information, but my magic bounced right off.

  Must have a good will save. Oh well, I’ll have more than a month to figure her out.

  My crew was flush with cash, between investments, pay, and looting. I split the gold from our work; one share to each member of the crew, two shares to officers, and ten shares to me. All told, I was personally leaving Goatshead with seven thousand more gold pieces than I’d arrived with. My crew, each flush with a few hundred gold

  Pretty good return on investment for a week off, I’d say. Should keep us afloat for a long while. That said, I’m ready to get off this isnd.

  ??????????

  Dearest Nendra,

  I hope this letter finds you well, and that it does not bring you undue distress.

  I know I have not sent you a letter recently, and apologize. You are not an easy correspondent, with both of us moving so frequently. Indeed, I know not which Pathfinder Lodge I will be nearest to by the time you see this letter and expect I will not receive any response until next we meet in person.

  My travels have been very exciting, and I stand by the invitation I extended to you. I know you and Winsome do not get along, but I truly believe you would have been a great asset on this journey had you chosen to accompany me. I know you take your mother’s business very seriously, but we can not always be living in the shadow of our parents.

  Speaking of assets, I must take issue with you on a certain matter. I have met your husband, Emrys M’Dair. I believe you have done him a great disservice in how you have described him. In my brief interactions, he has proven to be both clever and pussient. In the st year since I have seen you, he has somehow assembled a crew and acquired a ship for himself. The only thing I can say against him is that he seems a bit of a rake, which is hardly a rare fault among young, handsome, powerful men.

  I hesitate to advise you on your marriage, but I believe he is aware of your deception. He seemed rather bitter when you came up in conversation. Given that he was able to maintain a smile and an easy demeanor at nearly every other point, regardless of circumstances, I am inclined to believe he feels hard done by you.

  I suggest you do whatever is in your power to make amends and address the rift between you. If you do not, I worry that you will lose a very worthy gentleman to the sea. Strength and beauty are great assets that I know you have, but they must be tempered with warmth and connection, for Besmara has strength and beauty enough to compete with any woman in the world. It is a common tragedy found among dies of the pirate css, I am told.

  Forgive me if I have misjudged the situation terribly, I can only speak upon what I’ve seen with my own eyes.

  Your friend,

  Pepper Bck