Erastus 28, turn of the tides.

  The goblins had a ritual chant, a ceremony they performed before any ship left their dock. As my crew and passengers hauled our belongings onto my ship, the rolling thrum of goblin voices droned out a sequence. Every goblin, from the guards to the dockhands, joined in to create a harmonious sound. It was a rippling wave, echoing out from Dockmaster Coyle as he performed the most important part of any goblin-made repair.

  “Seven four two. Seven four three. Seven four four.”

  He slowly, deliberately called out each number as he transferred a gold piece from one ever shrinking pile on his right to a corresponding pile to his left. I had no intention of trying to leave before he finished; I had enough gold to settle up any discrepancies and fully suspected they would chase me down over two gold.

  “Dave” had scurried onto the ship early with one carry-on bag, blending in with a dozen new recruits. We were still slightly understaffed, but given our heading, we should be fine. Rosie was showing Naomi around the deck; she’d been a servant her whole life, but if she was willing to be a swab, there was plenty of work to do. Lubo joined Salyar in the Galley; a two week apprenticeship wasn’t much, but he was still pnning on heading north. The old dy would take on the position of cook, answering to Sosima.

  My officers each had their own tasks, discussed days in advance. As quartermaster, Sosima inventoried our supplies as Syl, my first mate, directed the teams loading everything. Cog, my bosun, was literally onboarding the new recruits and directing them to their new stations. Sandara acted as my sailing master, inspecting and correcting the rigging before we set sail. Syl would be looking over our few guns, since my gunnery chief was certainly not present anywhere a goblin might see her. My self appointed job as captain was to assist as necessary in any area where problems arose, and to address anything that fell outside of standard operating procedures.

  I escorted our guests to their quarters personally; the three small rooms were stripped bare and little better than closets, but they were private. We’d used them as cells for Plugg, Scourge, and Caulky, but they were comfortable enough.

  “These will be your quarters.” I expined. “I’ll expect you to pull your weight or stay out of the way. Mr. Hinson, Mr. Creed, which path will you take?”

  “I’ll py swab if that’s what you want.” Vancid Creed said, pursing his lips. “It’ll be a damn boring two weeks otherwise.”

  “Boring is good, I like boring.” Hinson ughed. “Boring means we are safe. Send your quartermaster to ask if you need anything special, but I’d prefer to enjoy being a passenger for once.”

  “Not asking me?” Varossa asked, arching an eyebrow. “I’m hardly a delicate flower.”

  “I would hate to insult a peer, Captain.” I said, “I’m perfectly willing to give orders to your underlings while they are on my ship, but you are essentially my employer for this job. Of course, you’re thus far paying me with dreams and good wishes, so I’m willing to renegotiate. Would you like a position under me?”

  I pced no particur emphasis on the st sentence, letting her notice the double entendre or not at her leisure.

  If she reacts positively, I can keep flirting. If she reacts negatively I know she doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. If she doesn’t react, I’m no worse off than I was.

  “I’m sure you’d like that.” She answered, her pink lips curving into a smile. “Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner some time?”

  Distinctly not a no.

  “Excellent. I’m afraid I must leave you for the moment; I’ve other duties to attend to.” I turned and spoke over my shoulder. “I’d consider it a favor if you kept to your quarters until we are underway. I’ll send Mr. Shortstone down to check in with you when he is avaible; he will be your primary point of contact for the time being.”

  ??????????

  “No, no trouble Captain. No trouble at all.” Aaron Ivey assured me. “The goblins didn’t try to damage the ship or steal anything; I kept an inventory and everything.”

  Ivey, after decades as a castaway, hadn’t been quite ready to go into a bustling town. His poor heart just couldn’t take the stimution, I supposed. Instead, he’d kept an eye on the ship for me along with his marble statue girlfriend. Even as we talked, he spent more time looking at the water off the edge of the boat than at me.

  “I’m gd. So you’ll be staying on?” I asked, “We could use your experience.”

  “If you’ll have me, yes.” He said, quietly.

  Poor guy probably doesn’t have anywhere else to go. From what Sosima has told me, pact poltergeists are frowned upon in Cheliax. Anything that turns a pact into something more than a simple exchange of power with the Pactmaker in control. Not just with spirits, either. It’s why tieflings get a bad reception; everyone assumes diabolists are sleeping with devils behind closed doors.

  I wanted to cp a hand on his shoulder, but I didn’t know if it would be welcome. I looked at the man; he was skeletally, dangerously thin. He’d put on a few pounds since I’d met him, but it’s a bad idea to start stuffing your face after a few years on starvation rations. Syl had him eating pin rice most days, seasoned with small quantities of meat and fruit. A few weeks ago he’d seemed wild, dangerous. Now, with his guard down, he mostly just looked fragile.

  “How is Cave Mother?” I asked gently, “There’s something I want to talk to her about.”

  “She’s fine.” He said, jerking his head towards the marble bust on the poopdeck, “I set her up so she could watch the goblins work. They didn’t talk to her much, but she enjoys watching people.”

  “Good.” I said, “If there’s anything you need, let me know. You’re part of this crew, and we look out for people here. Speaking of which, I’d appreciate it if you helped check the rigging. We’ve got a lot of new blood.”

  We parted ways, and I approached the statue. Cave Mother was a Pact Poltergeist, an object inhabited by the smallest fragment of an eldritch spirit. She had several modest powers, like always knowing true north or imbuing a weapon with undead sying fire, that were enough to help Ivey survive on a ghoul infested isnd for more than a decade. I’d spoken to Sosima, the only other binder I knew, to learn more about her.

  She is one of the advanced civilian spirits, believed to be of the first tribe to engage in rudimentary shamanism. She refuses to eborate upon whether she was a spirit or a shamaness. Restricted to licensed individuals, such as military and noble binders, but such people may bind her freely. She is mostly restricted due to her lucidity and age; she can share sensitive information, such as methods of binding other spirits, and will do so if properly compensated.

  “Cave Mother, is there any sort of title I should refer to you by?” I asked, approaching the marble bust.

  “Were you under the impression that Cave Mother is my true name?” Her voice emanated from the air, a croak, like an older woman who had been smoking all her life.

  “Understandable, Cave Mother it is.” I said, my voice even. “I want to ask you something.”

  “There is little reason to speak to me otherwise.” She groused. “I have little else to do. You may begin your request.”

  “I’m told you are a restricted spirit in Cheliax.” I began, “Not forbidden, but also kept away from new binders.”

  “You are told things which are broadly true.” She answered, mild irritation in her voice. “What of it?”

  “I’m told that you’re restricted because you know about other spirits, and will share that knowledge.” I said. “I want your take on something.”

  “Then ask for it.” She growled, her stone face unmoving.

  “I wish to imbue the ship with magic, so that it can sail itself. It would make the ship far more agile and potentially faster.” I expined. “Any Shackles pirate worth his salt outfits their ship with an engine to move faster. The method I’ve found involves imbuing the ship with a spirit like you. I want your advice as to what spirit would be best for that purpose.”

  “Do you intend to pay me for the information?” She asked.

  “Not beyond continuing to keep you on the ship as something of a mascot, unless you can convince me otherwise.” I said, “I’m not sure what use you’ll be to me in your current state.”

  She grunted, then went silent. For a moment I worried I’d pushed her too hard, but then she began speaking again.

  “A pact poltergeist I assume, with animating force?” She said thoughtfully. “Something smart enough to obey orders, but not so willful as to defy you. Something that you can command.”

  I let her chew on it, listening as she spoke to herself.

  “You’ll need a binder that has not compromised themselves.” She said, “Neither Aaron nor the Tiefling girl are able to call forth spirits freely. You would not find Vishgurv or myself particurly biddable.”

  I nodded, keeping my face neutral.

  “Eos Dei, I think. The Mournful Chorus would dedicate itself to your protection as best it could; they grow attached easily.” The decided. “They spend most of their time brooding, and have few desires they might act upon. You might also consider Gwenolyn, if your intentions for others are ill. He’s a romantic; you should be able to manipute him easily enough. Oh yes, and if you can draw forth more powerful spirits you should consider Humble Obhai; he is of my consteltion and I believe him trustworthy.”

  Eos Dei was that group of half-dead angels, I think. A little control over time and memory, generally benevolent. Restricted to licensed use mostly because they can cast Hypnotism several times a day; the Chelish are worried about what a user could do with the spirit, rather than the spirit itself.

  Gwenolyn is the ghost of someone that sounds a bit like Romeo, of “and Juliet” fame. Obsessed with love, but considered harmless enough for unrestricted use by the public. He’s considered to be a bit dim, usually going along with the summoner’s passions without compint. He only pushes hard if someone’s love life is on the line.

  “Not you?” I asked.

  “I would not respect you if you trusted the word of one who puts themselves forward in such a way.” She said, irritated. “If you were so foolish as that, I would not respect you as captain. I would not trust your decisions, and inevitably we would csh. A captain should not lightly quarrel with his crew, and should never quarrel with his ship.”

  “What if I wanted an intelligent mind controlling my ship,” I asked, feeling sly, “someone smart enough to think something like that through, and honest enough to say so when it won’t benefit them?”

  “Then you would need to pay that spirit well,” Cave Mother countered, “and try to avoid being an idiot too often where she can see you.”

  “What payment would you take?” I asked, “I’ll admit, I don’t really know what you want. I know Vishgurv wants more people binding him, but you?”

  “We all want that.” She agreed. “We are lost in the void beyond, sharing the eyes of those with whom we treat. The Abberant of Time Eternal hopes to ascend to godhood by forcing worship, so he exerts his strength to warp the fabric of life and death and demands that his debtors spread his influence. Most of us do not dare to exert ourselves so for any but our most cherished. Living retives and the like.”

  “And you?” I pressed. “What do you want?”

  “Perhaps to live, perhaps to die.” She said simply. “I have existed for a very long time. I am tired, and there is little I have not seen. To experience something new would be a great wonder.”

  “I’d appreciate if you could give me something more specific. I’d love to pay you and have a partnership, but ‘something new’ is a bit vague.” I ventured. “It’s an expensive process; you’ve got time to think about it.”

  “Then allow me to think.” She snapped. “I’ll consider it. You have done Aaron a kindness, for that I promise I will not cheat you. I will promise no more than that.”

  I appreciate that. It’d be real shit to have your ship turn in their two weeks notice. Binding her would also save me the trouble of finding some other binder to be my go-between.

  The goblins finished their chant, and lowered the long chains they had gating off the bay.

  “Now go away!” Coyle yelled. “You have one hour, we have another appointment soon! Leave or we charge for another day!”

  I stood tall, smiling down at my men from the poopdeck, and let out a long, low whistle. As I did, I began to call a mild, steady wind that matched our heading. Once I had everyone’s attention, I called my top officers.

  “Lady Aumaxa, is everything loaded?”

  “Yes, Captain, we are fully stocked.” Sosima called, standing near a door that led to the hold.

  “Miss Quinn, are we ready to sail?”

  “Aye, Captain, all’s in order.” Sandara confirmed, hands poised to unfurl the sails.

  “Miss Lonegan, is there any reason to dey?”

  “No, all is well.” Syl decred. “We are ready to begin.”

  “Then pull up the anchor, let’s get moving.”

  Cog, Ratts, Jape, and Narwhal let out three cheers, which thankfully worked as intended and prompted the rest of the crew to join in. The small ritual gave the men proper warning, and gave autopilot all the time he needed to call up a strong wind around the ship. The sails billowed with a satisfying snap, and we were moving.

  I let my officers work, and strolled over to the railing to watch our progress. We weren’t moving much faster than a man could run, especially this close to shore. Sandara was certain we could reach a speed of around twenty knots with my magic, but it would be dangerous to maintain speed like that anywhere but the clear open ocean. Maneuvering would be terrible, and any faster would strain the ship itself.

  Dangerous to move faster than a car driving around a residential neighborhood. Oh well, it’s sure as hell better than walking.

  I looked down the side of the ship towards the bow, and smiled. We could have possibly kept “The Man’s Promise” as the ship name, but it felt like someone else’s name for someone else’s ship. On the journey over here, I’d considered a lot of names. Most of them were pretty bad. When I’d been filling out the paperwork for the repairs and squibbing, I’d splurged just a little bit. One gold to paint on a new name; they had professionals on hand who could write neatly, and any kind of paint was likely to be messed up if I did the work while the ship was at sea.

  It had been a st minute addition, prompting a lot of discussion among my officers. Sosima wanted to name it the Devious, in honor of Chelish naming conventions. Sandara was partial to the Mocking Smile. Rowe suggested calling it The Better Wormwood. None of them were particurly excited about what I actually chose, but I’m the captain. It was my prerogative to make arbitrary decisions.

  I can’t believe this name wasn’t taken.

  By noon, the Enterprise was well on its way.