4
A Word of Mutiny
Rorshif looked angry. He always looked angry, Tomon thought, but he looked especially angry now as he argued with Captain Vagano near the wheel. Tomon started checking the fishing lines again. Winsul gave his shoulder a squeeze before walking away toward the captain and the ogre.
The fishing had been slow going so far, but Winsul had said it was to be expected as they were moving through a place in the sea that had little life, little wind, and little rain. He reassured Tomon it would change before long and their trip to Antonica would pick up. Tomon hoped so. The last week had been a difficult one. Men and women labored at the long oars beneath the decks. Tomon heard near constant talk of the food and water getting low. The argument seemed to be growing as he looked back to the raised voices at the wheel. There were more people around the captain now.
"We've been over this already, Rorshif," Captain Vagano said. "Even if we had a southerly wind to help, we don't know that we have a safe place to put ashore anywhere on Kunark."
"We'll make a safe place to put ashore or die trying!" Rorshif bellowed. "At least we know there's land, food and water there."
"We also know the Emperor's armies are there," said another large kerran. Tomon knew him as the one they called Master-at-Arms Vargas. He was taller and more powerfully built than Vagano, but still smaller than the ogre. Two men in armor and with sheathed swords at their waist stood behind him. Tomon felt better knowing they were there. He recognized one of them as a man that had been a part of the City Guard under his father. They and the Master-at-Arms had patrolled the boat, broken up a few disagreements and kept the peace. They seemed to stand firmly behind Captain Vagano.
"We don't know they are everywhere!" Rorshif roared in response. The two iksar on board were standing behind Rorshif. They nodded their lizard-like heads in support of Rorshif. Tomon thought it was odd they stood in support of the ogre since he didn't seem to like anyone, including iksar, but if they all wanted to go back then he supposed it made sense.
"We DO know where they are not, and that's Antonica," interjected Vagano. "The Combine has prepared settlements and scouted the lands for years now, my good ogre. There's been no trouble from the dragons. Most of the people on board already had plans to join the Combine there."
Durgin and another of his helpers stepped up the stairs from the main deck to join the growing crowd. Tomon noticed a few sailors looking on from the main deck.
"Most of the people on board had plans not to starve to death on this ship, Vagano," Rorshif said, gesturing with an angry finger.
"Captain Vagano," the Master-at-Arms reminded loudly.
The ogre didn't seem to hear, continuing his tirade. "The stores are getting low. The water lower. We're not going to make it to Antonica!"
"The sea shall provide," Winsul said. All eyes turned to him but he stood his ground not far from the Captain.
"The sea shall provide," Rorshif snorted in contempt, "you sound like a damned slave of Prexus! What has the sea provided so far but a lot of nothing?" A few heads turned, seeming to question Winsul, but the ogre continued.
"People on this ship won't follow you into hell, Vagano," he said. "You've cut their rations, put them to the oar, and given these cowards of Mithaniel the run of the ship."
The kerran Master-at-Arms adjusted his stance, eyes flaring in anger at the insult cast his way. One hand stuck out to bar the movement of one of his men who had stepped forward with a hand on his sword-hilt. Turning his head, he sternly addressed his subordinate, "We are honor-bound."
Tomon was worried. Things seemed to be getting worse. People were angry. Tomon noticed with some surprise the dark elf was sitting not far away in the shadow of the sunward railing. He couldn't remember seeing him come up onto the sterncastle, but then Tomon rarely remembered seeing him anywhere unless he wanted to be seen. Now, he seemed to be coolly assessing the exchange at the captain's wheel.
Tomon saw a glimpse of dark blue nose and jaw as they descended from the shadowy overhang of the black hood. He thought back to the words of the ogre, calling him black elf, and thought it seemed correct now. The black hood was part of a black cloak above black leggings and boots. A dull black that would not reflect light. A black that seemed to hide. All but the eyes. For an instant, he caught sight of the gleaming reflection of piercing eyes. Seeming to sense Tomon's gaze, he turned his piercing glance toward the boy. For a moment he sized him up.
"What do you think, boy?" he asked in a low voice that only Tomon could hear. "Will we make it to Antonica? Or should we turn and make our way back to Kunark?"
Tomon was tongue-tied. The dark elf intimidated him more than the ogre. But now he asked his opinion? He hesitated a long moment, trying to figure out how to answer.
Tomon's attention was pulled away by the voice of the dwarf speaking up loudly in anger. "I suppose you'd prefer to be Ship's Cook AND Master-at-Arms and let those scaly shissar lovers have the run of the ship, eh, Rorshif?" Durgin's arms folded with hammer in hand, glaring up at the ogre.
Rorshif snorted. The iksar behind him hissed in anger.
"What if I did, dwarf?" The ogre turned on Durgin, glaring down at him. "Is that a challenge?" His massive fists clenched in anger.
"There will be no challenges on this ship, Rorshif," Captain Vagano said firmly. He turned away from the wheel, leaving one hand on it. His gaze moved from ogre to dwarf. "Master Stouthammer, I believe it is time we moved on and got back to our duties."
The dwarf planted his feet firmly apart. "Seems to me we have a problem here, Captain. Folks are getting restless with someone shouting about death and doom all day. Might be time we saw to this matter before it gets out of hand."
Bodies tensed. The Master-at-Arms stepped forward to lay a large, furry hand on the dwarf's shoulder.
Tomon heard the faint sound of a fishing line going taut behind him. He turned, tested a line, and felt the thrums of tension moving through. Something was definitely different. "Winsul! Winsul, sir! The lines!" he called over his shoulder.
Winsul looked to Tomon, nodded, and then looked back to the crowd at the wheel. Spreading his hands wide in gesture, he said again, "The sea shall provide."