Chapter ix
The small dinghy rocked gently on the calm water. Our collective weight had risen the waterline so that occasionally a small wave would splash over the edge, soaking the back or elbows of one of the soldiers, who would then curse under their breath. Each time this happened, we all become aware of how close to discomfort we were and shifted towards the centre a little. I was damp from the rolling mists. Our vision was hardly further than a few feet. Everyone was shivering, even the large warriors. I gave silent thanks that I did not have to wear the heavy mail armour of my counterparts, as the damp freezing metal against my skin would be too much for me. My leather carapace and my father's cloak was keeping me slightly more comfortable than the others.
We sat in silence. Occasionally a small plopping sound could be heard as fish broke the surface of the water; probably to eat the wonderful culinary delight of small insects that were floating around.
Something crunched against the boat, right behind where I was sitting. Everyone jolted and leant over to see what had struck us. It was a barrel, which formed part of a larger collection of flotsam that was bobbing merrily in the misty water. We didn't need an order to tell us to lug it onto the dinghy; everybody knew what would be inside and we clamoured as we heaved the soaking barrel over the edge. By the state of the wood, it looked like it had been floating in the water since before I was born. The metal rings that secured it were rusty and the wood was spongy and covered in barnacles and whelks. I noticed an engraving on the side. "Whisky Slims" it said, with a more faded inscription below. I couldn't read what the name of the drink was, but I could tell the last word was rum.
"Well I never, Rumsey Rum!" one soldier called, and we popped off the lid, which broke in two with the force. The strong smell of volatile spirits attacked our nostrils. "This must have floated from the other side of the world to get here! Old Whisky Slim doesn't export his drink to Kalimdor. I only got a taste of it when I was a dockworker, working in Booty Bay."
No-one was listening to him, as everyone was too busy looking for a vessel. I was sitting on a tackle box, and slyly opened it. There was a large mug in there, full of wriggling maggots which were fattened and ready for use as bait. I emptied the maggots into another container and washed out the mug over the edge. I took the cleaned mug and sloshed it in the barrel of rum.
"Keep the lantern away from this, it smells potent." I said. Aviad swiped up the lantern and hung it on the aft beam of the dinghy, where it swung and threw shadows across the boat. I held the mug up to the light, and the liquid looked jet-black.
"Down the hatch!" Michael called. I cheered the soldiers and took a deep swig. The liquid was bitter and cool and flew down my throat like a glass of water. Once it had reached my chest, the burning sensation began. My lungs contracted and my throat surged with a pain and I let out a great whooping bark as the explosive drink laid waste to my windpipe. "Hoh!" I cried, wheezing. "That's the stuff!" As the burning ebbed a wonderful flowing of warmth bloomed out from my stomach. The cold wetness of the dinghy was forgotten. I passed the mug around and the soldiers took swigs in turn, all screwing up their faces and wheezing satisfied aah's with each mouthful. Aviad passed, and once the mug had been passed round once, he took it and told us we shouldn't drink anymore, as it will impede the mission. I put the mug back in the tackle box, and saw pieces of a rod and line. I had an idea. I affixed the wooden poles together to form a fishing rod and weaved the fishing line through the hoops on it. It made quite a fine fishing rod. When all this mess was over and dealt with I could take it home and use it for myself. "If all this mess is over" I thought to myself and suddenly remembered why I was here. The nervous butterflies erupted once more in my stomach, and no amount of Rumsey Rum would quell them.
With little else to do, everyone was watching my movements. Little was said, and I was the centre of attention. I took the rod and cast the line out towards the rest of the flotsam. It caught on something straight away and I started to reel it in. It was only a worm-eaten plank of wood so I cast it aside and tried again. The line caught on something heavier. It was a trunk with a large lock on the front. I reeled it in and we heaved it over the edge. I left the soldiers to try and open it whilst I tried reaching for the rest of the floating junk. Everything else I reeled in had been spoiled thanks to its years floating in saltwater. Then my line caught on the netting that had kept these abandoned items together for however long they had been floating. The net snapped and the remaining pieces floated apart and silently drifted into the mists where they would float on for ever more.
I turned my attention back to the battered trunk. The lock on it was massive and heavy, and some of the soldiers had been trying to remove it by force. When that proved unsuccessful, a young soldier who had told me his name was Wyahen reached into his satchel and removed a collection of stick-like implements, all held on a metal ring. It looked like a key-ring, only the keys did not have teeth, just strange needle-like grooves and odd sprockets attached.
"What are those?" Aviad said
"Thieves' tools!" Wyahen replied. "With the right skill, these can unlock any lock in the world."
"Do you have the right skill?" Another soldier asked
"No." Wyahen replied. "I have never used them, and no-one has ever taught me how."
He took the heavy lock in one hand and, clearly not knowing which 'key' did what, began shoving them in the keyhole and twiddling them about. I was about to tell him that he should try the tool with the wider shaft when all the soldiers began butting in with their efforts.
"Give it here!" one soldier said. "This is how you do it!" He again tried unsuccessfully, and was far more forceful than Wyahen. I was worried he would snap the thieves' tools, as they appeared to be designed for delicacy, rather than brute force. Another soldier grabbed them off him, and began his own method. Each soldier thought they could unlock the trunk and tried something differently, but after diligent efforts, they all failed and sat back to contemplate the next man's endeavours. When each soldier had given it their best shot, they turned to me.
"You're the burglar" one man said. "You should be able to unlock it."
"Wasn't your old man a rogue?" another, whose name I had forgotten, called out.
I sighed, and Aviad handed me the thieves' tools. The soldiers all had hopeful looks in their eyes. Not hopeful—but expecting looks. I felt highly pressurised, as if I would bring the greatest disappointment if I could not open it. I moved over to the chest. It was so battered and worn. I doubt anybody had checked if there was anything in it. The lock had a yawning black keyhole. I examined the thieves' tools. They all looked so unusual. I selected one that looked about the correct width of the keyhole, and gently slotted it in. As it was sliding in, I felt the tiniest resistance and stopped. I wiggled the key-like metal object very slightly to find the exact area of resistance. As soon as I felt the key rest on it, I twisted hard.
The lock popped off and fell onto the floor of the boat with a dull thunk.
It had taken me less than a few seconds. Some of the soldiers' mouths were open in disbelief: they had all been trying for a long time and failing at every attempt, and I succeed on my first try.
"The boy is a natural" Aviad said, and clapped me on the back. I touched the lid of the chest and it sprung open angrily, like a cornered animal. The force of the spring made it leap in the air and clatter down onto the boat. Aviad examined the contents. He pulled out a small money bag and peered inside.
"one, two, three, four-twenty, five fifty-seven…" he said counting the money inside. "I make it that we each receive forty-seven copper from this bountiful loot here."
"It is alright Aviad" Michael said. "I am sure it is not worth the effort counting out forty-seven coppers to each and every individual here."
"You are right" Aviad said, and tossed the bag at me. "Our rogue deserves it." No-one argued and I happily accepted the bag. Inside were five pieces of silver and other coins totalling sixty-four copper.
Aviad went about removing the rest of the bounty. He pulled out a filthy bolt of linen cloth. "Fine for a wedding dress, if the material were a little less stained" he said. "Oh, and what is this?" He reached in and took out a bundle of thorny dark-green nettles.
"Careful Aviad, some of those nettles could be poisonous" Michael said.
"Not these" Aviad replied, inspecting the nettles. "Fadeleaf" he concluded. He turned to me. "Rogue, watch closely." I did as he said.
He took out a small pestle and mortar and a knife from his own pack. He held the mortar between his knees and placed a stem of fadeleaf over it. Using the knife he stripped the stem of its thorns and leaves, which were then placed in the mortar. Aviad ground them up into a fine powder and took a conical vial from his satchel. He poured the contents into the vial and shook it up. Then he reached in and took out what looked like a tiny stone and carefully placed it in the vial and corked it. He handed it to me. "Be careful to close your eyes when you use this."
I was confused, to say the least.
"If ever you are in trouble, simply throw this as hard as you can onto the ground. There is a tiny speck of gunpowder in it so it will make a bang. Just remember to keep your eyes closed."
I took the vial and carefully slid it into one pocket. I felt a little uneasy carrying a small explosive around with me. What if it went off? It could hurt my leg or worse, attract attention from close by.
"You are something of an alchemist" Wyahen said. "Perhaps you can teach me some new things someday." He glanced over at me. "And our friend rogue here." Aviad smiled.
The sun must have arisen at this point, because it was light enough to not need the lantern anymore. Aviad opened the small window in it and blew out the flame. The mists were slowly clearing. He opened the rum once more, retrieved the mug ("Looks like my Mug o' Hurt" one soldier had said to Michael, who agreed. I had no idea what they were talking about.) He opened the keg of rum, dipped it in and thrust it at me. I took it and imbibed, once more feeling the burn, which was more welcome this time as it was now expected. I handed the mug back to Aviad.
He took it, then reached out and shoved me in the chest with all his might. The force knocked me over the edge into the freezing water. I stifled a shocked scream as the water bit at every inch of me. I was thankful for the burning rum sensation as this was the only thing that stopped me from locking my entire body and sinking into the depths.
"Thank you, Aviad" I said, with much sarcasm. I began to tread water.
"If you have a bandage, do you peel it off bit by bit, or rip it straight off?" He asked, in a philosophical voice. "Now go. Their sight is at its worst."
I turned around and swam silently towards the small collection of islands. I was heading deep into Murloc territory.
