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Dearest Readers, my utmost thanks for your patience. Off we sail to another adventure! And no crashing this time, right, Captain Shar-Teel?
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THE HIDDEN SWORD
Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 42: Farewell to the Mountains
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Well into the night the gathering lasted and would have continued long 'til sunrise and breakfast had not somebody remembered that Irse should be leaving the following morning. Of course, that somebody could only be her Teacher, the same person with the foresight to suggest she pack two days before she actually had to go.
On their way home they treaded the village path, the balmy evening air quiet to near stillness save for the intermittent rustling of the wind through the trees and the hushed babbling of the creek not far along the trail.
She coughed to break the silence. "We might return by the end of Eleint, or before it rains too much in Uktar, or… right before the nip of winter. I'm sure after a few trips, Mister Kagain will let me take a short furlough."
Uncompensated and not without a pay cut on top of that for certain, knowing old Tightfist.
"I'll use the time to visit you and everyone here. And maybe -," she added, hopefully. "… continue my lessons?"
"There is no need for further lessons when you have proven yourself capable."
Eyes narrowed in doubt, Irse asked, "So… I've passed being your student?"
"If such is how you see it."
"That's all? No climbing mountains, fighting bears, and rolling through fire while finishing with a battojutsu against catapulted fruit while blindfolded and tiptoed on the head of a drunken gnome on a goat jousting with an angry dwarf on a pig?" she exclaimed unconvinced while gesturing each arduous trial, even tossing the imaginary fruit by herself at herself.
Okami raised a brow, unimpressed. Irse waved her arms, still incredulous and insistent.
"As in nothing? No grand test to prove myself worthy to you?"
"No. What else were you expecting?" he replied, seemingly suspicious at her surprise. "A duel to the death?"
She chuckled, relieved yet uneasy. "Well, no. Of course, not."
Though a final duel, non-fatal of course, would've made for a terrific closing to the send-off party. A whole less mortifying than when the village folk vied with each other in recounting the elf's impressive accomplishments in their tiny hamlet – ravaged feast tables at festivals, unwittingly emptied pantries during home visits for ironwork repairs, boys and goats terrorized and traumatized for life.
"But if I'm not your student anymore," she continued, drawing out the words. "What am I supposed to call you now, if not Teacher?"
"You may perhaps start with the name I was given."
"All right, then…" She straightened up and threw him a sly eye and proceeded to pronounce and stress each syllable. "Okami?"
Suddenly unnerved, Irse halted in her steps, a hand over the chest. "That felt weird coming out of my mouth."
Likewise, Okami paused, a hand to the side of his head. "I have been butted once at the ear with the hilt of a sword, yet this is more disorienting."
Both glared at each other but immediately fell into awkward mute laughter.
Okami shrugged and resumed walking. "You have until tomorrow to become accustomed," he said without glancing back.
Irse stayed rooted where she stood, watching him. Tomorrow, for when it would be time to say farewell.
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"Wagon's here," Thadd called from outside.
Across the room, upon the forge, the anvil and tool racks, Irse cast one final gaze. This had been home for years, the four walls of the smithy, and the four walls of the adjoining cottage. All together still far smaller and cramped than the vast grounds of Candlekeep – yet these had become the world where she learned and grew the most.
Set upon its own stand the Kogitsune lay in a corner by the fireside, and Irse's heart sank as she approached and picked it up for one last practice draw. With quiet pride she beamed over the fine edge, flipping the tachi to catch the morning light upon its dark surface before re-sheathing and returning the blade.
No longer could she recall the first sword they worked on together, but certainly she would never forget the last.
Well, something else had clearly been forgotten during the packing. With a guilty squeak, the elf rushed to her workbench and attempted to gather the neglected mess, more like sweep them to the side or dump all loose ends in a bucket.
Another hand stretched out and hovered above hers. "Leave it. I plan to clean later," Okami said.
Curiously, the blacksmith proceeded to peer closer into the mess, sifting through the clutter. Likely contemplating disposing anything soon to be disused or redundant, she mused regrettably, straightening her pack while stepping through the door.
Irse and her friends already waited in the carriage when Okami finally went outside and likewise climbed in, seating himself beside Thadd. A crack of the reins, the rumble and creak of wheels, and they set off for the City, the young elf peering out to the side for a last glimpse of the village until it disappeared from the horizon.
"I don't know, exactly, but they say merchant caravans take weeks if not months to complete their route," Irse replied to a question on the length of her journey. "Perhaps I'll be able to drop by this Leaffall, if all goes well."
"Otherwise, can you imagine a Highharvestide where the feast tables aren't stripped clean of everything?" Thadd ribbed.
"You have to make sure," Kerda begged. "Or we won't know what to do with all the leftovers."
"If we're still on the road by then, send me a courier with what's left of the food."
"A single courier? More like ten wagons full."
Laughing, the three friends playfully smacked at each other's knees. The blacksmith watched them, a pensive expression on his face. He leaned back to gaze outside the carriage window and the passing horizon.
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They arrived at the Docks, by now bustling with activity long before the sun shone its first rays upon the Chionthar's waters. Heading straight for The Mincing Minnow, a sizable vessel chartered by Kagain for this trip, Irse motioned to the others to stay put as she herself jogged over and up the plank to join her new employer, slinging a badge around the neck. At the bow, the dwarf presided over a huddle, surrounded by no more than seven other Blackmauls. Irse bit her lip and attempted to slip between two of them.
"Yer late, knife-ear," Kagain snapped.
"Sorry about it, Sir."
"Couldn't find flowers for your pretty hair, eh elf?" mocked one of the female Blackmauls, a new face. "Well, unlike someone, I got here before everyone else," she chirped, chin up.
Irse shot her a casual side-eye. "Why? To get a head start on kissing dwarven rump?"
Not a few hooted and snickered while the other girl flustered and cupped her mouth. Kagain yelled at everyone to shut their pieholes and hacked an extra phlegmy cough before briefing them on the assignment.
"As I be sayin', aside from cargo, 'tis a dignitary we're escortin' this time. We get to Berdusk, stay put there for three days while our guest takes care o' his business-"
"What kinda' business?" piped another fresh Blackmaul who dared to interrupt.
Kagain glowered at the young man who shrank back from his steely glare. "The kind called None O' Yer Business."
He eyed each one of them. "Any o' ye lackwits thinkin' to pry can go read your soddin' answers from the broad side o' my axe."
The dwarf hefted his favored weapon, grunting with satisfaction at garnering a collective flinch from the recruits. Irse stifled a giggle while the senior Blackmauls, now down to merely three she recognized, shifted impatiently where they stood.
After Berdusk, this important passenger and his sensitive cargo must be accompanied to Baldur's Gate. From there, they were to escort the guest to Nashkel via the Coast Way, and finally bring him back to the Gate alive and in one piece because, in Kagain's own words – a single hair on the head of this man be prized a dragon's hoard more than all their worthless common hides stitched together.
"Keep yer hands on yer weapons an' yer eyes on the horizon all the time," the dwarf concluded, then peered up past Irse's shoulder. "And what in the nine hells do ye think ye be doin' up here in my boat? This not be some forge, smith."
Everybody swiveled to stare at Okami
"I prefer to be assured of the ship's worthiness," he said nonchalantly, tapping a foot on the deck. "And the sufficiency of provision for your…" His eyes narrowed down at Irse. "… new recruit."
The elf gathered her shoulders, grinning embarrassedly at the curious stares from the others. Kagain raised a bushy brow and snorted.
"Fine. Do what ye want, but I not be payin' a copper fer yer inspectin'."
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Another hour passed before the esteemed guest finally arrived in a sealed carriage, trailed by a covered wagon. He alighted without fanfare, cloaked and cowled though revealing glimpses of rich clothing beneath while another tagged after him, plainly dressed and lugging a small chest and a pack, evidently his manservant. Kagain and the other veterans immediately surrounded them, ushering the pair up the Minnow, straight into one of the cabins. Dockhands hauled crates from the wagon to load them on carts which groaned from the burden as they were rolled up the ship. Done and with some final checks, one of the crew sounded the boarding call.
Irse stole a glance at Okami, still not uttering a word since they disembarked to wait for the meantime. Expectedly, he would have some advice, some observation, a reminder. Instead, he now only gave her a tight smile, then looked away.
She sighed. Not a surprise. Probably preoccupied with wondering who in the village might be a suitable replacement for his apprentice, and perhaps, even as a student in swordsmanship. Why, even Lanie and her cohorts might volunteer. Smothering an impious snicker, the elf imagined a few small mishaps – a hammered palm, a hair caught on the fires of the forge, a sliced finger, an ungraceful trip up followed by accidental impalement.
Suddenly, another thought dredged itself, filling her gut with lead. What if while she journeyed, he instead decided to leave, seek another city far from this iron scourge and where work would be sure, or even return to his homeland?
Irse wagged her head doggedly. No, it can't be. Surely, he'd wait until she returned, for who else had the constitution to munch their way through his full course of pickled radish?
"Take care of yourself, all right? Remember what Wisewoman said – Don't go picking and eating strange mushrooms along the road. Same goes for toxic berries," Kerda said, rubbing Irse's arm with serious admonishment.
"No mushrooms and berries I don't know," the elf repeated and raised a swearing hand to reassure her friend.
"I wish we could go with you to see the Great Library and those tomes on chants and songs you told me," Thadd said. "But the toll is steep and what can we simple common folk give?"
"When I've saved enough coin, we're buying a pile of the rarest books we can rummage up in the Open Market, bypass the nice Keeper of Portals, march right up the door and knock them on the Keeper of Tomes' face."
"Someday, perhaps, but for now you just keep your mind on staying safe," he replied, chuckling as the elf assured him with a mock salute.
At the final call, Irse gathered her friends in a tight embrace, holding on to each other for as long as allowed. She pressed her temple against Kerda's, disengaging to teasingly cuff Thad in the shoulder.
Irse stiffly stepped in front of Okami. "I... uh," she murmured, eyes downcast and losing nerve fast.
She felt him reach out, a hand brushing past her shoulder. Irse inhaled sharply, then heard a slight tap on her pack. Baffled, she blinked at him.
"Forgive me, I thought something came loose, a… thread," he apologized, avoiding her eyes.
Irse peered over her shoulder. "Oh."
From the corner of her vision, she spied Thadd and Kerda staring at them then giving each other meaningful and worried looks.
Irse sighed. Of course, how blindingly obvious was it - that she was absolutely terrible at leave-taking? Always thought doing so had to be difficult and awkward and weird. Not hard to see why some find it easier to simply disappear without saying goodbye in person. Such as what she did years ago at Candlekeep?
A final parting nod and she boarded with the others. For as long as possible the elf lingered at the stern, the stone spires diminishing in the horizon, their own silent farewell to her.
Irse whispered as if he were near and could hear. "Please, don't worry so much. I'm sure this whole trip's going to be nothing more than a picnic."
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This is not a picnic at all!
Irse stared down at the unwrapped rations on her lap, disbelieving, indignant. A lonely piece of hardtack, a sad pair of the gristliest jerky, three nuts and a raisin. Where's the cheese? And they would be having this fare thrice a day all the way to the Gate, and again until Beregost and back? Outrageous.
The ship crew had their own provisions, of course, but Kagain insisted his people be fed with food only he approved beforehand.
To ensure none of them gets poisoned or drugged and unable to protect their charge, the new Blackmauls supposed among themselves.
Irse quirked a corner of her still unsatisfied mouth. More like because he got this stuff much cheaper, probably old stock too.
Done with her pitiful meal, she sat cross-legged and leaned against a barrel, undaunted by anyone mistaking her for an idler. In the river uncompelled to use their legs as much, there wasn't really anything else to do in this ship.
For the elf, sentry duty was still hours away, having been permanently assigned to night watch by virtue of her more capable vision in the dark. In every shift, three Blackmauls kept guard, one at the bow, another at the stern, the last making rounds on deck. Kagain and a senior mercenary took stints watching their guest in the cabin. While not on duty, the rest preferred to stay out of the summer heat and hiding down beneath the deck, whether to nap, play cards, or throw dice – the latter two likely done in secret unless they wanted the old dwarf cutting in on their bets and winnings.
Bored stiff, Irse got up, walked to the stern where her fellow recruits loitered, and slouched over the railings.
It should have been a boon to be away from laboring at the forge. At having to rise at the crack of dawn to sweep the smithy even though it had been tidied the night before and cleaning up after every work even though things would get messy again in the next job anyway.
And having to sit and work through Okami's litany of instructions and reminders and proverbs and sayings. And the endless drills and lessons and practice duels and the blows of the bokken or iaito which irritated more than they hurt because a salve for the cuts and compress for the bruises were never applied without a stern lecture and admonishment about her recklessness.
And the meals and elevenses and in-betweens. And the candied bread he'd stash in the cupboard swathed in enough layers to mummify an entire Mulhorandi dynasty just so it would escape her keen nose and survive undevoured until evening tea. And then they'd have the sugary loaf with tea while at the kitchen with the fire kindled in the hearth, or at the backyard amidst the chorus of the night cicadas where he told her of things about Kozakura not involving wars and she told him of things about Candlekeep not involving books.
And when finally out of tea and treat, going to bed and in the morning jumping out of it like a sprightly fox out of a burrow because she couldn't wait to start the day even though it would only be a repeat of the one before.
Perhaps a hundred years of those yesterdays doesn't seem so bad after all.
"Missing home so soon, elf?" one of the sailors hollered at her. "Not even a few hours out here in the river."
She groaned at his words. Overmorrow they were sure to dock at Berdusk but until then, what else is there to do if she didn't have to work as she did under Shar-Teel?
No sense in passing time with helping the crew since the Minnow sailed fully manned, led by first mate Old Salt, grizzled yet good-humored, and the Captain.
Irse recoiled inwardly, remembering the first time she laid eyes on the man. Flaxen-haired, not too hard on the eyes with his rugged swagger, but something about him rubbed her wrong like flies swimming in too-thin jam on a scorched loaf. Not the syrupy flirting with some female Blackmauls which he immediately got into not even an hour of sailing from Iriaebor, nor the flippancy with which he seemed to dismiss Kagain's rants and demands. No, something else, a tiny gnawing feeling, but altogether flitting just out of reach of discernible reason.
"Not surprised to see you here. Always thought you'd throw in with us sooner or later," a Blackmaul remarked as he approached.
She nodded a genial greeting at Daley, one of the remaining veterans among their number. Were it not for a thick scar across his nose and sunken eyes betraying seeing more than endless days on the road, it would have been easy to guess the young man was merely two years older than the elf.
He leaned against the railings next to her, joining in silent observation of their new comrades as they gossiped and showed each other their gear. Not all came in their youth, some had the beginnings of graying hair, clearly with family from the way they chattered about leaving their wee ones at home in the hopes of making better coin elsewhere.
"Where's everyone?"
Daley huffed through his nose. He certainly knew who she meant by everyone. "Most of the old troupers are gone. If not dead in the woods or the roads, then away to their families to live longer than the last of their coin, or to the Blacktalons who can give them more. We have a man or two still stationed at the Gate and in Beregost, though if things don't better themselves soon, I reckon they won't be there waiting for us much longer."
"Mister Kagain must be counting on getting this job right."
"He is. Never seen the old lump so worked up and crankier than he's ever been. Not so sure about these greenhorns myself, but we'll need every hand we can get and keep. Which makes me glad you're on board," Daley said, pointing a thumb at the sword by Irse's side. "Would've been nicer if he's here too. An extra and seasoned blade. The more, the merrier, they say."
Irse knew whom he meant, though for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to feel any merrier then and there.
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Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.
Supper was still hours away, even then they'd be served the same crumbs. Maybe she could borrow hook and bait from the crew, snag herself a nice fat trout. Yet would any be willing to cook it for her, especially if she wasn't planning on sharing? Not for being ungenerous, but this was a matter of life and starvation!
No, there must be other ways. Irse's mind reeled in the options. Trade favors with the ship crew? Swab the deck and mind the lines for a bite, why, she'd even crawl through the bilge for flushing duty while belting out a shanty. Ought to be worth three rations at least.
How about with her comrades? Offer to take their daywatch shifts in exchange for a part of their portions– just a piece since she would never be so greedy to ask for all of it.
Irse could almost hear Kagain now when he finds out. Yer gettin' paid to guard, he'd likely scold the charitable soul, not feed a bottomless-bellied leaf-head.
And right before the mind could conjure another of O'l Skinflint's miserly mumblings, the nose caught a scent, tangible and unimagined. Sniffing the air, she followed the enticing aroma to the galley where she found their guest's personal attendant stirring a small pot of stew at the stove. Could it be? The existence of real food in this ship?
Peering through the door, Irse then tiptoed, abruptly shifting to a casual stance when the servant noticed her presence. Eyeing her with unconcealed suspicion, he resumed his task with neither a word nor grunt of greeting.
"So… cooking, huh?" Irse started with the most innocent and uninterested tone she had ever feigned. "Smells nice. Is it pottage?"
A quick peek and her eyes widened as she sputtered, "With- with meat and potatoes?" By the gods, not just shreds but sizable chunks swimming in broth evidently thickened with cereals and generously seasoned and spiced.
"This dish is reserved for my master as no savorless fare is permitted to touch his noble lips."
"Oh, really now? Is he a lord of some sort?" Irse blurted out before shrinking back and biting on a knuckle. A near slip. Won't do for her big and curious mouth to be kissing the sharp edge of Kagain's bearded axe.
The man scowled at her for a moment before covering and lifting the pot from the stove, hastening to make his way through the door.
"Wait! Aren't you forgetting something?" Irse called after him, fingers twiddling as the other stared questioningly at her. "I mean, since he's obviously a very important person – shouldn't his food be checked first for… eh, poison?"
The servant narrowed his eyes. Irse grinned wider.
"Think of it this way - Mister Kagain hired us to make sure nothing bad happens to your employer while he's traveling, right? What about when he's eating?" Irse said brightly, gesturing with imaginary cutlery. "Sure, we can guard him from anyone who'd try a go at him with his own butterknife. But what if someone tries to poison him? Don't noblefolk have personal food tasters just for that?"
Sidling up to the servant, her hands crept across the lid like a spider inching towards prey. "Now why don't you let me, a Blackmaul, do my job of protecting your lord by tasting just a little bit of this deliciously tempting yet possibly dangerous and life-threatening stew?"
The man pulled his precious pot away to safety. "There's no means this dish could be tainted. I made it myself, also purchased the ingredients myself and even sampled them myself before they went into the broth."
"You tasted all the ingredients before cooking them?" Irse remarked, awed. "Even the raw meat? Did you even peel the potato first?"
With a scowl and a pompous huff, the man turned up his nose and marched out of the galley. Irse's shoulders sagged as she stared at the door.
What does a hungry elf have to do to get decent grub in this leaky oversized tub? Well then, desperate situations call for desperate measures.
"Lord Tethrin, Masterful and Shiny," Irse pleaded as she dropped to one knee and raised her hands to the rafters.
"I know this isn't on your divine plate, and not even a crumb, but could you please, make Kagain hire us a cook? Someone who's good or at least decent at it, won't complain and…"
Eyes darted to the side as she thought of another request to add to her precious petition. "… and maybe someone who'd sneak me a snack between meals?"
The elf clasped her hands together, raising and shaking them above her head as she bowed. "Please, make it so!"
Satisfied and sure her prayer has certainly poked through the celestial treetops of Arvandor, Irse got up with a nod and a wink at the heavens, leaving the galley with a hopeful whistle.
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