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Chapter 3 - Rum and Dreams
We kindle and char, inflame and ignite.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We burn up the city, we're really a fright.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
Giles blinked in the sudden darkness of the Captain's quarters, trying to regain his bearings. The moderately sized room was lined with windows, but the glass was so heavily leaded and of such poor quality that it stopped more light than it let in. A large wooden table was the center point of the room, with maps and books and navigational paraphernalia scattered haphazardly across the surface. Captain Jack Sparrow threw himself down in a carved wooden chair, sprawling out like a cat with arms and legs going every which way. He went fishing in a chest behind him and came up with a large glazed clay jug. From the practiced way he flipped it back over his hand and up to his mouth, he was clearly no stranger to being pissed. There were three other chairs around the table. Giles picked the one farthest from the pirate, for a myriad of reasons.
He sat down carefully, all too aware of his numerous sore parts and the chair's lack of anything that came even remotely close to being padding. Several of the books caught his eye as being texts he had come across in his duties as Watcher. They were also note worthy for being incredibly expensive. The volume that the Captain currently had his filthy wet boots propped up on top of had fetched nearly two hundred thousand pounds at auction just the month before last. Giles reached out to run a hand over the cover of the nearest book. Lusus Natrae. A demonology text written by the one of original order of the Knights of Byzantium during the Children's crusade. They had made some advances to demonology, in between going berserk tracking down Glorificus. This was perhaps the greatest example of that. His hand shook slightly as he withdrew it. The only known copy had been lost in the mid-eighteenth century. The ship he was on was not a reproduction. It was an original. He'd realized that before now of course, but this confirmed it beyond all doubts and didn't allow him any comforting delusions. He was rather fond of comforting delusions. They were comforting.
Jack offered him the jug, and Giles took it for the sake of politeness. He tried to imitate the way Jack had held it - there hadn't been very many opportunities to drink moonshine out of a homemade jug while growing up in London- and managed to get down a few sips. He didn't waste time handing it back over to Jack. Giles had certainly sampled some less then appealing varieties of liqueur in his lifetime, but he was rather sure that whatever was in that jug was not compatible with human life.
What sort of small talk did one engage in when keeping company with a pirate captain? So, have you raped any especially attractive women lately? Know any new torture techniques for dealing with the captured sailors? I heard thumb screws are all the rage with the Barbary Coast pirates. Have you been having a profitable trip?
If that's the best you can do, then maybe you're better off leaving the talking to me. He tossed the jug over his shoulder without any apparent though for the furniture, and Giles was the only one to blink at the resulting crash. I've plenty to talk about, so no worries about it being awkward. You see now, I think you're the one whose going to help me.
Help you? Of course he couldn't just get sent back a few centuries to a pirate ship, no! He had to end up with an insane pirate. It wouldn't be proper otherwise. I should have told family duty to go sod itself and joined the RAF. Wouldn't be stuck on a bloody pirate ship thirty years later if I'd gone and done that, now would I?
Of course. You're the one who is going to get me into the Tomb of the Kings. had a dream about, I did. Got it all worked out, just waiting for you. One eyebrow went up, as if daring Giles to challenge the point. The man really did have unnaturally mobile facial features. Quite unnerving.
Giles could think of several places that went by that name. None were pleasant. It was possible to visit one or two without engaging in an Indiana Jones style escapade, but still not even remotely close to pleasant. And yet, possibly still better then a pirate ship. This particular subset of history wasn't his forte (you really didn't find all that many vampires on ships, the reason owing something to close quarters, an abundance of large pointy splinters, and men who were used to brawling) but he knew that the ship was not going to have fresh food, fresh water, or bathing facilities. Casualty of civilization that he was, Giles was rather fond of bathing on a schedule more frequent than semiannual and eating food that wasn't fuzzy.
Could you possibly narrow that down somewhat? he asked, after letting the silence grow long. And please don't say Egypt'.
Kato Paphos lad! Where else? He leaned forward and slapped the table in his enthusiasm, grinning like a madman the whole while. Ah, I see by your face that you know what I'm speaking of now.
Yes, I have heard of it. I changed my mind. You're allowed to say Egypt'. Why are you interested in Kato Paphos? If a pirate was going to sail to Cyprus, I would better understand you aiming for Kouklia, or the baths of Aphrodite. I have at least heard rumors of treasure being found in those places, but Kato Paphos? If you were going to sail off to your doom, you could at least pick a port where there was the option of stopping for a drink beforehand. Not liable to be much whiskey flowing in a Muslim controlled country. But there also wouldn't be any rum, and that was a grand thing indeed. Silver lining Rupert, must look for the silver lining.
Because that's where the ruins of Saranta Kolones lie, and buried amongst the rubble is the key to discovering the wealth of the Tombs. He leaned back again, arms crossed over his chest and head canted sideways. The charms mixed in with his braids swung with each movement his head made.
Is that also where you find the key to getting past the Ottoman Turks without being killed? Because I rather imagine that is going to prove to be something of an issue. Now he was in something of a quandary, and it wasn't entirely linked to his knowledge of how the Turks had treated European captives. Sparrow was indeed right about finding the key beneath the ruins of castle Saranta Kolones, as it was the same key an intrepid batch of Watchers -in-training would use in 1858 to open up the other' passage to the Tombs of the Kings and retrieve the magical artifacts stored there. If Jack Sparrow were to do this a over a hundred years in advance, some very nasty items would go into circulation. On the other hand, there were at least two of those items which would permit limited time travel, and it would really fuck with the establishment if Giles rewrote history.
Decisions, decisions.
Sparrow dismissed the concern immediately. Mate, if the Dutch, the Spanish, and English and French together have never been able to hold me, what do you think I have to fear from the Turks?
Held you long enough to brand you, obviously. He hadn't had to look hard to catch a glimpse of the P' branded onto Jack's wrist. Time for a subject change. So if you already know where the key is, and how to use it, what purpose do I serve?
Now you've stumbled onto the crux of our problem. He held out both hands with thumbs up and forefinger extended. Giles knew he was merely trying to emphasize his words, but several years spent with teenage children as his boon companions has trained his eye to immediately pick up on the symbol for Loser'. It seemed so very, very fitting. I know where Cyprus is. I know where the castle is, and I know where the Tombs lie. I do not know, however, where in the ruins the key lies, and how I should go about activating the gem once it's in my grasp.
So, you had a dream, he said slowly, ticking off each point in his mind as he spoke, that I was going to show up, and that I would assist you in retrieving the lost treasure of the Tomb of the Kings. Now, supposing we do this, and supposing you find the treasure in your possession, and supposing we don't all die horrid, lingering deaths, what are your plans for me?
Why, you'll use the a few bits of the treasure to scurry on home, same as you did in me dream. He made everything sound so very reasonable. Giles made a mental note to look up what he knew of Ethan's lineage when/if he got home. He just might have stumbled across a Rayne ancestor.
Your dream included my return home? He studied the pirate with eyes narrowed, a suspicion gaining shape in his mind. There wasn't by any chance a woman in your dream, now was there? Not a prostitute, he quickly overran what Sparrow had been about to say. Skinny redhead, overly fond of leather?
That sounds a right description. You saw her too?
Unfortunately, yes, yes I did. Well that settled that. He'd been handed his ticket home, no sense whining that it wasn't first class. Just have to make the best of it. Then track down Cnossia, and kill her. Slowly.
He sighed, slumping slightly in his chair. I don't suppose you have any
Johnnie Walker blue label lying about? The pirate looked at him blankly for a second, the offered him another jug of rum that he'd pulled from under the table.
I suppose I should have your name, he said, as though the idea had just occurred to him.
Rupert Giles
He rolled the r', putting an almost Spanish accent on the name. That's a nice solid English name. May I call you Ru?
Not at any time under any circumstances whatsoever, Giles snapped vehemently.
Perfect, Ru, perfect. Now, his hand hovered over the table until he spotted the book he wanted, do you think you could help me with this one little problem I'm having translating this passage? He flipped the book open and pushed it across the table, tossing a clean leaf of vellum on top of it. Have some ink around her somewhere, know I do. He went off on a round of digging in the chest behind him.
Giles prayed for patience, naming every God he could think of. This was going to be a long, long trip.