-6- Night Falls

Gabriel followed Calla down the streets of the slums of Cimmariel. He had been shadowing her all day and was now having a difficult time keeping up with the girl. He leaned against the bricks of a building calling ahead for her to slow down. The girl stopped and walked back to where the boy was leaning, attempting to catch his breath. She took a small flask out of her cloak and gave it to him, telling him to drink. Gabriel drank a long draw from the small bottle and handed it back to her. After tucking away the flask Calla sighed and leaned her back against the building to wait for him.

Examining her fingernails nonchalantly, she questioned the boy. "So why are you so important anyway?" Seeing his blank look she reworded the question. "What does the Streetmaster want you for? Where are you from? What makes you so important?"

Gabriel opened his mouth to answer and suddenly realized he couldn't remember anything before waking up in the crumbling building with Calla tending him. Calla didn't look surprised by the news but Gabe thought he saw some color rise to her cheeks. He dismissed it as being a trick of the light and his own scattered mind

Calla speaking again focused his attention. "You had a heck of a bump on your head." She winked at him. "Maybe it rattled something loose." The boy smiled at the teasing while shaking his head. Calla lightly punched his shoulder. "C'mon weakling, you rested enough. I've got work to do yet before it gets dark." With a groan Gabe pushed himself away from the wall and they began weaving through the streets towards the well-born section of Cimmariel. Calla still had some stealing to do to cover the costs of their supper and a place to sleep.

The sun was setting on Cimmariel and the Streetmaster was sitting before a roaring fire in his "palace". His servants had just brought his meal and he was carving apart the sumptuous roast meat when a voice seemed to come from all around the squat man.

"Where is the boy?"

The paunchy man coughed as the voice startled him. Shrugging off the question he shoved a large chunk of meat into his mouth. "He is with that little street wench, Calla."

"YOU HAVE HIM RUNNING FREE THROUGH THE CITY!!??!!"

The Streetmaster felt the meat lodge in his throat and he coughed and fought to move it. He was beginning to get light headed from lack of air when the piece finally moved. He had no doubt the owner of the voice was responsible for his near death experience. "She may be a piece of scrawny trash but she knows how to follow orders. She won't let him out of her sight and she is keeping him drugged so he can't remember who he is." He rubbed his hand across his sore throat and continued. "She'll keep him handy and when you want him she'll deliver him."

The Streetmaster could feel the unseen presence smile before the voice surrounded him again. "Excellent. Then things are indeed going well according to plan." He felt a pressure in his throat again and found breathing difficult. "See to it that everything stays on track. Or you will be answering to me and this will all seem like a fond memory." The paunchy man pitched forward in his chair as if he had been shoved forward and the rest of his dinner went flying across the room. He cast a paranoid glance around the room, wondering how truly alone he was.

Jirel and Hook stood on the deck of the Jolly Roger looking at the city of Quatlamper from across the harbor. The city had a dark, greasy look to it. Hook had walked the streets of the city long ago and he had no great desire to go back. What he felt the city could use was a good, strong hurricane to wash the city streets and buildings clean. A cynical smirk flashed across his lips. The dirt and grease was probably all that was holding some of the buildings together. Jirel disappeared into the cabin as the harbor master called to the captain from his boat and directed them to a dock. Hook waved his acknowledgment to the man and directed Smee to move the ship accordingly. They wanted to be docked quickly since a thick fog was following them in.

While Smee and the rest of the crew got the ship tied off and docked, Hook stepped into his quarters to find Jirel already dressed and ready to go ashore. They had discussed it the previous evening at great length. Neither Smee nor the captain felt she should go ashore in her current condition but they both knew better than to argue with her once her mind was made up. The men settled on her keeping Smee with her at all times, giving the captain freedom to mingle among the patrons of some of the taverns without having to worry for her safety. Jirel was by no means happy with this plan, arguing that she didn't need a babysitter, but she also knew that both of the men had been here before where she never had been. They knew what they were going into. All three were quite grateful for the sudden bank of fog that would help conceal their identity and that of the ship. They needed all the help they could get at this point.

After only a brief amount of time moving through the city, Jirel became grateful that Smee would be staying at her side for the whole trip. Slavers lined the streets calling out the virtues of their slaves as a tailor would call out the good points of a finely made coat. It sickened Jirel and she was made physically ill by the stench of unwashed bodies combined with, refuse, rotting fish and human waste. There were several times that she caught a hungry look from one of the slavers. Every time she did she moved so she was between the boson and her husband as they continued down the street. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know what the slavers were thinking.

Jirel could now see differences between the docking area of the city and the wellborn quarter as they continued along. She had never seen such a city in all her travels with the captain. It was as if the entire city was a garbage can, collecting the trash from everywhere else in the world. Hook turned down a side alley and led them toward a street lined with taverns and inns. He conferred with Smee for a brief moment about which would be the best place to start.

When they reached the doorway of the tavern, Jirel looked at the tavern shingle and then shot her husband a quizzical look. "The drunken squid?"

Hook merely grinned and stepped aside, holding the door open for his wife. The second she entered the room, her senses were assaulted by the scent of grease, old fried fish, stale beer and smoke. Jirel stepped out of the doorway so Smee and Hook could enter. She closed her eyes as she leaned back against the wall and tried to get her stomach under control. She felt a pressure on her elbow and opened her eyes to see her husband looking at her with questioning concern.

"Are you alright?"

Jirel nodded. "Little much for my stomach to handle. Just give me a minute, I'll be fine."

Hook turned and spoke for a moment with Smee. The bosun disappeared among the small clusters of people filling the common room as the cpatain lead Jirel with a gentle touch on her arm to the bar. He motioned for her to sit down at the bar and he caught the barkeep's attention. A wizened old man with a marled eye and a limp made his way down the bar to the captain. The man's voice rasped from his throat as he spoke. "What can I getcha?"

Hook nodded towards Jirel. "Some water for my wife and we need two rooms for the night."

The barkeep studied Jirel for a moment and stepped away. He returned a few minutes later with a cup of water and a mug of steaming tea. Jirel looked at the tea with surprise. The keeper grinned and winked his good eye at her. "My wife could never stand the smell of the bar when she was carrying either. She swore this tea helped settle her stomach." Turning from a stunned Jirel back to the captain, he continued. "I have a large room on the upper north corner and a small room at the end of the hallway. Is that acceptable?"

Hook nodded. "I am looking for some additional crew members to replace several I lost in a skirmish near Carvel." The keeper nodded and turned to reach for the room keys.

As he placed the keys in Hook's hand he nodded again. "I will see that the word gets out that you're looking for some sign-ons. Who should they ask for?"

"Swinton, Captain Caleb Swinton."

The business being settled, Hook began cutting a path across the room towards the staircase with Jirel following in his wake. As they climbed the stairs he looked at the large iron key he had been given and found a number stamped into it. Looking up he discovered the doors all had a matching number carved into the wood. They found their room at the far end of the hallway with no trouble. Jirel looked around the room, satisfied they would have respectable accommodations for the night. There was a minimum of furniture in the room. Only a table, a pair of chairs and chest at the foot of the bed occupied the room. They had already discussed their course of action. They would stay at an inn while they hunted for information and additional crew so as not to draw attention to the Jolly Roger with a lot of coming and going.

She removed her long cloak with a sigh, draping it over her arm as she moved to look out one of the windows. Sunset was still at least an hour off but the blanket of fog was seeping thought the city streets. The captain walked up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I told Smee to start making friends. We can go down and get something to eat a bit later after the main bulk of the people leave. That way we can avoid the crowd." She nodded as she stared blankly out the window wondering where her son was and if he was alright.

Gabe and Calla sprinted down an alley trying to get away from the large shop owner chasing them.

"I told you he was going to see you!!" Gabe shouted to her as they squeezed between the boards of a fence at the end of the alley.

After twisting down several more alleys the pair ducked behind some boxes and waited to see if they were still being followed. They both sat trying to catch their breath from their run. Gabe looked at Calla and considered what the Streetmaster had said earlier. She didn't look at him, just snapped quietly at him. "Stop staring at me! I hate it when people stare at me."

Gabe looked away. "I can't see why. You're actually kinda pretty under the dirt."

Calla wheeled on him, lashing out. "OH STOP! Can't you see at all?"

Gabe snapped back at her. "I can see just fine! You look just fine. You aren't deformed or a monster. In fact the only thing I can that is different about you at all is one of your eyes is a little crooked but even that isn't so bad!"

Calla closed her mouth so quickly her teeth snapped together. Gabe turned away from her, fuming at how the Streetmaster had her so convinced of her ugliness. In his own mind, he swore to himself he would personally see to it the Streetmaster would pay for doing that to the girl who was caring for him.

Jirel woke to find her husband sitting next to her on the bed. Sleepily, she reached out and took his hand. "How long have I been sleeping?"

Hook gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "It is well past sunset. Are you hungry?"

Jirel pulled herself upright and nodded. "Has Smee found anything?"

Hook stood, offering a hand to his wife. "He has someone who sounds promising that he wants us to meet."

A few minutes later they were going down the steps into the commons room of the inn. Smee caught the captain's attention and motioned for him to come over. Hook leaned close to whisper to Jirel. "I'll be right back. You go see about getting something to eat over at the counter. I'll be along as soon as I talk to Smee."

Jirel made her way to the counter where the old innkeeper was waiting on others. Seeing Jirel he grinned. "I made up a nice stew for this evening, ma'am. I'll go get you a bowl with some fresh bread." She smiled as he disappeared into the kitchen. Her stomach was feeling much more settled now and the prospect that Smee had already found someone suitable made her happy. Perhaps they would be able to search for Gabe sooner than they thought.

As she sat thinking, a young man sat down on the stool next to her. She was so occupied by her thoughts she didn't notice him until he spoke. She focused her attention on the man. "I'm sorry what did you say?"

He flashed her a bright grin. "I asked what you were thinking about. You were so lost in thought."

She took him in with a quick glance. He was the sailor type. He had callous on his hands, was lean muscled, he had a pleasant face with sparkling brown eyes and dark brown hair to match. She allowed herself a chuckle. "I am sorry; I wasn't trying to ignore you."

Grinning at her again he offered her his hand. "I realized that. I'm Gregory Marcus. You can call me Greg. Everyone else does"

Jirel returned the grin and grasped his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Jirel Mausen."

Greg looked pleased with himself and the two began chatting idly back and forth. A playful banter had begun when the barkeep returned with Jirel's meal. She was just about to take her first bite when Smee came up behind her. "Beggin' you pardon ma'am but the Captain thought perhaps it would be better for you to dine up in the room. I'll have your food sent along."

Jirel smiled, nodded to Smee and turned to Greg. She nearly fell off her stool when the young man pulled her forward into a kiss. Too shocked to do anything Smee watched for the moment until the fellow released an equally shocked Jirel. He gave her a quick wink and motioned the barkeep should bring him a drink. Jirel shook her head, thanked Smee for sending her food up to the room and made her way over to where Hook was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"I hope you didn't have your heart set on eating down here. Smee had some interesting news and I didn't want to discuss it down here."

"Not a problem at all. I know you know better than to give me orders unless they are for a good reason." Jirel said as the captain stepped aside to let her go ahead of him up the stairs.

Back over at the bar, Smee had taken Jirel's seat. He moved the candle sitting on the counter closer to the middle so Greg wouldn't knock it over. The young man was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"I tell you Mr. Smee, that lady likes me! My she is a fine specimen. Just watch me in action. I am certain by the end of the week she and I will be sneaking off for a roll in the hay."

Smee raised and eyebrow and folded his hands, resting them on the counter. "There is only one problem with that thought, Greg."

"What's that?" the younger man questioned as he lifted his drink to his lips.

"She's your new captain's wife."

The next few seconds happened so fast Smee could only sit and watch in amusement. Greg spit out his drink, the alcohol catching the flame from the candle and igniting. The sudden fireball shocked him so that he fell backwards off his stool. The entire room turned to see the youth on his backside on the floor. Hook and Jirel paused on the stairs and also looked at the commotion.

Hook snorted. "I am going to have to talk with Smee about this new fellow. I wonder just how sure Smee is that he will be a good addition to the boat."

Jirel fought to hide a grin. "Well at least he would be good for comic relief."