Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.

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Thank you to Jack of None for betaing this chapter. I have continued to use Jack's fanon surname of "Redmourn" for Asric.

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One Week a Month, or: Asric & Jadaar at the Faire

Chapter 5

by silverr

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"Where is the body?"

"With Chronos in the East Back!" said the draenei girl – Jerrica? "Go ahead, we'll catch up!"

Jadaar knew that the children's short legs wouldn't be able to keep up with him if he ran, but he raced though the woods anyhow.

There was a crowd in Chronos' area – a dozen carnies, Gelvas, Kerri Hicks, Boomie Sparks. As Jadaar pushed through them he expected to see Griftah's body laid out in front of the campfire, with a cringing and penitent Asric standing nearby.

That is not what he saw.

It was Asric who lay face down on a field cot, pale and still, his face half hidden by his hair. A large dagger protruded from his back, just below the ribs. One arm dangled, unmoving, as Chronos carefully cut away his blood-soaked tabard.

"No!" Jadaar felt frozen in place, hardly aware of the tears that trickled down his face. "He's dead?"

"Your friend isn't dead. Yet." Chronos nodded to his assistant to remove the dagger, and as soon as it was pulled out he swept aside the remains of Asric's tabard and immediately pressed a large compress to the oozing wound. "The weapon worked like a cork. Kept him from bleeding out." He swiftly replaced the bloody compress with a fresh one.

"Will he? Can you?" Jadaar couldn't form complete sentences.

"As this injury is more serious than what I usually treat here, I've requested healers from both Thunder Bluff and Stormwind," Chronos replied. "I also called on a fully trained surgeon. If necessary they'll take him to a location with proper facilities." He lifted a corner of the compress and peered at the wound, then reached for a roll of bandage with his free hand and said to his assistant, "He clotted with satisfying alacrity. It's now safe to apply a temporary binding."

Jadaar took a deep, calming breath. He needed to set aside his worry: Chronos and the healers would provide the proper care. "Where is Griftah's body?" he asked as two carnies carefully lifted Asric's upper body.

"That," Chronos said as he wrapped the bandage tightly around and around Asric's midriff, "we do not know."

"Tatia couldn't find him," a childish voice said. Jadaar looked over to see Jerrica and the other girls standing by the wagons at the periphery of the crowd. The little blonde blood elf girl – Jadaar could not remember her name – looked especially fearful. "Everybody says Griftah fell into the water and floated away."

"This is not a matter that children should discuss," Jadaar murmured to Chronos, but before he could say more there was a commotion as Silas, Burth, Steven the fishing trainer, and Steven's worgen partner Tatia arrived.

"Let me at that dirty culprit!" Silas demanded. "When he awakes, Jadaar, you'll be arresting him for murder, I assume?"

"If there is sufficient proof that he committed a crime, yes."

"Of course he did!" Silas shot back. "Griftah is missing!"

"Mister Darkmoon," Jadaar said, more calmly than he felt, "Please allow me to investigate the disappearance. Once I have examined the evidence and collected the facts, I assure you: if Asric Redmourn is guilty of murder, he will be charged with murder. I give you my word."

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Steven and Tatia, whose fishing stand on the boardwalk was near Griftah's, had been the ones to find Asric's body and seemed to have been the last ones to see Griftah alive. Jadaar took them aside and asked quietly, "Tell me everything you did and saw and heard this morning. Omit no detail, no matter how minor it seems."

"We opened the stand an hour before dawn," Tatia said. "It was very quiet until the two arrived."

"And after that it wasn't?"

"Griftah and Asric were arguing from the minute they got there," Steven said.

"What did they argue about?"

Steven shrugged. "Everyone knows that Griftah is – was – sweet on Trix. He didn't like that Asric had been goin' round with her, and told him so. Asric laughed in his face, and after that it was just a lot of insults and boasting, the usual thing. Griftah told Asric to stick to being Rodney's – "

Silas cleared his throat in warning, and glanced pointedly at the children present.

" – friend." Steven finished lamely.

"Quite the libertine, is our Mister Redmourn?" Chronos said dryly.

"Anyhow," Steven continued, "after a while some customers came and so they stopped. We got kinda busy too, so the next thing I notice is Griftah and Asric walking past us, all the way to the end of the boardwalk and then toward the cove. When we noticed they hadn't come back we went over there to see what was going on, and that's when Tatia found Asric's body."

Jadaar nodded and said quietly, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to retrace your steps." He was hoping to conduct the investigation with the minimum of onlookers, but as the three of them headed out of Chronos' area and toward the boardwalk he saw that quite a number of people seemed to be following them. He could understand Silas wanting to be in the thick of the investigation – the Faire was his livelihood, after all – and where Silas went, Burth went, but not only was there was no need for Kerri and Gelvas and Sylvannia and the dozen or so assorted carnies and children to tag along. They were more likely than not to tread on evidence.

Still, he knew they were there from concern, and since he had neither the heart nor the authority to shoo them off he sighed and accepted that his audience would be a large one.

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Little South Cove was aptly named: it was an angled notch biting into the southern perimeter of the island just east of the boardwalk and Ellie's zoo. Along its northwest shore the cove's narrow beach gave way to low rocks; along the northeast the cove was edged with sheer cliffs. There was a small rocky island in the center of the cove, and south of it a second, much larger island – approximately the size of the Faire's Pavilion tents – which sheltered the cove from incoming winds.

As Jadaar – accompanied by the assorted carnies – walked to the east end of the boardwalk he asked, "How did you know they were going to the cove?"

Steven rubbed his chin. "Well, I figured that's where they were going, since there's not much else over that way."

"Ah, there are their footprints – and yours – in the sand." Jadaar stepped off the boardwalk onto the beach, skirting the three sets of footprints. "You followed these around to the north?"

"Yeah."

"Then we will as well. Did Griftah have any unusual customers this morning? The sort that receives packages from his wagon?"

"Not that I remember," Steven said, glancing at Tatia. "To be honest I don't pay that much attention. Though I'm sure I'd remember if there'd been anything weird."

"That's all right," Jadaar said soothingly, "it's likely there wasn't anything. Did you hear any unusual sounds coming from the cove, or see anything strange?"

"No."

"Also not surprising," he said, looking back over his shoulder in the direction of the fish stand. "This beach is visible only from the end of the boardwalk." He started to walk parallel to the footprints. "Did you wonder why they were going to this place?"

"Not really. It wasn't any of my business."

"But you knew they'd been fighting," Jadaar said mildly. "Shouldn't you have been concerned when you saw them going off to what you knew was an isolated location?"

"Well," Steven looked slightly guilty. "I mean, I didn't think they were that serious. I didn't think they were going to kill each other."

"I don't understand why everyone keeps talking as if we have found dead bodies," Jadaar said softly. "By my count we have only one wounded, and one missing." He paused. "How long before you followed them here?"

Steven frowned in concentration. "Ten or fifteen minutes?" He laughed nervously. "It's hard for me to tell time when the band isn't playing. I use Michael's announcements as a clock."

"And when you get here all you saw were these footprints in the sand. Which end … here." The north end of the beach, though not far from the zoo, was as isolated as the rest of Little South Cove: all that could be seen of the Faire were the tops of some tents.

"When I didn't see them I figured they'd headed up through the woods and taken the portal to the bathcave beach." Steven said. "I ran back and got Tatia in case we needed to break them up."

"It didn't strike you as odd that they took such an indirect route to get there?"

"A little. Tatia and I went the usual way, down the midway and up across the Back East to the portal."

"Then what happened?"

"I scented blood," Tatia said. "Faint, but upwind. It was stronger as I moved south, to where Steven said the footprints ended."

"Blood?"

"Elf blood. But tainted."

"How could you possibly know it was – " Jadaar started to ask.

"I know well," she replied, "the smell of sin'dorei blood. And the taste." She smiled faintly.

"I see," Jadaar said, filing away this knowledge. "What did you do then?"

"We found his body, there." She pointed east of where they stood, toward the edge of the low cliff. "On the stone shelf. We saw the knife in his back."

"Please stay here for a moment, all of you." Jadaar moved slowly toward the spot Tatia had indicated, scanning the ground intently. When he reached the cliff edge he moved along it until he reached the underbrush, then pathed back and forth.

"What are you looking for?" Silas asked.

"I don't know yet," Jadaar murmured. "And there may be nothing."

He had covered almost half the open area between the trees and the cliff's edge when he saw a small flash. Dropping to one knee, he pulled a slip of parchment from his pocket and used it to coax out something half-embedded in the gritty black soil. Metal, about the length of two finger joints, one end was a flared cone, while the other was a tiny, sharp arrowhead. The tip had a dried clot of blood.

"What is that?"

"I don't know," Jadaar said. "Does anyone have something I could put this in for safe transport?"

Several people responded with cloth or leather pouches, but Jadaar selected a small metal container with a tight-fitting lid that Kerri Hicks offered. He used the parchment to push the metal object into the tin, then motioned Jerrica over.

"I have something very important for you to do," he said. "Take this to Chronos. Do not open the container. Before you hand it over tell him to be very careful when he examines the contents."

Jerrica, her eyes shining with pride over being chosen, saluted him, took the tin and ran off.

Jadaar then moved to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Midway between the top of the cliff and the water was a low stone ledge – about the size of an average bed – its center mottled with blackish splotches. He examined the ledge closely before jumping down to an unbloodied spot.

"Now, just to make sure – you found no trace of Griftah?" Jadaar asked Tatia. "No ... smell of troll blood anywhere around here?"

"No."

"Did you notice anything at all out of the ordinary?" Jadaar asked.

Tatia thought for a moment, then said slowly, "The trees were still. The wind was silent." Her eyes widened in remembrance. "The water … was cloudy."

"Red clouds or white?"

"White."

Jadaar nodded. Everything was strengthening his theory, but he would need to convince Silas and the others of its validity. "And then, after you found Asric?"

Steven answered. "We heard some of the kids playing in the East Back, so when I went to get Chronos I sent most of them off to get Silas, and a few to get you."

"All right," Jadaar said. "We have come full circle, then. Before we return to Chronos and see what he has made of my potential clue, I want you to carefully consider this location." Jadaar spread his arms. "As I am now, standing on this ledge, I am unlikely to be seen by anyone in the East Back, including those who take the usual path to the portal. I cannot be seen from the boardwalk, or," he pointed up, into the center of the island, "by anyone on the entrance path." He looked down at the blood on the rocks. "And if I were not standing – well, it's unlikely I would be seen for hours or even days, even by someone walking along the beach or the cliff-side."

"Well," someone said sheepishly, "actually it's a backup spot for, um, personal interaction, if the wagon by the outhouses is occupied."

There was gentle laughter, and someone else said, "You would know, eh Ferdelle?"

Jadaar nodded. "So, secluded, but popular enough that a body would be likely to be discovered by nightfall, then." He then pointed to the water. "So, that is not the only interesting thing. This ledge also permits easy access to the relatively deep water of the cove, and that makes it unusual. Elsewhere on the island, the deep water adjoins very high cliffs."

"What are you getting at?" Silas asked.

"Picture this. A small boat could easily be hidden from view as it received cargo from someone on this ledge. The small boat could then very quickly deliver its cargo to a much larger ship hidden behind – that." Jadaar pointed to the larger of the two rock outcroppings in the cove. "Behind that could hide a ship large enough to churn up the sea bottom, don't you think?"

"And make clouds in the water," Tatia said.

"Cargo?" Burth asked. "What cargo?"

Kerri slapped her hands together. "A body! Griftah was kidnapped? Is that why he's missing?"

"It's one explanation that I am considering," Jadaar said. "Another is that he made arrangements to leave voluntarily."

"Why didn't he just use the city portals if he wanted to leave?"

"To avoid being seen, perhaps?" Jadaar said. "If Griftah did flee the Faire, what was he running from? If he was taken by force, what are his abductors' motives? Will there be a ransom? It would help if we could discover how they came to this precise spot. For now, as there doesn't seem to be evidence that the two were brought here by force, I hypothesize that Griftah came willingly, and Asric, as Griftah's assigned bodyguard, simply followed. But was Griftah the lured, or did he do the luring?" He paused and said, "And I intend to find whoever it was that stabbed Asric."

"And why," someone said.

"Nah, that part's obvious," someone else said. "He got in the way of whatever was goin' down."

Jadaar nodded. "Yes, I think you are correct. Whoever did it … " Jadaar stopped as a thought struck him. "Whoever did it might have known of the gossip about their rivalry , and wanted to lead us to the conclusion that the two had fought and killed each other, and that Griftah's body had fallen into the sea."

"But Asric didn't die," someone pointed out.

"No, but he would have, if not for Tatia," Jadaar said.

"So that knife," Burth asked, "used to fool us? It Trollish, but no look like either Amani or Gurubashi to me. Maybe Professor or Lhara will recognize."

"An excellent suggestion," Jadaar said. "See, this is good! The perpetrators underestimated us. They thought we would accept their manufactured scenario without question. They thought they had left Asric as good as dead. They thought we would not question Griftah's disappearance until the winds and currents had carried their ship far from here."

"That's dumb," a little girl's voice said firmly. "Don't they know anything about the island?"

"What's dumb?" Jadaar asked.

"What you said about currents," the girl said, pushing her way to the front of the crowd. Maggy. He remembered talking to her – was it just yesterday? – about dragon and elekk bones.

"First off," she said, sounding haughty and impatient, "it's like what I told Nadun when he said that Griftah's body was washed out to sea. A body can't get washed away from here, because Professor Paleo said that there aren't any currents in this part of the Great Sea. And since all the winds blow toward the island no matter which side you're on, sails won't work. Boats have to row or use a motor."

Jadaar frowned. No currents? And the winds blew toward the center of the island? How could that be? "Silas," he asked, "where exactly is Darkmoon Island located?"

"I can't really say."

Jadaar was shocked. "But – you must! Lives may depend on it!"

"I don't mean I won't say," Silas responded evasively, "I mean I can't say … It's a long story, but trust me – I don't know exactly where this island is."

There was a buzz of disbelief from the crowd.

"Excuse me," Tatia said with a hint of snarl, "but every moment spent talking geography lets the ones that did this get further away."

Silas nodded. "You're right. I'm not completely convinced of your theory, Jadaar, but just in case ... Burth, would you go ask Maxima to go up and take a look around for ships? Tell her to take peepers and a parachute."

Burth nodded and hurried off.

"And someone needs to take that knife to the Professor."

"I'll do it," Kerri said. As she left – followed by her entourage of girls – Silas asked, "What else do we need?"

"If a ship is sighted, we will need a way to go after it," Jadaar said.

"On it!" Gelvas said. "C'mon Rinling, let go talk to Yebb and see if we can get that flying contraption of yours fixed."

"Anything else?" Silas asked.

"I," Jadaar said, "I want to check in with Chronos. See what he made of that … whatever it is."

"Of course." Silas' smile was indulgent. "So tell me, Jadaar," he asked as they headed toward Chronos' area, "how did you figure all this out? It never would have even occurred to me that there was more to this than two boys fighting over a girl!"

"There were aspects that did not made sense to me." Jadaar said. "To stab someone over a woman – that usually is a crime of passion. It would have been more likely to happen on the boardwalk, in the heat of their arguing, and not an hour later after taking the time to walk to a secluded location. Then there were Asric's injuries. First, I know enough of Asric and his background to believe that he is relatively skilled in close hand-to-hand combat, but inclines to what are called "dirty tactics." Combined with his naturally suspicious nature, I believe that under normal conditions it would therefore be almost impossible to stab him in the back. Then, when Tatia said that they had found him face down on the ledge, and showed us the location, I began to think he must have been placed there and stabbed afterward."

"Why?"

"He had none of the injuries – bruises, scratches, bloody nose – consistent with falling face down onto stone."

"Maybe they fought on the ledge?" Silas asked. "And he simply collapsed when defeated?"

To Jadaar's surprise, Tatia answered. "No. Not enough room to maneuver, and the footing is too uneven." She shot Jadaar a quick apologetic look, but relaxed when he smiled and added, "Anyone planning to fight would have done it up above."

"Exactly right." Jadaar nodded.

"That thing you found?" Steven said, glancing at Tatia. "It, er, it looked like a hunting dart to me. I've, ah, seen something like it in Gilneas. Coated with sleep dust. Used for humane capture."

"I am trying not to jump to conclusions before facts are at hand," Jadaar said, "but yes, I have also seen similar objects used with reed-pipes on Draenor."

"I hire the smartest people on Azeroth," Silas said.

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Steven and Tatia – the mention of Gilneas had clearly distressed them both – said apologetically that they needed to get back to the fishing stand for a while. Silas announced that he would head over to Maxima's to supervise the aerial reconnaissance, so Jadaar went on alone to check on Asric.

As he came in sight of Chronos' area Jadaar saw an unfamiliar figure in dark robes bending over the cot. The stranger was examining Asric's hands, which seemed to have become covered with soot.

"Ah, Jadaar!" Chronos said. "That was a most interesting little item you had Jerrica bring to me!"

"Oh?" Jadaar watched nervously as the stranger used the skeletal thumb of his left hand to pull up one of Asric's eyelids – ostensibly to check his pupils. The sight made Jadaar cringe.

"But where are my manners?" Chronos said. "Jadaar, I've called on an old friend, Apothecary Arlecchino, who is, among his many other accomplishments, one of the foremost living scholars of esoteric poisons." Chronos paused for a moment, then added dryly, "Assuming, that is, that you define 'living' rather broadly."

"An … apothecary?" Jadaar had heard about the Royal Apothecaries. Allied with the enemies that had invaded the shattered Draenor, these Forsaken were said to perform hideous experiments on living prisoners and to animate amalgamations of the dead as abominations. An apothecary was the last thing Jadaar wanted touching Asric, but if Chronos vouched for him, he supposed he could attempt to set aside this prejudice ...

And then Arlecchino turned and looked at him. Compared to Chronos – whose relatively intact undead face Jadaar had become accustomed to – Arlecchino was horrifying, a jawless, yellow-eyed nightmare with lank pewter hair and a rusted metal disk in the center of his rotting throat. He made an inhuman sound that could have been laughter or scorn.

"That item you found is a projectile typically used to administer poisons and paralytics," Chronos went on. "As its presence at the crime scene was highly suggestive, I then examined Mister Redmourn more closely, and found a puncture wound on the back of his neck."

Arlecchino turned back to Asric and used his right hand – which Jadaar could now see was a mechanical prosthesis – to brush Asric's hair away from his neck, and then pointed to a dark-red swelling.

"What I found did that?" Jadaar asked.

"No," Chronos said. "The tiny dart you found would make a cruciform puncture. Mister Redmourn's wound is perfectly round, and appears to be quite deep – more consistent with a needle-like agent. Arl believes that your friend has been injected with something far more intriguing."

Arlecchino made some sounds that Jadaar assumed were speech.

"Oh yes, quite right," Chronos said. "Jadaar, would you assist us by removing Mister Redmourn's boots?"

"His boots?"

"Yes. Certainly you've noticed the discoloration that has appeared on his hands? Arl wants to see if it's spread to the other extremities."

Jadaar carefully slid off one of Asric's boots, and then gasped. The foot was stained dark greenish-black.

Arlecchino made a circling motion with his hand that Jadaar took to mean And the other one as well.

Once both feet were bare the apothecary took Asric's feet in his hands, spreading the toes and stroking the soles with his grotesque fingers of metal and bone. After several minutes of this he pushed back Asric's trouser legs, bent to peer closely at the faint green and black marks twining around the ankles, and then – with apparent reluctance – relinquished his hold.

He turned to Chronos and spoke at length in … whatever language he was speaking, his voice sounding crisply formal until the very end, when, his echoing voice dropping to a sinuous, blood-curdling purr, he turned and rubbed his knuckles over Asric's feet.

Then, without so much as a goodbye, he made a sweeping motion with one arm that produced a glowing green demonic circle beneath him, and disappeared.

"What did he say?" Jadaar asked.

"He has gone to his laboratory to research, but he is confident that once he identifies the poison's precise formula an antidote can be distilled."

"How … how long will that take?"

"One hopes it will be before the contamination reaches the torso. That is likely to be fatal."

"And at the end?" Jadaar asked. "What did he say at the end?"

"Well," Chronos said, "Yes. That. He expressed his admiration for Mister Redmourn's feet, and stressed how very much he would appreciate acquiring one in exchange for the antidote."

Jadaar was speechless.

"Of course, he lowered his price as a favor to me," Chronos said. "Usually he's paid both feet for his services."

"Both?"

"He has also offered to purchase Mister Redmourn's body if he can't find a cure. I don't think I've ever known him to be so generous."

Fortunately, at that moment one of the fire jugglers dashed up to them. "Maxima's on her way down," the juggler gasped. "And she says she's seen something."

.

The gnome cannoneer was on the west boardwalk, supervising the folding of her parachute.

"There's a ship out there all right," she said. "About the same size as the intercity transports. Heading north with full sail. Although – well, it looked like there was a fire on the upper deck."

"How far away are they? And how fast are they going?"

"I can't really estimate," Maxima said. "But my gut says if they're been at it longer than about ten minutes, they aren't making much headway."

Gelvas came up, followed by Rinling and Yebb Nebelgear. "Well, we got good news and bad news, boss," the goblin said to Silas. "The good news is, Rinling's flyin' machine is ninety-nine percent repaired from the last time he tried to fly it."

"And the bad news?"

"We don't have the last piece we need to get running. I sent guys out looking but – "

"What is it that's missing?' Jadaar asked.

"A little doll ting," Rinling said.

"A hula?" Jadaar asked.

"Ya, that be the one," Rinling said. "I was meaning to get one from ma mon Grif, but – he be all out."

"Why do you need a hula, anyhow?" Gelvas asked irritably. "It's ridiculous."

"Don' be dissing mah little good luck gal," Rinling said with a sniff.

"So what was she doin' when you crashed? Busy takin' a bubble bath?"

Rinling flapped a hand in Gelvas' face.

"Other options?" Jadaar asked, feeling frustrated. What he wouldn't have given for one of the Exodar's two-man survey pods!

"What about riding?" Yebb said.

"Across the water?" Jadaar asked, but as he said it he recalled that shaman were trained to do just that.

"Sure!" Yebb said. "Sylannia can make you those water-walking potions Gelvas uses to ride around looking for salvage."

"Shush!" Gelvas tried to kick Yebb, but the gnome dodged with a cackle. "That's it! You just lost your cut!"

"Anyhow," Yebb said, "Baby just got new shoes, so she's rarin' to go. She can carry two your size, no problem. Unless you'd rather take Jumbo?"

"No, no elekks," Jadaar said quickly. "The horse will be fine. Please prepare her while I get the potions."

.

Five minutes later, as he stood watching the drink vendor concoct the water potions, Jadaar felt someone poke him in the side.

It was the game skill-deficient dwarf death knight. "Whatcha doing there, lad?" he asked.

"Having some water-walking potions made."

The dwarf perked up. "You need to ride the sea? Hell, why dinna yeh say so? Dargrim of Ironforge at yer service! I'll come wit' yeh, lay down a frostpath. Easy as Hogger."

Jadaar was about to decline when Silas said, "It wouldn't hurt to have an extra hand in case there are – difficulties."

"Difficulties! Yeh mean like fightin' ? By Magni's thrice-braided chest hair, count me in!"

Feeling more and more that the escape from Draenor was less chaotic, Jadaar – followed by the death knight, who seemed to have hit it off with Silas quite resoundingly – hurried to receive quick riding instructions from Yebb, but before he got to the blacksmith's stand there was a commotion.

It was Trix. Collapsed on the midway, she was wailing and pounding her fists on the dirt. "Who take my man?" she raged. "Who take my darlin' Griftah!"

It was Rodney, of all people, who went and knelt next to her. "Bad people, Trix," he said, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Bad people. But Asric's friend is gonna get him back."

.

Once on the water, neither Baby nor Zeus – the dwarf's frost-rimed demonic steed – seemed nearly as apprehensive that their hooves were splashing on water as Jadaar was. It certainly didn't seem to bother Dargrim at all either, who had sobered from a befuddled buffoon into a steely-eyed, black-armored, bearded package of death.

Which was as comforting as it was unexpected.

It wasn't long before the ship's masts poked up from the horizon and Jadaar could see the flaming sails that Maxima had mentioned. As they got closer it looked as though the fire was being created by a lone figure on the upper aft deck, using a continuous gout of flame to belly out the sails with wind, augmenting the work done by galley oars laboring below.

Dargrim rode closer to Jadaar. "Somethin' about that ship's making me beard itch," he said.

Jadaar agreed. "I will ride up alongside and board," he said. "Take Baby's reins and follow directly behind the ship. If you see us jump overboard, stop and let us swim to you."

"Aye, I can pop down under the waves if needed. But what if ye don't jump? Kin I board too? Help yeh knock some skulls?"

"Only if I call for you," Jadaar said. "And only after I've checked what's below decks. Otherwise, return to the Faire and get reinforcements."

Although Dargrim didn't look happy about being deprived of skull-thumping, he nodded.

It was almost too easy. A rope ladder hung over the side of the ship. Once Jadaar had grabbed the rungs and hoisted himself off her back Baby slowed just enough to join Dargrim in the ship's wake.

Jadaar slipped inside the main cabin. It was bare except for a large cage bolted to the floor.

Inside the cage was Griftah, curled up and apparently in a deep sleep. The cage was locked with a padlock that would require two keys used simultaneously, making it almost impossible to pick even if Jadaar had had the tools or the skills to do so. But where there are locks, there are always keys. He could see a furnished room – the captain's quarters? – just beyond the semi-enclosed stairwell that led to the weather deck below where the fire-mage and the ship's wheel were. He moved quietly to peer inside. Captain's quarters all right – a large bed with an unexpectedly luxurious coverlet, a table stacked with maps and navigation instruments. There were also, oddly, a number of what looked like magical volumes and a rack holding small bottles labeled in an unfamiliar script. Jadaar quickly searched the table, the bedding, and every conceivable hiding place for the keys to the cage, but he hadn't expected to find anything. He was going to have to take the fire-mage on the top deck hostage. Either they were the captain, or they were valuable to the captain, so either way he was going to get the keys.

He moved swiftly up the stairs, crouching as he made his way across the deck and climbing the steps leading up the the uppermost deck until he was just barely able to see the face of the fire mage whose concentration was directed upwards at the sails.

And he gasped in shock. It was Miresha, the Faire's star fire-juggler.

"Oh Jadaar," she cried the moment she saw him, letting the flames dissipate as she clasped her hands. "Thank the Light you've come! I was so frightened! They – they've been forcing me to use use my fire skills to power the ship!"

"Who has?" he asked, now hurrying up the last few steps. "Who has been forcing you?"

She stumbled a little, and would have fallen had he not put out his arm to steady her. "Please help me get out of here," she whispered weakly. "I'm so very tired."

"I will, but I need to find the captain, and get his keys first," Jadaar said, "so that I can open Griftah's cage. Once I do that we can all get away from here, even though it will take some swimming. Is everyone else below rowing?"

"I think so.' She sagged more. "Oh! Could you carry me down those stairs first? I'm feeling so faint, I don't think I can make it!"

"Of course," Jadaar said, lifting her up and descending the stairs to the weather deck. "You can wait with Griftah while I get the keys."

"You're so sweet," Miresha said, putting her arm around his neck.

He had just stepped off the last rung when there was a sharp stinging pain just where Miresha's hand rested, and then another. He staggered, half-dropping her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I feel … " A chill nausea swept over him, and then his muscles gave way. Flailing, he dropped heavily to his hands and knees before falling on his side, his vision blurring. "Don't give away his feet!" he shouted, as the deck of the ship began to spin, faster and faster. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, but it didn't help.

"Take him below," he heard a female voice say coldly. "Big strong brainless goat like that must have plenty of rowing power."

His last coherent thought was that somehow this too was all the damned elf's fault.

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~ To be continued ~

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Additional thanks to Jack of None for allowing me to borrow the wickedly wonderful RP character Apothecary Arlecchino for this story, and to Stinger for several helpful suggestions.

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(03) 30 June 2012

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