Gentle Reader, may your sailing days be one of clearest skies and calmest waters. ^_^

THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE

Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 7 : Riverbed

"Just what we need t' round up the rest of the crew... a stinkin' leaf-muncher an' a sappy-faced noodle-slurper!" the dwarven woman, Dotie, jeered. Gingery braids and a bulbous nose, a fuzzy chin with a few fresh nicks, yet with a pale and grayish cast to her skin unlike the more commonly fair or tanned stout folk. Barrel-chested like the males of her kind, Dotie puffed herself up as she eyeballed the newcomers standing on the deck.

"Better than a bottom keg- kisser," Irse mumbled, eyes averted to the side.

"What's that? Got somethin' to say to my face, elf?"

Irse shook her head, lips quirked. Dotie turned to Shar-Teel who was idly manning the helm.

"Ya should've bought a damned goat instead! More useful than these soddin' lubbers!"

The captain grunted, "Yeah, I was, Dotie. 'Was going to. But then I remembered we already got a crewmate with a beard."

Shar-Teel then trained her eye lazily at the female dwarf.

"Except you shaved again yesterday."

The elf snorted a giggle then clapped a hand on her mouth. Dotie rounded on her with a menacing glare before stomping over to Shar-Teel. As captain and crewmate commenced with what sounded like yesterday's unfinished argument, Irse felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Okami, beckoning her with a slight tilt of his head to follow him down to the cargo hold. They descended a short flight of steps and found Nells waiting for them below. The first mate sighed and rolled her eyes towards the main deck, seemingly grateful that the ceiling had enough thickness to muffle the wave of colorful curses now streaming above their heads.

"You'll have to excuse Dotie... and the Captain... and well, everybody else had they been here," Nells apologized. She briefed the two on their duties with Okami assigned to the heavier tasks such as working with the rest of the crew on the rigging, steering, and repairs on account of his skills as a smith. Meanwhile, the girl was relegated mostly to cleaning duties or anything else requiring a light hand.

"But I can do more," Irse insisted, adamant that she not appear a burden or worse, a slacker.

"I know that, dear. But there's a lot of cleaning and maintenance left undone what with fewer of us to divvy up the work now." The captain never really cared much for a spotless vessel, the first mate assured the girl, but it was better they weren't at least sailing on a floating pigsty.

"Not that everything ought to be clean and gleaming like the Ducal Palace, only that none us gets a nasty infection and end up with a fever or losing a hand or leg every time we get scratched by a wall or the bannisters," Nells admitted with some embarrassment as she walked up to a section of the inner hull where a patch of slime had settled contentedly. The woman rapped her knuckle next to the brownish-greenish gunk; the elf imagined for a moment the slime wriggling and waving at them in welcome.

"This one might've been a spot of gravy from a turkey dinner we had last midwinter feast... ehh, days ago."

Irse's eyes widened. It was already Mirtul. Midwinter was months ago.

Okami leaned close to his apprentice and whispered a warning, "Do not let your bare skin make contact with any surface. I may not have enough san qi for both of us."

"But isn't that for bleeding?"

"Yes, in case we must amputate more than one gangrenous appendage."

Realizing that the first mate was still in their presence, the pair straightened up, master coughing and student twiddling her thumbs.

Surprisingly, Nells didn't seem the least bit insulted. "Eh, now would be the time to tell you we only have enough bandages and salves onboard for minor scrapes. Last season hasn't been good to us, but Shar-Teel promised us a…," Nells drifted off, frowned and looked to the side. "… A well-paying contract… this trip. We can at least afford a healing potion or two. You know, just in case," she recovered with a forced smile.

They were shown their quarters, a cramped bare room with two hammocks. Clothes had been carelessly piled into one, some pieces dangling upon the ropes. Irse tentatively pulled down two shirts and spread them out – the first evidently belonging once to a large man, the other clearly a child's.

"I guess this was Beno's? Oh, and you had a kid with you here?" she asked absently.

"Risa's, actually. A half-orc. The smaller one is Lolla's, a gnome."

The elf blinked. Risa, the hopelessly romantic lovestruck half-orc, and Lolla, the excessively manwhore-mongering gnome. Silently she thanked the gods for blessing the crew with at least one sane member.

They returned to the deck where Nells gave them a few more instructions and left the two to themselves. Okami found a bucket and a mop and handed them to his student.

"To our tasks then, sailor," he said.

She stood smartly and gave him a mock salute. "Aye, aye…," she cheered, following with a cautious peek at Shar-Teel who was looking elsewhere, then grinned at her Teacher and whispered.

"… Captain."

Back and forth the mop swished across the floor, punctuated by the slosh of the head dunking into the bucket of water. Humming a wordless tune, she thought back on her former chores at the Keep. A calculated risk, she had overheard Gorion and Tethoril confer among themselves, to keep the girl busy, distracted from causing trouble, and out of Ulraunt's hair. Most importantly, supervised. Fortunately for her, the laborers weren't keen on babysitting, trusting enough to delegate the tasks to the elven child. An arrangement she much preferred over the Master of Tome's initial command that she be under the constant watch of any of his own lackeys – detesting the idea of being scrutinized, bossed and ordered around like a mindless golem, smothered with comparisons to a race and culture she had never lived with.

She paused, mop in her hand, eyes smiling at the trees and brushes along the riverbank passing them by. Out here where there were no walls, she was a nobody and out of everyone's sights, free to make her own choices. No illusions were harbored from the start – she was too young to be a swashbuckling hero scouring dungeons and defeating dragons. She dreamed about it like any child, but such a life wasn't always for everyone. Right now, it would be to find her parents, return to the monastery if they were no longer among the living, live, be happy, and be whatever she might be. Whatever that may be.

"Quit yer gawkin', knife-ear! Or are ya missin' yer trees over there? Just ask nicely an' I'll oblige with a, heh heh, friendly hand."

Footsteps approached her from behind, the stomping on the wooden planks heavy and deliberate. How high could the dwarf possibly lift those stubby legs to make that much sound? She exhaled deeply and dunked the mophead into the bucket, churning the water within.

"What do you want, Dotie?"

"Ye best be callin' yer betters a ma'am, ya woody worm."

"We're passengers, paying passengers. Only that Nells was generous enough to give us something to do to pass time."

"I don't give a fishies' arse what that half-er says. Too soft in the guts, that's what she is."

Half-er?

"Oh, an' ye be missin' a spot," Dotie mocked.

"Hmmm? Where?" the elf asked just to humor her.

The dwarf shoved a finger up her bulging nose, twirling it deeply as physically possible, then pulled it out and flicked a boogie in front of her. "Right… here."

A swish of the mop head and the deed was done. Dotie picked her nose again and flicked a second one on the floor. This time the projectile was sizable enough for the girl to see.

"Another one, elf. Don't get sloppy now!"

Irse leaned on the mop, raising an indifferent brow at the floor. "I'll clean up when you're finished. Let me know when you're done."

"Oh, I can do this all day!"

" 'Course you can, but seeing you don't have much of a nose but a whole lot of finger going up there, you'll soon run out of brains to pick out. Or you don't have one and it's really ear wax you're scraping through your nose all this time."

"Ah! So ya got a mouth there on ya! Now yer pushin' fer it, oozebait!" Dotie raged and advanced at the girl. Irse stepped back, mop pulled out of the bucket and now firmly gripped in both hands.

"Dotie! Dotiedotiedotie!" a welcome voice piped up in a strained singsong. Nells poked hear head through the door to the cargo hold. Smiling as if nothing was amiss, the first mate walked up to them, awkwardly bending at the waist to place a friendly hand down on the dwarf's shoulder.

"I've been looking for you! I need you to do inventory while Okami moves those crates in the cargo hold."

The dwarf glowered in frustration at the elf before turning to the other woman. "What? Limp noodle can't handle it by himself?"

Nells handed her a list. "He can, but it's much faster and efficient if you work together."

Muttering curses under her breath, Dotie yanked the parchment from the first mate's hand and tramped over to the door. As soon as the dwarf was gone, Nells shot the girl a conspiratorial wink.

"Try not to pay too much mind to Dotie. She's part gray dwarf, just can't seem to get along with anyone seeing as how we're all surfacers here," Nells chuckled nervously, then became solemn in expression. "Though sometimes I wonder what's truly responsible for that - the duergar in her blood or what others expected of her before they even know her."

A duergar. No wonder, given the gray pallor of her skin and obvious hostility. Irse realized that Nells was looking at her, a worried frown on her face. The girl knew what the woman was looking at.

"It's an old injury. Don't worry, Dotie can't jump that high for sure," Irse said as she rubbed her left ear.

"Seems like it. Didn't want to pry before; I'm sure you have your reasons and Mister Okami's a good man, but aren't you too young to be traveling on your own and away from your fellow Tel'Quessir?"

The girl's eyes brightened and she pumped a fist in the air. "Thank you! Gods! Thank you! Somebody finally gets me!"

Nells stared at her, baffled for a moment. Irse grinned awkwardly and told the other woman of her journey so far. The first mate listened quietly, the kind smile never leaving her face. When the elf was done with her story, Nells reached up a hand and pulled at the knots of her bandanna, shaking her auburn waves and pulling them away from her ears which had always been hidden out of sight. Ears broad like a human's but with the unmistakable yet slightly pointed tip.

"You're a half-elf!" the girl exclaimed. No wonder Dotie had derisively called Nells a half-er, and that she had used the same word the elven merchants had called themselves. The Tel'Quessir - as if Ilphas was making sure that it was the first elven word that Irse must learn from them; she - the poor unfortunate elven child raised by N'Tel'Quess or non-elves, those Not of The People.

"That I am. Though it's my father who's the half-elf. You could say I'm a quarter-elf, but to the world I'll always be a half of both races. And depending on which side you ask, I could be a tenth of one and they'd still say I have too much of the other."

Irse nodded in agreement. Of the few occasions that elven and half-elven visitors were at the Great Library at the same time, and the girl strictly told to stay out of their sight, she and Imoen would sit at the inn's kitchens listening to Winthrop relay in his own and more colorful way, the barbs that both sides would not-so-secretly hurl at each other.

"Don't have much of a story myself. Only that my mother died from a lingering illness years ago and my father lives now in Elventree, where those like us are more accepted by The People. When I've saved a good sum and I can be sure that Shar-Teel won't accidentally set the boat on fire when on her own, then I'll make the visit and maybe settle down there myself."

Elventree. "How far is that from us?" the girl asked, a mix of curiosity and hope.

"A good long way from here, a thousand miles to the east, roughly. The settlement's in the great forest of Cormanthor. From Iriaebor you could take many routes. A straightforward one's to go to Westgate, sail from the port to Sembia, then it's one road to get there. But I'd advise against that. Westgate's not a pretty place to be in even for a day, even during the day. Another is to pass through the Storm Horns, as dangerous as any mountains with monsters can be, but at least it's guarded by Cormyr, then through the High Moor and the Dalelands until you take to either Shadowdale to bypass most of the woods or Ashabenford after which you cut through the great forest itself 'til you reach Elventree by the Moonsea."

Hearing the routes described by Nells already made her legs ache by themselves. At least that wasn't a journey to be undertaken in the near future.

For now, there was only the river stretching on ahead of them.

"What's this I hear 'bout you livin' in that big old library and runnin' away?" the captain asked, uncrossing her arms and leaning over the railings.

Nells must have mentioned it to her. Irse slid the rag continuously across the wood and replied, "It's true, Captain. I left my foster father when -"

"So you got a foster dad. He beat you up, didn't he? That's why you ran away."

Rather than getting riled, Irse smiled to herself. Her foster father, though advanced in years, remained hale, straight-backed. Always they whispered in awe of how he was a former Harper agent who had gone on dangerous missions before retiring at the Keep. Yet Gorion was a serious and thoughtful man, longsuffering of her antics, gentle in his words. He would never hurt her.

"No, Gorion's been good to me but he wouldn't tell me a thing about my parents. I only want to find them."

"Gorion, huh? What about your folks? You at least have their names to go by?"

The rag stopped. "Only my mother's name." Alianna. But never from Gorion's lips, only from a dream that didn't feel like a dream. More like an old memory. Were she to close her eyes now she would see and hear it all again - darkness above and around, the glow of flames, Gorion screaming the name. It had been the look on his face when she asked that told her all she needed to know.

"What about your mother? Or father, Captain? Does he also sail boats? What's his name?"

Thwack!

With a meaty palm, Shar-Teel had smacked Irse at the back of the head and jabbed a finger at the girl's face.

"Hey! We're not on a daddy's name basis here!" the woman snapped, eyes smoking with twice the usual murder in the mornings.

Irse rubbed the sore spot, amazed that her head hadn't flown clear off her neck and skipping on the water's surface like a thrown pebble. "But I just wanted to talk ab-,"

"I'm not paying you to yammer and flap your gabs on my boat!"

"But you are not paying us..." the elf complained, eyes rolling to the side.

"And I'd say I got the short end of the sardin' stick too!" Shar-Teel stepped away from the railings and turned her back on the girl. "Psh! My advice is you forget about it, kid. Go do whatever you want; think yourself lucky you don't know who your folks are – especially your old man. You don't need them looking over your shoulder, telling you who you're supposed to be, and making your choices for you like it's not even your own damned life!" she said as she walked away, a hard edge to her voice.

Irse opened her mouth, about to say something, anything to defend her choice.

But then, it was wiser to keep her head sitting on her shoulders.

"You're not really going to make this easy for me, are you?"

The spot on the wooden floor of the cargo hold did not reply, smug in its entrenchment among the greaves of the planks. No matter how many times she rubbed the mop head upon it, the blemish - crusted remains of something hopefully not from Dotie, simply refused to budge. Not for the first time did she wonder if she could instead beat it with the handle but this wasn't a rug. With a groan, she got down on both knees and whipped out a rag. Maybe a knife would be handy, in case it jumps at her.

Rolling the rag to make it sturdy enough, she proceeded to scrub at the spot, her grumbling and swearing outdoing the vigor with which she attacked it. From the edge of her vision, she saw Okami coming down the steps.

"There must be a gentler means, lest you eventually rub a hole into the hull and we find ourselves at the bottom of the Chionthar."

"If that's the only way to clean this whole floating castle of crud!" she ranted through gritted teeth.

"Will you set fire to the entire garden merely to clear the fallen leaves?"

Seeing the affirmative grin on her face, he added, "Never mind. Do not answer. I was hoping you might have time but you seem preoccupied."

Irse got up on her feet and tossed the rag. "Just keeping myself busy, Teacher. But if you need me to do anything, I'm ready."

Okami looked around the interior of the hold. All of the crates, of which there weren't much, had been moved to one corner, creating a single wide space. He walked towards the center, student following suite.

"This is nothing like the practice halls of my home but we must make do with what the gods have given us."

The elf puffed her cheeks as she made a quick inspection of the place, and cast a defeated look at the uncleaned grub, still unscathed. Nice to know which god would have been responsible for putting them here. The blacksmith seemed to be thinking the same thing. He eyed the same spot on the floor with resignation.

"Preferable we do this barefoot as is customary, but I rather we survive this trip with our feet healthy and intact."

And so they started their lesson on footwork, an explanation on the importance of maintaining stability as with the beginning positions, then a simple matter of sliding one's feet to move in different directions when starting from the basic stance he had taught her. Except…

"Let your forefoot glide to the position, then follow with your back foot in the same manner."

"I'm letting! I'm letting!"

"No, you are stomping, then sliding."

"Now, you are skipping."

"But it's so much more epic! I'll hop and chop and go haiyaaa!"

"Again."

"Glide, like the raindrop on a blade of grass. No, that is a frog jumping from a lotus pad."

"Again."

"Again."

"Again."

"And, again."

"Still, again."

"Again."

Even when she was merely at the verge of moving, she was told – again. Her Teacher maintained his cool, but somehow the unflappable calmness in his voice was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Why can't I just not and say I did? What difference would it make if I can't do it perfectly as long as I'm getting somewhere anyway?" Irse protested.

His brow furrowed, Okami raised a palm, a signal for her to cease her attempts. She scowled back, defiant. If he was going to say it is because it's the way it has always been, that she lacked the grace that should've been inherent to her race, if he was no different from those before him who relished the disappointment, then so help her!

"It matters… not because I aspire for you to be perfect," he said as he walked over to her, stopping only when he could stare into her eyes.

"It matters because I want you to live!"

His eyes were hard and grave. She blinked, and his expression softened.

"Why is it imperative that you uphold your balance, to not interrupt yourself, be constant in moving between positions?"

She did not answer.

"So that you are at all times ready to strike – when you need to, and not only when you want to."

Irse turned her head to look away, controlling the frustration in her own voice as she responded, "I want to do this right, I truly do. I'll just try again." She heard him sigh and felt the air lighten between them as he stepped back.

"You will try again, good. As uttered by the man who once made me clean the entire practice hall, rafter to floor, as punishment and lesson for the same obstacle - Desire points to the door, but it is the will which opens the way. Now then, let us see what we can do about this."

With his foot, he flipped the rag over to her feet. "The ball of your right foot over the cloth. Now, push with your foot to gently slide it forward, do not lift until you stop."

When she executed the move and saw him nod in satisfaction, she fought the urge to leap and punch the air in triumph. Keep your foot on the rag, dummy, don't ruin this. "Oh! I forgot!" She quipped as she slid her left foot to its follow-through position.

"Use the rag to practice the other directions until you are confident of executing them on your own and on any surface. When you are ready, meet me on deck each night when I am on watch. Bring your bokken," Okami said as he ascended the stairs.

As soon as her Teacher disappeared from view, the elf stomped on the rag and smirked down at it. We have work to do, you and I.

Forwards, sideways, backwards, forwards then pivot, feet interchanging but never leaving the rag untouched – Irse weaved through the empty space, the silence interrupted only by the occasional tap of the shoe, a weighted step, her breathing. And low laughter. Daggers and swords, imagined from the darkness, rushed at her and in her mind she dodged them all without a hitch, phantom sword in her empty hand cutting, slicing, winning. Did she swing correctly? Maybe yes, maybe no. As long as she was hitting anything – just like she needed to.

Enemies to the northwest charging at her! Does she wait or meet them in the battlefield? Right foot sliding to close with her left at the fore, then the left using the boost to propel her forwards, switching the blade between hands, a swinging arc from her right shoulder –

"By Marthammor Duin's mossy-mucked boots! What kinda' fool foppery be goin' on here!"

Battle skidded to a stop. Dotie stood by the steps, a bundle of rope in her arms.

"I'm cleaning the floors." Dwarven eyes narrowed in suspicion at her. "The elven way?"

"Hmph! As long as I be not mashin' my face on where yer tippy-toes be soilin'," Dotie maundered as she walked past the elf and stashed the rope among the crates.

"Say, Dotie."

"What!"

Irse tapped at the boxes. "We couldn't get passage in some of the ships because they were full of cargo. If it's summer and high season for trading, why are we sailing near empty with a barebones crew? Are we docking somewhere else to get the goods?"

Thick fingers reached up and grabbed at the front of her shirt. Dotie yanked at her with such force, Irse's knees buckled, almost falling to the floor had she not braced herself at the edge of the crate beside her. The dwarf thrust her face into the elf's, breath hot with rage.

"Ya listen here an' listen good. Ye best be stayin' yer nose outta' our business if ye want yerself an' him t' keep breathin'! Got it?"

The dwarven woman shoved at the girl; Irse staggered, back slamming against the crates behind her, barely managing to keep on her feet. More surprised than angry, the elf stared at the other who merely sneered.

Dotie warned with cruel relish, "What ya gonna' do? Whine t' that mongrel? Tell on me to the captain? Don't ye forget, girl – I know every nook an' cranny in this ship an' I can see in the dark just like ya."

Cold eyes glinted. "But he can't."

That was it! Her fists clenched, the mix of chagrin and outrage roiling within. But what was there to do? Charge at her? Who was this one to threaten her, her Teacher, when she had done nothing to her?

Irse sized up the woman before her. Maybe in weight and hardiness she was outmatched, but she was taller, lighter and faster, had longer reach. If she could be as quick as she knew she could be…

What would that accomplish, Child?

Gorion's voice trailed in her mind.

A remembered feel of his gnarled palm enclosing her curled fist, then small yet trembling with fury.

"The kids at the village, they made Imoen cry just 'cause she has no parents like me. I don't want to see her cry. I'll make them pay, hurt them all-"

"But I ask you again, Child. What would that accomplish?"

She had no answer then. She had none now.

"How 'bout ye run off to yer master like the trained wee bitch that ye are?" Dotie jeered.

With a deep breath the elf ignored the jibe, straightened herself and smoothed her tunic. Without another glance at the dwarf, she gathered her things, forcing her hands to remain steady, and climbed the stairs to the deck.