The Reaver Ship

The dawn rose pearlescent and perfect over the Shieling Sea. Shellah was too enervated, too wired to sleep. The others snoozed on the deck or on the simple benches at either end of the Reaver ship as it sailed effortlessly over the waves, their canoe bouncing along behind. Shellah had spent most of her life aboard merchant barques, which were heavy and dark and sluggish and efficient. She didn’t particularly like horses, but if one was galloping and the land and breeze and turf were just right, and you were in groove with the motion of the horse, it had its own kind of weightless magic, an exhilaration. This Reaver ship felt just like that. She knew these ships had a reputation for being fast, but the quality of the boat, even a plainly-built smaller one like this, was outstanding. She had very rarely been in love, but this was love. An immediate and true love. The heart knows. She had the tiller oar in one hand, lines of the simple square sail in the other, sitting back on her bench in the stern, and she just enjoyed the sensation of sheer pleasure. She even forgot about the big bruise darkening across her cheek from where the Reaver punched her the night before.

Jonas stirred on the next bench up. “Want me to take over, Shel? Get some sleep?”

“No,” she replied sternly.

“We should all get a chance to play with the new toy,” he admonished, as if he was speaking to one of his many small grandchildren.

“Maybe later,” she responded, grudgingly.

“Any sign of its owners?”

“No, I think we’ve outrun them. Besides, this ship is ours now.”

“Yours,” Jonas admitted. “You’re really the only one aboard who knows what to do on one of these. Though I do want to learn and give it a try!” He got up, and pulled in the line for the canoe. “I’m going to see what we’ve got left for food, and offload. Everyone else is asleep?”

“Yeah, Lloel and Nessah are still comatose.” She peered out to the bow end, where Lloel snored softly on the fore bench, and Nessah was still collapsed in an awkward heap atop the coil of rope. “And why not? There’s nothing for them to do, anyway. Might as well relax. We’re at least a day out from Boraeia. I’ll crash for a bit once Lloel is up.” She secured the sail and the tiller, and got up to give Jonas a hand. She steadied the canoe while Jonas carefully hopped aboard and hoisted their belongings from the smaller boat to the bigger one, then she helped him back in. The canoe drifted back to its place towed behind the stern.

“Aren’t we renting that canoe?” Jonas asked.

“A problem for Lloel and Nessah later. It’ll be handy to keep if we need to anchor out.”

“I have no idea,” Jonas admitted. “Is there even an anchor? Is that what’s under Nessah? She’s going to be sore when she wakes up.” He shook his head. “One problem at a time. Oh… I can only imagine what kind of reception this particular boat will get in port.”

“Good point.”

Shellah and Jonas inventoried the remaining food in their sacks. The few scones, though a bit stale, were miraculously not moldy. Shellah thought Lloel’s cousin must have had some sort of special cantrip for that. There was enough dried fruit and jerky for another day or two, but they would need more supplies soon. They looked through the Reavers’ sacks onboard and any other gear they had stowed, and found a fishing rod and net, which made Jonas happy. Shellah cleansed any jugs of water with her purification cantrip, but any other foodstuffs or liquor they tossed overboard, as they could not be trusted. There were some bronze coins and a big stack of Craddoch plaids and tweeds the Reavers must have looted. Some round shields, weapons. She tossed one plaid each on Nessah and Lloel, and would pin one on herself later as a dress, as she noticed her travel gear was rather rank. That was the beauty of a plaid- it could be a cloak, a skirt, a gown, a blanket, a pillow. And if you were from the Shielings, you could wear multiple plaids at the same time and you didn’t have to match. A new boat and new clothes, Shellah thought. A great day.

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After resetting their direction and the sail to her liking, then spending some time polishing the salt stains from her boots, Shellah settled herself on a bench for a noontime nap in the sun. She awoke to the sounds of an argument. Every ache suddenly came back to her, including the hot swollen egg of the bruise on her cheek.

“But we thought you wanted to find the next rune?” Lloel was asking. “We’re most of the way to Boraeia!”

“I do!” Nessah sounded exasperated. “But…”

Shellah wondered what she had missed. “But what?” she asked, groggily.

“Oh good, you’re up,” said Nessah. She paced back and forth on the deck. “We’re discussing this boat situation. Is it safe, or even sustainable?”

“This, from a woman who cheerfully, with great insistence, led us on a mad jaunt through multiple hazardous water situations, the hogboon, a tomb explosion in the middle of nowhere, and who then set a sea monster upon us, a sea monster which she could barely control? Should we discuss that?” asked Jonas, a little angrily. “And now you’re mad we have a bigger boat to make your journey to the next uncanny terror that much quicker?”

“That was rather epic, I must admit,” said Lloel. “A tale for my grandchildren.”

“No, it was not!” Jonas responded. “I also have grandkids and it was irresponsible. I understand and willingly contract to confront dangerous wilderness and weather situations, bandits and even Reavers. But magic monsters? The gods put an end to that madness a thousand years ago for a reason. And we’re arguing whether or not this ship is seaworthy?”

Nessah sighed. “Another reason why I asked that we head to Dun Darlow is so I can pay and deposit you all safely. I’ll then find my own way to Corom City, where I can collect personnel better prepared for this kind of assignment. We successfully retrieved the first rune, and I thank you for that, but you have done what you can. I can’t ask more of you.”

“What do people think, are we turning around to make for Dun Darlow?” asked Shellah.

“And this is my second point,” continued Nessah. “Only Shellah knows enough about sailing to control this vessel. Shellah, you should have seen what happened. They somehow dropped the rope for the sail into the water and then flailed about as they tried to re-tie it while the sail wildly flapped loose off the mast. It sounded like something broke. It’s amazing Lloel isn’t drowning overboard.”

“Wow, I slept through that. Huh!” She must’ve been very tired indeed. The sun was already sinking behind some clouds in the far west..

“You can’t be awake day and night keeping us out of trouble,” said Nessah. “Much as I appreciate the speed this ship can make and not having to be dependent on merchant travel and delays thereof, this is not feasible. And this boat isn’t comfortable- it’s made for Reavers! It’s entirely open. What if there’s a storm?”

“What if we got some help?” Shellah suggested. “Someone who stayed with and only assisted with the ship? That I pay for myself.” Everyone stood silent in consideration for a moment. Shellah felt something inside herself permeate with resolve. Sometimes the heart knows even if the mind hasn’t quite caught up yet. “Because whether we go to Dun Darlow or Boraeia, I’m keeping this ship,” she declared. “Let’s get a Stew.”

“A stew does sound good right now,” said Lloel, patting his stomach. Jonas and Nessah just stared at her and Lloel in turn.

“No, a Steward,” Shellah explained. “In every Seamen's Hall in every port, there’s always a Stew. Usually some sort of seaworthy wandering young person without a Seaman’s Guild token looking to make a few coins in return for experience. They come and they go. You don’t ask them any questions, and they don’t care about your business. We found some Reaver coins on the boat, and I’m thinking that’s the initial Stew Fund. What do you think?”

“Will there be a Seaman’s Hall in Boraeia?” asked Lloel.

Shellah nodded. “The more remote a hellhole a port is, the more likely there’s a Stew wanting to escape. And we can make other improvements for our comfort when there.”

“You’re enabling her,” Nessah scolded, but softly.

“Who’s enabling whom?” said Jonas. “By the way, I’m game to keep going but will want some more money.”

“And nobody would want Torond Greensman finding these other runes first, would we?” Shellah asked, hoping she sounded innocent. She patted the wooden rail of the ship for reassurance. Her ship.

Nessah fixed her with a hard glare. “Absolutely no one wants that.” She sat down on a bench, and took out her runestones and tools to array them in the late afternoon sunshine. “So, Lloel, who do we need to talk to in this Boraeian fish camp about the next riddle?”