Inartikuk

With the early morning light bright upon them, per Jonas’s idea they swept into the nearest empty pier in the primitive wharf of Boraeia’s one port, Inartikuk. An angry crowd soon gathered at the foot of the pier.

As Shellah tied their ship to the dock, Jonas hopped onto the bench closest to the bow and said loudly, “We’re not Reavers!” He gestured at the dark skin of his face, signifying his Larin heritage. “And they’re from the Shielings!” Shellah extended her plaid cloak and tried to smile, though she had to admit her blond hair and height were rather Reaver-ish.

“Hello!” Lloel popped out, taking Nessah in his hand. She had hurriedly changed into her travel gown and arranged her hair so she looked like a proper Corom City gentlewoman. The crowd looked at them curiously, but grew quiet and wandered back to their business. Jonas was right, with a little display they didn’t care that much. Soon they were alone on their dock, with just the other boats and workmen nearby.

“Everyone’s got all their valuables on them, yes?” Shellah asked. She was sure someone would investigate the Reaver ship more closely while they stepped away.

“Yes,” Nessah confirmed. She handed Shellah some coins. “We’ll head into town to try to locate Lloel’s loremaster. Remember, we’re associated with Corom University and doing cultural research here.”

“True things always sound truer,” said Lloel.

“True,” Jonas agreed. “I’ll accompany you two while Shellah deals with the Seamen’s Hall and getting supplies.”

Shellah watched as they disappeared into the small village of timbered halls interspersed here and there with the tall felt tents of the nomads. The Seamen’s Hall would be close to the wharf somewhere. Looking back at the leering serpent figurehead on their ship, she made a mental list of what she would need: Food and water for their stores, some sort of shelter for the deck, coal for their stove, random mast repairs, a flag, white marine paint, and a Stew.

Inartikuk’s Seamen’s Hall was a poorly repaired lean-to, likely one strong storm away from being flattened. Inside she saw the usual assortment of seafolk. Unlike the Swordsmen, the Seamen actually represented any number of marine trades; sailors, riggers, shipwrights, rope makers, sailmakers, the people who wove nets. Usually this mix of people, though quite in demand throughout the day, had a religiously-held tradition of meeting mid morning to share some sort of hot beverage, pastry, and gossip. And Shellah was sure she was already the topic of conversation when she walked in.

“It’s the Reaver Lady!” someone exclaimed. Others chuckled.

“They clean up well,” another joked. “What brings you in here, mate?”

“I’m not a Reaver,” Shellah clarified. “I need the assistance of a shipwright and rigger for a day or two.” She jingled some coins in her pouch. “I’m also looking to hire a steward.” The Seamen and women looked at one another warily. “It’s a good opportunity to check out the Reaver ship- she’s a beauty!”

“How did you come by her?” one asked. The others nodded in agreement.

Shellah remembered Lloel saying how the truth always sounded truer. “The Reavers attempted to kidnap us off East Craddoch Isle and we stole her.”

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“The four of you? And that’s an eight-man boat?” another asked.

“We’re very experienced swordsmen,” Shellah said, in a tone she hoped would not be challenged. Some more chuckling echoed in the shack. “Anyway, if anyone is interested in some work, come by after the second watch bell, if you have the watch bells here. Noon.”

Shellah soon found a few market stalls in the town square, and bought a few sacks of dried fruits and nuts, deer jerky, dried fish, oats and barley, other non-perishable goods, plus some fresh items to enjoy while they were in port. She also found an old Corom flag in a rag bin, which, with a little bit of mending, would work for her purposes. When she returned to their pier, the entire population of the Seamen’s Hall was there waiting.

“Let’s see this ship!” Someone demanded.

Shellah sighed. Maybe two of these people were the shipwright and rigger she needed. “Fine, follow me.” She pushed her way through the crowd, shoving people aside with her sacks. Only once she had stowed her goods did she wave the curious Seamen aboard. “Remember, I need to hire a rigger and a shipwright and a steward. The rest of you, have your peek and be on your way.”

She sat on a bench and let the assorted seafolk wander about, and stifled a grin as they exclaimed over the quality and uniqueness of Reaver construction methods. Eventually only the rigger and shipwright remained. After discussing her needs and getting quotes for the work, the rigger got started on his assignment, and the shipwright would return the following morning. She grabbed a bun from the food stash to chew on while she set to patching the Corom flag.

“Excuse me?” Shellah heard a quiet voice say. “You’re looking for a steward?” Shellah looked up to see a skinny, sweet faced teenager standing on the pier. At a quick glance, she could not determine whether they were a boy or a girl. They had on the traditional embroidered hide jacket and pants of the Ice People, their raggedly cut black hair half-stuffed into a red felt cap. Shellah half-heard the rigger grumble something above from atop the mast, with a hand gesture Shellah couldn’t quite interpret but could tell enough it was rude.

“I won’t have superstitious nonsense on my ship!” Shellah called up. “What’s the issue up there anyway? Missing pins? A cracked block?” The teen started to walk away. Shellah dropped her mending and hopped onto the dock to follow. “Hey, yes, I do need a steward.” She saw a bench on the wharf nearby. “Let’s discuss?”

Once they took a seat out of earshot from the rigger, Shellah began. “So, I need someone to assist with this ship, both with sailing and some chores and maintenance. We have four people total, two Swordsmen, who are myself and Jonas, and the two loremasters from the university in Corom we’ve been hired to protect. I am the only experienced sailor, though, and can use some help. We’ll also be spending time ashore, and I’ll need someone to stay with the ship as we disembark.”

“That sounds doable,” the teen said shyly. “I’m from a fish camp up north, at the foot of the glacier, I’ve been sailing my whole life.”

“I’m not going to lie,” Shellah continued. “This journey might be dangerous. We’ve already encountered Reavers, as you can tell. The loremasters might need to visit some difficult places.”

“More dangerous than staying in a place where you have no family and nobody understands you?”

“No,” Shellah admitted. “And I might know more about that than most.” She looked out towards the rigger busy on her mast, taking the black sail down so she could inspect it for repairs. “I also have no tolerance for bullies. I don’t know what that guy was on about, but I know I don’t like it.” The Ice People teen’s face reddened, but they didn’t say anything. Shellah let them have a moment of quiet. Per the rule of stewards, one did not ask them questions, the only personal information was what they volunteered. “Anyway, if you’re up for it, I’d be happy to welcome you aboard, Stew.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, go get your things. We travel light, so, one bag.” Shellah saw the rigger successfully had the sail down. “Let me pay this rigger for the day, see what else he’d like to fix. Come back this evening. I’ll have a list of chores to review, you can meet the rest of the crew, and we can get started tomorrow.”