Singer Sailor Merchant Mage

 

“I consider no man to be a magician unless he can perform the cups and balls.”

Houdini

Lord Larimar’s envoy, Sir Roland Ravenswood, stalked back and forth in anger across his small captain’s cabin. There was not enough distance to get into his stride, leaving him frustrated, much like this entire debacle. The child had left Wester Ponente, but he was not on Wester Levante or Little Wester like some sort of shell game; the pea had disappeared. This was impossible when the sole ship of the Silverseas was the former Libeccian galley. While they had access to the Ponentian Merchant Mercurio’s boat and the Libeccian Merchant’s Kashif, both had only recently left, and he had not been on board. It did not make sense to send the child further out of reach to keep him from talking to him, and what would they have sent him on? It simply made no sense.

He had finally concluded that it was time to cut their losses and return home with neutrality alone if that was all they could manage when to some excitement, he heard the lookout call out, “Sail astern.”

These waters were hardly patrolled regularly, and any sail could have heralded pirates or slavers as much as they could have been merchants. It was a surprise that the locals did not have a regular lookout. They must not have been bothered by raiders recently; otherwise, they would. Still, he hoped that whoever they were, perhaps they would also have a young wayward lord on board. Eagerly he headed to the deck to see if this was the case.

He saw his counterpart striding forth from his cabin in a mirror image of his motions. Due to the ludicrously rising prices of Wester Ponente, they took turns dining on one another’s ships during the evening. They knew they were being deliberately targeted but could do little about it. Despite their different positions within the House of Lords, they faced the identical problem here on Wester Levante. A Lord who refused to be present, a sister who declined to be bound without her brother‘s presence and a group of advisors slowly, diplomatically pushing them off the island. It was infuriating.

Still, that was how the game was played, and this far out from civilisation, they were limited in the pressure they could bring to bear. Still, they would remember the slight for what it was and return it tenfold should the exasperating duo ever survive to their majority and present themselves to the House of Lords. These insults would not be forgotten any time soon.

They would have even raised their hats to the successful obstruction should they have been able to witness it from the outside rather than having to experience it first-hand. Without the pressure from above to have achieved something, they would have long left as their positions seemed unresolved and untenable.

The sail finally drew into sight, and what a sail it was. They might have once been majestic and proud, but now it was a patchwork canvas. Most of it seemed to be heavily weathered, while what looked like fresh canvas patches had been carefully woven into the fabric to cover what must have been giant holes. If the ship had been a pirate in the past, he doubted it was one now. It needed some repairs. It was unlikely, but maybe the lord was on board.

He turned to see what his counterpart thought.

Sir Reynard Blackthorn appeared to be thinking similarly and was already striding off his boat at the dock, even though it would still be a while before the ship docked. Having lost the first foot in posturing, there was no need to wait; he found himself departing his vessel to meet the man where the ship would dock.

“Good morning.” They were not religious enough to discuss the quality of their bearings this early morning or without enough suitable alcoholic lubrication. “How are you faring?”

“Well, enough. All things considered. These prices are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous or not, they seem effective in pricing us out of town.” Having exceeded the cash provided, they were now eating into their personal coffers.

“What surprises me most about them is that all the town seems willing to play along with the price gouging. Sure, it is worth it to the individuals who sell us their wares at such exorbitant prices, but those who don’t are missing out on a fortune.”

“The Silverseas must be compensating them somehow. The wealth of such a fledgling noble family is staggering.”

“I doubt either of our lords would be so willing to part with their coin just to see two representatives hasten their departure.”

“Ah, so you are thinking of leaving?”

“Are you not?”

This was the problem of the matter. Whoever left first would leave the other behind to possibly change the outcome of the talk, especially without a contract or treaty in writing. And even then, such pieces of paper could still be broken.

“Just waiting for you.”

“I find myself in the same position.”

“Well, we could come to a gentleman’s arrangement. Where we both agree to depart at the same time.”

“Only to have you turn around when out of sight on the first night?”

“How dare you imply . . .”

“I dare nothing of the sort. I’ve seen you in action before. Do you deny acting that way before?”

“How about we sail together? Then I could appreciate the conversation if not the company.”

“Sail together? How far?”

“A week?”

“Or at least until we are out of this section of the archipelago.”

“A convoy then.”

“Better safety in numbers.”

I was unhappy to hear that any Libeccian pirate or slaver vessel had made it this far out. Wherever the Royal Navy is, it is not here.

“One last venture to the inner isle, then. Provided the young lord is not board.” He gestured at the approaching ship. Now that it was closer looked like it must have spent at least half its life under the water rather than above it. With barnacles climbing up far above the water line.

“One last time, then.”

Watching the sailors disembark, it was clear that the Lord was not on board. Although he suspected he recognised a few of the sailors. Stopping one and tossing him a coin for the question, he asked, “Where do you hail from?”

“The bottom of the deep.” The sailor smirked at his response rubbing his finger and thumb to ask for more.

“The bottom of the deep?” He queried, not understanding the joke or appreciating the humour he had to pay for. He reluctantly handed over another coin.

“Lord Silversea raised the wreck.” The sailor explained proudly.

“The child raised the wreck?” he asked, baffled as he added another

“Aye . . .” the sailor started to add as he reached for the third coin before he was hauled inland by his neck. Grappled into silence by an unappreciative compatriot objecting to talking about the little lord.

“Then where is he?” He demanded, confused as to the whereabouts of the continuously disappearing lord.

The man laughingly responded as he hauled his fellow sailor away, “The bottom of the deep.” Leaving the two confused envoys standing by the well-weathered ship, still waiting for a Lord who failed to appear.

. . .

“Did that make any sense to you?” He asked his fellow envoy once the returning sailors had finally dispersed. No other sailors had cared to give them the time of day or give up any further information.

“No, but I think we need to seriously reconsider the capabilities of the Little Lord and who is hiding behind whom.” He referred to their current predicament.

“The Little Lord is hiding behind the Young Lady rather than the other way round?” He sardonically suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Can you think of any other way his words could be taken?”

“As the nonsense that they are. The Lord is a child, barely more than an infant. Without training, what could he possibly be able to accomplish at such an early age before he had even unlocked his status?”

“You dismiss Lady Acacia at your peril. She has tutored princes and dukes in her days at the capital. Who isn’t to say there isn’t something exceptional about him to draw her out here.”

“I heard a royal decree forced her this far from civilisation.”

“I doubt a decree could have forced her to do anything. Something else is at play here. He may be far more than he appeared to be at first glance.” They both thought back to the times they had seen him. Uncommonly quiet at every meeting, they had put it down to good training by Lady Acacia to keep calm and let his elders make the decisions for his house. Which house would allow a child to be in control of deciding its fate? The elderly Seneschal Smit Silvertongue and his family had saved and scraped for decades to afford the poisoned chalice that had been a writ of nobility. The Silverseas had been lucky that their continued existence aligned with the Royal family’s plans for the House of Lords.

“One last visit to the young Lady Silversea before we depart then. The cost of acquiring allegiance to our side of the House of Lords is becoming too costly to my purse to continue to pursue.”

“Agreed.” They turned to ascend the stairs in silence as they contemplated their shifting understanding of what was possibly at play.

. . .

Kai’s POV

We had just finished regaling our family with the expanding fortunes of the Silversea family when we received another request for an audience from the visiting envoys. It was unusual timing as they had not waited for the weekend’s morning audience, but if the letter our butler had opened was to be believed, it was only because they had run out of time and money and planned to leave with the evening tide.

“Very well, one last meeting,” I sighed. “But then, at least they will be out of our hair.”

“Don’t lock in your bearings until they have sailed out of sight.” Cautioned Lady Acacia. “And even then, be prepared for the winds of fate to change.”

. . .

After arriving and setting up the hall for an audience, the two envoys entered alone. It was just our immediate family, Lady Acacia and Namir, for this audience. Our extended clan were all busy with work in the town, and the Silver Court of our cousins had been in abeyance with my absence.

They walked the long hall to stand in front of us, seated on our thrones at the head of the hall.

“Greetings Lord and Lady Silversea, may you live in the light of the lodestar. It is a pleasure to see you return from your fishing trip; we trust it was relaxing. Thank you for seeing us so promptly. We are sorry to depart so soon without achieving a more formal official relationship between our parties and your house. But circumstances call us home.” Sir Ravenswood spoke for the envoys, and while he spoke to both of us, they seemed surprisingly fixated on my face above my sisters.

“What can we do for you before your departure?” Aleera moved the conversation along.

“Before we depart, we hoped to ask, one last time, whether you had reconsidered supporting either of our houses in the House of Lords and if not, why?” He asked without expecting an answer from the pair of them. While each High Lord offered a lot, both came with complications the Silversea House did not wish to face.

“The truth of the matter is trust. We do not trust either side of the House of Lords to ensure our safety should we openly support them. Furthermore, we still suspect that a noble family within it ordered our families' early removal when we first received our writ of nobility. We do not doubt that without the King’s declaration requiring our unharmed presence in his court, we would have faced more attempts over the years like the one that claimed our brother’s life.”

Aleera paused to let that sink in.

“We will agree to neutrality but only that. We are happy to trade with both sides of the House of Lords on fair and respectful terms, but we refuse to invite further attacks from either side by aligning with one or the other of you until we have met the King and asked his opinion on the matter.”

I pulled on her sleeve to remind her.

“Furthermore, we do not appreciate the pressure you exerted on us, Sir Ravenswood, by encouraging Baron Corus to curtail our expansion. If you ever hope to receive our friendship, we advise you not to attempt that again.” She continued. I had told everyone what he had been attempting on Wester Levante.

“I stand corrected.” Sir Ravenswood attempted to quell her ire though he made no apology for the attempt.

“If neutrality is all that can be gained before we leave, could we have that in writing . . .” Sir Blackthorn was interrupted by Lady Acacia stepping forward with three copies of a neutrality document she had prepared earlier.

“You can if you sign here.” She stated.

Both envoys took their time perusing the document without hesitation before signing it. They had spent enough time on the isle and were ready to leave. We had already signed the copies leaving one for each of the three parties.

“This will not be binding without ratification by our Lords.” Sir Ravenswood cautioned.

“We know. It’s enough to start.” Aleera smiled at finally sending the interlopers packing.

“Farewell, Lady, Lord.” They bowed in unison and left neither with what they hoped to gain but enough to save their skins from a failed mission.

. . .

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