Story #151 - Boat and Switch

Boat and Switch

Bul Lemmer knew the trip had been a bad idea, and as the massive wave surged toward the boat, he cursed himself for not working harder as a child.

His father had been the sailor, not him, but with no other options thanks to a lackluster performance when the Evaluators had visited the village, it was either the family business or begging on the streets of the big city. Poldari was a cold town, or so he had heard, and he decided that taking over for his father was the least of all evils.

Now, with a gray wall of churning death bearing down on the boat, Bul was quite certain he'd made a mistake.

***

“What do you mean, gone?” Trade Prince Hador's voice inched up a notch – no mean feat for a half-noble whose tone was already twice as high as a normal man.

“Gone,” Weston Park said, looking at the sheaf of papers he held in his hand, “and the third this week. The -” he ran down the list quickly, until he found the name of the boat he wanted, “Lemmer's Lament.”

Hador snorted. “I don't care what the peasant boat was called, Park. I care that it's gone, along with three Federation ships. This kind of weather isn't natural, I tell you – something is wrong.”

It took all Park had not to snap back at the Trade Prince. The tiny man had never set foot on a dock, let alone on an actual seafaring vessel. He was the Prince by name and by blood, but that didn't mean he knew anything about the job he'd inherited.

Boats disappeared on a regular basis; some destroyed by pirates, some choosing never to return, and some claimed by the sea. Park had it on good authority that no pirates were operating in the area and that no boats had any reason to be seeking greener pastures, and that left only the sea itself. Hador was right – something was wrong – but the little man had no idea what it was.

Neither did Park, but he knew where he might find out.

“Leave me,” Hador said sharply. “I must consider what our next course of action should be.”

Park bowed stiffly, and then withdrew, stepping quickly out of the Trade Mansion and into the slums. He had to find out what was happening to the boats in the area, and act before Hador could make the situation worse.

***

“What is it ya be wantin', again?” The cabalist said. He was older than old; a man who should have found the embrace of dirt or the water long ago, but had somehow managed to stay upright and alert. Many in Poldari attributed his longevity to his skills in the dark arts, but Park knew better; the man was just a lucky soul, blessed with a tough body and a mind to match.

Of course, at over eighty winters, the man looked like death itself, his wrinkled skin flabby in some places and stretched too tight in others. Park worried that a single touch would break the man, but had no time for games. He needed answers, and bantering about his purpose did no one any good.

“I told you exactly what I need, cabalist. Now, can you help me or not?”

The old man chuckled. “Straigh' to business, I see. Fai enough. I can tell ya whatcha want to know, but you not gonna like the answer.”

Park stared hard at the man. “I have no doubt of that. Now, tell me what you know.”

“Ah, ah -” the cabalist said as he wagged a finger, “there be a price for what I can tell ya.”

He sighed. Of course there was. “What is it, old man? Speak up – ships and men are disappearing, and I don't have the time.”

“Take me wit ya,” the old man said simply, “I need to get outta here.” Park stifled a laugh.

“Take you? You can barely move, cabalist. I can't haul you around everywhere I go just because you're tired of this filthy shack.”

“Sure ya ca, and if ya don't, you'll get nuthin' outta me!”

“Fine,” he said, “tell me what you know and I'll take you along.” It was a lie. As soon as he had what he needed, he'd be gone in a heartbeat. Park had no belief in the supernatural, though he was willing to believe that the cabalist might have some specialized knowledge. So long as he could make use of that knowledge, Park didn't care about the circumstances surrounding it. He'd gladly leave the old man behind and face his impotent wrath than carry the frail creature with him.

“Ha! I'm old but not dat stupid. I don't say a thing til' we're outta this town.”

Park ground his teeth together. “Fine.”

Moving outside, he motioned for one of his guards to dismount. “Walk home, soldier. We have a new companion.”

The guard's face darkened, but he did as he was told. No doubt he would go straight to Hador, but that couldn't be helped. Hopefully, Park would have the answer soon, and all else could be forgiven.

“Old man,” he called, “come out and take your horse.”

It took several minutes, but the cabalist finally managed to shuffle from his shack to the side of the horse he had been given. He looked at Park with pleading eyes.

“Not my problem, cabalist. We can ride slowly while you limp along on foot, or you can muscle yourself into that saddle. Either way, we'll get where we're going eventually.”

The old man's face went dark, but he reached up to grip the edges of the saddle. Thought it took ten full minutes, with several points along the way where it appeared the cabalist might fall to the dirt and break his neck, he made it on to the horse.

“Alright cabalist, keep up. We make for the shipyard.”

- D