With a wave of the Thorn Knight’s hand, the cabin door slammed shut, and a word of magic sealed it against intrusion. Drawing a dagger from the sleeve of his robe, he turned toward Snork, who was rising groggily to his feet. “It’s not mutiny if you don’t tell anyone,” he laughed as he stepped over a coil of rope.
Still dazed, Snork blinked up at him. But a cry of anger brought the wizard up short. Spinning, he found Conundrum stumbling toward him, fists clenched, tears streaming into his beard.
Sir Tanar chuckled and reached into a pouch on his belt. With a wave of his hand, he flung sand into the advancing gnome’s face, at the same time speaking words of magic, “Ast tasark sinuralan krynaw. Go to sleep, little one. I’ll deal with you momentarily.”
Conundrum blinked, stumbled, and-already snoring-fell face first onto a pile of canvas. Smiling, the Thorn Knight turned back to Snork, only to find him gone. He spun, spitting a curse that turned into a howl of pain as the ship’s navigator brought a heavy belaying pin cracking down across the wizard’s wrist. The dagger fell from his numbed fingers, and he staggered back, spittle flying from his lips.
“Mutiny!” Snork accused through broken teeth and bloodied lips. “Dirty, rotten, stinking mutiny!” He raised the pin for another blow.
“Shinarr shonthes alaharandan betriabal ast avantar!” the wizard said as he extended one clawlike hand at the gnome. Snork froze, the pin dropped on the floor, and he rose slowly into the air. His breath rattled in his throat, and his eyes bulged from their sockets. His feet, free of the floor, kicked spasmodically.
The wizard’s outstretched hand closed into a clenched fist, and at the same moment, with a sickening crack, Snork’s bearded head spun round on his shoulders. His twitching stopped and his head fell limply and unnaturally to one side, like a hanged man. Where he lay on the canvas, Conundrum groaned and stirred but did not wake.
Sir Tanar released his magical hold, and the body of the navigator fell with a thump to the floor. A moment later, someone began hammering on the door. Tanar staggered to the hammock and clutched at its ropes to hold himself up. The spell had taken more out of him than he had expected. In fact, he hadn’t meant to cast that spell at all. But in his rage and his pain, the words had formed upon his lips almost before he knew what he was saying.
He gathered himself and straightened his robes. Outside, the pounding on the door grew more insistent. Nearby lay the body of the navigator, his head turned back to stare with sightless eyes over his shoulder. Conundrum still snored atop the pile of canvas. Sir Tanar smiled ruefully at him, then closed his eyes, gathering and focusing a portion of his remaining power. Stooping over the sleeping gnome, he gently shook him by the shoulders. “Awake, little one,” he whispered. “Awake. There has been a terrible accident.”
Conundrum stirred, his mind fighting through layers of sleep. His eyelids fluttered, revealing the whites of his eyes beneath. “Conundrum,” Sir Tanar whispered. “Tantago, musalah. Your cousin has been killed. He tripped over my hammock and has broken his neck.”
Still half asleep, tears started out from Conundrum’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks to be lost in the red curls of his beard. “Snork?” he cried, struggling feebly to awaken.
“Yes,” Sir Tanar continued, “and you must tell the others what you have seen. You must tell them how you saw Snork trip over the hammock.”
“Tell the others?” Conundrum asked, his eyes finally coming to rest on the wizard’s face. Instinctively, he recoiled, yet nodded his assent.
“You must report to the commodore exactly what you have seen,” Sir Tanar said.
“Snork!” Conundrum cried as he lurched to his feet. He leaped over the coil of rope and collapsed beside his fallen cousin, tears of grief wracking his small body.
Sir Tanar smiled and turned to the door, then settled his features into a proper expression of shock and dismay. With a wave of his hand, the door flew open.
The hall beyond was filled with gnomes arguing over the proper way to employ the stuck-door-opener, a large contraption that resembled a mechanical spider. As the door opened, they leaped back in surprise, those in the rear collapsing in a heap of flailing arms and shocking curses.
Commodore Brigg, who was nearest the door, stepped quickly inside. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. Then, his eyes coming to rest on the body of his navigator, he froze in horror. “Snork!” he gasped.
Conundrum looked up, tears streaming down his face. “He… he…t-t-t-tripped!” he sobbed. “O-over the hammock.”
The commodore ran back to the door and shouted, “Doctor Bothy! Doctor Bothy! Get up here immediately! Make way for the doctor.”
Those crowding the door stepped back to allow the portly doctor to pass. He struggled through them, huffing and blowing under the burden of his medical kit, a black bag the size of a sea chest. He pushed it before him into the cabin and let it fall to the floor. The corners of his mouth fell as he gazed upon the body of the navigator, and he heaved a mighty sigh, shaking his head and clucking his tongue.
Commodore Brigg pulled Conundrum away to make room for the doctor. Groaning with the effort, Doctor Bothy kneeled beside Snork and examined his twisted neck. Then he lifted one limp hand and let it fall to the floor. Finally, he pressed his ear to the navigator’s chest and listened for a moment. Clucking his tongue again, he sat back and shoved his legs straight out before him. He looked up at the commodore.
“He’s dead, sir,” the doctor pronounced sadly.
Conundrum wailed at the news.
Commodore Brigg shook the weeping gnome to get his attention. “Be quiet!” he shouted. “Remember, we are scientists. Tell me exactly what happened. And,” he snapped, turning to Sir Tanar, “I want you to keep your mouth shut! If I want your opinions, I’ll ask for them.”
The Thorn Knight bowed in acceptance, smiling inwardly all the while.
Conundrum tried to calm himself. He wiped his nose on the flap of his brown vest and pushed the tears from his cheeks with the heels of his hands. He closed his eyes and tried to bring to mind the last moments when his cousin tripped and fell, but he couldn’t envision the scene. He knew what had happened, but he couldn’t see it. Perhaps it had been too horrible. Perhaps the vision had erased itself from his mind, leaving him only the cold facts that he must now, in the interest of science if not justice, repeat.
“He tripped over this hammock,” Conundrum said. “He must have fallen. I… I think I tried to catch him. I am sure I would have tried to catch him.”
“You did all you could,” the commodore reassured him with a gentle pat on the shoulder. Conundrum nodded and snuffled.
Professor Hap-Troggensbottle and the kender pulled a blanket up over the navigator’s body. Then, while the professor helped Doctor Bothy to his feet, Razmous stooped beside a bag of flour and lifted Snork’s belaying pin from where it had rolled during the fight.
“Perhaps he stepped on this,” he offered, displaying the pin.
“That’s probably what happened,” the commodore said as he gazed around. “This cabin is a mess, things lying everywhere. This was an unfortunate mishap. Chief Port-lost will record it, and we will move on. This has always been our way in the Maritime Sciences Guild. We do not allow these tragedies to distract us from our goal. The attempt to subnavigate the continent of Ansalon was Snork’s Life Quest. As his closest available relative, it falls upon Conundrum to attempt to complete his Life Quest."