"Can do what?" the artificer asked.
Diran and Ghaji turned to see their companions-Leontis included-coming toward them, led by the dwarf first mate. Bartalan Thokk was a typical member of his race: squat, broad-shouldered, powerfully muscled, with a dour countenance hidden behind a full reddish-brown beard that held more than a few flecks of gray. He dressed like the other crewmembers in thick tunic and trousers, boots, and fur-lined cloak with the hood pulled up to further conceal his face. Ghaji noted the absence of jewelry-no rings on the dwarf's fingers, no bracelets or pendants, no ear or nose rings. Dwarves respected hard work and wealth, and they appreciated the finer things life had to offer. They tended to display their wealth by carrying well-made weapons and wearing beautiful jewelry and fine clothes. To dwarves, making a show of one's wealth proved an individual's success and power, though they always kept their greatest treasures hidden from anyone outside their family. But Thokk presented no such display, and Ghaji wondered if that were due to practical reasons-such as the risk of ruining fine clothing while doing shipboard chores-or if there were perhaps another, more personal reason for the dwarf's modest presentation.
Ghaji was about to explain to Tresslar when Diran cut in. "Nothing at the moment, my friend. Something far more important must have prompted you to forsake the warmth of your cabins and join us above deck."
Ghaji saw Tresslar glance toward the Turnabout's masts-or more specially, the distortion in the air behind them-and narrow his eyes suspiciously. Ghaji should've known, as Diran obviously had, that the artificer wouldn't need them to alert him to the presence of magic.
Tresslar turned back to Diran. "We're not sure why we're here, but First Mate Thokk was most insistent we accompany him." The artificer sounded even more irritated than usual, and considering how cold it was, Ghaji didn't blame him. The Turnabout's cabins weren't the most comfortable of accommodations, but they beat standing on deck exposed to the frigid wind."
Ghaji looked to Solus. The psiforged wore a fur cloak like the others, though Ghaji doubted he even felt the cold, let alone was bothered by it. Solus could easily discover what Thokk intended simply by reading the dwarf's mind, but as Ghaji had learned after their meeting with Captain Onu last night, the construct had decided not to read anyone's mind without express permission to do so. Ghaji had tried to explain to Solus what an advantage it would be to divine the thoughts of potential adversaries, but the psiforged refused to be persuaded. He said Tresslar had told him it wasn't polite to read people's minds without permission, and that the memories he had inherited from his kalashtar makers concurred. Thus, Solus had decided to stop secretly reading minds, and that was that.
While on one level Ghaji understood and respected Solus's choice, he couldn't help also feeling frustrated. Warforged in general tended to think of right and wrong in a simplistic, cut-and-dried fashion, almost the way a small child might. And since Solus had little experience of the world beyond the interior of Mount Luster, the child analogy was more than apt. As he matured, Solus might eventually come to understand that there were times when good manners needed give way to sheer pragmatism, but that wasn't going to help the rest of the companions now.
It's a good thing Solus is abstaining from sneaking a peek into others' minds, Ghaji thought. The psiforged wouldn't like to know what Ghaji was thinking about him at the moment.
"We've just about put enough distance between ourselves and Kolbyr," the dwarf said in a voice that rumbled like distant earth tremors. "The captain will want to get underway in earnest."
Diran gave Ghaji a questioning look, but the half-orc warrior only shrugged.
Thokk cleared his throat and gestured toward the door of a cabin just off the main deck. He then began speaking in an awkward, stilted manner, as if reciting lines that he'd been forced against his will to memorize. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is both my pleasure and my very great honor to introduce you to your host for this voyage… a man known in ports throughout the Principalities as the Master of Maelstroms, the Sage of the Trade Winds, and"-he momentarily lowered his voice to a murmur-"he likes this one best of alclass="underline" the Lion of the Lhazaar! I give you… Captain Onu!"
The cabin door burst open and Onu stepped out onto the deck, highly polished boots thumping on the planking as he walked toward them. No, strutted would be a better word. He moved with a swaggering confidence that was so exaggerated it was almost comical. He was dressed in the same uniform he'd been wearing last night, and despite the cold, he wore no cloak for additional protection against the temperature. His captain's uniform was spotless and appeared to have been recently pressed, which was some feat, given that the last time Ghaji had seen the man, he'd been so drunk that he'd spilled ale all over himself.
"Greetings, my friends! Allow me to officially welcome you aboard the Turnabout, the finest ship to ever ply the jeweled waters of the Lhazaar!"
Ghaji glanced off the port bow at the murky gray sea. He'd heard many words used to describe the Lhazaar-harsh, unforgiving, treacherous-but never jeweled.
Diran leaned close to Ghaji. "I see what you mean," he whispered.
"I was privileged to make most of your acquaintances last night at the Ill Wind, but I see there are two fine worthies with us this day that I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting face to face." Onu walked over to Leontis and clapped the grim priest on the shoulder. "Sir Leontis Dellacron, my humble vessel is graced by your presence!"
Leontis bowed his head to acknowledge the captain's welcome, but otherwise didn't respond. If Onu was disappointed by Leontis's lackluster reaction, he gave no sign of it. Grinning broadly, he grabbed the priest's right hand in both of his and shook it vigorously.
Ghaji leaned close to Diran this time. "Humble vessel? Didn't he just say she was the finest ship to ply the Lhazaar a moment ago?"
Onu released Leontis's hand and spun around so quickly that Ghaji thought the boisterous mariner might lose his balance and fall to the deck, but he remained upright. Ghaji wondered if Onu's problem was a fondness for strong drink. It would explain his over-enthusiastic manner and why he'd slept in this morning-not to mention his abrupt and at times almost spastic movements. But when the half-orc sniffed the air, he detected no trace of alcohol on Onu, and if the man had been drinking recently, Ghaji would've smelled it.
The captain, near-maniacal grin firmly in place, approached Diran and shook his hand with the same enthusiastic energy as he'd greeted Leontis.
"Diran Bastiaan! To imagine the much-lauded Blade of the Flame stands upon the deck of my ship… more, that I am at this very moment shaking his hand! It as if I stand in the presence of a legend made flesh!"
Ghaji scowled. "You weren't this excited when you met me last night. You know, the half-orc warrior who's Diran's partner? The man who's stood by his side against the forces of darkness and who's saved his life a dozen times over?"
Onu didn't take his gaze off Diran as he responded to Ghaji. "Yes, yes, yes… and to be sure, it was a great honor and transcendent joy to meet you as well, Ghaddi."
"That's Gha-yee."
"Of course it is! My most sincere apologies!" Onu still didn't take his gaze off Diran, and he continued to shake the priest's hand vigorously, as if it were a small animal he was attempting to throttle. "The stories I've heard about the two of you… To be honest, and I pray that you can both find it in your oh-so-generous hearts to forgive me. I didn't realize that it was that Diran who wished to hire the Turnabout until after I left the tavern last night. Tell me, is it true what they say? Did you single-handedly end the curse of Kolbyr when no one else had even come close in the last hundred years?"