The brass warriors were more careful with knots than most humans. It took Trip the better part of two hours to work his way out, and then about ten minutes more to rig the ropes so that he could slip in and out without anyone knowing.
Occasionally, someone poked their head in and gave him some food. The food was never very well prepared, but Trip enjoyed it nonetheless. Hardtack, jerky, and water were better than some of the sea elf fare he’d had recently. He would have given a lot for a good tuna steak, though.
After fixing the ropes properly, he went to work on the cabin’s door. This proved somewhat easier, since he had both his hands free, and because he had pieces of wire in his pockets, with which to pick the lock.
While digging out the hidden wire he was reminded of his other major annoyance: before throwing him in this small, windowless room, Kell’s crew had searched him thoroughly-searched him like a gully dwarf, as his uncle might have said. He’d lost quite a few interesting trinkets in the process: some sharks’ teeth, a tiny sand dollar, a bit of string that his cousin had given him, and a polished brass button that he’d taken from a prison guard in Khur. That was an interesting adventure!
Sadly, they’d also discovered and confiscated the remnants of his magical seaweed, his lucky kender treasure finder-a real blow, that!-and (he sighed just to think of it) the black diamond artifact. He hadn’t hidden the artifact very well, assuming that Kell’s people wouldn’t be so rude as to search him, once Mik and the others had left. In fact, before they grabbed him, ransacked his things, tied him up, and thrust him into this dark closet, he had actually been looking forward to his forced voyage to Perch, on the island of Alarl.
Kell’s crew hadn’t bothered to expropriate the worthless-seeming tiny wires that served Trip as lockpicks, though. As he sprang the rusty lock on the door of the cabin, and stepped out, many of the crew were asleep. Still, the galley was a crowded place, and the kender had to use all his considerable stealth to creep along without being seen. Voices from the ship’s stem attracted Trip’s attention. He sneaked past several rows of sleeping oarsmen to get there, but the challenge of doing so only made him more eager to hear what was going on.
Two spartan cabins occupied the rear of the ship, one, Trip assumed, for Lord Kell, and one for Lady Kell. The crack beneath the door of one was dark; the voices came from the other.
“Anything we find at Jaentarth will only be a stop-gap at best,” said a woman’s voice that Trip recognized as the ship’s healer. “The people of Jaentarth are the descendants of pirates and shipwrecked mariners. They’ve no true medicine. We’ll still have to journey to Berann to save your sister’s life.”
Trip’s heart soared at the mention of Jaentarth. He’d be meeting some pirates, after all!
“Are you suggesting we skip Jaentarth altogether?” Lord Kell asked.
Trip’s heart fell slightly.
“No,” the healer replied. “I need certain supplies to stabilize her. Even a Jaentarth cow-town should have what I require.”
“Then tomorrow we’ll stop just long enough to obtain what my sister needs, before setting course for Berann,” Kell said.
“Milord Kell,” interrupted a third voice which Trip was slightly surprised to recognize as Karista Meinor, “why not ask your dragon friend to take your lady sister back to Berann? Surely Tanalish can fly more swiftly than we can row.”
Trip scratched his tawny head. It seemed that Meinor and Lord Kell had become quite friendly during the short time the kender had been tied up.
“In Misa’s condition,” the healer replied, “I would not recommend it. Perhaps if I can stabilize her at Jaentarth.”
“Do whatever you can,” Kell said.
“Of course, milord,” the healer replied.
The cabin door opened, and Trip had to press himself back into the shadows against the bulkhead to avoid being seen. The healer exited Lord Kell’s chamber and went into the room next door. In the brief moment before the healer closed the door, Trip saw that it was indeed Lady Kell’s room.
Karista Meinor shut the door to Lord Kell’s cabin once more, and Trip returned to his listening post.
“I pray that this anchorage may bring your sister much-needed relief from her wound,” Karista said. “And I look forward to returning to your keep on the isle of Berann. Perhaps then we may seal the trade deal between your order and my people in Jotan. I trust the treasure I’ve offered as a token of good faith is adequate?”
That comment puzzled Trip. He didn’t think Karista had salvaged any treasure to bribe someone with.
“Quite adequate-if it exists,” Lord Kell replied. “We shall discover whether it does, in due time. For now, I am pleased that the first key has been returned to the Order. When it was stolen long ago, and the pirates lost at sea, Lord Thrakdar had little hope it would ever be seen again.”
They were talking about Mik’s artifact! The black diamond-which they’d stolen from Trip’s pocket!
“Milord,” Karista said, her voice sweet and soft, “I have fulfilled my part of our agreement: I help deliver the treasure to your order; you secure for me a reliable trade route to the isles.”
“Yes, that is our agreement,” Kell said firmly. “And I will honor it. Now, however, is not the time to consider such things. Misa’s health must come first.”
“Of course, milord,” Karista purred. “Shall we drink to our success, then?”
“Aye,” Kell replied.
Trip’s small head swam with ideas. Karista had claimed Mik’s treasure! She was bribing Lord Kell into giving her a trade route to the Dragon Isles! It didn’t sound like Karista or Kell had have any plans to share the big diamond and the rest of the loot with him, Mik, Ula, or anyone.
Trip determined then to get off the ship and warn his friend at the earliest chance. How he might find Mik remained elusive. Still, “Every journey begins with a single step,” or in this case, “plunge,” as the kender saying went.
Sneaking past a sleeping oarsman and peering out the tiny oar hole, the kender saw only the dark, gray sea rising gently before a westerly wind. No sign, yet, of their destination. The thought of going to an island populated by castaways and pirates thrilled the kender. He doubted he’d have much time to look around and make friends, though-not if he was going to warn Mik.
Cautiously, Tripleknot Shellcracker crept back to his closet and put on his ropes. He’d make his move when they anchored at Jaentarth.
Trip woke with a start. The creaking of the ship had changed, and he no longer heard the rhythmic splash of the oars. An unexpected plate of cold food and a tiny skin of water lay at his feet, and he cursed himself for not being more wary. Footsteps on the decks above told him that it would be tricky now to slip out of his small prison.
Yet there was nothing else for it.
He shucked his ropes and quickly picked the lock once more. Peering out the door, he found himself in luck; nearly all of the deck’s oarsmen seemed to be working somewhere else-probably on the main platform. Trip slipped out the door and made his way cautiously between the benches.
New sounds of splashing drew his attention to one of the oar holes. Swimming-the crew was swimming beside the ship. This might have been a break, had the galley been tethered to a dock-which is what the kender expected.
But when he peered out, he noticed that the trireme lay anchored quite far offshore. In the distance he saw Lord Kell’s skiff approaching the mainland. The town they were headed for was not the romantic pirate village Trip had imagined. Rather, it was a ramshackle collection of rundown buildings clinging to the steep sides of the Jaentarth shore. Huge boulders littered the rocky shoreline near the town, and tall cliffs sprang up on either side of the tiny landing area. The black maws of a dozen tidal caves scarred the cliff face.