The blond-haired Elf, who had allowed his hair to grow much longer than had ever been permitted while he still lived on Aglarond, looked over two different trade agreements with a disdainful look on his face. He had learned not to be overly critical of the crew's Common, but the written correspondences that came to the ship- which was his ship, now- still deeply irritated him. They were so riddled with poor grammar and spelling that he could hardly understand them, and had done a great deal of traveling to contact the authors in person- only to discover that it would have been easier to try reading the written orders.
" 'Ere's the message what you bin wai'in' on, Cap'n'," a young, tight voice said calmly.
Blue-green eyes lifted themselves from the two trade agreements and looked briefly into the healthy brown ones before returning to the letters. " 'Have been waiting,' Dredge. That I have been waiting on, hmm?"
" 'Ere's the message what you 'ave bin wai'in' on, Cap'n'," Dredge replied with a smile, now used to such corrections. He waited for a few moments before continuing. " 'Tis the same currier what 'ave brung- 'ave brou' the other."
"Well caught, lad," the Elf nodded, rising to stride toward the young Human male. "And we have our druthers- our suspicions, then- about that courier, haven't we?"
" 'Tis the same lad, I sware ye it," Dredge said solemnly, handing over the message and immediately scratching at the side of his thigh. "Wouldn't say nothin' 'bout the sender, though."
"What discretion," the captain replied, opening the message and looking over it with a frown of concentration. "Well written- and with a neat hand, as well."
Silence followed as the Elf allowed himself to become absorbed in the reading of the letter. The proper use of grammar was startling; the writer's intentions were so clearly and succinctly explained that the reader actually understood them the first time. That didn't keep him from reading it again, however, somehow feeling as though continued exposure to the intelligence captured there would help to preserve his own. For just a moment, he lamented his stubborn flicker of snobbery.
"An' there's the councilman on deck as well," Dredge added carefully, after the heavy pause, not wanting to disturb the captain's concentration. "I tried to tell 'im you was- um?"
"Were," the Elf corrected brusquely, turning the paper over and momentarily glaring at the young boy's thigh.
"Were busy," Dredge continued, leaving his thigh alone and straightening himself up. "But he- weren't?"
"Wasn't," the captain replied, looking up at Dredge and realizing that the poor child was struggling to please him.
"Wasn't 'avin' none of it- now, that's confusin', innit?" Dredge finally burst, exasporated. "The were and the was? 'Ow'd ye get the 'ang of it, after all?"
The Elf looked off into a dark corner of the slowly rocking cabin, trying to remember the delicate age at which his father had finally succeeded in breaking him of the ever-so-common habit of using mismatched verb forms. Beyond his cabin doors, there was some strange shuffling about, as though the men were preparing to leave the dock. A voice strange to the captain's ears sounded, but he ignored it, figuring the councilman didn't mean any harm.
"Common wasn't my first language, you know," the Elf mused, almost reminding himself of his father's words. "It's much more confusing than the Elven tongue- than any of the Elven tongues, to be quite plain. Even Eladrin have their work cut out for them, when they attempt to learn it, so don't give up so easily. 'Was' is Common's past tense, first person singular version of the verb "is," even though it has an 's' at the end of it. Were is the second singular and third person plural, and must therefore be used with plural nouns. Thus, it can be said 'I was,' but it must become 'you were' and 'you all were,' as well as 'they were.' If you're going to speak about a singular third person, however, you would use 'was'- as in, 'she was.' "
"That's bloody well confusin'!" Dredge exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "An' 'tis only the one verd, innit?"
"Verb, Dredge, you mean it's only the one verb-"
"Where in the bloody hells is this accursed captain, I said!" hollered some new and crass voice from the top deck.
"There 'e blows, then," Dredge groaned. " 'e's possessed of a temper worse'n the old cap'n' ever 'ad."
"Wernvuuld! Come on, you bastard!"
"Quite a charmer," the Elf sighed, tucking the letter he'd just received into his belt. "You said he was a councilman?"
"Yeah, 'e's one o' them-"
"Those-"
"Those cronies of Yinoran, what not a body likes," Dredge finished. "An it saved the soul to care for 'im, a body'd fain dance with the devils of the hells- s'pose it's why he's wantin' the toxin to begin with."
The Elf simply nodded without bothering to correct anything else. "Well, let's see what the gentleman wants." And without any pause, the he walked up the three stairs to his cabin doors and opened them to the daylight above.
Directly across from the captain's cabin stood a wiry Human male that seemed as though he had seen a few brawls in his lifetime. His nose was crooked and his lips thick, and the Elf had to remind himself not to allow a disdainful look to cross his face. Such immediate judgements were bad for business.
"You're not Wernvuuld," the Human noted gruffly.
"You are astute, sir," the Elf replied, bowing his head with a smirk.
"You're an Elf, sir," the male said stiffly, suddenly straightening himself.
As he stood upright again, it occurred to the captain that his guest wasn't sure whether he'd been insulted or praised, and he reminded himself to lower his standards. "And Wernvuuld is, I'm afraid, no longer among us."
The male reached for his sword, but did not pull it out of its sheath immediately. "Where's he? I'll take you all limb from limb-"
"Now, now, my good man," the Elf consoled, turning to Dredge, who had walked up the stair behind him. Unbuckling his sword and scabbard and handing them- without turning around- to the young cabin boy, the captain continued to address the impatient man before him. "What dead man can give you information, hmm? Further, what sack of flesh and bone can, sans its living spirit, stage a mutiny? It would serve you better, I think, to bribe the men- coin, drink, loose women and men, that sort of thing. That way, they would follow the goods, as it were."
"Who're you, Elf?" the Human asked at last, showing a good third of his sword's blade.
The blond haired male bowed at the hip, spreading both arms out grandly in a fine show of courtly manners, then righted himself firmly. "Ymilsano DiCiprione, good sir, and most pleased to meet your acquaintance. I assume it's you trying to buy the choldrith essence?"
"Ymilsano?" the dark eyed male spat back. "The sort what'll let one man muck about with another, eh? Name's Human, but you look and stink of Gildenglade."
"Oh, do I now?" the Elf smirked, echoing something his grandfather may have said. "Well, it's good to know my father's careful tutelage didn't go to waste, then. Now, as for the price-"
"Two hundred for the lot, and not a copper more," the Human stated, putting his sword away fully and crossing his arms. "It's what I've always paid. An you knew anything of Wernvuuld, you'd have everything ready for me, instead of forcing me to get myself all the way up here to make a bloody arse of you in front of the whole crew."
"I'm afraid I didn't know much of Wernvuuld at all," DiCiprione admitted with a slow nod, as though it were something he regretted. "I can tell you that he was a piss poor swordsman, to let me get under his guard the way he did. Flicked his sword away with no trouble- it was simple to clear his passage to the sea's heart after that." The captain paused, both to take out the letter that he'd tucked into his belt and to allow his words to sink in for the councilman. "I suggest 500; that's at least a competitive offer."
"It's nobody competing with me, you bastard fop," the councilman shot back immediately. "People 'round here never even spelt the word choldrith."
" 'Ave never even spelt, sir," Dredge piped up from behind DiCiprione, forcing the latter to bite his lips on a laugh. A couple of the crew members that were in earshot of the conversation did the honors for him, however, cackling to each other like old women.
"You trained your little whore to squawk like a parrot, eh?" the Human snorted, aggravated by the laughter. "Keep your bloody jester quiet, Princess DiCiprione."
The fair haired Elf didn't respond to the insult- at least not right away. After a pause, he simply asked, "This came today, correct, Dredge?"
"Aye, sir," Dredge replied flatly, pretending that he understood why he'd been asked. His thighs itched horribly, but he shifted from foot to foot in the effort not to scratch them.
"The price is one thousand, sir," DiCiprione stated, looking up from the letter calmly, "or the shipment goes to the well-mannered filly who penned this letter."
The councilman looked past DiCiprione to the shocked young boy behind him, who was fidgeting so much that he could hardly hold the Elf's sword quietly in its scabbard. The other sailors seemed unmoved, but the Human pressed his luck anyway. "For that price, you skirted prancer, I'd better get the whole ship- crew included. And gimme that sword, too- wouldn't want the dainty lady to hurt herself."
"Would you like to see the letter for yourself?" the Elf offered, moving toward the councilman. When the Human backed up suddenly, DiCiprione simply turned the letter around and pointed out the number that was near the bottom of the first side of the page. "There, see? One thousand gold- all I'm asking you to do, sir, is match her price. Since you've done business with this ship and its crew for some time, I'd then tell her that she'll have to do better than this."
"I told you, I stand at two hundred," the Human said firmly, his countenance darkening. "And you'll never be able to dock near Iljak again if I have anything to say about it."
"As you wish," DiCiprione laughed lightly, turning his back on the councilman and sticking the letter into his belt again. "You may disembark at your leisure; if you require an escort, you need only ask."
"You- you'll never see this shore again," the councilman growled, drawing his sword. "Panty-waisted, boy-loving slut- never seen another of your sharp-eared cousins in your life-"
DiCiprione stopped walking and looked squarely at Dredge, whose eyes were wide with fear. "I have been, I think, more than patient with your mockery. For the sake of professional courtesy, do restrict your conversation to business."
"I got your curtsies for you right here, Princess-"
The Human moved quickly behind the Elf, preparing to run him through the back, but DiCiprione- who had been listening to his footfalls- simply turned to his left. Wrapping his left hand around the Human's right wrist, the Elf wretched the Human's hand up and to the right, forcing the sword to come free. The sword's tip didn't even hit the deck- DiCiprione pulled his hand away and grabbed up the hilt in one smooth motion, backing up and slicing the councilman's lower jaw with his own weapon.
"Dredge!" he called simply. Without a moment's pause, the boy pulled DiCiprione's own sword and tossed it to him. DiCiprione turned just slightly enough to catch it, and smacked the other side of the Human's face with the flat of it when the man attempted to get his sword back. The man jumped back with a yelp of embarrassment and pain, and DiCiprione whipped both swords up and around his body as though he had owned both of them all his life. "Now then-" he began with a calming tone.
"Don't kill me!" the councilman interrupted. "I have good rank- and a family; wife and coming child! Please, I beg you- I won't tell nobody about the boy- you can come here as often as you like!"
The blue-green eyes contemplated both swords for a few moments, as though they were creatures capable of killing on their own. "I'm afraid you haven't understood my first point, my good man," he remarked when he finally turned his attentions to the councilman. Surprisingly enough, the Human had knelt down on the deck, and the captain watched a few spatters of blood hit the deck without a pang of compunction. "How about one thousand two hundred- that's with a fee to reclaim your sword from me, you understand- and one thousand per shipment in the future? There will be no questions asked, and no personal visits required, won't that be nice?"
"You'll have it- yes," the councilman agreed readily. "Anything you say- only spare me!"
"I'll need that written- make it out to... let's see... the Jackal. 'Princess' is a lovely title- although it doesn't suit a male. You'll see the good sir down to the waiting room, won't you, gentlemen?" the Elf asked, backing away as a pair of sailors grabbed up the councilman roughly. "Dredge, do go find yourself a fig or an orange, boy, and leave your legs alone!"
"There's none left, cap'n," Dredge replied, forcing himself to hold still out of embarrassment.
"Ah- men, do relieve the fine gent of his purse as well!" DiCiprione called after the two sailors. "You can take that as well as what gold I'll give you and go into the market, Dredge. It's quite important to dine well of Toril; you must tell me when we've run out of a fruit, root or vine."
"Then we've run through the 'tatoes as well, sir," another crew member called out. "I only just heard the cook wailin' about how's he gonna feed us a few hours gone."
"Well, from the looks of this, we're in food smuggling," the Elf shrugged. " The town guard-sanctioned pirate woman isn't bringing back enough per trip to satisfy the need, so our services have been requested- with unusual courtesy. Ignoring Sembia, the Dalelands are our best best."
" 'Tis a good week and a half back to Dragon's Reach, sir," the first mate called from his mat, which lay by the wheel. "The spice's we've got won't keep."
"Then we'll have to drop them off at Alphar to the highest bidder," DiCiprione replied. "I'm certain our grain buyer can provide us more spices- or at least information about where to get them. She seems- useful- that way."
"Mayhap she'll be useful in other ways as well," one of the other crew members called back jokingly as he stretched out a large sail to repair it.
"If she's wanting choldrith toxin as well, though, won't we 'ave to go back to-" Dredge began absentmindedly scratching his thighs again.
DiCiprione shook his head. "Go sit in the salt water by the ship for a while, Dredge. And as for this buyer- who may be respectably partnered, gentlemen- she only wants grain."
"But you told-"
"And that's why it's important that every last body on this ship learns to read," the captain commanded simply as he climbed the stair to his cabin, followed closely by the echoes of 'Aye-aye, Cap'n' that he had finally accepted as destined for his ears.
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