Chapter 9
The captain stood at the prow of the ship gazing out into the sky ahead.
Camron went and stood behind him. After a moment he cleared his throat.
The captain let him wait a few moments before turning around and giving him a look. He turned back and looked at the sky. It was beautiful, Camron noted. They had passed the storm, and the sky was a mix of magenta and crimson as the light of Hysh rose from the horizon and refracted through metallic vapour left from the storm. After a few more moments, the captain turned back.
“What is it Camron? You look like a duardin with something on your mind.”
Camron clasped his hands behind his back and kicked at a smudge on the deck with his boot. How to ask this? He “How could you leave the entire cargo with him? After you were so clever in getting it back?”
Captain Bondson chuckled and appraised Camron.
He seemed to decide something as he nodded to himself. He handed Camron an eyeglass. “Look. There.” He pointed off into the horizon.
Camron raised the eyeglass to his helm lens and peered in the direction that the captain had pointed. He found the spot on the horizon and adjusted the focus ring until the horizon came into focus. Black shapes in the air.
“Grungni’s tools,” Camron exhaled a slow breath. “There are more of the aelves.”
“I think we could have outrun them, but Ser Tungevin,” the Captain gave him a human honourific to show how his trading instinct had been off, “took that decision away from me. Frankly, I was only too happy to let him have it and get out of there. If he’d bothered to make the connection that the artefact had drawn them rather than it being mere chance, well then maybe he’d have tried to put us on the hook for all of the damage plus the blood debt for his slain comrade. Blood debt or no, I was going to take the artefact out of there and save him, but when he insisted one last time …” the captain shrugged. “Who am I to save a kharadron from his own greed?” He clasped his hands behind his back and stared off into the distance.
“Particularly one that plays us sharp.”
The captain muttered then shrugged again. “Although, we got lucky. The aelves bunched up at the khazak door should have told him all he needed to know. His mind must have been clouded with grief.”
“They are after our cargo?” Camron tried to stroke his beard through his helm. “Former cargo,” he corrected.
“It was an aelven artefact. It stunk of blood. I guess once it was no longer in the safety of the skyport, those aelves decided they would make a play for it.”
“But the profit, that was our entire cargo.”
Kraeg Bondson threw back his head and laughed. “I thought you were more about glory than profit. Interesting to see you here protesting.”
Camron’s eyes widened. “What?” he sputtered.
“Well, I just thought you were in it for the glory, not the profit.”
“How could…”
“Please,” the captain said, clapping Camron on the back good-naturedly. “You don’t have nearly the face for diamonds as you think you do. You scrunched up your face whenever profit was mentioned and a few times I caught you stroking your rifle as if to ward off talk of money and trade. Since you don’t otherwise seem to be obsessed with violence, I figured it was the glory not the violence.” The two settled into a silence, gazing at the sky behind them with the little black shapes. “Plus,” the captain added, “I spoke with your father.”
Camron felt a little light headed. He felt as if he’d been wearing a mask the entire voyage. It was weird to think that he hadn’t been doing it that well, and also … that he hadn’t needed to. It felt good to be seen and understood. “I will say,” Camron conceded, “that the profit is an interesting puzzle. The other parties and the negotiation make it much more interesting than the number crunching I was doing to manage supplies at my father’s inn.”
The sky was slowly lightening the farther they got from the storm. The mountain was barely visible in the distance behind them now, Tungevin and his Barak-Mhornar khazak left well behind.
“Well,” Camron continued, “you didn’t answer the question about the profit?”
“It’s on the captain to make a profit. It’s not on you to worry about.”
“How many unprofitable voyages can you have before they revoke your charter?”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about the Wind's Oath’s charter if I were you. And who said anything about unprofitable?”
Camron threw up his hands. “That was our entire cargo, gone!”
“Camron,” warned Sergeant Nesbred, standing behind him.
His cheeks blazed crimson. Somehow he found it easier to speak freely in front of the captain than his sergeant. He knew it was backwards compared to most kharadron, but something about the captain put him at ease. Despite his sense of unease, he wanted to know.
“Sergeant,” he said, turning and saluting the sergeant. Then he made the conscious decision to ignore the warning tone in her voice and wait for the explicit order. He turned back to the captain before the sergeant could say anything more. “My apologies captain for my tone before. Could you please explain about how this trip could has been profitable when our entire cargo is gone?”
The captain looked at him and cocked his head, considering.
“Marine Camron,” he said, putting an odd inflection on his rank. “Have you met Hestorf Chiselhand?” He gestured with his hand indicating a duardin standing behind Camron. Camron turned and found the duardin he’d talked to Yerdun about. The one with the unusual mask.
“I have not.”
“Do you recognize him?” Was the captain testing him?
Camron hesitated for a second. “Yes, but only once. Only when the cargo was given to the Barak-Mhornar duardin. I was keeping track all the crew and didn’t notice him before.”
“Where do you think he was earlier in the trip? Sick in his cabin?” The captain was definitely testing him. Why?
“I doubt it sir. Unless he was hiding in your cabin, which is the only room on this ship I haven’t been in. I’ve kept track of every duardin that’s walked on this deck since we left Barak-Torin.” The captain cocked his head again. Camron could feel the Captain’s smile under his helm. Camron felt the need to add more. “It’s an old habit from the inn Captain. You need to know who’s there at all times, who might be there to spend and drink, and who might cause trouble. It pays to know what’s going on.”
Camron grunted, sudden understanding dawning on him. “Every duardin that’s set foot on this deck, including the Barak-Mhornar duardin that brought the cargo when we were in Barak-Mhornar. I had assumed that duardin had left and I’d missed it, but he didn’t did he?”
“Well done Camron. That duardin and Hestorf Chiselhand are one and the same.”
Hestorf Chiselhand chuckled. A deep rumbling that sounded like a well maintained aether endrin just starting up.
Sergeant Nesbred cleared her throat, but Camron didn’t care. His curiousity had the better of him.
“And how does that make this trip profitable?”
“Well, because we’re actually getting paid to bring Hestorf back to Barak-Torin. The cargo itself was just an extra little piece of business. A contract we’d taken from a trade syndicate in Barak-Mhornar since we were there anyway, a matter of convenience. The kharadron in me couldn’t refuse to make a little extra money on the side. The Barak-Mhornar syndicate had contracted to have it delivered to an official of the Barak-Mhornar embassy in Barak-Torin.”
“And, since Tengevin invoked article 16.4.1 to tithe our cargo on behalf of Barak-Mhornar itself, I may be able to argue we’d completed our contract anyway - which was to deliver the cargo to a Barak-Mhornar representative.”
Captain Bondson threw back his head and laughed before clapping Camron on the shoulder. “You see Camron, we’ll still get paid for the primary purpose of our voyage, and we should also be able to get paid for the cargo we no longer have.”
“A tidy bit of business captain,” Hestorf said, clasping the Captain’s hand. Bondson favoured him with a nod of his head.
The Captain turned back to Camron. “Now Camron, I have business to discuss with Hestorf and Sergeant Nesbred. You’re dismissed.”
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