Born a Monster

Chapter 49

Sea Sprite’s Outrage

When we broke port in Neo Esteban, the Outrage was still there. Given that the pirates had probably intended to sink her, she was in excellent shape.

“I am curious.” I said. “Why the Outrage is being taken into dry dock. The damage below deck didn’t seem so severe.”

“Shouldn’t be hard to find out.” Gamilla said.

And it didn’t, because she didn’t even try to book us passage before asking. We were about to start purchasing things we’d need when she burst into the inn. I swear the sun glinted off her teeth, revealed in her broad smile.

.....

We’d need to buy her a new hat, the sight was unsettling.

“There isn’t enough crew to keep her going.” Gamilla said. “They lack the coinage to hire a new crew, and are considering selling.”

Madonna leaned back in her chair. “We can do better...”

“At near half market price.”

“Won’t the auction drive that price up?” Narces asked.

“It would, but only if we let it get to auction.” Gamilla said. “We can get the loan they can’t. Hire the officers we can’t promote from within the crew, hire new crew. And we’ll have partial ownership of the ship, which allows us access to part of the cargo hold, thus eliminating cargo fees.”

I scratched the tip of my nose. “The Outrage is a good deal larger than the ship we discussed. Won’t it cost more?”

“Rhishi, are you starting your spring shedding?”

“Possibly. What has that to do with the Outrage, and the cost, and the loan? Which is a chance for us to end up as slaves?”

“It’s unlikely, and less so if we can find a captain, or someone with the skills to promote to captain.”

“And have we found a captain?” I asked.

“Give me the word, and I’ll find one now. And a moneylender willing to give us decent terms on a loan.”

I hesitated.

“That IS an awful lot of trust, husband.”

“Yes, which Gamilla has earned. Be certain this is your head speaking, Gamilla, and not some short cut you want to take regardless of the risk.”

“I am.”

I worried, briefly, that she was setting the rest of us up, that she would get her hands on the money, and sail back north to leave the rest of us to pay the fine with our lives in chains. Then I remembered it was Gamilla, who would rather just slit my throat than go through such a plan.

Gamilla the Treacherous, and here I was trusting her with the quality of my life. Which, to be honest, was probably going to be a very long time.

“Well, then let’s get to spending even more money. No expeditionary gear, we’ll be quartering on the ship.”

“So, spa day is tomorrow?” Kismet asked.

Cripes. All of these expenses, and she still wanted...

[List of Binding promises.]

“Spa day is the first day that Gamilla is available.”

#

I let my wanderings take me to the docks, specifically the drydock where they were still draining the Outrage. For all the effort to make certain the vessel is watertight, they still take on an amazing amount of water.

“There seem to be an awful lot of barnacles on the ship. Are they going to clean those off?”

“They’ll have to, if they want to re-varnish it.”

“Like nail varnish?”

“Same idea, I think. Seal the outside of the wood, and make it shiny. But also, there and there. Those boards will need to be replaced. And that’s just what can be seen from the outside. This could easily take months or even multiple seasons.”

“You sound like you have buyer’s regret, and you haven’t even bought anything.”

“I’d have fewer regrets if Gamilla saw the same things I do. That said, I have the Carpenter class, and not the Shipwright class. Maintaining this monster... it’s not something I could do on my own.”

“And you know Kismet’s going to insist on buying a sandstone bear.”

“Those aren’t even available here. We’ll have to send a purchase request back to Lewardsport with the diplomatic packet.”

“It’s only sandstone. Surely it can be quarried somewhere on these islands.”

“All of the holystones are cut to be precisely smooth, a process that takes a craftsman months of time.”

“Holystones. Such an idiot name, brought about because your beloved gods demand a level of submission beyond that which comes natural to mortals.”

“And are the hell-bound not made to submit?”

“Ah, I see. Bring logic into it because you know you’ve lost.”

“I’m not the most religious of people, I’m not going to defend their religions. But there are those willing to trade the disposition of their immortal souls for power.”

“Souls aren’t immortal, they’re just eternal. There’s nothing keeping them from being damaged; just look at what injuries they take during a mortal lifetime. Just like the process of life keeps your meat fresh, so does it also rejuvenate the soul. Why do you think there’s a whole reincarnation cycle? Because just like these boards go to rot and are replaced, so too do the souls of the dead. Well, that and it’s easier and more certain than the process of making a new soul.”

“Forgive me if I remain skeptical. Devils seem to go through an awful lot of effort to gather souls, for something that doesn’t last.”

She nodded toward the Outrage. “An awful lot of carnage went into the disposition of that bundle of dead logs. Just because something requires effort to maintain doesn’t make it worthless.”

“Hrm.” It sounded overly simplified, and the source was questionable. I suppose I’d need to check that with other sources. “I just hope we aren’t getting ourselves into more trouble than that hunk of lumber is worth.”

And then we wandered out, wife decked out in a light blue summer dress and pestering me for another. “I just lost three of them, if you’ll remember.”

#

The deal got worse and worse over the next three days. The entire deck of the Outrage needed replaced, the aftcastle had dry rot, two adjacent ribs had cracked and needed repairs...

“Gams, I got your back.” Narces said. “But this is an awful lot of repairs.”

“Okay, the vessel won’t be ready until next spring.” She said.

“An entire year?” Kismet asked, “How long has that captain been ignoring his duties?”

“Ships are wood, wood requires maintenance.” I said. “I trust the costs of repairs are being tallied?”

“And upgrades. Their cooking stove, for one.”

I waved my hand. “I’ve seen that stove. It doesn’t properly store heat, and makes baking bread ... difficult.” I’d been trying to say impossible, but apparently it could be done.

Madonna snorted. “As if you could make bread properly.”

“Dunno, he’s a good cook.” Kismet said.

“Would you wager one of your trashy romances against a book of mine?”

“Oh, deal! You’ll read me to sleep with The Genie’s Wish.”

“Oh, I’m certain my husband can’t even cook biscuits.”

I shook my head. “I need practice before I can take on such a task. And ingredients.” I listed what I needed.

As I listed them, they appeared on the table from various inventories. Enough for a dozen loaves of bread.

“I suspect a trap.”

“Not a trap,” Gamilla said. “Just a subtle reminder that you need to practice all of your skills.”

“Oh, and dried pumpkin seeds and berries for the final two loaves.” Kismet said.

I hung my head.

“None of us heard that, husband.”

“Fine, if the innkeeper and his wife agree...”

A cheer went up around the table. I don’t know why; my cooking is nothing special.

Of the first seven loaves, only two could be considered good; lumpy mixes, uncooked spots, even a vein of unmixed flour in one of the burned ones. But I stuck with it, and the final five loaves were acceptable. Twelve nutrition per serving, a towering twenty for the ones with seeds and berries.

Cripes, no wonder I was exhausted – Those things were as good as meals themselves.

“Oh, you imbued this one with fire mana, I can tell.” Madonna said.

“Rrm-hrm.” I said, around a mouthful of that same loaf. I was ready to fall over and go to sleep, but if my biomass meters could make happy noises, they would. It was... hey, where had all the bread gone?

From the looks and sounds of it, it had actually vanished into stomachs. Not just those of my table; Gamilla and Kismet had actually shared with others. I tried getting possessive with my work, but found out that I was just glad it was finally done. All the bread was gone, and...

“We should make a weekly habit out of this.” Narces said.

.....

“Or daily.” Kismet said, rubbing her belly through her doublet.

It was a trap. I was too tired to flee. Or fight.

“Muffins tomorrow?” Kismet asked

“Muffins are an entirely different mixture...”

They were having none of it. Muffins for spa day.

#