I am doing a
little experiment. I am going to write a series of chapters in a fantasy
world of my creation and see if it goes anywhere. Since I have not
prewritten this story and have no outline, it will probably end up a convoluted
mess. I do not know how often I will be able to update this or if it will
ever finish. This is the link to CHAPTER 1. (I have also found that I have to go back and clean up
very broken sentences in previous chapters. This is why I need an editor.
I understand what I am writing, but I need to make sure other people do
too.)
Chapter 6: Passage
The Color
Line River was frequented by three types of sailing craft. The first group were called free rafters,
those who owned there own boat delivering small amounts of materials,
salvaging, fishing, and piracy (the last one was mostly limited to the Black
Marsh as the river made escape from various law enforcement agents nearly
impossible without the cover of foliage, and the southern fork which was more
lawless).
Small
companies were the next group, these were groups of ships own by LLC's, or
limited liability companies. Essentially
these were two or more boats that were owned by men and women who worked on
land and had crews that were paid wages plus a share of the profits from
whatever job the company committed to. The
advantage to being part of the collective owners was owning a small share in
each boat. Meaning if one boat sank they
all lost a small amount, and whenever one did a job they all profited a small
amount, rather than the Free rafters who would lose or gain everything on the
gamble of a single ship. The Maunder
Empire is responsible for the protection of these craft and the trade interests
they control, which brings up the last group.
Group three
is the Maunder Imperial Freshwater Navy.
Very fast boats whose tactics were to pull along side ships, lash on,
and deploy numerous marines to take control of the ship. Small fleets, or flotillas of these were
deployed to the Black Marsh area to combat piracy, but were almost never seen
on the Southern fork. LLC's whose job it
is to employ seasoned marines for security on those ships who are not in the
regularly patrolled areas of the river exist, but are not expected to protect
anyone who is not flying their standard.
Unless a free rafter or shipping LLC was flying a banner that meant they
were already under contract with a particular marine company, if a pirate were
to attack a shipment the marines would more often allow the pirates to simply
pay them a cut of the looted vessel (or turn over living sailors to be impressed
into mercenary service) rather than act to protect the victimized ship.
There is a
colloquial joke that the Red Clay portion of the river is caused by all the
blood spilled just up stream by Bloody Field's raiders who have managed to
capture a small ship run aground by passing too close to the shore.
Orchard
Town is up stream from most everything except the scantly populated mountains,
and they shipped boatloads of excess harvest everywhere else. It never seemed like the town was poor for
passage elsewhere, at least to those who could pay as much as the number of
apple bushels they took the place of.
Coming back was always odd though.
Going against the current required people to row, sails to be full, and
the hold to not be stuffed with goods, so the only trade coming back was
usually very high craft items from the larger city of Bone, which was home to
far more craftsmen, who could make clockwork, lock work, musical instruments,
books, softer clothing, bedding, art, lots and lots of shovels (the tool makers
guild was subsidized because of a law too old to contextualize and too
ingrained to ever repeal), and exotic animals or spices from the rest of the
empire (very expensive and rarely fresh because it is always the material that
didn't manage to sell in Bone itself and since the trade of it was controlled
by the Empire you couldn't get it anywhere else without paying a smugglers'
price).
Malachite
knew all of this, having traded with Orchard Town small but regular amounts in
the past (coming back from Solace, his parties would stop off in Orchard Town
for the last leg of the trip to be made down the river, shipping materials the
south route with escort and the sending them back with pepper and beef for the
trouble as payment, Hasenburg's ancient credit was taken as sacrosanct). But since Malachite did not want to go home
he found a much harder time negotiating, carrying two extra people instead of
food was seen as more and more costly with each free rafter he talked to. LLC's under contract to deliver quotas of
material were already laying off extra rowers they had used to get to Orchard,
and the mercenaries were small in number and only looking to head south to
guard a bigger shipment.
Malachite
was already failing the first task he had been given by the wizard... But was
keeping that fact from Pasgard as best he could. "They are loading nothing but Cider, but
it isn't spiced yet and the sweet air will make us sick in a day." "I have worked with them, they charge
too much to move cows, I can only imagine what they would milk us
for." "The crew was very rude
to me." "Boat has a worm eaten
stern and the captain would not listen to my warning about it. I wouldn't set foot on deck." "The only women on board have brown
teeth." "No pillows in the
bunks." The man had more excuses
than any lay about could dream up.
Adding to
this was shipping their equipment.
Pasgard had a cart loaded with bits'n bobs, and presumably a lot of
physical money, paper slips and promises from the Caliphate would not have been
the wise currency to bring on a trip like this.
Malachite would need his armor, greatsword, abus gun (which he never got
enough chances to use, but relished those times he did, always a good opening
to any battle), and while he had no attachment to the horse he owned he hated
shopping for them when he needed one, forget the cost of boats, horses were
damn expensive. "I never got a
squire."
"What?"
asked Pasgard.
"A
young man to help me with my equipment and clothing," he said. "I was one for a while. That was part of the trade missions I
did."
"I was
something similar when I was young," said Pasgard. "The Caliphate used to recruit or force
young men into civil service, as sort of high ranking slave. One of my brothers was taken when I was very
little after my father had disappeared in the waste one day. They told my mother that part of the money
they gave her each week to help us live without my father meant that they
needed her sons to serve the Caliph."
"When
did you get taken?" asked Malachite
"I was
still to young to know my age," said Pasgard, wistfully. "They came to take my other brother, and
they would have, but my mother cut off one of his fingers so he couldn't hold a
sword properly."
"Gods,"
said Malachite wincing. "She could
bear to see you go? Was it so bad?"
"From
this side of it," said Pasgard.
"Looking back thru time. No,
it was not so bad. My mother did not
know what the service really was."
"She
just couldn't bear to see you go?" asked Malachite, feeling genuinely
sorry for the old man, but also very curious.
"She
did not fear for us that way," said Pasgard. "She had taken our father's
disappearance well, always hoping he would one day walk out of the desert with
palms filled with jewels, and a wagon full of silk. She even pictured my brother coming back.
"No,
she was afraid of not knowing us if we came back. They would force you to learn and practice
the state religion," said Pasgard.
"Normally they just charged a tax on those who followed some other
faith, it was to fund the upkeep of their temples, my family worshiped a number
of gods and paid the tax. But when taken
you were made to follow the state's faith and then sent to fight for it. My first brother died fighting beyond the
desert."
"You
have all your fingers," said Malachite.
"Did they take your brother's lost finger as a protest and just not
bother you again?"
"They
beheaded my mother for trying to stop the recruiters from doing their work,"
said Pasgard, as Malachite drew breath thru his teeth, his heart feeling heavy.
"They took me and the rest of my
brothers to a training camp for boys destined to be soldiers, my brother with
the missing finger was made... manager?
Not sure the equal word in your words.
"My
sisters were betrothed to a number of family's, and are house sold to pay their
dowries," He paused. "I don't remember the name of the
goddess my mother wanted us to worship.
"For
the next few years I cleaned the guard houses, sharpened swords, and learned my
prayers," Pasgard frowned.
"When I was old enough they sent me to the Eastern most Oasis and
told me my job, I was to guard the pass.
That is what I use as my name when traveling. Pass. Guard.
Pasgard."
"That
is not your real name?"
"I
have never met someone out of the Caliphate that could say my real name,"
said Pasgard smirking. "There is no
letter for one of the sounds in it."
Malachite
was boggled from the sad story, and was just grasping to make the subject
lighter somehow. "How? That is so odd to me."
"Are
you named after a gem?"
"Yes,"
said Malachite, talking faster.
"But, West of the Caliphate people name their children after
objects all of the time. Why not just
use the literal translation of your real name if you are going to go by
something else."
"My
name means 'Messenger of God'," said the wizard.
"Okay,
I can see how that would sound pretentious," said Malachite.
"Pray? Ten?
What?" Pasgard looked confused, and his little book was out again.
Malachite
took a second to discern his question.
"Oh, 'pretentious'. It means
acting better or more important than who you are."
Pasgard
started chuckling, "I can imagine you hearing that word a lot."
Malachite
started laughing to too. "Yeah,
sometimes people I meet have to ask me for a good word to call me. That one I go to a lot," said the
swordsman. "Go to that tea house to
relax while waiting," he pointed to a corner restaurant. "Read thru your little book a bit. I will find us a ship eventually," even if I have to do something I loath.
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