Fiction:Duties

To the eyes of a Tigran, the night sky was as bright as day. Innumerable stars flooded the firmament, alighting clouds of red, blue, and stranger hues. The Night Sun, a golden clouds comprised of thousands of stars, commanding an arc far wider than the sun of day, lit up the waves as well he would ever need to spot hazards at sea.

On deck, the strange pantheon of clay sailors toiled tirelessly away, minding his gentle course corrections as Nausicaa wound her way swiftly and smoothly toward the port of Lore City. Ahead, on the fore half-mast top, Medine practiced her oneness with the universe, or whatever it was that required her to balance on poles on one foot.

The portside door to the sterncastle slammed against the wall. Every time, Saranac told him not to do it, and every time, he forgot.

"Uggghhh," came the groan of Claudius, leaning over the portside rail. "Bleagh."

"If it was any smoother, I wouldn't even be sure we were moving," he criticized loudly to the seasickness-prone wizard.

"I'm not seasick...at least not yet. It's the food. I can't wait until we get back to the city."

"The Captain did not wish to cook tonight. If you are not satisfied with hard tack and water, perhaps you should learn the culinary arts yourself."

"You're the one who couldn't catch any fish!" Saranac glared at the little man.

"Perhaps that is because I was distracted by your constant complaints," he replied with a glare. A slight clack of wood against wood announced a new visitor. Hawk, dressed as he'd been all day, and clearly deprived of sleep, wandered ponderously onto the deck.

"Can't sleep?" Claudius asked. Hawk didn't answer; he only scanned the sky, as if searching for something.

"Maybe he's sleepwalking. Or perhaps he is an automaton, designed to look like Hawk and fool us all." Saranac contemplated a sudden shift of the rudder to see how well Hawk was paying attention. If not for the possibility of toppling Medine, he might have gone for it.

"Perhaps a solution of aqua regia and dragon vitae," he muttered. "And intense heat. Maybe the dragon can help with that."

"Are you making a bomb? Because, you know, it's a lot easier with magic." Claudius frowned as he got no response. Usually, the long-standing debate between magists and artificers was good for an hour or two of heated argument.

"Clearly, he is possessed. I think he goes now to devour the soul of Medine," Saranac jested as he watched the artificer walk toward the bow.

Atop a mast forty feet high, constructed specifically to give lookouts and perhaps snipers a place to roost, Medine stood, in precarious yet perfect balance. With her spear across her body to steady her, she stood as she had for nearly an hour, on the ball of one foot, atop a mast's end no larger than a fist.

"So? Fire or thunder?" he called up to her. The sudden and inexplicable question broke her concentration, and she tumbled onto the top's platform.

"What?" she called from above. With a clean motion, she leapt forward, bounded off the foremast, then bounced back toward Hawk, landing with only the soft sound of sliding silk slippers. "What now?"

"The spear. I believe the warhammer contains a powerful essence, what we call Anima. Its power is undoubtedly to enhance the striking power of the weapon. The energy can manifest as a number of things; most simply fire and thunder, depending on how I craft it. It makes no difference to me, so I leave it to you."

"I do not know what you mean."

"I can transfer the energy from the hammer to the spear. Normally, it would be an easy process, but that hammer has proved remarkably resilient. I've been working on it all night." She could see what he said was true. The weariness was evident in his eyes. He did not come here to ask her opinion, since the true decision need not be made in advance. He had been working alone for upwards of eight hours, and obviously needed a break.

"I shall think on it. For now I worry about you. I am delighted at the dedication you've shown to our cause, but I think you should reserve more time for your own needs. Please, have a seat. I can help you relax."

"I don't know about...ooh." She knelt behind him as he sat on the foredeck's edge, and with the first furtive probe of his spine she felt great tension.

"All this traveling, the danger; it is hard to find solace with so much going on." She pressed firmly on several points of his back, releasing tension that had built up for days. "And I do not expect things to be much easier for us, even in the big city, and beyond. I have learned to find peace in meditation. I could teach you the same."

"My mind--ow--is far too full of random--ooh--ideas to quiet for that--oh--long." She pulled him backward, laying his head on her crossed legs. He was unsure, but she was insistent. She lay her hands upon his stomach.

"Breathe deeply, as long as you can, until you can inhale no more. You must breathe from here," she prodded his stomach, "not from your chest. All things come first from breathing."

He took several deep breaths, clearly finding some wisdom to her words. "Now, as you inhale, feel the energy of the earth fill you. It is a healing energy. It is the energy of life. Now, as you exhale, feel your body expel all the pain and stress you have accumulated, remove the toxins from your body."

She ran her hands up his torso and to his neck, and began to apply pressure to points on his head. "With practice, you can learn to feel the energy flow inside you, even to control that flow, into others." With that, he felt a profound sensation, an influx of pure energy. His mind quieted, and the pain and strain of weeks of hard adventure were lifted away.

She imparted several more tidbits of ancient Indigan wisdom unto him, but he was fast asleep on the hard deck. She smiled and left him to his rest, proceeding toward the quarterdeck.

"Did you kill him?" asked the deep voice of the Tigran, with a fangy grin. She was never quite sure when he was been humorous; her intuition told her so, but her animal instinct told her to fear the massive, dangerous beast-man.

"Death is only a transformation of the body," she returned wryly, "a release of the mind and spirit into the realms from which they come. Dreaming is much like death, though the rebirth is in your own body."

"Well, if he falls off the deck, I'm not getting him." He mock glared at the hapless artificer.

"We could tie him down," offered Claudius. "Or maybe to a mast."

"Come now, be nice. He has had a rough time. As have we all. We should feel empathy," she said, as she sat on the railing. Her weight did not at all disturb the thin, light wooden construction.

"That storm earlier did not help," said the mage, rolling his eyes.

"Agreed. Caylix and Circe are irresponsible." Saranac wore a disapproving glower. "They should not be allowed to put the ship at risk."

"I admit, I was afraid. I mean, I can manipulate elemental forces, bend the very laws of reality, and reforge the very form of man in the manner of my liking. But she's just...scary."

"I worry, too," Medine said pensively. "Not for our lives, but for their safety. The power they contain is dangerous, and requires great temperance to contain. She may not have an orb, but her strength is still beyond any of us."

"Do you think she could become hostile to us?" Saranac asked, starkly and directly.

"I do not believe she would hurt us. Not deliberately. However, the storm proves that her power is not entirely in her grasp. And Caylix is fascinated by it. I believe they should learn to rise above the primal urges that come with such power."

"You should insist on teaching them," Claudius offered. "They could use a share of your wisdom."

"Agreed. Mastery of oneself should come before power." Medine smiled at the tigran's words. He seemed to have come to his own inner peace long ago, to have learned to tame the beast within. Despite his outward appearance, he was gentle and kind. He had learned not to resist the effect of his appearance, but to accept it, and use the ignorance of others to demonstrate their own folly.

"I, too, have found the careful approach best," Claudius added. "I believe power, and the corruption it causes, is only a function of desire to wield it. If one acknowledges an urge as simply desire for more power, it becomes difficult to justify."

"You assume they're being logical," came the unexpected voice of Hawk, as he staggered toward the back of the ship, yawning.

"A zombie?" quipped Claudius.

"I put you fast asleep," Medine noted with disbelief. Hawk shrugged.

"Power naps. I feel much better. So, fire or thunder?" She shook her head and smiled.

"Always to your duty."

"Duties, ma'am, are what has brought us together," said the owner of the earth orb.

"Aye," agreed the helmsman. "Duty is what keeps us on course."

"That and our inerrant skipper," she added. "I shall retire now. Thank you all for your company. Hawk, might I ask you to reciprocate? I'd be happy to discuss your duties with the right motivation."

"Certainly, my lady. I think you'll find I have very skilled hands."

"Try not to rock the boat," the tigran jabbed as they walked away.

"Sir!" Hawk returned. "Just what are you implying?"

"Impetuous," followed Claudius, the last to return indoors. "Truly." Saranac mock sneered at them as they disappeared beneath the deck.

With that, he was alone with the night, the stars, and the cool wind in the sails. That was all he needed.

---

The following morning, on Epinora's watch, the first patrol ships and buoy markers of Lore City were sighted. Soon after, the great sea wall surrounding the city's harbor came into view. Even from the sea, over the walls, an immense amount of the city was visible. The great white volcano at the heart of the island was visible in the distance, and everything else was sparkling white, a city of colossal proportion. Though they saw only the outskirts of town from their vantage, it was more city than many of them had ever seen.

To all but the spotter, the city soon vanished from view as the ship pulled up to the sea wall. A line of ships a dozen long waited there. Truly, to call it a line dishonors geometry itself, but somehow the duty collectors and customs officials managed to keep track of the appointed order. A small ship approached, moving rapidly under no discernible power source, and a man aboard exchanged brief words with the captain before returning to his duty assigning orders to the arriving ships.

Nausicaa sat idly outside the wall for well over an hour. There seemed to be some sort of mixup several ships ahead, as a lizardman seemed to be intensely arguing that his cargo was not, in fact, slaves, a highly taxed and restricted commodity, but rather livestock. An inspection of the "livestock" seemed to conclude that shah'mira were not, in fact, considered a foodstuff, and he was made to submit to further intensive searching on the sidelines, much the cheering of those waiting behind him.

When her turn finally came, Nausicaa seemed to impress even the customs officials presumably used to such sights. Five men came aboard from one of their wizard-ships, and conducted a swift, minimally-invasive sweep of the hold and crew quarters. They were respectful and courteous, and bid the captain and crew a warm welcome to Lore City as they departed and cleared the ship for entry.

Nausicaa slipped gracefully through the open gate, and into the city's enormous harbor. In that moment, the entire city came into view, a sight to see for even the most familiar citizen. A hundred thousand buildings over 200 square miles, a million citizens and so many more visitors, a legacy as young as the 5 year old temple of Kasi Vishwanath, the largest Zandarist temple in the world, and as old as the 5,000 year old temple it replaced.

In the harbor were literally thousands of boats of every size, many of which handily dwarfed Nausicaa. Masts and rigging nearly blotted out the city, a veritable forest of long-hewn trees. Epinora seemed to have been giving some directions in finding a likely dock, but became quickly overwhelming by the sheer magnitude of her task.

The crew was not much help. Most were huddled near the bow, pointing out interesting sites to one another. Circe kept threatening to leap off the boat and explore the waters herself, but Calyx somehow managed to keep her restrained. Only Claudius stayed behind to guide the captain, using what knowledge he had, most of which applied only to land. Innumerable buoys informed captains of which channels were navigable, which were not, which waters permitted anchorage, which did not, all in more languages than the party knew existed.

It was not easy, nor swift, nor without danger the course Nausicaa took through Lore City's immense harbor, but eventually, she found herself a drydock. It was clean, well-appointed, and rather convenient to the main channels. Clearly, it was going to cost a fortune.

As well-uniformed men guided her between the piers, lines were cast to the crew and used to steady and slow the ship's progress. The men on the dock brought the ship to an orderly stop, and quickly secured her moorings. The next minutes were consumed with various duties, from furling the sails, to securing what rigging the masts did have, to checking and rechecking the moorings. With Epinora's permission, an officer boarded the ship, bearing a stack of papers attached to a wooden board.

"This is a magnificent ship, Captain, er..."

"Epinora. Of the wingship Nausicaa," she beamed. He jotted down some notes.

"My men have reckoned your hull at 127 feet, beam at 25?"

"128, and 25 and two hands." He nodded, scribbling more notes.

"We offer a wide range of services, including a full hull scrape and resin, wood mending, sail...er...," he looked at the rigging, "in your case, mechanical service, as well as storage and security." He looked at her expectantly.

"That all sounds...fine."

"Good! Very good. I shall just need to sign here, and initial this estimate...," he indicated to her the price. She gasped involuntarily. "Our prices are quite reasonable, you'll find. For 40 archmages a day, you shall have four well-armed and well-trained men watching your ship at all times. And for the service, I think you'll find our competitors cannot do as fine a job as we for less than 150. Not to mention 10 gold per day is an excellent price for good harborage."

"Do you take...these?" she offered a handful of golden pearls.

"Of course, madam, of course we do. We require only a down payment of 25 archmages--or the equivalent in golden pearls--upon your signature." With a shrug, she signed the contract. "Thank, my dear, thank you. Of course, there are civic docking fees, and the anchor tax, and keel fees, and tariffs, and-"

"Um...that's not part of the deal?" she asked hopefully.

"Madam, we all have our duties."