Jaret's Quest: 3

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Jaret's Quest: 1
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Jaret rushed through the gate, the sun’s first rays striking his face as he emerged. He smiled broadly, his vow to the Lady of Silver kept. He looked around and the smile disappeared. He knew he had to make his way west, towards Suzail, to find the killer, but if he traveled on foot, it might take him nearly a month to reach his destination. However, if he just stood in front of the gate, he’d never get there. He picked a road that headed in a more or less westerly direction and started walking.

Jaret tried to think of what he could do to speed up his travel and came up empty. He wasn’t sure what exactly to do, but his chance encounter with the Purple Dragons had convinced him of a few things. The first was that this mysterious swordsman was connected in some way with the quest that the Lady of Silver had set upon him. That night, in his bedchamber, the Lady had said that he had to regain what he had lost. The only thing Jaret had lost was his rapier and main-gauche, both corroded into uselessness by the wretched ichor of some infernals. If what the Purple Dragons had deduced about the murder was true, this killer also used a rapier, and with no small level of skill.

Jaret grinned mercilessly. This part of his path was clear to him. He must find this killer, defeat him, and then claim the villain’s rapier as his own. He would have fulfilled not only the mission that Adiethian had entrusted him with, but completed the quest the Lady of Silver had set before him. And he would not fail.

He walked over the crest of a small hillock, and came upon an encampment of about half-a-dozen men alongside the water’s edge. A sizable rowboat was beached on the shoreline. All but one of the men were moving quietly around the campsite, breaking the camp down and obviously trying not to disturb the one huddled form that was still sound asleep, next to the flickering embers of the camp’s fire. Two saw Jaret, and their hands twitched towards the hilts of their swords, but when he raised is hands, and revealed that he was unarmed, they relaxed and jogged up the hill to meet him.

"Well met," the first said to him.

"Well met," Jaret responded, "Do I interrupt a nobleman’s journey? I see that one of your number still sleeps, in a favored place by the campfire, while many others rustle about the camp, with many glances in his direction, as if they fear to wake him."

The other turned a dour face to Jaret. "He deigns to sleep on dirt, which few noblemen do, but his manners and bearing are much like a pompous noble’s. He is just our ship’s mage, and he possesses an irascible temperament, the desire to be treated like a delicate bauble, and lately he has acquired an overweening desire to sleep on solid earth instead of on our fair ship whenever he can. We’ve been docked in Marsember the past tenday, and he’s spent all his pay. So, tonight, we camped here, well away from where someone might see him and remember his face, and possibly harm what he thinks of as a worldly reputation."

"I see," Jaret said. "If I may be so bold, gentlemen, what is the destination of your ship? I am heading to Suzail on a matter of some urgency, and I fear that if I attempt to travel the whole distance on foot, I will not arrive in time."

"We are heading to Suzail," the first one replied with a smile, "and if you are in need of swift passage, Jaret Malkier, I think we can provide that to you."

Jaret took a step back, and looked at the men with a somewhat puzzled expression on his face. "I can swear before the gods that I have never seen either of you men before in my life, but somehow you know my name and countenance. Please tell me how?"

"Several months ago, you and another person were kidnapped by pirates, taken out to sea, and told to serve as laborers. Instead, you fought your way free. Some time before that those pirates had raided our ship, killed almost half our number, and made off with our cargo. Thanks to your subdual of those wretches, we were able to recover enough of our cargo to hire on replacements for the crew, and the Gull’s Cry now sails again. The Purple Dragons who returned our cargo to us seemed quite familiar with both you and your compatriot, Bai, and provided excellent descriptions of the both of you. The captain said that if we did ever see either of you, that we should make sure that if there was any aid we could render to you, that we should do so without a moment’s hesitation. I’d be a rather poor first mate if I began forgetting orders." He beamed and held out his gloved hand. "First Mate Kulron, ready to take you aboard. After our mage decides to rouse himself. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you immediately, but in the description we were given, we were told you always carried a rapier."

Jaret nodded. "I usually do but I have lost it. I hope to regain it once we reach Suzail." The answer satisfied the first mate, and they walked down the hill where the crew continued to pack the group’s gear.

The sun was almost a full hand width above the horizon by the time the ship’s mage began to show signs of life. The crew who had come ashore to guard him had finished packing up their camp some time ago, and were now sitting around, most were staring out to sea, where the ship lay at anchor, waiting to get back aboard. Jaret sat and stared at the sleeping mage. Several times he had almost gotten up and moved to kick the mage awake, his feelings of urgency pulling and tugging at him constantly. The only thing that restrained him was the concern that if the mage blasted him into a fine red mist after being suddenly kicked awake, he would most definitely not reach Suzail in time.

The mage finally rolled over and sat up, irritably rubbing the coarse grains from his eyes as he did so. He spotted Jaret almost instantly.

"Who’s this frippily-dressed malcontent," he demanded. "Did one of you decide to bring along an overpaid fashion consultant for your trip to Suzail?"

Jaret stood up, but Kulron stepped in front of him and faced the mage. "This is Jaret Malkier, one of the two who fought Limmskirn’s pirates and got our goods back. He’s trying to get to Suzail quickly, and I’ve offered him a berth on board. You have no cause to give him such a rough welcome, Severtarn. Now, get up. We need to be on our way."

The mage made another sour face. "I would prefer to do my day’s preparation’s here, but I can see that you are eager to show our new guest all the comforts of the ship. I’ll accede. This time." With that, Severtarn began to collect his bedroll together. He finished in a few moment, the crew having packed up all his other gear, and they all clambered into the rowboat, and began to row out to the ship.

As luck would have it, Jaret and Severtarn ended up sitting facing each other for the trip out to the boat. With an extra person on the boat, it was a little tight, and their knees pressed together uncomfortably. Neither said anything, but they both glared at each other with evident dislike. When the rowboat reached the ship, the mage was the first one to clamber up the rope ladder that was dropped from the side. By the time Jaret reached the deck, Severtarn had already shut and locked himself inside his diminutive cabin, ostensibly to perform his day’s arcane preparations.

A great bear of a man stepped forward to greet Jaret. He had a cutlass belted to his side, and his bare arms were covered with fading blue tattoos. "I’m Captain Corby. We’re all very honored to have you aboard, Lord Malkier."

"Thank you for your kind welcome, Captain," Jaret said. "Although I’m afraid your mage does not share in your warm regard for my person."

The captain shrugged. "He doesn’t like most anyone lately. He’ll cause you no harm, in any case. He’s a loyal member of the crew, and has been for a few years now." A whistle from high in the rigging drew the captain’s eyes upward. "If you’ll excuse me, Lord Malkier, I must oversee a few final things before we weigh anchor and depart."

The captain withdrew and issued some orders to his crew, and soon the Gull’s Cry departed, course set for Suzail

For the rest of the day, Jaret spent most of his time standing at the bow of the ship, staring ahead of the ship, thinking of what lay before him. Severtarn avoided Jaret completely, and Jaret returned the favor in kind. As dusk fell, and the crew went about preparing the ship for the night, Kulron came up to talk to Jaret. "How was your first day, Jaret? We made an excellent pace, and should be in Suzail in the next two days if the winds stay favorable."

Jaret looked away from the open sea and nodded his head indifferently to Kulron. "I suppose it has been fair, save for the beastly grimaces that the mage Severtarn continually has on his face whenever he has cause to look in my direction. If I wasn’t aware of his dislike of me, I would have thought that he’d eaten something rather unpleasant."

Kulron’s usual smile left his face, and he frowned. "I doubt he’s eaten anything, but I think I know why the sight of you might bring a bitter taste into his mouth. When we were attacked by Limmskirn’s band, it was nighttime, and most of the crew was sleeping. We were taken completely by surprise, and many of Severtarn’s closest friends in the crew were killed in the first assault. Ever since then, he’s been a darker person, obsessed with things he could have done differently, whether it was a more advanced warning spell, or different offensive spells he could have used. Before then, I think you might have liked him. He really was a different person."

Jaret simply looked back out at the sea. "He’s not the first to have lost ones dear to him. Not the first to think that if he had done something differently, or at all, that things might be better. For him to carry resentment towards me because he lost valued companions is an offense that I shouldn’t have to bear."

Kulron crossed his arms in front of his chest and stoically watched Jaret. "And his burden?"

Jaret looked confused. "Whose burden?"

"Severtarn’s burden. Of your resentment toward him. Of your general manner, in fact. Most of this crew knows who you are, and would like to thank you for restoring their livelihood, but ever since we met you on that beach, you’ve so alienated them by removing yourself from them and not deigning to speak with them that they’re hurrying to get the ship to Suzail just so you will disembark."

Jaret’s expression grew colder. "I don’t care for your tone, or your words, first mate. As it is late, I am willing to attribute them to a tongue loosened by a need for rest. Good evening, first mate. I hope that on the morrow our relations will be more pleasant." He then stalked past Kulron and down into the narrow barracks where his hammock had been pitched. It was some time before he fell asleep.

In the morning, he sought out Kulron, who was standing at the helm, holding the ship’s course steady towards Suzail. Kulron’s face was bright and merry, and he raised a hand and hailed Jaret as he came on deck. "Well met, Jaret. I trust you slept well?"

Jaret shook his head. "I did not. Your words stayed with me long after I went belowdecks, and troubled me well into the night. I had always thought myself to be a lighthearted man, and pleasing company. But after talking to you last night, I feel that I must be mistaken about myself, for the truth behind your words is plain to see."

Kulron took one hand off the wheel and clapped Jaret on the back with it. "See? You’re starting all your troubles over again. You came on board this ship weighed down with concerns and second thoughts over things you don’t control, and can’t affect. You need to concentrate on things you can influence, instead of constantly mulling over things that have passed. Take whatever lessons you can from them and move on with your life. Remember the past, live in the present, and prepare what you can for the future."

Jaret stood still, considering what Kulron had said. "Thank you, Kulron," he said finally. "I will consider what you have said."

Jaret returned belowdecks, and stayed there for most of the day. As the sun was setting, Kulron came down to his berth.

"We’re about to enter Suzail’s harbor. The city’s lamps are being lit, would you like to come up on deck and watch? It’s quite beautiful." Jaret looked at the first mate, and wordlessly stood and followed him up the ladder and onto the ship’s deck. The lamps marking the city docks glowed quietly, their reflections dancing on the water. On the top of the towers that dotted the city walls Jaret and Kulron could see the specks of light that were the guard’s torches. As night slowly settled on the majestic city, and more pinpoints of light gleamed from the windows and lampposts, the Gull’s Cry slowly pulled in to port.

As Jaret went to disembark, Kulron caught hold of his arm. "Jaret, we’re departing for Westgate in a couple days. If you’ll be needing a ship back to Marsember, I’m sure the captain would be pleased to make a detour for you."

Jaret smiled. "Thank you, First Mate Kulron. I certainly hope that I’ll be able to take you up on your offer." The two clasped hands, and then Jaret walked down the gangplank, and onto the dock.

Among the dockworkers and portmasters that were waiting for the ship to dock stood a man dressed in a plain tunic and pants, intently watching the ship. The others on the dock gave him more than a reasonable space to stand and watch, and studiously avoided looking at him. As Jaret came down the gangplank, the man locked his gaze on him, and met him at the bottom.

"Jaret Malkier, my name is Thraskyr Haedrin. Adiethian sent word that you would be on your way."

Jaret looked at the man with some suspicion. "I had not found the crew of this ship until after I left Lieutenant Adiethian at Marsember’s city gates. How did you know to meet me here?"

Thraskyr gave Jaret a mildly patronizing look. "The Cormyrean government has more resources than simply Lieutenant Adiethian in Marsember, Jaret Malkier. And you’ve been assigned a very special mission for the Crown, so we’re trying to keep a very close eye on you indeed. Please, come with me. Some things have happened you need to be told about." With that, Thraskyr started to weave a path down the dock, avoiding both dockworkers and the growing piles of goods being carted off the Gull’s Cry.

As they got off the docks, and into the city streets, which only had a trickle of people moving through them now that the sun was down, Thraskyr began to speak in a rapid-fire blur of facts. "We believe the target may already be in Suzail. We don’t know how he got here. Overland from Marsember should have taken him significantly longer. The possibility that he teleported here is being looked into but is unconfirmed. The guards around the Palace Royal have been increased, and the number of War Wizards protecting King Azoun have been tripled. We need you to find this assassin and neutralize him as soon as you can." He stopped and looked at Jaret again. "You still aren’t carrying a weapon. Is there a problem, Malkier?"

Jaret shook his head. "No problems, Thraskyr Haedrin. I just promised a lady that I would leave Marsember carrying no weapon larger than an eating knife, and I have found no suitable weapon since that time."

Thraskyr’s eyes narrowed. "Would you be willing to accept a replacement now, if I were to get you one?"

Jaret shrugged. "The limitation, as far as I know, only applied to before I left Marsember. I suppose now I could carry any weapon I chose."

Thraskyr nodded. "We’ve arranged a suite of rooms for you at The Dragon’s Jaws. Go there, and I’ll meet you there in about an hour with an assortment of blades for you to choose from." He gave Jaret directions to the inn, and then hurried off to retrieve the weaponry.

Jaret hurried his way towards the inn, but slowed his pace slightly to look around at the city. As he did so, he heard a scuffle from down an alley. Unthinkingly, he hurried into it and peered down into the murky depths of the alley.

A man was standing over a still corpse, his rapier still embedded deep in the victim’s chest. The rapier seemed almost to writhe and buck in the wound, and when the man withdrew the blade from the body there wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere on the blade. The man slowly turned and took a single step toward Jaret. The killer was clad in the deepest scarlet clothes, and grinned as he saw he was being observed.

"Jaret Malkier, how pleasant of you to show up. Now... en garde."

 

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