- Messages
- 14
Phrixus would love this.
As was usually the case, Phrixus was at the top of Praxidike's mind, particularly when they were apart. She hadn't seen her twin brother in weeks, but someone had to stay in Theros and keep things going. They had thrown lots and fair was fair. Praxidike was tasked with finding the Everlight, a ship stolen during a mutiny, and its treacherous captain. The man who had put out the bounty, a red-faced fat plutocrat from one of the wealthier cities along the coast, seemed to be out for vengeance more than justice. He wanted the mutineer's head, at least, but would pay double for a live specimen, presumably to torture.
The Everlight, meanwhile, should be sent to the bottom of the sea as far as the plutocrat was concerned.
Praxidike had been given a description of the Everlight which was about as useful as tits on a boar. The stolen ship was a trireme, like half the other other ships in the area. Since sinking every trireme she came across in the Cortosian sea seemed like a good way to get a price on her own head, Praxidike had had to resort to good old-fashioned investigating. She had followed a trail, pieced together by tramps and scavengers, harbormasters and beggars, tavern wenches and stable boys. Of course, a chain of events was only as good as its weakest link, so it was anyone's guess whether she was on the right track at all.
She stood near the harbor, where a -- surprise! -- trireme was docked. She didn't see its name, and she didn't expect the Everlight to identify itself. No such ship had been seen since shortly after the mutiny, so its devious captain no doubt renamed it, as Praxidike would have done. What had caught her eye was that this ship had -- modifications. A changed profile. Perhaps in an effort to look different. Perhaps for practical reasons. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
The stall keeper had finished packing up the half-measure of dates. She held out a copper but before she handed it over, Praxidike nodded towards the ship. "You know that ship?"
"Might do," said the keeper suspiciously, eyes shifting left then right.
Praxidike drew another copper. "When did it get here?" She put the coin on the keeper's palm.
"This morning."
"Did they say from where?"
"Not the harbormaster, am I?" The keeper glanced at his palm again, flexing his fingers. "Heard where they was going, though, didn't I?" Prax placed another copper on his palm, then another when he wiggled his brows and looked at his palm again. "Outfitters for supplies. Captain -- seemed like the Captain anyhow -- said he had to see a man at the Rusty Mace."
"That's -- a tavern?" she asked. The keeper nodded. Praxidike provided the copper she owed on his palm and snatched the dates away from him. "Where? Do not test me, man," she said, eyebrows narrowing menacingly when he flexed his fingers again. The keeper grunted and closed his palm around his coins and nodded off towards the east. "You've been very helpful. See you soon."
Praxidike departed the harbor, weaving through the crowds, hoping that -- for once -- she wasn't wasting her time yet again.
Stevros of Polaxa
As was usually the case, Phrixus was at the top of Praxidike's mind, particularly when they were apart. She hadn't seen her twin brother in weeks, but someone had to stay in Theros and keep things going. They had thrown lots and fair was fair. Praxidike was tasked with finding the Everlight, a ship stolen during a mutiny, and its treacherous captain. The man who had put out the bounty, a red-faced fat plutocrat from one of the wealthier cities along the coast, seemed to be out for vengeance more than justice. He wanted the mutineer's head, at least, but would pay double for a live specimen, presumably to torture.
The Everlight, meanwhile, should be sent to the bottom of the sea as far as the plutocrat was concerned.
Praxidike had been given a description of the Everlight which was about as useful as tits on a boar. The stolen ship was a trireme, like half the other other ships in the area. Since sinking every trireme she came across in the Cortosian sea seemed like a good way to get a price on her own head, Praxidike had had to resort to good old-fashioned investigating. She had followed a trail, pieced together by tramps and scavengers, harbormasters and beggars, tavern wenches and stable boys. Of course, a chain of events was only as good as its weakest link, so it was anyone's guess whether she was on the right track at all.
She stood near the harbor, where a -- surprise! -- trireme was docked. She didn't see its name, and she didn't expect the Everlight to identify itself. No such ship had been seen since shortly after the mutiny, so its devious captain no doubt renamed it, as Praxidike would have done. What had caught her eye was that this ship had -- modifications. A changed profile. Perhaps in an effort to look different. Perhaps for practical reasons. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
The stall keeper had finished packing up the half-measure of dates. She held out a copper but before she handed it over, Praxidike nodded towards the ship. "You know that ship?"
"Might do," said the keeper suspiciously, eyes shifting left then right.
Praxidike drew another copper. "When did it get here?" She put the coin on the keeper's palm.
"This morning."
"Did they say from where?"
"Not the harbormaster, am I?" The keeper glanced at his palm again, flexing his fingers. "Heard where they was going, though, didn't I?" Prax placed another copper on his palm, then another when he wiggled his brows and looked at his palm again. "Outfitters for supplies. Captain -- seemed like the Captain anyhow -- said he had to see a man at the Rusty Mace."
"That's -- a tavern?" she asked. The keeper nodded. Praxidike provided the copper she owed on his palm and snatched the dates away from him. "Where? Do not test me, man," she said, eyebrows narrowing menacingly when he flexed his fingers again. The keeper grunted and closed his palm around his coins and nodded off towards the east. "You've been very helpful. See you soon."
Praxidike departed the harbor, weaving through the crowds, hoping that -- for once -- she wasn't wasting her time yet again.
Stevros of Polaxa
