As A Stranger Or A Friend?: The Swallow And The Drowned Sailor

Fay - 17 Morning Star, 1246 A.D.

"How is your mother?" I asked as I squinted into the afternoon sun.

"Captain?" Thelma-Louise asked with a strange frown.

I shot her an annoyed look. I didn't like repeating myself and had no plans of entertaining her attempts at shock.

"Evelyn is fine, sir. Why?"

She had the strange habit of referring to her birth parents by their given names, though I wasn't sure why; perhaps it was that she didn't want to live up to the reputation of either of them. Captain Evelyn Morely of the vessel Johnny No Hands and Captain Charles Walthorn of the Mystic were hard acts to follow, after all. They had their share of achievements, but perhaps the most impressive thing was how long they'd been pirating for. Thirty-some-odd years each, quite a feat, to be sure.

"Have you heard from her recently?" I asked as I puffed on my pipe.

"No, not as of late."

"Hmm. And your father?"

"He has a new bastard. Garrick, he's called him."

"He's pretty virile for his age, isn't he?" I remarked.

The man in question was well into his sixties now. It was incredible that he could still be siring children at his age.

"Yes, though with all due respect, sir, I'd rather not think about him that way." She replied with a frown as she turned the wheel of the Mirage gently in her hand.

"Do you know if they kept those mirrors I gave them?" I asked, ignoring her complaint altogether.

"Doubtful. They do not agree with witchcraft. It's rather too pagan for followers of Orran such as themselves."

"Oh yes, and quite devout at that." I said with a chuckle and another cloud of smoke.

"They are when it suits them, sir." She replied with a laugh of her own.

Anytime a pirate claimed religious devotion, I couldn't help but take it as a joke. I wondered if they thought it might spare them from some judgment later on; if so, it was a foolish idea to keep. Still, them not having those mirrors complicated things unnecessarily.

"When we're done with our business at La Harve and with Mar-Dur, let's visit Morely. We'll meet Walthorn after that."

"Aye, sir." She responded with a bow at the neck.

"Oh." I let out a steady stream of smoke, "Don't tell anyone. Not yet."

She studied me for a moment, then nodded.

I took my leave of her and went below decks for a bite to eat.

I needed to focus on acquiring the materials to make more scrying mirrors. Not only to replace the two that Morely and Walthorn had been careless with but to give to others who floated on the sea and wandered the lands of Oepus. It would present quite an effort to distribute them, but persuading their recipients to do what I wanted would be easy. Plenty of us were fed up with empires and kingdoms breathing down our necks; now, it was time to do something about it.

"You look rather serious." I heard Wilkes say.

I looked up to see him standing in the galley with his arms crossed beside Rapheus, an older marine blue lizard man. The two of them were nigh inseparable though that might be due to Wilkes' guilt about being the reason Rapheus was a cripple. His right leg was rather bent out of shape, so he had to use a cane to hobble around, but that hardly mattered. He was our resident cartographer, so as long as he didn't lose a hand, he would hear no complaint from me.

"Just thinking, that's all." I replied with a half smile.

"Oh? And what about?"

"You, of course." I said, tossing him a wink.

He laughed loudly, as did Rapheus before the conversation descended into something plain, but I could tell that my answer did not satisfy him.