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Chapter 38

The Letter

I will not dignify the translation from Achean to Furdish save to say here that I learned many things about the Furdish language too late to use them properly. The mistakes made were not always small, nor as few as I might have liked.

Smallest Brother,

“You don’t need to read this out loud.” Kismet said.

“How am I to encourage not keeping secrets if I am among the largest of holders?” I replied.

.....

Smallest Brother,

Do not be discouraged by your initial failures. I know that so long as there is blood in your veins you will continue your mission. That mission is more critical than ever.

The war among the centaur rages longer and hotter than I had planned for. My greatest consolation is that Hortiluk, the architect of that war, is among the troops. He keeps calling for soldiers of any race but hobgoblins and thinks I do not notice. Therefore, I send him hobgoblins as reinforcements whenever they are available.

I admire that the centaurs keep family communication during this fight, even when family fights on opposite sides. To me, it is one of their greatest virtues, and my greatest hope of integrating them into the Red Tide.

Sister Uma complains daily about something or other going wrong in the new forges. It reminds me of your reports from the distillery.

“We had a distillery? We could have used stronger alcohol at the front.” Narces said.

“I never took you as a lush, Narces.” Dimmihammas said.

“Hah! No, it’s what we soaked bandages in to keep the wounds from getting infected.”

It reminds me of reports from the distillery. It makes me glad I have relatives to do these things for me. I think she longs for battle, as I do.

Which brings me to your complaints. If wood is priced as you say, then send coin rather than wood. I don’t mind if you start small, but please at least fund the Furdish embassy, they seem to be using coins to garnish their salads, the rate they go through them. I shouldn’t complain so loudly, but they are sending me orcs instead of proper Uruk, and the Tide suffers for it.

As for your request for silk, I admit surprise. It is hard to imagine Daurian traders haven’t already monopolized that market. Tell Narces his niece Rhonda ...

“Rhonada. Common mistake.”

... Rhonada is among the trade delegation. If she has half the skills she claims, you will have your silks. Perhaps she will also bring us ashen wood for the new docks.

The docks go poorly, but I am assured by the time you get this they will be back on schedule. Oddly, the deepening of the bay is turning out to be the easier portion of the work. The workers use sheep intestines to make tubes through which they breathe.

I encourage you to continue making progress. I have no clue what obstacles you face, but I know you will overcome. Little brother, you turn failure into victory. You are a victor, remember that always as you strive for success.

Your larger brother,

Rakkal.

#

“Read the postscript! Read the postscript!”

P.S. I shouldn’t need to warn you, but have your shield near at hand when dealing with Narces and Gamilla. They are servants of Hortiluk, and probably have orders to dispose of you if your mission comes close to succeeding. In a decade or so, we will need a naval presence, whether Hortiluk approves or not.

“Narces?” Gamilla asked.

“Nope, I’m here because I wouldn’t kill goblins for him. Well, innocent goblins, anyway.”

“I have trouble pairing the words innocent and goblin.” Madonna said.

“Well, they weren’t eating his highness’ sweets. He didn’t even let those buggers near his food stores.”

“Did you have other suspects in mind?” Gamilla asked.

“Yeah, but no proof.”

“It must have taken great courage to stand up to him.” I said.

“Nah, not so much as you might think.”

“Narces is the son of Pyrehand, a general trusted by Rakkal. It would have been foolish to execute him, and risk war.”

“I’m not certain if you can call what Rakkal does war.” I said.

“Husband?”

“Hm?”

“There is more to that letter you are folding up.”

“Yeah! No secrets.” Kismet said.

“Very well.”

P.P.S. I’ve met your brother.

“That’s where it ends.” I said.

Kismet shook her scrunched up face from side to side. “You said you didn’t know what happened to your family.”

“At that time,” I said, “I didn’t. Hortiluk is keeping him chained in the bottom of a cistern, studying him.”

“And you want to free your brother?” Narces asked.

I shook my head. “Not before I know I can fight him. He was ... near bestial.”

“Like you when you were brain damaged.” Madonna said.

“Oh.” I said. Yes, it was likely that my sibling had suffered brain damage. “That would explain his state.”

Or he was just... I had been born curious, maybe my siblings never developed their brains the way I had? But I did remember several of them using cunning, preparation, and even magic.

Kismet poked me. “You were off thinking. Rude.”

“Yes. Okay. Solwyn to me, Solwyn to me. Who is Ethsven?”

“Mine.” Narces said.

“Solwyn, Lord Gathspard?”

No one had any clue. Mine. “Ah, paychecks for Gamilla and Narces. Add those to the treasury.”

“No paycheck for you?” Madonna asked.

“I’m surprised they didn’t send a shield.” I admitted.

“Says the person who made his own shields.” Kismet said.

There were two other letters of note, one from Harkulet to Gamilla, and “Al Haraz El Phoenix City bin Turenton for Kismet.”

“What does that perv want?” she opened the letter, read quickly and without moving her lips. “Oh. My dad’s alive... kinda.”

“Was your father into necromancy?” Dimmihammas asked.

Kismet’s voice came out soft and sad. “He’s a ghoul now. Specifically, a packmaster. They’re worried he’ll become a ghoul lord.”

“If you need a leave of absence...” I said.

She batted at my eye for saying that.

#

“I have a matter that may be of more concern.” Gamilla said. “Hortiluk believes the Neonen or Daurian might be aware of where the twelve corners of the world are, and hence the Legendary Weapons.”

“Which he wants retrieved, if they are found?” I asked.

“He doesn’t say.” She said.

Narces shifted in his chair. “So that day is coming. He’s getting ready to make his move on Rakkal.”

“I hope not; he’s not nearly ready.” She said. “For one thing, Rakkal has too many relatives and loyal generals around him.”

“And he doesn’t have the support of nearly enough troops.” Narces said.

“Might we return to matters affecting us directly, here in the Isles?” Madonna asked. “I could be out, shopping, for example.”

“That’s fair. How many ships sail during the winter storm season?”

“Almost none.” Gamilla said. “The larger galleons can weather those storms, but most of those handle cargo runs between the nations and the colonies. Trade stops, food prices rise, morale drops.”

“Sounds like a siege of storms.” Narces said.

“Ooh! That’s a good book title.” Kismet said. “I’d read that.”

I winced. “Your birthday was two days ago.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

.....

“No, I...” I pulled the book ‘The Genie’s Wish’ from my inventory.

There was a noise that must have put every rat within four blocks on edge. “Mine!” Kismet said, practically pouncing the book into her inventory. “Uh, I mean, yes, thank you.”

“So how often do the storms disrupt life here in Vernice?”

“One day in three, boss. I’ve heard some hair-raising tales about flooding and people just being swept off in the wind.”

“Locals just hunker down in place with enough food and water to last a week or two.” Gamilla said.

I sighed. “Do we have a source of income during that time?”

“Nope. Winter is time to cinch up belts, batton down the hatches, that sort of thing.”

“Ahh, good. We can train, and exercise, and sharpen our skills.”

“The trainers for my skills aren’t exactly here in the Isles.” Gamilla said.

“Likewise, boss. Spears are used for hunting, but harpoons and such are more common.”

“No need to explain that. I know the difference of skills between knife and Flavian and cutlass. I’ve no clue how you keep all the different types of polearms sorted from each other.”

“Well, the taxonomy itself is fairly straight forward.” Dimmihammas began.

“Not. Now.” Gamilla said.

“I, uh, yes, that brings up a question. Would you actually permit your companions to stab me?”

“If you really wanted it, I suppose.”

“Or if he earned it?” Gamilla asked.

“If you’ve more reason to believe he’s betrayed us than not, go ahead and send him back to hell.”

Madonna reacted as if slapped. “And me?”

“You heard my oaths, both of you. I don’t care what you do to complete your task...”

“What IS your task?” Kismet asked.

“It’s a secret.”

“The local spirits and god-kin are especially pissed at Cassandra the Hangwoman, angel of Xistos.” I said. “Seems she doesn’t play nice with the locals.”

“That was MY secret!”

“It shouldn’t be. Taking on an angel is kinda ballsy, it’s the sort of power play that could end up with all of us dead.” Narces said.

Gamilla rubbed her chin. “What IS the going rate for whacking an angel?”

#