“The wealth of others does not impress me unless they are going to share it with me,” My‑re said.
Spymaster Timshard’s nose freckles faded as his face reddened with frustration.
My‑re folded her arms across her chest, looking down from the entryway, and blocked his entrance to the orange-painted ship, the Nightie. Timshard stood on the boarding plank as a line of fellow Lord Protectors were waiting to board to hunt for the Lake of Mists’ monster.
Timshard looked over his shoulder as some protectors grumbled behind him and asked, “My aunt, Sheila Greywand, I assume you’ve heard of her?”
“Obviously, I’m a Lady Protector.”
“Yes, well, she has commissioned me to oversee your little operation here,” Timshard said, gesturing to the Nightie.
“Lovely, we’d enjoy an emissary from Lady Greywand aboard. That’ll still be ten gold,” My‑re said.
Timshard cleared his throat. “You see, the pay for a spymaster is modest.”
“So, now you’re poor. What was this about your fortune, grand influence, and high position on the Isle of the Eye a moment ago?” My‑re questioned.
Timshard stared hard at her.
“Ten gold, Timmy.”
Timshard grumbled under his breath, counted out a stack of ten gold coins, and handed it to My‑re.
“Welcome aboard the Nightie. Refreshments will be served shortly after we get underway.” My‑re smiled at the spymaster, moved, and permitted him to pass.
Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Anusha came from behind My‑re and said to Timshard. “This way, spymaster, to your rowing seat.”
“What? You expect me to row?”
“Consider it part of your strength training for the arena,” Anusha said.
“But I don’t fight in the arena, besides my aunt…”
My‑re tuned out the subsequent complaints from Timshard and proceeded to collect the ten gold fee from the other lord protectors behind him.
After My‑re ensured all forty passengers were aboard and sitting at their rowing stations below deck, Anusha took a pair of large drumsticks and prepared to time out the rowing rhythm on two sizable round drums. She announced from the front of the rowing station. “The instructions are simple, Lords and Lady Protectors. Please ensure you are in rhythm with the drum’s beat and your fellow gladiators. We don’t need to row around in circles on the lake like last time, do we?”
As the beat commenced, My‑re emerged from below and headed to the aft of the ship. There, she saw the black and white furred Aruaki were-cat, Ssskah, standing, and a stark contrast next to the ship's captain, Phetmolge. Possibly human, likely cursed, My-re thought. He was a mountain of a fellow at seven feet tall, but he more resembled a troll, as his skin had a stony gray color and what looked like spotted pale green lichen spots. He had a long spear strapped to the back of his massive frame. If he struck something with it, he would likely do unearthly damage. He gripped oversized spokes on the oversized wheel, which would normally take two normal people to manage.
“Is everyone tucked away?” Ssskah purred.
The ship lunged forward, and My‑re nodded, handing her two large sacks filled with gold from the boarding fee.
“What direction are we heading today?” My‑re asked as she enjoyed the breeze blowing through her hair and tickling her widow’s peak.
Ssskah turned and breathed in several times. “There’s something on the wind. Let’s travel south today.” She turned to Phetmolge, patted his arm, and pointed. He smoothly turned the wheel as the Nightie cut through the waves.
“I’m going to go get the meals set up for our passengers,” My‑re said. She then glanced at the captain. “He doesn’t say much, does he?”
“Strong, silent type,” Ssskah responded, shrugging her shoulders.
*
Silence encompassed the Nightie as they drifted in the middle of the Lake of Mists that afternoon. Lord Protectors lined all sections of the ship, their eyes fixed on the misty lake. They all had a variety of heavy-duty fishing poles and spearing weapons, which included a ballista for an extra fee and better range. Captured sawfish on heavy lines thrashed about far from the ship and were bait to draw up the Lake of Mists’ monster. The passengers seemed optimistic as something had really riled up the sawfish.
My‑re joined Ssskah and Phetmolge at the navigation wheel.
“The passengers are fed, fishing, and more than a little tipsy. Their mood is upbeat,” My‑re whispered. She had learned from previous trips that talking loudly during fishing was not well thanked.
“Manage things down here. I’ll be in the crow’s nest,” Ssskah said.
The quiet afternoon hours passed, and passengers drank their fill, complements of the Broken Sword tavern. The muted sun dimly showed through the mist and began to descend. Phetmolge nodded to My‑re to announce it was time to head back to Willow Beach before dusk.
My‑re strained from a seated position and stood, stretching the ache from her back. She drew in breath to speak.
“In the distance! There’s something out there!” Ssskah yelled from the crow’s nest.
At the announcement, eyes turned high to Ssskah, then out toward the bow of the Nightie. The waves slowly pushed the vessel forward. A crowd gathered at the railing. My‑re headed to the tip of the ship. Lord Protectors gathered around her.
Debris floated on top of the water. It wasn’t wood or any part of a ship, but different, stringy, and unidentifiable until My‑re saw the remains of a fishtail as long as her body floating by. Then she saw another, then another. The remains of large fish, all with vicious serrated teeth bite marks, drifted by. The Nightie’s bow pushed through the guts and vestiges of numerous creatures. They numbered in the dozens. In moments, the fragments became thicker. The dead were now likely in the hundreds.
The sawfish used for bait bolted to the aft of the ship and away from the carnage. My‑re’s concern, other than the speed in which they fled, was the knowledge that sawfish were highly territorial, ill-tempered, and nasty pieces of work that feared nothing, including humans. Something terrified them.
“Make way!” Timshard announced. “Greywand business here!” The spymaster pushed through the Lord Protectors and stood beside My‑re, surveying the carnage. After several heartbeats of silence, a deep thud hit the vessel's starboard side. Lord Protectors gripped their weapons, knuckles going white, and prepared themselves for battle.
A shredded carcass the length of the Nightie had bumped into the hull. The top portion of its head and half its tail were missing, and what appeared to be several gargantuan round bite marks left jagged holes in the middle. Bone and cartilage protruded from the gaping wounds.
Looking on, My‑re defensively folded her arms around herself tight. When alive, that behemoth could have easily rammed the Nightie and, if not sunk it immediately, caused severe damage. Something had slaughtered some of the most vicious apex water predators Alastari had ever produced. Sawfish had no fear but now knew fear. Whatever inhabited these waters had killed and eaten the worst of the worst predators wholesale and unmolested. The genuine concern was that if this creature deprived the lake of its natural prey, it would turn to something more plentiful and helpless in the water…humans.
Timshard said quietly, “Turn this ship around, now. Under the authority of Lady Greywand, no craft is to set sail on the Lake of Mists until further notice.”
Ssskah issued a low growl from her throat. “You can’t do that.”
My‑re muttered, “I think he just did.”