Gain

Antediluvia, with a strong wind filling her sails, made excellent time and put into Nasrad’s port the next day at dusk. Unlike the crew of the Claudia, the Red Raiders settled directly into their rooms at the inn for their first night on solid ground in a very long time, so it was only Domingo, Ilchymis, and Sensenic Morray stepping into The Mirage an hour later for a drink and a bit of amiable conversation. At Morray’s suggestion they took a table along the back wall and accepted flagons of red loqua from a serving girl; it wasn’t long before Domingo realized that several sets of eyes seemed interested in Morray, who seemed oblivious to the attention.

“I do so enjoy green loqua, you know,” lamented the Red Raider captain, sipping at the fiery red alcohol slowly, “but it is dreadfully expensive. It will worsen now, with Valua importing it by the barrel.”

“Everyone seems very interested in you, Sensenic,” pointed out Ilchymis, who had just pushed his drink away (the mage greatly disliked alcohol). This was true – Morray’s appearance was attracting a good deal of attention. Morray, obviously, had dealt with this scenario many times before; he never let his genial smile falter and seemed unaffected by people whispering openly about him. Domingo found he respected the eccentric captain more for it.

“Yes, well, it can only be my roguishly charming appearance,” said Morray with a disarming wink. “Always remember, gentlemen, that I am, for lack of better term, different – people, by nature, tend to fear that which they do not understand. A dreadful stereotype, if you ask me, but there you are; it is man’s irrational fear of the unknown that lets them fear me, and it is not my place to ridicule or judge in return.”

Domingo peered at their newest companion over the rim of his flagon. “You mean to say that people have always treated you this way?”

“Regrettably, yes. But let us speak on other matters now, my friends.” Neither the treasure hunter nor the mage missed the subtle change in Morray’s tone, a polite way of telling them that the subject of his appearance was no longer open for discussion; they did not challenge this. “Do you know why we have docked in Nasrad?”

“You did say that you and your crew have been sailing for over a full lunar cycle,” pointed out Ilchymis. “I had assumed we made port so your crew could rest well.”

But Domingo knew better. “No… we’re here about Daccat’s treasure, aren’t we?”

Morray’s eyes twinkled proudly. “Shrewdly observed, Domingo. We are indeed here seeking information on the whereabouts of the treasure. Few people in all of Arcadia are willing to even speak of it, you know – dreadful stories have been told of Daccat having cursed his gold and other worldly possessions – but I have reason to believe that something priceless indeed rests here, and that we must obtain it if we wish to continue our search.”

Always intrigued at the mention of treasure, Domingo leaned closer. “What is it?”

“A map, detailing the exact location of all of Daccat’s accumulated riches,” finished Morray with a great flourish of his hat. “I have been seeking it nearly as long as I have been seeking the treasure itself, to be perfectly honest, for it has long been told that Daccat hid his treasure so well that, without the map, it is nigh impossible to find.”

“Sounds like he was seriously obsessed with keeping his treasure out of everyone’s hands,” mused Domingo, looking exasperated. “But you know the map’s here in Nasrad – so where exactly is it?”

“I have reason to believe that it is somewhere in this tavern. I have an informant in this splendid city – very well entrenched, she is – “

“She?” interrupted Domingo, taken aback. “Isn’t that a dangerous line of work for a woman?”

Morray chuckled to himself and lowered his voice. “Personally I have always considered women the more dangerous of the two sexes. Men are very base creatures, easily swayed by promises of pleasure and external beauty. You must learn quickly not to consider women as fragile, Domingo, or surely that misconception will be used against you.

“At any rate, I have arranged a meeting with her in a more private locale; if all goes smoothly the map will be in my possession before moonset. The price will be high, but I believe I have something I can offer her that she cannot refuse.” At the curious expression on Domingo’s face he smiled disarmingly and added, “Your astounding spyglass.”

Domingo opened his mouth to protest vehemently, but it was Ilchymis who spoke first. “Without it, we have no hope of completing our mission! You cannot ask it of us! Have you no respect?”

“I did say offer, did I not?” reminded Morray shrewdly. “I said nothing about handing it over. Nor would I presume to do such a thing.”

Ilchymis flushed, looking sheepish; Domingo closed his mouth and couldn’t help but smile. He had a feeling that it would be a very long while before they knew anything about Sensenic Morray. It was with a smile that he handed over his prized spyglass, though, and the eccentric captain tipped his hat in thanks as he moved away through the tavern.

He was not aware of it at the moment, but he was about to have a meeting in the very same room – with the very same person – that Gilder had had the night before.

The room in the back of The Mirage was colder and more brightly lit than it had been the night previous; Tempest was waiting, shivering in the center of the room, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest for warmth. Morray seemed unaffected by the chill in the room as he approached, and though he dipped a little bow he did not take his eyes off the woman in front of him. “My lady – I have come for the map.”

She removed a worn, tattered roll of parchment from a fold of her cloak but did not extend her hand to offer it to him. Morray took note of the obvious uncertainty in her eyes – she seemed almost ashamed. “My payment?”

“In a moment.” Morray’s free hand clutched the handle of his sickle beneath his cape; Tempest was petrified to see him looking displeased. “How many others have you shared the contents of this map with?”

Tempest swallowed hard. “None.”

Morray smiled at her warmly – she actually relaxed, thinking she had won – and then he said, “You are lying. Do not attempt to hoodwink me, my lady – I am no fool. Now kindly confess who you have allowed to glimpse the map.”

“The Claudia made port yesterday afternoon,” said Tempest, shaking. “They departed this morning… Gilder has seen it.”

“Gilder?!” exclaimed Morray distastefully, and his face drained of color. “But… if he has seen it, he will surely pursue it! He will plunder it… he will claim it for his own!”

He snatched the rolled-up parchment from Tempest’s trembling hand; she leapt back as though burned, but Morray grabbed her none-too-gently at the elbow and growled, “My ancestors have sought the treasure of Daccat for centuries…. If it is taken by another, I will return here and you will have a very serious dilemma on your hands.” Morray released her and strode toward the door, but the rogue accosted him from behind.

“My payment?” she called warily.

“You have betrayed me,” he answered coldly, and his eyes flashed dangerously. “Your reward is your life – consider yourself lucky to be gifted even that.”

Morray exited and Tempest slumped heavily against a wall, now trembling so violently that she could hardly stand.

Domingo knew something was wrong the moment Morray came into view; he was looking paler than usual, concerned, and sick. The treasure hunter was on his feet in an instant, Ilchymis beside him. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you get the map?”

“I did indeed.” The captain raised a hand to reveal the scroll, but his face was no less severe. “But my informant divulged that another has seen the location of the treasure – many apologies, my esteemed comrades, but I must depart at once. I cannot risk letting the treasure be discovered by someone who does not truly know its value.” With that he hurried away and out of the crowded pub, and exchanging a glance Domingo and Ilchymis followed.

It was dark now; the streets of Nasrad were nearly devoid of life, and the Red Moon was high in the sky. The pair caught up with Morray near the inn and were flabbergasted when he passed it by without pause; Domingo clapped a hand down upon Morray’s shoulder. “Sensenic! What about your crew?”

“My crew will await my return,” he told them coolly, eyes focused straight ahead. “And they have Viola to lead them in my stead; she is strong and brave and wise beyond her years. They need time to rest and I cannot spare any time to rouse and organize them.”

“You’re not going alone?!” exclaimed Domingo.

They were at the docks now, and Morray vaulted the guardrail and set off across the deck to where the lifeboats were kept; with nimble fingers he released the tether grounding the little boat to the deck of Antediluvia and clambered aboard. “I have no choice; I have dedicated my life to the recovery of Daccat’s riches. I cannot falter now. I must press forward.”

“And we’re sticking by you until we have a lead on Lawrence and Centime,” Domingo insisted, and Ilchymis nodded firmly in agreement; the two pirates joined Morray in the little lifeboat, and though they could see that he wanted to protest he instead smile grimly.

“Very well, compatriots, if that is what you wish.” Wish no more words Morray hoisted the mainsail.

Author's Note: Go Sensenic, go!