Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 (18 page)

“No, you don’t. But you do need to pick your fights. If the other guy is better than you, there ain’t no sense in hanging around to let him hand you your butt. Get while the getting’s good.”

“I owe ye a big one, Tol. Ye said yer name was Tol-u-ol? That sounds familiar, for some reason.”

Tol saw the red flag and hurriedly changed the subject. “So, I’ve been wanting to talk about something. This seems like as good a time as any. You know that this ship is operating contrary to edict, right? I mean, impressing hasn’t been legal for a couple of centums now.”

“Yeah, I know that. But we ain’t got no cops on board, and the captain would deny that anything unsavory was goin’ on. He’d be believed, too, because he’s all important. He’s one o’ them Red Knights and all.”

Tol stopped in shock. “Do you mean the captain of this vessel is a Knight of the Crimson?”

“Yeah, that what it was. Won it during the pirate wars. Nobody would question a goblin of that stature.”

“I can’t believe a Knight of the Crimson would allow impressing on his vessel.”

Fevins chuckled. “He don’t know nothin’ about it. The second mate controls all o’ that: forges our writs of service and contracts. I’ll bet there’s one in the captain’s cabin with yer name on it.”

But probably not my full title
, Tol thought.

“The officers is very careful not to let the captain and crew mingle. They tells the captain that we’re all criminals trying to go straight, that sort o’ thing. Tells him that it would be better if he lets them do all the associatin’ with the crew, so as not to bust our morale by seeing how grand and glorious he is or some such bilgewater.”

“That makes about as much sense as tellin’ a hound not to bark when the bell gets pulled,” Tol said, “I think it’s time Captain High and Mighty knows the truth.”

Fevins got very serious. “They’ll kill ye before they’ll leave ye alone wi’ th’ captain. I mean it. The first mate ain’t really a bad sort, but the second and third are nothin’ but trouble. They’re both deserters from the Frespiolan Marines and neither one o’ them would hesitate for a second to slit yer gullet and toss you overboard for the toothfishes.”

To Fevins’ surprise, Tol started laughing. “If I had a billme for every time some palooka threatened to jank me, I’d be sittin’ on a pile of money instead of pumping out bilges,” he said, wiping the tears out of his eyes. “I’ve watched those two and they ain’t nothin’ more than cheap thugs. You could take ‘em both at once, I’ll wager.”

“Ye’d lose that wager, seahound, even if they was ten ov‘im,” came a voice from the doorway. It was the third mate, with the second standing close behind him. They both had pieces of lead pipe.

“Yeah?” replied Tol, standing up, “Why, you got real fighters hidden back there somewhere? ‘Cause I don’t see nothin’ but scullin’ maids right now.”

The mates moved in menacingly. “Yer about to get sculled, all right, seahound. We goin’ to hang yer hide right over there on th’ wall.”

At this point Fevins stood up, too. “You just get over there and watch, bo’s’n,” said Tol, “Ain’t no reason for you to get involved here. I won’t even break a sweat on these two.”

“This here bo’s’n knows which side his bread is buttered on. He ain’t gonna git in the way,” chuckled the third mate.

Tol glanced at Fevins and nodded. The boatswain moved to block the doorway inconspicuously so that no one else could get in or out.

The third mate brought his pipe up and cocked it to throw a blow at Tol’s temporal ridge. “Time to die, seahound,” he said, bringing the heavy pipe down.

“Not unless I have a stroke from laughing at your stupid clichés,” Tol replied, dodging the swing and bringing his elbow up in the goblin’s face, breaking his nose. The third mate gasped as blood ran down his chin and splattered all over the floor.

“Aw, does ‘em have a boo-boo?” asked Tol, “Here, you can wipe it with this.” He whirled and hit the goblin squarely in the face with his foot, knocking him back a full meter against the wall. Tol grinned and turned to the other sailor, a half-ogre.

The second mate threw his pipe at Tol; while he was ducking the mate pulled a wicked illegally-boosted disruptor from his overjack pocket.

“I ain’t wasting no more time on ye, bilge rodent. Let’s see ye shrug
this
off!”

He aimed the pistol-grip carbine at Tol’s head and pulled the trigger. Tol waited until the last possible split-second before dropping down and plowing directly into his opponent’s solar plexus, lifting him bodily off the ground and painfully smashing him obliquely into the doorframe. The second mate kept trying to shoot Tol, but the charges hit random targets around the room, once of them being the third mate’s leg. The mate howled in pain and rolled on the deck as the maximum energy bolt turned his calf into a burnt sausage.

Finally Tol kicked the second mate savagely in the knee; as he bent over to grab the injured joint Tol yanked the gun out of his grip. He handed the weapon to Fevins.

“Aren’t ye gonna use it on ‘em?” The boatswain asked, surprised.

“Nah. I never use a gun where my fists will do just fine. Less chance of collateral damage. Right, stumpy?” Tol replied, nodding at the third mate, still clutching his leg in agony.

The second mate lunged clumsily at him. Tol stepped aside and used his assailant’s own weight and momentum against him, driving his head into the end of a berth and laying him out cold. Tol wiped some splattered blood off his jack with a towel while Fevins looked on in admiration.

“You sure know your way around a fight, Tol,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’ve been in a couple here and there,” Tol answered, grinning.

“What is the all the ruckus in here?” demanded the first mate, who had suddenly appeared at the doorway. “Where are my officer...” He tailed off as he saw the second and third mates lying unconscious and grimacing in pain, respectively.

“Sorry, sir, they’re... otherwise engaged at present,” explained Fevins.

“Who did this?” he was almost screaming.

Tol stepped forward. “Guilty as charged. But they really had it coming.”

This revelation presented the first mate a puzzle with most of the pieces missing. He looked at the incapacitated officers and back at Tol. “Why did you attack my officers. Who
are
you?”

“D’ya want those questions answered in that order?” Tol asked, scratching under his ear.

“I don’t care what bloody order you answer them in. Bo’s’n! Go fetch the surgeon for these poor gents.”

“I took them down in self-defense, as your bo’s’n will attest. My name is Tol.”

“Well, Tol,” he said the name derisively, “The captain will decide what happens to you. Let’s go.”

“I’m right behind you, mate.”

“You will address me as ‘sir:’ got that?”

“Yes sir, got it, sir. You can still call me Tol.”

The first mate did not respond, but led Tol by the arm toward the bridge.

They entered the wheelhouse and a kindly old man in a captain’s jack turned to greet them.

“Ah, there you are, first mate. I have been looking for you.” He stopped and regarded Tol and a strange expression passed across his face. “Have we met?” he said to Tol. Tol regarded the Knight Commander of the Crimson medallion on his pocket. “It’s entirely possible. My name is Tol.”

The first mate stood there in shock at this exchange. “Captain, this... person is responsible for seriously injuring the second and third mates not fifteen minutes ago on the crew deck. He claims self-defense.”

The captain was still staring at Tol, as though trying to remember something. “What have you to say on the matter of battery upon two ship’s officers, Tol?”

“Those officers, captain, were running an impress gang. This ship is a haven for sentient slavery.”

“What? That’s a preposterous charge. I have merchant mariner contracts for every member of my crew.”

“Forged by the second mate,” said Tol.

The captain walked over and unlocked an oak filing cabinet set into one wall. He pulled out a file and handed it to Tol.

“Here is the paper you signed when you joined this crew.”

Tol laughed. “It says my full name is Tal, I was a stonemason’s helper before, and I come from Fenurian. That’s not even close. Neither is the signature.”

He picked up a pen and signed his full name and title on the back of the contract. The captain picked it up and read it.

“Sir Tol-u-ol of Sebacea, Special Investigator, Tragacanth Edict Enforcement Bureau.”

Tol pushed past the first mate and shook hands with the captain using the special Knights of the Crimson recognition ritual. The light finally dawned in the old seafarer’s eyes.

“I was at your knighting ceremony in Goblinopolis! You’re that new Knight-Protector.”

He turned a little pale, “And...b-b-brother to His Majesty Tragacanth.”

The first mate and Fevins, who had just appeared after taking the surgeon to the injured officers, gasped and took an involuntary step back. The first mate suddenly disappeared.

The captain sat down heavily in his command chair. “I’m honored to have a member of the Royal Family on board the
Grollnash
, but I...I don’t know how to answer your allegations of slavery. That is not something I could ever condone.”

“I always figured you knew nothing about it, Knight-Commander. You’ve been the victim of a sophisticated organized criminal activity perpetrated by a couple of career hoods. I’ll bet when I run those lugs back in Goblinopolis they come back with a rap sheet an arm long.”

“You’ll have to do it
in absentia
, I’m afraid,” the first mate said, coming back onto the bridge. “I just went to check on them and they appeared to have taken one of the life boats and cast off.”

“What?” exclaimed the captain, “In these seas? They’ll be swamped before they’ve made twenty lengths.”

“Whatever else he may be, Second Mate Hinyak is a fine sailor,” replied the first mate, “They might make it to land; the Paradiddle Islands are only a day’s hard row from here.”

Tol shrugged. “At any rate, you’ve got a hold full of unwilling crew members down there who need to be given the option to return to wherever they were impressed. I’ll be overseeing that personally.”

“Understood,” answered the captain, “And it looks as though I need a new second mate.” He stared pointedly at Fevins. “Bo’s’n, I’ve watched you grow as a sailor over the past years. I think you’re ready to take on more responsibility. How would you feel if I offered you a commission in the Merchant Marines?”

Fevins looked startled for a moment, but regained his composure quickly. “Captain, as a friend and mentor of mine once told me, when opportunity drives by, ye better run after it and jump on.” Tol chuckled at this. “I’d be honored to serve as yer officer,” Fevins continued.

“Excellent. Step over here and we’ll sign the papers and take care of the oath.”

“Oath?” asked Tol.

“Every Merchant Marine officer takes an oath to serve the nation offering the commission, which in this case is obviously Tragacanth,” explained the first mate,“Ordinarily the oath is accepted by the captain, standing in for the king, but since a member of the Royal Family is present, protocol demands that you hear and either accept or deny the oath.”

Tol nodded. As he did, he reflected on the changes he’d undergone in the months since his knighting. The oath-taking seemed perfectly natural now; two years ago he would have rolled his eyes and made some disparaging comment if asked to participate in such a ceremony.

“Repeat after me,” the captain said, once Fevins and Tol were in place, “I, Fevins of Zekka, do here solemnly swear to uphold the edicts and customs of Tragacanth, to discharge my duties as a commissioned officer faithfully and to the utmost of my ability, to treat fairly and with due honor all whom I encounter, and obey my superior officers without question unless ordered to perform any act contrary to my oath or edict. So swear I on the honor of my ancestors.” When Fevins had completed the Oath, Tol looked at the captain.

“Are you satisfied with this sailor’s oath and intentions, Knight-Commander?”

“Aye, that I am, Knight-Protector. He will make a fine officer.”

“Then on behalf of His Majesty Tragacanth I hereby accept this oath and authorize the issuance of an officer’s commission in the Tragacanthan Merchant Marine. Congratulations, Second Mate.”

After the oath, Fevins signed the commissioning papers and officer’s contract. The Captain then handed his insignia of rank to the first mate, who pinned them on Fevins’ new officer’s shirt as he stood at attention. “Welcome to the officer corps, Second Mate Fevins,” said the captain. Fevins saluted smartly. “A pleasure to serve under ye, sir. I’ll never let ye down, even unto me last breath.”

“And he’s a good hand in a scrap, as well,” Tol added. Fevins was glad he’d never learned how to blush as a lad.

“Well, Mr. Fevins. You’ve been just been commissioned an officer in the presence of not one, but two Knights of the Crimson,” the first mate said, “I can’t remember another officer being so honored in all the proud history of the
Grollnash
. Congratulations.”

“Being honored makes me weak in the knees, begging yer pardons. May I be excused so I can have a sit down?” Fevins asked.

“Of course, Mr. Fevins. You’ll need to be moving into the officers’ quarters now, anyway. Dismissed.”

As the new second mate made his way to the bridge door, the Captain called after him. “Oh, and Mr. Fevins: once you’re ready to report for duty, I want you interview the entire crew one at a time and get me the names and ports of call of everyone who does not want to be part of this crew. We will take them back to their chosen port and while I don’t have a great deal of money, I will share what I do have among them in partial recompense for their forced labor.”

“Yes, captain. Thank you, sir!”

The Captain sat down at his desk and wrote out a parchment. “I hereby declare Jovsox of Correq and Hinyak of Terimpu Outlaws of the High Seas. Any duly-appointed captain of merchant marines or registered private vessel may arrest, hold, and if necessary, execute one or both without further writ or release.”