[piosenniel]

Elora's post

Ruiel swore plainly as she shook her booted foot free of the puddle she had been forced to leap into. The wagon clattered past, laden with vegetables, the driver not so much as glancing at the person he had nearly run down as he flicked the reins over the rumps of his horse team. Her lips twisted in disgust as the filthy water, oily and dirty, was shaken off. She tugged her hood down further and continued on with her head doggedly bowed.

She was late, on account of Dryea being missing from the Tower! Both daughters were traitors. The thought was sour in her stomach, along with the fact that maternal concern had made her a fool in going to fetch Dryea when she should have left her there. It would be the last time Ruiel ever gave any concern to a hide other than her own. The smell of the docks was redolent in the air. She was close now.

The cry of hawkers with all manner of intriguing wares that would be quickly tucked away at the merest sniff of the Steward's Guard or Customs Officers was everywhere. Ruiel ignored them all, her destination clearly in mind. She jostled and shouldered her way through the press, searching for the ship.

She found Captain Trelan in his customary guise as a civilian ship's master in short order. The dock would not be so crowded were he standing there in his true garb. He turned, shouting an order for the loading of cargo and stopped as Ruiel stepped forward. He smiled and nodded lightly to her.

"Something amusing Captain?" Ruiel was not in a humourous fram of mind.
"Only that I'm a good 3 gold wealthier than I was before seeing you."
"Gambling is a vice of these weak Gondorian rabble that will only lead you into disolute ways," Ruiel stated firmly. Trelan paid her no heed, familiar with Ruiel over many years now.

"Likely," he replied before calling for his First Mate. Eric loped down the boarding plank nimbly, noted Ruiel and then threw his arm back up in the direction of the horizon.

"There's people as you're already knowin' aship," he drawled.
"Eric," Captain Dalon mildly said. Eric scowled at the wooden dock planks.
"We're getting read to set to, C'ptan..." Ruiel left the pair to sort out whether Eric was good for the 3 gold he'd wagered on Ruiel emerging and alternative forms of payment.

Ruiel ascended the gangplank and stood in the prow, watching the departing ship. She'd sort out those passengers soon enough. The rattle of the anchor chain being wound chinked and wobbled as men cinched it up. Ruiel turned from her study and made her way through the tangle of ropes and men dashing about to get to their posts. Ruiel was below deck as she heard Eric call, "Slip the moors!"

Within the hour, she sat with her cloak removed in Trelan's quarters. The Corsair sat across from her, war hardened face speculative and his fingers steepled before him.

"Tell me Madame, how are your daughters?" Ruiel twirled the glass of thick Umbarian brandy in her fingers and only smiled.

"They are Morthaniawen, Captian. Therein lies your answer."

Trelan smiled back at the viper across from him and wondered how long it would be before one Morthaniawen asp claimed ascendancy. It would be a good fight, and he fancied Eric might find some more gold to wager. He raised his glass in salute at Umbar's longest serving spy and the woman that had been responsible for Trelan winning a handsom share of wagers and Eric's ongoing penury.

[ October 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]