[Child of the 7th Age]

At first, Luindal had no idea how this mishap could possibly have happened. He had carefully inspected all the rigging and the mast the morning before. Everything had been in perfect shape at that time. The wind blowing through the Bay was brisk, but not so forceful that a healthy main mast could be sheered off from the force of the storm.

Luindal worked steadily with his crew to rig up a gerrymandered sail on the lower half of the mast. It would at least give them limited ability to maneuver the ship till they could put in at port again to secure another mast. Yet all the while the Elf worked, he was furiously reflecting on how this could possibly come about. It must somehow be linked, he reflected, on the unexplained incident from last night when the Corsairs had been discovered in barrels that the merchants had loaded onto the ship. Exactly what had Marreth been trying to accomplish then? Undoubtedly, he wanted his men to stay hidden until the barrels were stowed in the hull. At that point, late at night, the Corsairs could creep out and visit all manner of havoc on both the men and the ship Still, the risk of discovery was unacceptably high, and Marreth must have known that. It was common practice for the Captain of a ship to check two or three random containers to make certain the merchants had properly packed and transported the goods. And while some of the barrels were filled only with supplies, a great many also hid a stowaway. The odds were quite good that the Corsairs would be discovered before they ever got below deck.

Perhaps the real reason for the incident was that it was planned as a diversion, to take the Elves' attention away from something else that was suposed to happen. A grimace of realization passed over Luindal's face as he gestured to his men to halt their work. He quickly mounted the main mast and climbed to the spot where it had snapped in two. Closely examining the jagged spears of wood, he could see what appeared to be the bottom half of a smooth tunnel bored expertly through its very center. He glanced over at a rope that now swung free: a small piece of parchment had been painstakingly tied to it at some earlier point. Ripping the dagger from his side, he sliced through the rope, retrieved the note, and quickly scanned it.

Grim faced but silent, Luindal climbed downward and thrust the message into the outstretched hands of Rôg and Galhardir who were both waiting at the base of the mast. Rôg looked it over and quipped, "Marreth, again! He is like a cat with a dozen lives. You never know where he'll turn up next. Strange, though," he pondered, "that he should write with such a scholar's hand."