velvetpage | Annarisse's Journal

Annarisse softly closed the door to her cabin and sighed. The two children had finally fallen into a troubled sleep, the screams of dying seamen still ringing in their ears. She feared they would be injured in the mind with the violence they witnessed. Worse was the fear that they would lose their compassion for their fellow creatures as they became accustomed to the violence. The Captain did not seem to recognize this danger. Annarisse straightened her spine. He would have to be made aware.

She found a spot near the railing and watched as the longboat carrying the prisoners was launched from the beach. The Curado had finally fallen to Captain Salvatore. It had been his stated goal, she knew, from long before the sinking of his first ship a few months before, to best Captain Ferrante. But from the moment that ship had sunk, with Salvatore near death in the last longboat to escape it, his one purpose in life had been revenge. Though her piety rebelled at the thought and all her training urged her to reject it, Annarisse admitted to herself, in the quietness of her heart, that she also had sought revenge. As the longboat came within hailing distance of the ship, she said prayers for the souls of those so recently killed in battle. She was all the more fervent in her prayers for knowing that on some level, she had wanted them dead. She then recited, as had become her habit each day, prayers for the souls of the sailors and villagers lost at Salthaven, the village which the Curado had destroyed while sinking, indeed annihilating, the ship Spirit of Midchain. She thought of each of those whom she had known personally, down to the smallest mouse, and once more shed tears for all they had lost. For her desire for revenge, she resolved to do penance, but later. Now the longboat was here, and the prisoners were boarding the vessel. She was needed.

First to board was a gray fox, wearing cleric’s robes and an iron holy symbol of St. Heloise. She had seniority over him in the Church; she certainly had authority over him here. She drew her nobility around her and put its force into her voice when she spoke.

“Tell me about this diving bell,” she told him.

“Well, Sister,” he replied, with a bit of a sneer in his voice, “It is a device of my own invention, quite ingenious, really, which the unlearned among you,” here he looked down his long snout at her, “could not hope to understa-“

“Get to the point!” Her voice cut through his pomposity in much the way a cannonball had recently destroyed the mast of the Curado. The Captain started to move towards them. “Understand this: I am in charge here. You will answer my questions, fully and directly. Now.”

“Well, Sister,” and the sneer, though diminished, was still present, “Other diving bells have been made of wood, to retrieve simple objects from harbors. Never before has a bell been made which –“ He broke off at the feeling of a pistol pressed into his back.

“Please understand, good brother,” said the Captain in a silky voice, “That it would not be difficult to implicate you in the criminal activities at Salthaven which we have been sent to punish. It would, in fact, be quite easy to say that you had died from wounds received during the battle for the Corado.” He paused, and the gray fox gulped. “Try again. This time, follow the good sister’s directions. Address her with respect. She will not let me kill a man of the cloth without good reason. Do not give her, or me, reason.” He gestured to two sailors, who took the brother by each arm and held him a few inches off the deck. Annarisse looked on impassively while his tongue came out in a pant of panic. Then she stepped forward. Using her greater height and all the noble hauteur she could muster, she quietly said, “Let’s try this again, shall we? Do you know how to use this bell?”

“Yes, sister,” he replied, now scared and meek. “I invented it, after all.”

“Do you have maps to the – uhm, goods – which Captain Ferrante was seeking on the ocean floor?”

“The bat woman –“ he made a gesture to the bound, gagged bat mage a short distance away – “ was to perform the locating spells, following which I was to use the bell.”

Annarisse looked over at the cowering mage. “Is this true?” she asked, still with ice in her voice. The bat nodded. Annarisse turned her attention to the sailors holding the priest. “You know the cell on the port side of the slave hold? The one directly under my cabin?” They nodded. “Take him to it and lock him inside.”

“Should we put him in irons first, Sister?” one asked.

Her look grew colder, and her voice quieter. “Does one ever need to put a man of the cloth in irons like a common criminal?” she asked, dangerously. They shook their heads franticly, and Annarisse marveled at how completely their attitude to her had changed in the last few minutes. She gathered her thoughts and her holy symbol, and began to pray. After a few words, the brother started to pedal backwards with his feet in terror, which, since they were still hovering off the deck, accomplished nothing. She released the spell, then turned back to the sailors. “Lock him in the cell. No irons are necessary. Since he no longer has any books to study, I do not believe a lamp is necessary either. He will not perform any magic now. He knows what will happen if he tries.” Then she turned and walked away, leaving them to do her bidding.

The Captain was waiting for her on the poop deck, with the weasel girl in manacles in front of him. He looked at her inquiringly. “The cleric will give us no further trouble,” she told him. “He is subordinate to me in the Church, and he is quite thoroughly cowed.” She told him what the fox had told her about the bell; he nodded. Then she added, as the sailors were taking the weasel to the slave hold, “Is it really necessary to chain her up again? I simply can’t picture her involved in treachery.”

“Well, Sister, you must admit it looks bad for her. She left our ship freely, alone, supposedly to explore, and the next time we see her, she’s in the company of our enemies, dressed in their armour. I need to find out her part in this before trusting her on my ship again.” He sounded almost apologetic; apparently her performance with the priest had had an effect on him, too.

She thought a moment, then brightened. “You remember my prayer for penance?” He winced and nodded, looking around to see if any sailors had heard; none had, so he relaxed. “Well, I just cast it on the priest to keep him from making magical prayers. I can cast it on her, too, to keep her from lying. If she tries to lie, I will know, for the spell will be released back to me. Let me tell you how I think we should handle her.” Annarisse leaned closer and spoke quietly for a few moments. The Captain listened and smiled. “Do it,” was all he said.