Tarifax – World of The Misplaced Dungeon

{Timeline: March 2019 – MD from Ch. 87 – AoRB Prologue & Ch. 01}

Mary was feeling bored. It had been a few hours since anything interesting had occurred to her. She really wanted to get her hands on some liftwood, it would just by its existence cause a furore and then she could use it to goad Cass.

‘Right Tarifax, a right dump. Honestly are all those New Gods a bunch of morons? Why the beep were they encouraging the locals to burn all that sulphurous coal. Sulphuric acid, even greatly diluted sulphuric acid was no joke. Fixable, yes, but not nice.’

‘Right, I need an agent, and from what I can see it had best be a male human. Well, a sea human, I can’t create humans after all. I suspect I will need to enhance him, too. ’K so be it.’

Mary stirred and concentrated. Down in one of her caves a shape took form, a tall, strong looking, dark haired sea human male. His head filled with a full life story and many skills, a mix of Earth and Parthia, but mostly Parthia. Rich Burton remembered growing up in the Blue Lagoon and he knew the Manga decorated children’s dungeon.

Rich remembered visiting and spending time on Earth and even spending a stint in the marines. He woke and knew what Mother desired of him, he also knew with absolute certainty that she wished him well and if he wanted he would be allowed to ignore her and make his own way on Earth or on Parthia. He smiled and stretched. He tested his body and rejoiced.

Rich dressed, he donned the light flexible chainmail shirt and leggings and strapped on his broadsword and stored the heater shield in his storage device. The twin colt dragoons he inspected closely before storing them too, along with their tools and cleaning kit.

Then he examined the elaborate breather mask that had been lying next to his things. He tried it on a few times to ensure he could don it easily when needed. It reminded him, not surprisingly, of a gas mask. Then there was the heavy hooded oilcloth cloak. He somehow knew it would resist acid. This he stored.

That left the other storage device. He found it contained a generous supply of trade goods and twenty breather masks. These were far more basic than his, lacking the specialised enchantments.

“I’m ready Mother.”

Mary materialised her avatar in the cave. “Good. You know what I want and you’re happy to do this. It will be risky an’ my reach on Tarifax is tenuous an’ will remain so until you get my marble into one of the local seas. An ocean would be ideal.”

“Yes Mother, I’m ready. To be honest I can’t wait to see another world, to explore, to be the first.”

Mary laughed. “Well, you will be the first, sort of. Good luck Rich. Don’t forget you can always use the marble to contact me. If you can learn something about the local gods all the better, but that is optional. Lewis will see you to Tarifax.”

Mary suddenly remembered something she had seen in the little scarfaced pixie’s mind. “Considerin’ how screwed up Conimbriga is, if you want a local guide you’ll have to buy one. I believe the Caradix Emporium is one of the best place to find slaves.”

Rich made a face, “Can’t say I like the idea of a slave but if needs must. I will need a local guide. How can I tell if he or she is trustworthy and not a liar?”

“Rich, oh Rich, check your abilities. You can detect lies. As for trustworthy,” Mary spread her hands and shrugged. “Promise them their freedom and a lucrative job if they do a good job. No guaranties but it might work. It’s a twisted world, slavery is the only way the poor have of stayin’ alive thanks to the poison in the atmosphere.”

* * *

Rich Burton stepped through the back door of the rather seedy eating-place. He drew the attention of the two patrons who were perched on tall stools in front of a long bar. The bronze collared rabbit ’folk woman who was acting as cook and waitress acknowledged him with a nervous curtsey. His cold blue eyes swept the room and with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword Rich slipped his mask on with the other before striding out into the street.

A roar of mixed joy and despair came from the arena as he left the narrow grubby eatery. At least it proved easy to obtain a cab this close to one of Conimbriga’s arenas. It wasn’t a firewaggon, just something that had more than a passing resemblance to one of the old hansom cabs. Only on Earth the horses weren’t fitted with bulky breathers.

Rich strolled into the Caradix Emporium trying to look as if he owned the place. One of the footmen came up and took his cloak and breather mask. Footman XI passed the gentleman a claims tag and hurried to alert the sales force that they had an extremely rich foreigner in the Emporium.

Sales VII hurried to be in place to meet the new customer. Sales XIV nodded and withdrew glad to cede the place to his more experienced colleague.

Sales VII bowed politely when the stranger entered. The customer was armed and armoured, that in itself was unusual but unless he was mistaken that chainmail was made from mithril. Sales VII held his bow for slightly longer than was strictly appropriate before straightening. “How may the Caradix Emporium serve you master?”

Rich nodded perfunctorily and smiled slightly at this gold collared slave. “I have only recently arrived in your fair city and I have need of a valet and a guide. The guide should know some of the less salubrious areas and inhabitants as I have in mind a... Well, let us say a somewhat risky venture.”

Sales VII bowed again and led the way deeper into the Emporium. He was thinking furiously. He suspected he knew the ideal guide but he doubted this arrogant foreigner would agree. As for a valet, there were several possibilities.

Soon the display room held the six slaves the Emporium considered the best suited to act as valets. Sales VII shivered in apprehension as the customer looked at him with narrowed suspicious eyes.

Rich invoked his ability and ascertained that these six slaves were the most suitable valets. He turned his attention to the slaves in question. “Show me your hands please.” Rich moved down the line and then returned to the short stocky – half dwarf? He looked to be a half dwarf and those calluses looked to be similar to the ones he gained as a result of wielding a sword.

Sorenar looked up at the man standing in front of him. His chainmail was finer than any he had ever seen. Superb workmanship and it was mithril. As was the pommel and guard on his broadsword.

Rich snorted, “How did you get those boy?” he asked indicating the calluses on Sorenar’s hands.

Sales VII held his face expressionless with some effort.

Sorenar answered as he had been coached, “I used to cut wood for my father, master.”

Rich snarled, “Never lie to me again. Now, tell me the true tale.”

Sorenar jerked back slightly. “I—I used to use a sword, m-master.”

Rich stared for a few minutes before producing a large coin that he tossed to Sales VII. “I’ll take him and I want to see him in a silver collar. Not having a valet in leather or bronze.”

Sales VII glanced at the coin in his hand and bowed so low his forehead almost touched the floor. “It shall be as you desire, master.”

The new selection of slaves was a far scruffier band. Rich looked long and hard at Sales VII before turning to question the assembled band, finally he decided.

“So, Sales VII, any more or is this it?”

“There are a few others, master, but they don’t know the city as well.”

“Very well. I’ll take him,” Rich pointed to a short slender man with a greenish tint to his skin and a mouthful of sharp teeth. “And her,” this time he pointed to a wheezing, slightly hunched elf girl.

Rich produced three gold Nobles. “Will this cover it? And stick the girl in a pool of preferably salt water and let her use her gills before they dry up and take her lungs with them. I have no use of a dead sea elf. Bronze collars, I think.”

“Yes, master, your will be done,” agreed Sales VII.

= = = O = = =

Overseer IX watched bemused as the elf girl clung to the bottom of the pool, her skin fluttering at the sides of her chest as her gills worked to expel the water she was breathing in. He had assumed the idiot noble was killing the elf but—

Trainer XIX finished exchanging two of the newly purchased slaves collars and was waiting to fit the water breathing elf with the bronze collar her owner had purchased. “I thought that one was going to die soon. What made you think of trying to drown her and why haven’t you done it before if it works.”

“Her owner ordered it. He said something about her gills collapsing and taking her lungs with them.”

“That’s a new one on me. That carver that came in with this one is in much the same state. Maybe we should stick him in the pool too.”

“Let us see if it does this one any good first.”

* * *

Minnow endured. Her gills were hurting as the fresh water of the shallow pool tried to leach out the salt they needed. But already she could feel her body recovering, she was breathing, she was no longer exhausted.

‘How did he know? How did my new master know? How much does he know?’ the thoughts went round and round in her head.

Finally, all too soon one of the overseers pulled her out of the pool by the rope that was tied round her waist. One of the trainers removed her collar and replaced it with a bronze one. Minnow stood straight and fingered her new collar in resignation.

The overseer was examining her minutely, and then he said, “Try to see if the carver will benefit from a ducking Trainer XIX.”

* * *

Artificer III carefully examined the breather masks the foreign noble had provided for his new slaves. They were of good workmanship and used chemical reactions to filter the air. The idea was ingenious and effective. The chemical reservoirs needed to be exchanged frequently but it looked to be easy to do. They wouldn’t last as long as a properly enchanted breather but they would be far cheaper. He’d have to find something to replace that flexible material but it would not be difficult to recreate these.

After asking when the slaves would be ready to be turned over to their new owner he went in search of the supervisor. He demonstrated the masks and showed him the chemical reservoirs.

“Master, would it be possible to obtain at least one of these and a couple of recharge packs. They should be cheaper to produce than the current models, and any competent craftsman could do the job with the help of an alchemist or chemist.”

Darintus Galeontar rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Return to your tasks Artificer III, and thank you for bringing this to my notice.”

* * *

Eldaan stood quietly beside the valet. He was feeling shocked, he had expected to end up as a sacrifice for one of the arenas. He had after all been taken up as a thief and his blood was another count against him. But expendables did not end up wearing metal collars. The collar meant he had some rights, not as many as the valet in his silver but he couldn’t – legally – be disposed of out of hand.

Eldaan waited quietly, motionlessly while the valet kept looking round and fidgeting. When the elf girl finally arrived Eldaan was surprised. She was walking straight and smoothly, no longer shuffling along. Her face did show signs of strain.

The valet seemed to collect himself from wherever his mind had been wandering. “Our new master is a truth-reader,” he warned sotto voiced just before one of the overseers led them out of the holding room. As they left, one of the artificers handed them each a breather mask. Eldaan promptly examined his carefully as if his life depended on it, as in fact it did.

They found their new master frowning at a tray containing several elegant bottles while a ring on his right hand flickered redly. Eldaan suppressed a grin Hardin Brandy and Gulph Wine not to mention Tincture of Suulmar. Slow poisons all, very popular but they were addictive and would kill you in the end.

Eldaan watched his new master carefully trying to take a measure of the man that held his life in his hands. His master looked them over and his lips thinned when they rested on the elf girl, then he produced two – pads? From some kind of bag of holding, only his bag of holding didn’t need a bag! The pads were handed to the elf.

* * *

Minnow was startled anew; her new master passed her a pair of gill guards. She hastily raised her tunic and used them. The enchantments were solid if slightly strange; they seemed to incorporate an automatic release if submerged.

Half an hour later Minnow found herself entering a DUNGEON! Their owner strolled though the back door a nice eatery and they were in the dungeon! Many of the themes featured the sea or coastal areas such as mangrove swamps. Finally they slipped through a hidden door into a nice set of rooms that overlooked a large pool.

Then their new master, Rich Burton, explained everything. He was the agent of a sea goddess who was fighting the New Gods. A year’s faithful service and then they would be freed. Rich swore it in his goddess’ name. And they could move to a better world if they wanted.

= = = O = = =

Captain Bordal Vitrius stared glumly at the half filled tankard of ale on the rickety table in front of him. Dercat Gutripper was snoring with his head resting on the table. Gunner Telman was contemplating the collection of empty tankards that he had collected throughout the afternoon.

One of the scantily clad leather collared barmaids of the Flying Pig Tavern came round with a jug and filled one of Gunner’s tankard and collected the empties while he was distracted.

Gunner blinked blearily at the empty table, “That was sn-sneaky of he-her c-cap.” *hic*

Bordal eyed his chief gunner and despaired. They had had a bad couple of cruises and the Silver Sparrow needed urgent repairs. She was still worth a pretty penny and if he sold her he would be able to live for several years but he’d have to go back to work for some conniving townsman.

Gunner and Bordal ignored the sound of two shots coming from the street. They clashed their tankards and drank. Gunner sighed and joined Dercat on the table.

Captain Bordal contemplated his loyal crew and signalled for a refill. He watched incuriously as Greenie came through the door of the tavern. Greenie seemed to have done well, he was dressed better than was his habit. ‘Ah poor Greenie he’s been collared, bronze though I wonder why anyone would waste the ready doing that.’

The next person through the door was a rich man in a hooded cloak. Bordal’s eyes tracked to the girl that accompanied the rich man. ‘So he’s got his very own elven doxy, Bronze collar too.’

Then Bordal was jerked out of his contemplation by Greenie.

“Good afternoon, captain Bordal. My master is looking to charter a sky ship,” said Eldaan, “Are you interested?”

Captain Bordal blinked, ‘damn it of all the times to be drunk,’ he grumbled to himself.

“I could be interested, yes. But I’ll need something up front greenie.”

Eldaan smiled showing many teeth. “I’m sure my master won’t be unreasonable, captain. And I feel I should warn you he’s a truth-reader.”

Bordal hissed in disgust, in his view truth-readers were only slightly less obnoxious than mages. Then the rich man was standing by his table with a faint odour of gunpowder about him. The doxy stood at his shoulder and was watching the tavern with wary eyes.

Captain Bordal signed to one of waitresses. “Sit, sit, do you fancy anything, sir?” then he turned to the waitress who was eying the elven doxy with distaste. “Get me a coffee and a sobriety potion, and get the gentleman whatever he wants.”

Rich looked round the dirty tavern and the ill washed tankards, “I’ll have an ale, please.”

Once captain Bordal was feeling more himself they got down to serious bargaining. Once a preliminary agreement had been reached they withdrew to examine the Silver Sparrow. An untouched tankard of ale remained on the table.

* * *

Rich could see that the Silver Sparrow was – well worn. It had obviously been in the wars at some point in the recent past and needed some loving care in the form of the attentions of a shipyard. Eldaan kept up an informative running commentary in a low slightly hissing voice.

He smiled blandly at captain Bordal, impressed that the man had managed to get this near wreck safely to harbour. This could be just what he needed to fulfil Mother’s wishes. He placed a hand a hand on Eldaan’s shoulder and squeezed gently, approvingly.

“So, captain, I believe we can do business but, but I will require a formal contract. The base duration will be one year. You will go where I say though you will be allowed, nay, encouraged to tell me if something I wish is – inadvisable. I will pay the crew’s salaries at the standard rate and purchase the necessary supplies. You will arrange for suitable repairs and I will negotiate with the shipyard of your choice to have them carried out. I do not guarantee that I will not use a different shipyard should your chosen yard seem exorbitant. You will be paid a sum at the end of the first year.”

Captain Bordal wasn’t happy. This would mean they would be shackled to this stranger for one year. They would be in debt to him for one year, or as good as and that would give him rather more power over them than he liked. But he would keep the Silver Sparrow and they would be free at the end of the year, and they would have a sum of cash.

The two men retired to shipyards office to discuss the terms of the contract and then they involved the representative of the shipyard to discuss the necessary repairs, timetables and costs. Some hours later everything was signed and agreed and both lawyers present were grumbling. Nobody liked truth-readers after all. They tended to act like grit in the smooth operation of business as usual.