Chapter 53

Worth More Than The Hoard

Barnacle-eyes

Sails snapped in the wind. Snow came down biting like needles on my skin. It was cold but the sun laid warmth on my skin. A sun that would soon be in my eyes every midday as I sailed forth. Was that adventure I smelled? What sound beckoned me? The sound of crashing against the hull as the sea came alive after a day of rest?

I marched across the deck, half daydreaming of the coming adventure, the unknown, mooring at human territory docks, and exploring human cities. Powdery snow blew out from beneath every stomp and clomp of my boots. I put myself right next to Abigail and put a foot between hers.

Intrigue was in the tall human’s eyes. Her hair whipped about her face. Her eyes offered a blue break from the cloudy skies. Her cloak was thick and navy. She wore the piece like it was fall, like other magic warded the chill instead. Her tunic was the color of crisp onion skin. Her pants were green like dark moss. And her boots…

I switched feet and put my other boot between hers. I held onto her cloak for balance.

…her boots were slender from heel to toe. Soft brown leather. Enough lace to rig a small raft with. They were smaller than my boots, perhaps by half a plier’s head.

Abigail said, “is there something wrong with my feet?”

“Nope, nothing wrong,” I said.

I removed my boot from between hers and turned away. I sprinted straight to the deckhouse, slammed my secret canvas list onto the map table and clutched my writing utensil in a fist. I scribbled down Abigail’s name; that her boots were a plier’s head smaller than mine.

I returned the list to my inventory and scuttled across the deck to Thrush, whose tongue lay out in wait for snowflakes, hanging like frog skin left to cure.

His fur was black lately. Smokey. His claw tips dug into planks. The colors of dreambons and leaves and coal filled his massive irises. I gazed into them for a moment and recollected gashed open goblin bellies. Hard memories. Violent memories.

I tore my eyes from his and put my boot beside his feet—his paws.

Thrush’s throat rumbled and he said, “what are you looking for?”

“I’m just sizing up some feet,” I said, sliding my heel to run parallel with his.

“Paws too?”

“You’re my crew mate and friend! Gotta size your paws up too.”

A whole plier’s smaller than mine! I dropped to the deck, pinned my secret canvas list upon the powdery snow and attacked it with my writing utensil. I then rushed over to Hawkin, measured his boots and noted his name and measurements, once again pinning my canvas list to the sloop deck. Hawkin’s shadow tilted its head as I focused on writing.

“One, one half,” I murmured.

Hawkin crouched beside me and said, “what are you counting?”

“Boot size, but next I have to count spare boards. A task is a task until it’s someone else’s promotion!”

I abruptly left Hawkin and sprinted to the barrels lined up between the staircase and the door to the deckhouse. Barrels that held planks of wood. I stowed away my secret canvas list, brought out my inventory list, and started counting planks.There were 13 in one, and 22 in another. 7 in a barrel beside the opposite staircase. That wasn’t all. There were more below deck where it was dark and toasty. I was surprised to see light when I descended to the cargo hold. Hawkin and Abigail were there, and the gold rank Brewer held up a beer bottle. From the neck of the glass raced a green and yellow flame. She held the bottle out to give light to Hawkin who was investigating the contents of a barrel.

Hawkin stood straight. His eyes found mine. He smiled and said, “nine in this one.”

Something sniffed like an animal in the darkness. The most recessed part of the cargo hold.

“Thrush?” I said after a gulp.

“Nine in this one too,” Thrush said.

I turned back to find Abigail coming out of a dive into yet another barrel. She came up with a small palm sized block of wood.

“Does this count?” She said.

“If it can be counted, it counts,” I said.

“Then there are six boards in this one.”

My friends were helping! And—wow how fast we were going! My weekly inventory was taking nearly half a breath! All the barrels of planks that remained to be counted were in the dark where Thrush resumed sniffing. I moved onto my next count.

“How many barrels of Dellia’s dungeon beer number one,” I said.

“Thirty-two,” Hawkin said.

Utensil in hand like a dagger, I stabbed and carved onto my inventory list. Thrush’s sniffing stopped as I finished writing out 32.

“Thrush?” I called.

“I counted the last four barrels of boards,” he said. “Thirty-seven.”

“There’s more in the forecastle, but I’ll count those myself. Now onto canvas.”

But Hawkin and Abigail were returning from above deck, having slipped their unseen minutes before. Hawkin held the flaming bottle of beer. Abigail held folds of ripped canvas.

“We counted all the canvas sails in barrels,” Hawkin said. “There are twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-nine once I repair this one,” Abigail said.

Again from darkness Thrush said, “Forty-seven goblin ear wax candles in this one.”

I slashed and scribbled at my inventory list. Just as I finished, Thrush exhumed himself from the shadows, carrying a large 15.5 gallon barrel. He dropped it and it clapped against the flooring. He raised a paw over the lidless barrel and streamed dreambons from his inventory until the barrel was full.

“Dreambons!” I said.

Thrush slammed the barrel head on, tipped it, and rolled it toward the forecastle.

“You can keep this one private just for yourself,” he said.

I was speechless. We would have dreambons for days and those were all mine! Mine to share! I turned to tell Hawkin and Abigail the good news, but paused when I found Hawkin sitting beside Abigail, coopering something sapling bound.

“That’s small for a barrel,” I said.

Hawkin said, “you’ve always wanted bailing buckets on hand so I thought I’d give you some, just in case.”

My heart felt so full. So light like it was made of clouds. Without my trusty boots, I’d probably float away like I’d gotten drunk on Thrush’s Anti-gravity ale. I wanted to say thank you to Abigail who pulled thread and needle. Instead I pirouetted and screamed, “dreambons!” I skipped to the forecastle.

Thrush was patiently waiting for me, Using his forearm sized teeth to smile. Even though I knew him, I trembled beneath his gaze as I rummaged for my sloop’s skeleton key and unlocked the door to my private quarters.

I lit a candle by my cot side. The back wall came to life in sparkles—my treasure, almost my entire hoard spilled from stacked loot chests and barrels against the far wall. Something I could build a powerful fleet with. Something I could raise and love a fleet of goblins with!

“This is where my hoard is,” I said. “All my treasure. Most of my coin. You’re friend, so you can come in.”

“I can’t wait to sail to Omes Arbor,” Thrush said and entered, rolling the barrel to a wall and tipping it upright. “We might stay there for a week or two. Have you ever been there?”

“Not me. Can’t wait!”

Thrush left the room, nearly singing, “I can’t wait to get my paws on more elodon ribs… See an old acquaintance or two.”

I followed right on his heels, locking the forecastle door behind me.

I heard Abigail exclaim, “Twenty-nine sails!”

“Forty coils of line,” Hawkin hollered.

I ran to the light of the bottle Hawkin held aloft. I dropped to my knees beneath it, and in my own shadow, scribbled ‘40 coils of line’.

That was it, that was the last of my inventory. But there was one private thing I wanted to do before returning to my shed up in Hawkin’s clearing. So after everybody disembarked, I sprinted to the forecastle once more, led by my lit ear wax candle. I threw open the door and bounded up to my glittering hoard. I saw myself in the reflection of a shiny copper piece. My eyes were so big and black in the dim light!

I brought out my secret canvas list and held it to my chest.

I could put this with the hoard, but that’s in plain sight. This must be kept hidden!

I thought and I thought and I thought. I paced. I muttered. I scratched my head. When I tired of pacing, I circled my hoard. That’s when sense made sense.

In the space between my hoard and the back wall, I dropped to my knees. I used my Replace Plank skill and removed a plank of wood. Then I removed another one beneath it, leaving a hollow space. I gently lay my secret list in the hollow, folded in thirds and tied with a shoelace. Before placing the top plank over the hollow, I used my Ship Builder skill to bore a finger sized hole in the middle near an edge. My skill leveled up to 62.