Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tomscud@ruf.rice.edu (Thomas Reid Scudder) Subject: William at the docks... Message-ID: Date: Sun, 22 Aug 1993 19:50:46 GMT William watched as his former captive's ship left the docks. He had invested most of the small share of the loot he had left over after from his privateering (piracy, why not call it? You aren't fooling yourself, and who else is listening anyway?) in buying passage to Aragat, so the man could return to his more or less happy existence in Alasir. All William had left over was a small purse of mostly copper with a few silver coins. Practically worthless, given Generica's inflated prices. He shrugged and set off down the docks. It was the middle of the afternoon on a particularly scorching summer day, and everyone who could possibly get away from the docks and indoors somewhere had already done so. The only people in sight were a few laborers loading up a Rameshander ship, for starvation wages, no doubt, and an old man sitting at the end of the dock, fishing. The old man had a small wooden bucket beside him, in which splashed one or two previous catches. He had a rod of some sort of flexible wood. Through a hole in the top was threaded a thin rope of some sort (catgut, perhaps?) which was wound about a spool attached to its base, with its other end dangling in the water. William watched as something jerked on the other end of the line. The old man reeled it in, slowly, letting the fish have its way for a time. Suddenly there was a release of tension, and the old man fell over backwards. He sat up, rubbing his back, then noticed his audience. "Damn line snapped again," he said, shaking his head. "And that's my last one, too." He inspected the break for a few minutes, then looked back up at William. "Would you mind watching my fish for me while I go get me a new line? The Spitting Cobra always seems to have plenty of cat-gut left over for some reason, heh, heh, heh." William nodded, making a mental note never to eat at the Spitting Cobra no matter how impoverished he became. The old man stood up, and William suddenly realized just how tall he was. William was not a short man, but the stranger stood at least a head taller, although he probably didn't outweigh William by much, despite William's lanky build. The old man was wearing a loose, grey, motheaten shirt and a pair of worn-looking brownish pants. His hair and beard were terribly unkempt but seemed fairly full, if grey, and one of his blue eyes looked out from the fog of a cataract. He walked off, remarkably spry in the suffocating heat. William looked into the bucket. There were half a dozen or so fish flopping around. Most of them were hardly more than a finger in length, but one was at least an arm's length, and broad for its length. William wondered briefly how it had gotten in the bucket with the others. Certainly it seemed unlikely that the old man had caught it. He shrugged and sat down to watch the sea. His first warning that something was amiss was a *plotch* sound from behind him. He looked around and saw that the large fish from the bucket had somehow managed to escape from its prison. He sighed, got up, and walked over to pick it back up. Things were not that easy, however. The fish flopped just out of his reach every time he bent over to grab it. Finally, in frustration, he leaped and grabbed it as it was about to flop over into the harbor. William's stomach sank as he heard a large number of small objects scattering over the surface of the dock. He turned his head just in time to see half of his meager savings rolling between the boards of the pier and falling into the water. He cursed himself for his blindness, tossed the fish back into the bucket, and retrieved what he could of his coins. He'd be lucky to survive for three days on what was left. "Well, how are my fish, my lad?" William spun to glare at the old man and tell him what had happened. When he had finished, the old man shook his head sadly, and said, "If I had any money to pay you back with, be assured I would. But as it is, the best that I can offer you is revenge on the beast which caused you such troubles." With that, he grabbed the big fish from the bucket and handed it to William. "Here, I'll take my lunch with you." He grabbed a couple of the smaller fishes out of the bucket as well. William grudgingly followed the old man to the remains of a warehouse which had been blown down by some recent catastrophe. The man grabbed a couple of boards, then dragged them over to a nearby open area which had obviously housed a great many fires. While he got the fire started, William found some smaller sticks to cook the fish on. When his fish was finished, William drew his dagger, cut it open, and started cleaning it. He quickly stopped when something fell out of it, something which glinted in the sunlight. "Looks like the old bastard is payin' y' back." said the old man around a mouthful of fish. "I'd say y'r a pretty damn lucky fellow, I would." William looked at his new treasure. It was a locket of some sort, made of gold, finely carved with and abstract design, and suspended on a golden chain. He carefully opened the clasp. Inside was a tiny silver key. William closed the locket, put it over his head, and tucked it under his shirt. He'd have to show it to a jeweler somewhere. It looked like it would be worth a fair deal. He shook his head as he absent-mindedly tore into the fish. It looked like he had come out ahead on the deal after all. He stood, thanked the man for the meal, and headed off to find Dougl. Somehow, though, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that there had been more to his meeting than he had realized. He shrugged, and continued on his way. Tom Scudder aka William the Younger tomscud@ruf.rice.edu