Chapter XXIII
Swells Over Still Waters, Part 3: Bending(+Audiobook)
23rd Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year
I speak softly to your loosely held soul,
pleading not for time,
nor for life,
nor for ease.
I beg for guidance in the world below,
that I might find you
before your final peace
“Mourning Song”, From Sanctum of Souls Eulogy, Written by Saint Ründ in the Unreckoned Years
Petsune watches mindlessly as a half-empty bottle of something rolls back and forth across the decking, following the rise and fall of the waves. The smell of this ship is rancid, like rotten potatoes festering in mead on a hot day. Petsune overheard yesterday that the name of the ship is the King’s Haul. He finds it fitting since it makes him think of a heavy burden. There is some kind of rotating schedule for who is delegated what task, but with the addition of Petsune and Chapel, most of the unfavorable tasks have fallen to them, indefinitely. Yesterday, they completed the useless task of polishing the bowsprit and figurehead. Petsune ended up in the water twice.
Currently, they are tasked with scrubbing down and cleaning out the crew’s quarters. This space is undoubtedly the filthiest, filled with the junk and disarray of a dozen men’s lives. There are dirty dishes, filthy clothes, and piles of stinking unknowns. Chapel and Petsune are about halfway through the area and have already filled two canvas sacks. Chapel is scrubbing fiercely at a particularly truculent patch of something sticky. Petsune is supposed to be collecting refuse, but he has become entranced by the bottle as his thoughts run away from him. The room smells like the collective bad breath of a thousand men.
In the corner of Petsune’s vision, a soldier sleeps in a hammock, mouth agape. The hanging bed swings gently to the rhythm of the rolling bottle. Petsune speaks to Chapel without taking his eyes off the somersaulting glass. “How long is it to Dintish Mass?”
Chapel seems to be scrubbing a hole clean through the decking. “About another 6 days, I think.”
Petsune groans slightly. He returns to clearing away the accumulated dross and refuse of years. He gingerly pinches a soiled rag, or maybe it’s a shirt, between two fingers and drops it into the canvas sack of trash. Just then, Petsune catches a snatch of a faint sound on the wind, coming from the porthole. Petsune walks closer to the porthole and strains to listen over Chapel’s ceaseless scrubbing. Suddenly, Petsune can make out the sound and he tells Chapel to be quiet. The Captain leaves off the scrubbing and walks over to the porthole.
From across the water, they can hear the Big Man’s sonorous voice singing. He croons out a verse, and then repeats it before adding the next line. After two repetitions, Chapel speaks quietly. “Well, I’ll be drowned. He’s singing with Sprig’s bird.”
Pet smiles, picturing the scene aboard the Lady’s decks: the rotund prattlebeak perched in the rigging and the Big Man gently serenading it. They listen for a few more moments, glad of any reason to stop working. After a few minutes, Chapel speaks again. “He used to work the Mines, you know? The Mines of Vohfay are especially dark because it isn’t Saintstone but some black rock that burns. I don’t think there are any Saintstone mines in Broadfell, just deposits here and there, so the Fellbin often use special songs to communicate, it echoes better down the shafts and tunnels. It was at least a year he was on the Lady before I heard him sing again. That first time I heard him in a tavern, he was drinking to forget his pain.”
Petsune doesn’t speak, opting to listen to Chapel and Benafield instead. Chapel continues after a brief pause to hear the Big Man’s song. “He lost his wife when a tunnel collapsed in the mines. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I know he is still bitter. Who wouldn’t be… Fellpost HelBenledore was pushing all the mines to dig deeper than was safe because they’d nearly exhausted Broadfell’s Saintstine.”
Petsune moves away from the porthole, continuing to clean out the crew's quarters. Pet listens still to the distant melody of Benefield. “It seems like your crew has seen a lot of tragedy and pain.”
“Business of righting wrongs - remember?”
“You know, Harlan said something to me just before we left the Misty Shoals.”
“Oh? He doesn’t do much of that.”
“Yes, he said that something like ‘the best way to eliminate an enemy is to give them what they want’. Any idea what that means?”
Chapel looks up and seems to consider the question. The soldier in the hammock snorts loudly, and then begins to snore. Chapel returns to his scrubbing and finally answers Pet. “You remember me saying Harlan was supposed to be hanged?”
“Sort of hard to forget that, yes.”
“Well, it wasn’t for being a pirate, it was because he was a member of the Fāy-Núl Tör, and the Sanctum caught wind of it.”
“Oh… oh. So, he was…”
“A zealot? Yeah, sort of.”
“I mean, once The Great Schism occurred and the Tör split from the Sanctum, they essentially became assassins hiding behind the guise of Saint Ründ’s will.”
“Right.” Chapel says.
“He doesn’t sound all that innocent to me…”
“Nobody is truly innocent, Pet. But Harlan didn’t deserve to hang.”
“If you say so.” Petsune answers skeptically.
“Harlan is very wise, and if he said something to you then you should think on it.”
“But how can I think on it? What he’s saying is that the best way to eliminate an enemy - the Kingdom of Dintash - is to give them what they want - the eradication of the Coldor Cleave. There’s nothing to think on.”
“The Fāy-Núl Tör are notoriously vague and mysterious. They like shrouds and shadow, and they never speak plainly, in my experience.”
Petsune doesn’t answer Chapel right away. Overhead, a scuffle between two soldiers sounds like it is occurring. There is a resulting grunt and then the dull thud of someone dropping to their knees before Wittkinson’s voice rings out to halt the fighting. Petsune pulls his eyes down from their useless upward gaze and focuses on Chapel again. “But why? Why not just speak plainly if he has something to tell me.”
Chapel looks at Pet. “Some truths are only valuable if self-discovered.” He continues vigorously attacking the sticky glob of who-knows-what. It appears to have shrunk a minuscule amount.
They work in silence as occasional bursts of laughter or bouts of coughing suddenly break the quiet. Chapel finishes with the resilient stain, sitting back on his heels again to marvel at his handiwork. He holds out a hand and Petsune places a length of snagweed into his palm. Chapel wipes his forehead with his sleeve, then scrubs the newly cleaned spot until it shines. They move further down the area, cleaning as they go, prying crusted food off of floorboards, scraping dried liquids from the wood. By the time they reach the end of the crew's quarters, they both reek. Petsune is tempted to throw himself overboard, just for a change of scene and smell.
They look backward to appreciate their handiwork and at nearly the same moment, Wittkinson’s expensive polished boots click down the steps. He approaches them briskly, momentarily taken aback by the polished sheen of the crew quarters.
Despite clearly noticing their handiwork, he doesn’t comment on it. “Right. Your Captain is hailing us from the stern of the Lady, and I suspect it is to discuss the route we will take to Dintish Mass.” All of the rigidity seems to drain away from Wittkinson then, and Petsune becomes suddenly aware that this person is sailing toward war. The officer continues speaking, but no longer looks at Petsune or Chapel. “Now, I am not without sight, nor am I without feeling. I have seen how you two have worked, and I am impressed. You seem to give your best despite the circumstances. As a sign of my appreciation for your cooperation and diligence, I will allow you to row over with me to your ship. You may remain with me while I discuss our route with your captain, but you must return with me back to the King’s Haul after. Is that clear?”
Chapel smiles honestly. “You’re a good man, Wittkinson. We appreciate the allowance.”
Petsune asks curiously. “When are we rowing over?”
Wittkinson seems to recover his sharpness, though he maintains his civility. “Now. That’s why I came down, to inform you to head topside.”
Petsune feels slightly giddy knowing he’ll soon be back aboard the Lady. Suddenly it strikes him how fond he has become of the ship in such a short time, then he thinks of the crew. He genuinely misses them and will be more than glad to see them again. He has a question for Pickett about a strange fish he heard mentioned by a soldier, and a neat trick that made him think of Sprig when he saw another soldier use it. He finds himself smiling broadly as he wonders if they’ll have time for a game of Runny. He imagines Cheese picking a strange pot and laughs lightly to himself as Wittkinson ascends the stairs to the main deck. Chapel looks over at Pet curiously. “What’s so funny?”
Petsune laughs again. “Just thinking how nice it’ll be to get back over there, even if for a little.”
Chapel returns Petsune’s wide smile. “Yeah. I’m mostly excited to listen to someone call Mavis ‘Captain’ for a whole conversation.” The two of them laugh as they mount the stairs to the main deck.