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1. The Bar

March 18, 2009

Lady Remora Windgates Price perched uncomfortably on the edge of a dirty bar stool and wondered whether or not now was an appropriate time to belch.

She had, on occasion, found it necessary to burp. Cucumber sandwiches in particular had a tendency to inspire a bit of the vapors. Burping was a small, ladylike expression which could often be hidden behind the flutter of a fan. She had never seen anything quite like the gaseous explosions emitted so extravagantly by the patrons of this bar.

The entire process was morbidly fascinating. Particularly loud and forceful ones were often accompanied by applause.

She wasn’t even entirely certain she was capable of producing a belch.

Absently, she lifted her mug of ale to take a drink and was shocked to find that it was empty. She glared at the stray mounds of yellowed bubbles clinging desperately to the sides of the glass, as though they had somehow caused the foul ale to disappear. Empty? How could that be? What was this…the third? Fifth? No, surely not the fifth drink.

Trying to remember exactly how many times a full glass of ale had sloshed onto the bar in front of her was difficult. Her thoughts were like wet wool, heavy and muzzy.

After a moment’s reflection, she had to admit that perhaps her eagerness to appear exactly like the other patrons of this establishment had inspired her to drink a little too much of the house brew.

It tasted so vile that she either had to sip it or gulp it, and it hadn’t taken long at all to realize that gulping seemed to be the common choice.

Drunk or no, she had to admit that this little trip had been a singularly useful endeavor.

Not very successful, perhaps, but useful nonetheless.

She reached into the pocket of her borrowed overalls and pulled out a scrap of yellowed paper. Two columns of names scrawled across its surface in an uneven hand. She had paid a rather large sum of money for this list, and she had yet to regret it.

The list contained the name of every airship captain that frequented Westmouth Port. The names in the leftmost column could be attained for free at the Office of Docket and Writ. The far shorter list of names in the rightmost column, however, would be found on no official document. Pirates, thieves, vagabonds, smugglers – these were the sordid underbelly of the airship world. They were also exactly the sort of captains she was looking for.

She could hardly walk up to them as Lady Price and make her request, however. She needed some indication of their personality and behavior before she could entrust her money and her life with them. A bit of research had given up the name of the most likely tavern for these sorts of captains to frequent – the Jolly Rooster – and only a bit more research and a small pouch of silver coins had given her the clothing and persona of someone who would also be welcome at such an establishment.

She felt distinctly out of sorts in her borrowed coveralls, grayed work shirt, and serviceable black boots. She’d needed to purchase a leather aviator’s cap as well – the only hat she could find that wasn’t remarkably out of place, and yet had enough room beneath it for her to braid and hide her long red hair. The hair would have immediately given her away – even in bustling Westmouth, red hair was an oddity.

Unfortunately, the list of names was growing shorter. Already, she had crossed more than half of the names from the list as being entirely unsuitable. There were only two names left, and she couldn’t be certain when those captains and their ships would return here to port.

She was impatient to set her plan in motion. It simply would not do to have the very first step – securing the services of a less-than-respectable airship – fail so immediately.

Mungo DerWint was the first name on the list, and also the first name crossed off. Shortly after arriving at the bar, she’d watched the barrel-chested captain brutally accost a stranger who had the misfortune to pass too closely behind his chair during a card game. She wasn’t entirely certain the man was still alive – he had been dragged into the streets by his boots and left there.

At the same card game, she found two more of the captains on her list. Captain James Mercy – so named, she had been informed, because it was the last thing his victims cried for, and the last thing they received. Surprisingly short, he had a quickness about him that she did not like. His pirating left only the blackened hulls of the ships behind.

She was not looking to associate with murderers. Neither DerWint nor Mercy were remotely suitable.

The third captain at the table was one she had actually considered – for all of the half hour it took her to realize that he had fondled, pinched, and slapped every female form that came within reach. Even the women of questionable virtue avoided his table.

She could not be assured of her own safety while aboard the ship of a captain such as that.

She sighed. No, none of them would do.

Vexing, at the very least. Her plan could be altered to avoid the necessity, but not easily, and certainly not with as much chance of success.

Morosely, she stared at the piece of paper. What was the next step?

“Hey!” a voice shouted, almost in her ear. She turned, realizing she had been hearing the word repeated with increasing volume over the last few seconds.

She paled as she realized who the speaker was. Captain wench-pincher, or whatever his name had been.

He leered at her, leaning close and placing a hand on the bar to either side of her, effectively trapping her.

“Tha’s better,” he said.

The combined odor of his breath and his armpits hit her with a suddenness that set her eyes watering.

It was, quite possibly, the worst thing she had ever smelled.

“You’re a pretty little thing. I’ll buy you a drink!” he declared.

Her eyes would have widened with alarm if they hadn’t been squinting to avoid the miasma. “No, I very much do not think you will!” she said stoutly. What a beast!

He laughed. “Oh, a saucy wench. I like that.” Leering at her with a smile dotted intermittently with gold caps, he reached forward and grabbed her breast.

…[To Be Continued]…