Jessup’s head hit the oarlock and he stifled a yelp. His face stung from where he had been back handed and he was sprawled out in the bottom of the ship’s boat, his head swimming.
“Don’t ye even joke about such things boy,” the Bosun hissed at him and sat down again, motioning the others to continue quietly rowing. They were headed upstream to the Bee Line, past many fat ships that were at dock, a hundred yards or more off to port. The Bee was an old wreck whose bottom had long ago rotted out, sinking her forever at her berth. Back in the day she had been one of the fastest ships on the water carrying small cargoes for large sums. She docked years ago and then just sat, her dock fees paid in full for years out. No one knew, nor cared, who owned her, and her captain and crew had disappeared in the city, never to be seen again. What she was now was a neutral ground for trading between discreet parties where two groups might meet, exchange whatever they had brought and disappear back into the bay without the eyes of the dock wardens on them or the guilds any the wiser.
Bosun Ashves, Jessup, and the three others, from the Kelp Breaker, Smylt, Aldigio, and one eyed Dynr, were headed there now under orders to carry a small locked chest and trade it for a leather folio with silver lettering on the cover. Jessup rubbed his face and wondered why the old joke about the rope up a rope had set the Bosun off, but he got back to his oar and started pulling. “Better to be busy than smart,” his father used to say. And a hand was better than the lash Jessup added in his head.
They made the Bee without incident and quiet as rats they made the few feet from the waterline to the low main deck. Bosun Ashves motioned them to the door to the hold and slowly pulled out his long dagger. With well rehearsed professionalism, they did as instructed, moving through the still hanging rags of sails and rope around the broken boxes and other detritus. Following Aldigio they crept to the door and down the rotted steps into the gloom. The main hatch itself had long ago disappeared and the dual moonlight from Nysashtor and her sister moon Onnessi bathed the central area. They scattered around into the shadows at the edges as Bosun Ashves and Smylt took to the center in full moonlight. They waited.
An hour passed and finally the barest of noise above announced the other party. There was a large creak and a flapping noise and a man landed a dozen feet in front of the bosun, near the stairs and the way out. He had curved short swords in his hands and lower face was masked with a dark cloth. The bosun, nonplussed, motioned Dynr forward with the chest and he set it directly between them, facing the stranger. The man sheathed his off hand blade and from his back produced the portfolio. He stepped forward holding it out and the bosun pulled a chain out from under his coat that held a key and offered it. They exchanged goods and the man carefully knelt, placing the key into the lock where it easily turned. With his blade he flipped it open and his brow furrowed and he looked up at the bosun. From Jessup’s vantage he could see that the box was filled with rope and even he looked at the bosun in confusion. Then they struck. The rope, seemingly under its own power leaped out at the man who tried to stand and backpedal. Stiff ends of the rope stabbed at him drawing blood and somehow slowing him, he stumbled and fell. They were on him in a flash, coiling and coiling, twisting and knotting. He was bound to immobility in mere seconds without any regard to how limbs should fold and mesh. There was a crack as an arm broke and he screamed, lying in the floor.
“Alright, everybody out.” Bosun Ashves said.
Aldigio stepped up to the man and crouched down looming over his head. Leaning down to look him directly into the eyes mere inches away. She reached into her sleeves and came back with two scalpels. “Do you remember Allison?” she rasped. “No? Not at all? Well you should have. No one messes with the Sisterhood. No one.” The scalpels waved as she cast a short spell to silence the proceedings and with the precision of a chirurgian she set to work. Jessup fled up the stairs to the boat. He could have sworn he saw those ropes feeding.
