C.L. Robison
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53. Sneaks (III)
🕑 Added 2022-05-31 22:13:51 +0000 UTCWe met up with Rose and the students in our class at the little Collegium pier just south of the Step Wharf. It was a small pier, well-suited to rowboats and sandolos but barely able to manage the two small sloops that Rose had secured for our class. They were single-masted ships, perhaps seven meters long and two and a half wide with nothing to propel them but a headsail and a mainsail - Rose explained this to us as she demonstrated the two lashes we would be using for our exercises today.
"I'll captain the white ship. For those of you with less than four weeks' sailing time - that's about half - you'll accompany me. Everybody with more take the blue ship. I'll be sailing by my lonesome while I demonstrate knots to these greensails. If you can beat me to the buoy south of Alhred Island, I'll let you all skip the exercise of your choice."
"I'm skipping sailmaster gauntlet," a girl whispered excitedly, and all of the 'experienced' sailors in our group thought this was a fine idea.
"Don't get ahead of yourselves, mates - you've got to beat me first. And se start… now! Go, go, go! Everybody on the ships!"
We all scampered on the ships with great alacrity. I'm not sure why we, the newbies, did so. After all, if we took our sweet time, our more-experienced peers would no doubt thank us for it. But Rose Argent had a way of impressing her command upon people without having to shout or order. She was the Rose of Floria, her name known throughout the city, the broadsword of the Hawk himself, the bane of any slave ship that dared to broach Perdita's waters - not bad for a twenty-two year-old who'd been in command of her own ship for less than a year.
The day was cool by Florian standards, perhaps twenty degrees or a bit above, early spring with the year's first meltwater flowing down from the Kerebels and making the river clearer and cooler than usual. Peach and cherry blossoms floated upon the water, both from their vibrant bloom along the Largotto's banks and from the blossom festival occurring throughout the week. Merchants at the River's Run market would pay Scamps to gather blossoms by the sackful and then toss them about while proclaiming their hard-to-beat savings and once-a-year deals. As Rose showed us how to set the sails and knot a cleat hitch and a buntline, and where to do so. A dozen little lengths of rope were arrayed along the deck, as well as little free cleats to tie them to. As Rose worked the sail and the rudder, she explained what she was doing and corrected us on our knots.
"That's a good start," she told me. "Keep doing it - you need to tie a cleat hitch faster and neater to be of much use."
"Yes, ma'am!" I saluted. If that wasn't the expected response, Rose didn't say it. She seemed to be enjoying the day, her coal-dark hair jewel free and fluttering in the breeze like the ink-dark flag of a pirate's ship.
"I'm turning to starboard - that's the right of the ship. Since I'm crossing traffic lanes, it's my job to stay clear of any ships coming downriver. In Floria, the main lane of traffic is on the right on the outside. Be mindful if you find yourself sailing elsewhere, because the Wext follow the same rules while the Gionians and Mouldevicans do things on the opposite side."
"Why's that, Miss Rose?" Mailyn asked.
Rose shrugged. "Beats me. Just wanted to be different, I suppose. In any case, that means we're on the wrong side of the river all the way up to our spot south of Alhred Island." She pointed to the old fortress on the island's southern promontory, gradually becoming more prominent as we approached the island from the south.
Alhred Island, named after Longshanks, I believe, is the kilometer-long island that splits the Largotto just north of the Shadow Canton. It's unpopulated, though the Collegium uses the island and its deteriorating fortress for various classes and training exercises. The extent of the Largotto protected by the lacuna just south of the island is buffered from the river's lazy flow and is virtually still on most days - hence, it is called the Floria Stills. If you jump into the river sixty meters out from the island and let yourself float, you'll gradually, lackadaisically spiral out counter-clockwise over the course of several hours before hitting the river's flow and finally getting pushed downriver (or else hitting the very small riptide and finding yourself pulled upstream toward the island). While it might be preferable to do sailing maneuvers out in Floria harbor (and some of the advanced classed do), the Floria Stills are closer and gentler waters, perfect for neophyte deckhands to ungreen their sails.
As we sailed, it looked like the blue ship was going to win. At least six of our fellow students darted along the deck, checking knots and adjusting sails. If they were still beginners, I wondered what the intermediate students looked like. They were two full ship lengths ahead of us coming up to the Stills… right until they hit the border between the Stills and the river's flow, where the turbulence briefly doubled the Largotto's lazy flow. Cackling, Rose crossed to the imperceptible riptide thirty meters to the right and let it suck her sloop right upriver before turning to port and gliding into the center of the Stills a full twenty seconds ahead of the defeated, deflating Sneaks on the blue sloop.
Rose stood on the prow and called out to the blue sloop: "A smart crew is better than a fast crew… but a fast, smart crew beats either of them. Write that in your notebooks."
"We haven't got any notebooks," one of the Sneaks said. "The directions said bring a water skin and what you need for swimming…"
Rose pouted at that. "I… may not have read any of the old course directions," she said eventually. "Well… water skins and clothes you don't mind getting soaked is good enough…"
"I usually swim naked," one of the boys said.
"Do you see sailors running about the deck with their bits out for everybody to see? No? Then you should assume that you'll be doing likewise. By all means, if you want to sail naked, be my guest. But I'll not be tweezing splinters out of your rear when you come crying to me. For our next class, you'll want sturdy clothes not easily torn, not easily punctured by a splinter, and shoes you don't mind losing." Rose slapped her hand against a wooden chest bolted to the deck. "In fact, go ahead and toss all of your shoes in here so they don't get lost. Some sailors go with shoes and some go without, assuming they've got the calluses to back it up. Anything that you'd rather see not on the bottom of the Largotto, either don't bring it or stow it before we start exercises. Any more questions before we start?"
"Did I do this buntline right?" one of the girls asked.
Rose peered over, her sleek black boots tapping out her impatience against the deck. "You… did not," she said. "Get one of your classmates to help. Sooooo… if you're ready for some sailing exercises, let me hear your best pirate yarrr!"
"Yarrr!" we shouted back.
"Rose pointed deckward. Do you see that? My boots are barely quaking! Let's try it again - with feeling! Your best pirate yarrr!"
"Yarrr!"
Rose planted her fists on her hips and nodded. "I might make sailors of you yet! Split into four groups of eight or ten and I'll explain the exercises. Oh… and as we go through today's exercises, keep in mind that mantis-sharks occasionally swim upriver and gavials occasionally swim downriver. Not often, but if you see or feel something that might be big and toothy, give a yell and get the hell out of the water. I'm not about to lose a Sneak during basic sails."
She proceeded to explain the four exercises we'd be doing. Now… I'd expected to swim, I'd expected to climb, and I'd expected there'd be some sails and/or ropes involve. Check. I hadn't expected that virtually every exercise would involve us literally fighting one another. As she explained the exercises, Rose uncovered a pile of two-meter bamboo poles that she innocently referred to as 'pushers'. They resembled shorter versions of the poles that sandolo and gondola drivers use to navigate the shallower canals and waters, and they were involved in several of the exercises. Namely:
1) The sailmaster exercise. For this exercise, we were expected to raise the sails of the anchored sloop, one of them with a buntline and one with a cleat hitch. We had as much time as we needed to complete the task - only, all of our other group members would be in the water with their pushers. Their job was to try to stop the 'sailmaster', and the pushers were just long enough to give them a good jab if they were on the same side of the boat as you. The person with the best time each round got to sit out the next round.
2) The mastmast-er exercise. For this exercise, there were two sizable pine trees not so far from the shore, only a few meters up along the rocky slope of the Alhred Island promontory. One tree had a series of numbered red pennants dangling from a branch about ten meters up while the other had a series of numbered white pennants about the same height up. The objective of the exercise was to climb the red pennant tree, take a red pennant, climb the white pennant tree, swap it with the white pennant of the same number, and then bring the white pennant to the first tree. The Sneaks who got pennants 1 and 2 didn't have to climb up and arrange the pennants in neat order for the next group. So there was obviously quite a bit of jockeying for place and yanking at other Sneaks' flags throughout that exercise.
3) The deckmaster exercise. For this exercise, there were five debarked logs about two meters long and half a meter wide floating in the water. Pairs of students would get onto each log and then had to balance on it in the water, using their 'pusher' to help with balance. Alternately, the pusher could be used to nudge the other Sneaks off of their logs. Whichever groups stayed on theirs the longest got to sit out the next round.
4) The rowmaster exercise. For this exercise, there were four scuttled canoes near the shore, about two meters down. The goal of the exercise was for four pairs to each unswamp a canoe, find a paddle (they were somewhere down there, too), and paddle the canoe out to a buoy about twenty meters away. The first pair to make it wouldn't have to re-scuttle the canoes for the next group. The most accepted strategy was for one half of the pair to work on the canoe while the other half fended off their opponents and/or tried to hamper those opponents' efforts, often with a paddle or a pusher.
All this is to say that Rose's exercises were all designed to convey some crucial aspect of sailing while under duress, often under vigorous opposition from our peers. Rose's only three rules were:
1) Never try to drown anybody or otherwise hold them under (thanks, Rose!).
2) Never try to hurt anybody - pushes, grabs, and holds only.
3) No thaumaturgy, even if you know a useful trick.
Mailyn and I quickly paired up and found ourselves assigned to the deckmaster exercise and balancing on a log with our pushers. We were fortunate in that we were both on the lighter and smaller end of the spectrum. Two boys about a year our senior had paired up and, even though their log was a bit larger than ours, its buoyancy was barely enough to keep the two afloat. They were so busy just trying to keep above water that Mailyn and I were able to wobble our way over to them and nudge one of the boys with my pusher, knocking both of the pair into the water.
Of course, they both went after us at that point, and there was no rule against disqualified contestants upending the logs of another pair, so Mailyn and I found ourselves in the Largotto not five seconds later. On average rounds of 'deckmaster' only lasted about thirty seconds, so being the longest-afloat group was no more than a minor victory. We had to wait fifteen seconds for the last pair to capsize, at which point we all got back on our logs, the winning pair laughing wildly as the rest of us battled for balance. On the whole, we didn't do too badly. Mailyn and I even got first on our second-to-last round when we mounted the log and coordinated ourselves to separate from the other four pairs, letting them take one another down while we practiced synchronizing our movements.
Next was the deckmaster exercise. I'd had about fifteen minutes in total to practice my knots, so I still wasn't very good with them. I'd learned a buntline hitch years before, but I'd never been very proficient at it, and my cleat hitch was even rougher. Getting poked and prodded by waterlogged Sneaks, including Mailyn (the traitor!) wasn't an easy task, and I never once came close to getting first place, not when most of the Sneaks were bigger than me and half of them had a month or more of sailor classes to boot. Still, my ability to pull at rigging and tie knots while being mercilessly jabbed by bamboo poles definitely improved.
"Vix, Mailyn, you're making me look bad! I expect you to get first overall in at least one exercise!"
"Yes, ma'am!" we both shouted, nursing a dozen bruises and gasping for breath. Our fellow sneaks didn't play mean, but they all played hard.
Next the other solo exercise, the 'mastmast-er' exercise. I considered myself a pretty good climber, and I knew that Mailyn was pretty spry, too. Which of us was faster was a good question - it was pretty close and I imagine that both of us thought ourselves to have the edge. I suppose we'd find out who was the fastest climber now…
Mailyn and I both scrambled up the roots and scree at the shoreline, leaving the older Sneaks, two boys and a girl, in the literal dust - but not for long. The trees were the sort of aromatic, russet-barked pine tree common to the Perditos… the kind without any branches for the first several meters of its trunk. I leapt onto the trunk and started up, only to feel a hand grasp my ankle. Looking down, I saw that it was Mailyn. She grimaced, clearly conflicted, and then let me go, resigning herself to a several-second deficit. Meanwhile one of the boys thumped into the trunk with an audible oof and reached up to grab Mailyn. She kicked him away with a bare foot, her big toenail ramming right against the flesh of his palm. He grunted and made to grab her again, but I'd reached the lowest branch and pulled her up after me, sticking my tongue out at the snarling boy. He and the older girl proceeded to fight for access to the trunk and Mailyn and I were already climbing like monkeys.
The branches were dense, but we were both lean, and we competed with one another to see who could ascend with the most daring, leaping from branch to branch, pulling ourselves up… I had to admit that Mailyn was in better shape than I'd figured. When she stretched, her slim belly was taut with muscle and not much else. I couldn't help but admire her athleticism. Not that I was a slouch. My muscles burned, my bruises throbbed, and still I ascended, my palms burning under rough bark and sticky sap, my eyes occasionally locking with Mailyn's as we jockeyed for position.
Then I saw it - ten pennants waving in the breeze. And, naturally, the last group had put them back out of order, against Rose's rules for the match. No use crying about it now. I glanced down the row, trying to make out the numbers as the pennants swayed. There! Number one! I reached for it. I grabbed it. Another hand reached for it, too…
Did Mailyn get it first or did I? It's hard to say… it was about as close to simultaneous as you can get. Then there was a grunt below us, one of the older boys climbing into range and reaching for the pennant.
"Go!" I hissed.
Mailyn nodded… she grabbed Pennant #1… and she leapt right out of the tree! My heart almost stopped, certain that I'd just seen my best friend leap to her death. Only… when I looked out at the hole she'd made in the canopy, I saw that she'd leapt clear across to the other tree and landed amid the nettles of the lower branches. Go Mailyn!
Meanwhile, the older boy had snatched the #2 pennant and muscled me out of the way, and the older girl was close behind, reaching for the same flag. It wasn't worth it. I snatched #3 and followed Mailyn in my leap of faith, grabbing at sap-heavy clusters of nettles and batting them aside to push through the canopy. From there, I made my way up and saw… another older Sneak with pennant #1 clutched in his sappy fist. I looked down and saw Mailyn, bloody-nosed and with a swollen lip, making her way back up. I saw red. I felt the darkness of the shadow. I grabbed the older boy's ankle and prepared to yank.
"Don't!" Mailyn shouted.
And she was right - it wasn't worth it. A bigger boy had bloodied her, but she'd be fine and it wasn't worth seriously injuring him over. It wasn't worth getting expelled from the Collegium over. It wasn't worth making Rose look bad over. I let him proceed up to plant our #1 pennant on the branch.
Point of note - I probably wouldn't have been expelled from the Collegium unless the boy had died. Even then, maybe not. But I didn't know that at the time. Mailyn and I wound up returning #5 and #6 to the first tree, a remarkably mediocre performance considering how exhausted I felt. We left for our fourth and final exercise of the day with four sappy, scraped up hands, plenty of nettle scratches, and a bloody nose and lip for Mailyn. I smelled like a sack of sweat, blood, and pine potpourri.
"We've got to get first on this one," I mumbled. "Any idea how to unscuttle a canoe?"
"Yes, actually," Mailyn said. "Perdita Nix does it in one of her books. I think it can be done without frilly undergarments."
The trick to getting a sunk canoe out of the water (assuming its hull is intact) is to bring the thing close to the surface, flip it upside-down, and then slowly right it while applying a little upward force - right off the bat this get about half of the water out of the canoe. Then, once the canoe is righted, you gently rock the boat back and forth, sloshing a little water out with each rock until it's mostly empty - this won't work with every hull type, but it sure worked for the canoe we had. When Driane tried to commandeer our righted canoe, I poked her hard in the side with my oar before pushing myself aboard - the time for playing nice was long past.
"Come on!" Mailyn shouted, hauling herself into the front of the canoe.
We paddled like maniacs. A pair of older girls was ahead of us, but their canoe was still half-filled with water and we quickly overtook them, water churning behind our oars as we paddled toward the buoy. Mailyn shouted from the effort, blood and spittle spraying out with each furious breath. We were in the lead and nobody else was close. We were going to get first pl-
Something bumped underneath the boat. At first I thought it was some kind of joke, perpetrated by Rose. Then I thought that maybe one of the other groups had used illicit thaumaturgy to stop us. Both of these thoughts transpired over the course of about a second in a half. The second and a half before I spotted a large pale object not far below the surface and then two writhing, barbed pedipalps shot forward.
I screamed, first in surprise and then in pain as the grasping limb of a mantis-shark wrapped around my leg. I pulled against it, feeling equal parts pain and the numbness of oncoming venom as it capsized the canoe and pulled me into the water. I caught the briefest glimpse of its tripartite maw, lined with razor-sharp teeth, and I screamed again, sucking in river water and spasming as my lungs fought to eject it, even as the beast pulled me in.
Thoom! Water sprayed all around me, and there were chunks of flesh and blood in the water. A lotof blood. I cried because I thought it was myblood, even though it was the deep cyan of a mantoid's blood. It sure smelled enough like human blood. And then I felt myself dying, the life draining out of my limbs as somebody pulled me out of the water. As darkness closed around me, I heard the muffled voice of Rose Argent say,
"Alright, everybody step back. I said step back!She's about to stop breathing and I need…"
