This is the last one. Lots of schmoop in the end. You've been warned.
General Priska and Bodie the Beastmaster (you can see them in Paradise Piers)
General Priska knew there was a beastmaster among the Kolga. People went to one when their companion was ill or when they wanted to buy a new one; that much she knew. But the Beastmaster was never included in any of her tactical meetings and planning. The only beasts she was concerned about in a very marginal, distant way was the bullocks and goats that were needed for provisioning long range battle and patrol ships. Other than that, animals were superfluous on board a military vessel and pets were a luxury she couldn't afford to have when all her attention must be focused on purging Bloodhammer and his Aegir pirates from Kraken Isles.
So when the Beastmaster walked into her office one very hot humid day, she had no idea what he wanted with her or the war council. Especially since he came carrying a stinking bulky bundle wrapped in dirty tarpaulin with dark damp patches. The man put down the package over Priska's maps and papers; her aide had to rush to rescue them.
"What is this, Beastmaster?" asked Priska coldly.
The Beastmaster moved the flaps of tarpaulin aside without a word. Inside lay a very large dead turtle. Its head was attached to the body by what little of its neck that had not been gouged and torn by deep bloody bite marks. One hind flipper and a third of the carapace was missing. The underside gaped open, showing lumps of shredded entrails. Tiny crabs crawled across the macerated organs, picking bits off with sharp claws. There were blood-stained gray white orbs nestled amid the wreckage. Turtle eggs.
Priska met the Beastmaster's grim eyes. "Explain."
"They've been killing nesting turtles, General," said the Beastmaster. "This is the third I've found today. There were six last week, nine the week before. Eighteen last month."
He turned the carcass over and pointed at the gashes on the shell. "Shark. And yet this is found on the beach, not in the waters. So it's Bloodhammer and his ilk."
"They weren't killed for food either, but for sport. All of the turtles were left to bleed to death," he went on, mercifully drawing the tarpaulin back over the broken body.
"I see," said Priska. "I understand you're upset but I don't see how this is any of the Navy's concern."
The Beastmaster sighed then launched into a long-winded lecture on the turtle's role in maintaining the seabed where fish feed and breed and how the turtle's decomposing unhatched eggs helped nourish the beach so that vegetation could grow to fortify the area against the pounding surf.
"If we lose more turtles, there will be less fish for our fishermen to catch, the beaches will be eroded and we will lose some of our islands," he concluded. "You're fighting the Aegir to save the Kolga way of life. But if we let them get away with killing turtles, we will have fought for nothing. It takes years to mend any kind of damage to the environment. Our children will have to pay the price too, and their children as well."
Priska refrained from commenting that in her line of work there was little chance of her having to worry about her future offsprings suffering.
"You make a convincing point," she said. "But the fact remains that the Navy do not have enough resources to guard every island in the archipelago. Our fleet and troops are stretched thin as it is."
"You don't understand, General," the Beastmaster said. "I'm not here to ask for your help. I'm offering you mine."
***
At first Priska thought what he was proposing was something along the line of strap explosives on dolphins, light fuse, let dolphins swim to enemy ship, kaboom.
The Beastmaster had listened to this with eyes growing wide with horror. "That is barbaric!" he hissed. "The shock wave will kill everything in the vicinity."
"But that's the point, right?" said Priska.
The Beastmaster shook his head in disgust.
What he actually suggested was something less dramatic. Priska was skeptical but agreed to try it.
The Aegir pirates attacked in groups, using two or three light, fast and easily maneuverable skiffs. And they always struck at night.
The group had targeted the merchant vessel Danila which was seen leaving Paradise Piers in the afternoon, heavy in the waters, rumored to be carrying a rich cargo of timber, spices and pearls.
The night was moonless, the sea calm. The pirate captain led the charge. Soon his men were climbing the rope ladders. And then he heard the first scream.
The captain was halfway up the ladder when he saw his men climb over the railing in shrieking panic and plunge headlong into the water. Then his fingers touched a cold sleek object that slithered up his arm. There was only the dim light from the ship lamp above him but it was enough to let him see the brightly striped sea serpent that began to coil around his arm, mouth opening, tiny fangs bared. The captain screamed and let go of the ladder. The water that engulfed him as he splashed into the sea was not very cold, but in the dark he could sense that it was crowded. There were too many bodies, and some were too sleek with sandpaper skin...
***
Priska listened to the report in silence.
"In this way we have managed in the last six days to subdue five groups of pirates," said Commodore Winston. He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "However the sharks...have left us no prisoner for interrogation."
She dismissed the commodore and turned to the Beastmaster. "These sea snakes," she said. "Every sailor knows they are the deadliest serpents. One bite and within minutes your skin turns blue, your tongue black and swollen, and you die in pure agony. How is it that you didn't die when they bit you?"
The Beastmaster assumed his lecturer voice again and spoke at length about animals who mimicked the coloration of their more dangerous relatives to fool predators into thinking that they are venomous. "When in truth they are harmless," he concluded. "It was falling into the water swimming with sharks that killed those pirates. We are lucky they all died so this information didn't leak out to the other pirates. But we can't continue to rely on luck."
Priska nodded. "You have one nasty mind, Beastmaster," she said. "I'm glad you're on our side. So what next?"
***
"Clyde," said the Beastmaster. "And that is George. This is Konga. And that one is Amy."
"Monkeys," said Priska doubtfully.
"Trained monkeys," said the Beastmaster with a censorious frown.
"Lovely. Then I need not worry about them pooping on deck."
The Beastmaster vented a desperate sigh. "These monkeys," he said, speaking with deliberate slowness as if she was a child with limited intelligence, "came from islands where the Aegir had hunted them for sport and cruelty. Some of the groups survive by developing skills that allow them to fight back and then passing these on to their children. These four lead packs that can hold their own against armed men."
"Splendid. So they can strategically throw banana peel and trip pirates, I presume," murmured Priska. The Beastmaster glared at her.
***
The Navy had harried the pirates from the small atolls where they lurked awaiting prey. With many of their smaller vessels gone, the pirates fleet now consisted of a number of middle sized and larger ships, all boasting cannons and a few sporting battering rams.
The battle went hot and fast, churning the sea as ships turned in tight maneuvers for boarding and cannon balls splashed exploding sending great sprays of water. The pirates were ready for the Navy's strike but nothing prepared them for onslaught of furry screeching creatures who skittered across the boards in lightning speed, climbing everywhere, unraveling ropes, snatching weapons, or wrapping lithe limbs around one's head, biting nose, pulling hair, screaming in one's ear. They were quick and agile and their darting movement was confusing. The Navy took advantage of the chaos, crossed into the pirate ships and took over. It took less than fifteen minutes.
But one ship, a fast ten-gun schooner, had drawn away from the melee in time to make its getaway. Priska signed for a chase but the pirate ship had had a chance to make several miles lead while the Navy ships arranged themselves to point in the right direction.
The Beastmaster stood beside her at the bow of the command ship, peering through his own spyglass.
Priska turned to him and smiled. "Your monkeys did very well," she said.
"Thanks, but they're not mine," grunted the Beastmaster.
"I don't suppose they like getting paid in gold," mused Priska.
The Beastmaster gave her a pained look. "No. And not in bananas either, before you ask."
"So what are we going to do about them then?"
"There are some islands to the northeast, dense forest, largely unoccupied. If we can clear the pirates from these islands, the monkeys can live there in peace. It's their home."
Priska nodded. "I'll see it done."
The Beastmaster inclined his head by way of thanks. He pointed with his chin at the speck on the horizon. "Do you think we can catch up with it?"
Priska looked grim. "We have to," she said. "Those schooners have shallow hulls and can easily hide in sheltered bays that are too dangerous for vessels of this size."
She turned to the Beastmaster. "I don't suppose you can call up the Kraken to sink them, can you?"
The Beastmaster looked aghast as he mutely shook his head.
"Oh well," sighed Priska, "one can only hope."
Two hours later the speck in the horizon only got even smaller. The sun was setting in an hour or so. Soon it would be too dark to see.
Priska was considering jettisoning some cargo to lighten the ship when she heard the Beastmaster gasp. He was peering through his spyglass but his lips were moving and what she heard him say was "No, no, no, oh no...."
He tore himself from the spgylass, his eyes were mad and frantic. "General, tell the ships to turn back. Now!"
"What? Don't be absurd, we have to capture that ship."
"Trust me, you don't want to be where that ship is now, General, we're going to be slaughtered!"
Priska raised her own glasses. The pirate schooner was barely visible in the distance, riding on choppy waters with tall sprays white around it obscuring further view.
The weather had held fair and the wind steady. There were no signs of storm. She suddenly remembered snippets of a tale she once heard when she was little. When the sea turned bubbly, and fish rose in abundance to the surface, beware the Kraken. In the story she remembered, the beast had risen to demolish a ship, then as it sank back into the deep, its weight had created a vast whirpool that sucked in all the other vessels nearby.
"General," whispered the Beastmaster, "turn back now, turn back."
It was a gamble. It might cost her her career. It might make her the laughingstock of the war council. She looked at the Beastmaster's pale face and gave her order.
***
Later that night they found the wreckage of the schooner. The pirates had clearly tried to flee the stricken ship in light cutters. But these too, had been destroyed to smithereens. Whatever was left of the pirates, the hungry wild sharks had taken care of.
"Sweet Himingleva," whispered Priska. "May the sea have mercy on their souls."
In her private cabin late that night as they made their way back to Paradise Piers she spoke to the Beastmaster. "You have saved the lives of hundreds and six ships of the Navy. Whatever you asked of us you'll get it, even though I think we can be opening the coffers and showering you with all the gold and jewels in it, and we will still be in your debt."
"Then they will be indebted to you too. It was your decision to turn back. I know it must have been difficult."
She raised her wine glass in acknowledgment. "Of course I can bring you to court for treason if it turned out you have caused me the most embarrassing error of judgment in naval history. But that wasn't the case, fortunately, for both of us. I would hate to see you hang."
He smiled as he inclined his head. "So would I."
"Oh, so you can smile after all," she smiled in return. "That was a first."
"We have all been tense," he conceded.
She nodded. "So what are you going to do now? The pirates are much reduced and scattered. We can now divert more ships to patrolling and defending the smaller islands for your precious turtles. But what about you? I don't suppose you'd like to join the Navy," she went on quietly.
The Beastmaster shook his head. "Thank you, General. But for now I'm just happy I can return to my beach and continue my study of the animals."
Priska nodded. She twirled the glass in her hand. "Tell me," she said finally, diffident. "I've sailed these waters for most of my life and seen creatures of the deep too bizarre for words. But I know these seas like a friend, like a lover. How is it that I never knew, never heard that a kraken lives here, devouring ships?"
The Beastmaster shook his head. "It was no kraken, General. That ship was rammed by whales."
Priska stared at him. "Don't mock me. I know whales and they don't destroy ships."
"This time of year the whales migrate to their feeding ground with their young, babies born last winter. The ship ploughed into a large pod of these migrating families. They were...merely protecting their young."
Priska nodded slowly. "I don't know whether I should be glad that there is no kraken in these waters, or disappointed." She smiled and rose. "Thank you, Beastmaster, for a most enlightening talk."
"A pleasure, General," the Beastmaster said as he stepped toward the door.
"General is much too formal tonight," Priska said carefully. "Call me Priska."
The Beastmaster paused by the door. "Very well," he shrugged. "Good night, Priska." Then he left.
"Good night, Bodie," she said softly to the closing door.
***
The Beastmaster house was empty when Priska arrived. Several animals in cages watched her with wary eyes as she circled the small shabby wooden cottage, calling for him.
In the end she decided to stroll to the beach and wait for him there.
The gust of sea wind carried with it a foul stink. She took a perfumed handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it against her nose but it did nothing to keep out the powerful stench.
And then she saw it.
"Stars above, what is this?" she asked Bodie.
"Manatee poop," he said laconically. He was busy shoveling sand over the line of dark, slimy lumps.
"You must be joking! What animal poops this much! It must be a mile long!"
"There must be a pod of them out there on migration," he said.
"And they all had upset tummy," Priska muttered. "This happen a lot?"
"No. But there was strong wind last night and I supposed they got blown over here."
Priska shook her head in amazement. "Do you have another shovel?"
They inched their way across the sand burying manatee poop. He talked about the primate sanctuary in the northeast isles and the turtle nurseries along the coast. She vented about appropriations meetings where she had been fighting the council over budget cuts.
After a while she realized he had not said anything for some time. She turned and saw him standing looking at her with both hands on the handle of his shovel.
“Hello,” she said trying to smother the awkwardness. “We still have half a mile of poop to inter.”
He smiled. “I'm just wondering why you're here.”
She swallowed, ran a hand across her sweaty brow to stall.
“It's half a day trip here from the Piers,” he went on. “If you're here to berate the councilors for being pinchpennies with the Kolga’s security you could've sent me a dispatch. And even so, what could I possibly do in the situation? I'm not in the council.”
She smiled wryly. “You couldn't maybe send them some ticks? Blood sucking leeches? No?”
He walked over to her side. “You can't possibly have come here just to help me with poop control.”
That got a laugh out of her. “No,” she admitted. “I imagined many things. A walk on the beach. A swim in the lagoon. A boat trip and picnic on a sand bar. Not...this”--she waved her hand over the poopy sand.
“The truth is I wanted to see you,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I'm at a loss really. I've penetrated some of the most tightly guarded smuggling rings, planned combat drops in remote hostile islands, brought a ship safely through four days of storm, freed slaves from monsters. But I don't know what to do about you.”
“I don't need liberating, or rescuing,” he smiled gently.
“I know,” she sighed. “I've gotten so used to getting everything I want. I'm not used to people and situations I can't control. At the headquarters all I have to do is bark an order and it's done. It's true in the council I have to argue, bargain, compromise, but I don't have to like them. Or….”--she stared at him--”...want them to like me.”
“I suppose I'm here because you have showed me a world outside the barracks and the decks. It's wild and strange and magnificent. And I want to see more of it. And I need a guide. If you want to,” she trailed hoarsely. “If you will have me.”
He smiled and reached to tuck a wayward strand of her hair. “I've heard people go for poetry and flowers when they're courting,” he said.
“I can do flowers,” she said quickly. “If...if that's what you want.”
He laughed. “Nah. I like it better like this.”
She let out a giddy laugh. “Phew! Good then. I'm hopeless with poetry.” She tiptoed, really daring, and planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He tilted her face up and kissed her on her lips.
“All right,” she said breathlessly after. “Let's shovel more turd.”
“How romantic,” he said with a chuckle, giving her hand a warm squeeze before reaching for his shovel.
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