There were advantages to having a spirit rooted into a ship. Ingrained magic reinforced the hull into a durable shell. When Vipa went under the Truffle, she found its bottom cracked and damaged. Yet, an inside examination of the decks revealed that only a few narrow rips punctured the hull. A small amount of water seeped through, but a bit of tar fixed that problem easily.
Vipa returned to the top deck where she found Michel. Staring through binoculars, he studied the island shore. Wooden dummy logs, planted in the sand, had been set along the beach. By eye, Vipa guessed the distance between the ship and the marked targets was twenty meters. Michel looped the binocular around his neck before lifting his rifle. Anything short of a demon perished under his rapid fire.
Tense silence filled the air as Vipa approached the assassin. She always knew him to be a little off-putting, but his eyes, glazed over with an icy sheet, startled her. Of course, the huntress refused to be scared off. She leaned upon the railing with a welcoming grin. Mock tranquility ruled between them as gunshots punctured the air.
"Well." Drumming her fingers on her arms, Vipa stared at the splintered dummies. "We're alive." The assassin nodded curtly. "And we now know what to expect the next time we meet Tragun." A distant thunk answered her. The huntress questioned who the assassin wished the bullets for. "Aren't we sullen? Not used to your targets getting away?" That earned a grunt.
Sighing, the huntress glanced around the ship for Truffle. Warm company was needed, but her cat had disappeared last night - probably off to nurture her wounds from the failed invasion. Pushing off the railing, the huntress' gaze turned to the steering wheel. Ozresbet and Sainh, seated on the ground, stared at the cards in their hands. Neither had risked a move in the last half hour.
"You know," started Vipa, "we need a quick vacation!" Vipa clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Anywhere will do. Might even head to the mainland." Bellowing gunshots matched the apathetic expression of their master. Vipa patted Michel on the back with a winning grin. "Better yet, you can make the suggestion."
Michel's trigger finger froze. A startled shout came from the poker players, but a thunk cut it off. Glancing to the huntress, the assassin searched her face for any tricks. Sincere warmth beamed from the huntress's smile to convey her good will. The assassin propped his gun upon the railing.
"Explain," demanded the angel.
"I've dragged you on this trip." Vipa, due to height differences, hugged Michel around the wrist. "And you're not my slave. I have no right to be a bitch like that. So choose a place, anywhere in the region, to go to. Heck, we can go to the Yactum Peninsula if you like." Pulling away, the huntress flicked her hand to the north. "The Barrol Alliance has a few cities and towns allied to them there. If we show them proof of citizenship, we can go."
Slowly, as if to make sure he had heard Vipa correctly, Michel asked, "Anywhere at all?"
"I trust you." Vipa cracked her knuckles upon her chest. "Do you trust me?"
Snorting, the assassin propped his back upon the railing. "There are people out there looking for us."
"Including your friends?"
Michel started to take his gun apart. "How long have you known?"
Chuckling, the huntress knocked the side of her head. "I'm blunt, not dumb. How else did you get poison for yourself that you trusted not to kill you? You don't go to strangers for that."
"Fair enough," commented Michel. The ice in his eyes started to melt. Plain as he may be, Vipa found his small, ghostly smile to be enduring. "I have a place I would like to visit, but if we go you have to promise me something."
Vipa, jesting horror, clasped a hand to her chest with a gasp. "I'm no criminal, good sir."
Chuckles escaped the assassin. "No, I just need you to keep my profession a secret."
Knocking Michel's head with her knuckles, Vipa nodded in agreement. "Now why the hell would I tell people your real job? I would lose my guide."
"Well," said the angel. "I doubt I'll be much help now. Tragun doesn't show up twice in the same place. At least, not in close together time periods."
"I think I have a solution to that." Vipa waved off the questioning gaze. "First, we must learn how to relax. Success that close and then stolen away isn't good for the soul. Let's take a few days to lay around and goof off."
"Alright then." Michel packed his gun into his suitcase. Taking the advantage to peer into it, the huntress marveled the length he went to keep his weapons readied. Well, a good hunter must always keep their gear at top condition. "If you're so certain of this then I want to go to Kaliam."
"Kaliam?" inquired Vipa. Inflated, affluent men lounging on the beach popped into her mind. "But that's the island where all the rich people live and go on vacation." The assassin gestured to his suitcase. "Oh right.... Does that mean you're rolling in gold coins? If so, you're paying for our stay." The huntress gestured to her ship. "Unless you think this vessel is fit for those silver hairs."
"Depends on how the trip goes," stated the assassin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a couple of trunks to kill."
The trio went to Marjie to stock up on coal one more time. Curious about their success, Elder Juana met them on the shore as the coal was loaded on board. Bowing her head, she spoke in a steady tone to Vipa.
"You're still hunting Tragun after your failure," proclaimed the elder. There was no hint of questioning.
"Of course." Vipa pounded a fist into her chest. "I can't stop now with my goal closer than ever."
"If that's true may you grant these tired bones a wish?" asked the elder. Blinking in confusion, the huntress gave a nod to learn of this request. "You said that your goal is to hear Tragun's story. As you know, thousands of years have passed since our island separated. A portion of our people were dragged away during that time." Juan, bowing in the same direction, pointed her finger to the gate of the lagoon. "While I doubt they still consider us kin, they must know what happened the day our island became three. If they happen to be descendants, please ask them what happened that day."
"What?" A playful grin crossed the huntress' face as she poked the elder's arm. "Don't you believe your own historical account?"
"The sister islands hate each other. Our sister family blames us for the breakup of our home. We resent the accusation. Thousands of years have passed since that day. Who knows how the truth may have distorted since then?"
Shrugging, the huntress glanced at the lagoon. The absence of relatives in her family made it hard for her to understand the feeling of family dispute. It still troubled her at the thought of her mother and her getting into a fight that had lasted centuries.
"Think it will help at all?" asked the huntress.
"Probably not, but maybe it can."
Vipa placed a hand on the Elder's shoulder. "Lady, if I can I will bring that island back with us. Got it?" Startled, the Elder looked up from her bow to be greeted by a smile.
An equally strong smile challenged Vipa's own.
"I'll pray for the fulfillment of that promise," declared the elder.
The trip from the Sister Isles to Kaliam took three days. Michel paced the ship as they got closer to the island. Three months of staying away made him a bit nervous of returning. Sainh and Orzsebet offered him to join the card game, but he kept his distance. Watching it proved a bit more entertaining than being part of it. Increased traffic by air and sea alerted the group to the Kalim's appearance. Blimps, sewn together with bright blue and red cloth, carried banners under their cabins. Advertised goods proclaimed the many resources that the Alliance produced. Not surprising considered Kalim position. It was one of the northern most island in the Eastern Region, being closed by to Molo Mainland. Skilled merchants had for years used the island as a trading point between the countries of Molo and the rest of the Barrol Alliance.
Up in his crow's nest, Michel watched vessels as large as gallons sailing away from them. His impatient eyes searched the horizon for a familiar sight. A beaming smile crossed his face upon spotting the green, purple, and orange flora materializing on the yellow plains. Spots of brown and tan told where the houses stood. Cemented stone bolstered the shore and that was the island defenders' second greeting. Any ship that wanted to enter the harbor had to stroll by the watchful gaze of the island fortress.
Vipa, standing at the steering wheel, waved at the soldiers manning the twenty meter high walls - a mixture of seashells and brown stone. The star-shaped fort, armed with twenty-four pounders, perched on a small piece of land, located just right for the fort to rain metal upon any point of the harbor.
As the Truffle floated into sheltered water, a couple of small sailboats pulled alongside the ship. Ducking out of sight, Michel watched the guides and tax collectors earn their payment. Hustle and bustle of conversation conveyed the harbor to be tightly packed, but with enough room for the Truffle to land. The ship followed the guides through alleys of docked boats. Large trading vessel competed with personal ships for room. Cramped conditions forced Truffle to maneuver around for several hours before finally landing.
Leading the way onto the pier, Michel failed to keep a gleeful smile off his face. Sainh and Vipa followed him into the cobbled streets of Kilim. The traffic formed a river of life that flowed, seemingly, on it's own will . Drawn wagons pulled by horses, danji - two legged birds -, and feran - wolf-side geckos with patches of feathers - ruled the streets. They traveled by brick buildings that stood several stories tall. A few made from stone were as high as ten stories. Magic lanterns, turned off during the day, accompanied power lines down the streets. The multiple species, shops, and streets warmed the assassin's heart. Already, he had a clear plan to visit a few of his favorite places.
A sudden weight on his arm surprised Michel. Clinging to him, Vipa stared wide-eyed at the crowd. "Vipa, are you alright?" He tried shaking her off, but the huntress clamped to him for dear life. Sainh stepped forward and offered the huntress an arm. She leapt off Michel and hugged the offered limb.
"She's... not used to big crowds," said the reptile. "Just give her a few hours. She'll adjust. Vipa, please loosen your grip. My arm is going numb." Shaking his head, the assassin strolled down the sidewalks with pockets in hand. He nodded to a few of the shopkeepers he recognized and they waved back at him. Strangers stopped to greet Michel and thanked him for his donations. The growing number of greeters started to annoy him, and his group stared keenly at him. One coffee shop gave him the chance to escape it all.
"Hey Sainh," said Michel, "think something to drink will calm Vipa's nerves? There is a coffee shop over there, but they also serve some great cake if you want some."
"Great idea," said Sainh. "Hear that Vipa? We're getting something to drink." It was hard to tell if Vipa had heard for she just kept scanning the numerous faces. "We'll catch up with you later."
"Take your time. I'll just be walking around." Michel waved them off until he knew their line of sight had been broken. The moment it was he sprang into the air, earning a few startled curses. Soaring through the skies, he headed inland. He bypassed the businesses, traffic, and buildings to get to the northwest of town.
Dropping into an empty street, Michel checked himself over. Any hints of his previous adventures were patted down or brushed off. Once satisfied, the assassin marched the length of a tall fence. Green lights illuminated its pointed top. A toll booth, manned by a snoring demon, sat on the other side of the gate. Michel clapped his hands to awaken the guard. Squeezing himself out of the building, the nine-foot-tall guard strolled over to the gate. Alerted eyes blinked behind his rimmed glasses.
"Mr. Angelo!" exclaimed the guard. He grinned as he gave a short bow. "It's good to see you are back, though you're later to return than usual. Please give me your card to ensure that you're not a shapeshifter or an illusion." Nodding, the angel pulled a dark green card, stamped with a rune, out of his pocket and over to the guard.
"Blame prolonged business and the faultiest ship I've ever stepped on," declared Michel. "I hope nobody is concerned about me."
The guard applied a bit of magic to the card. Flashes of light confirmed the slip to be authentic. "There has been talk, but rumors at best."
"Such as?"
"You should know," stated the guard. "Affair with a new woman, hostage to pirates, and running off for a new life. Things people say when boredom demands cannon fodder." An annoyed grunt escaped the assassin. Nosy people needed to learn how to keep to themselves. Returning the card, the guard offered a polite smile. "Good to see you home, Mr. Angelo. Give me a moment to open the gates."
Michel strolled onto the dirt road. His eyes scanned the vast square lawns between houses bordered by tall bushes. Many of the two-story buildings were painted the same white with one or two having a nice shade of gold. High luxury apparently meant copy-catting. Those few who wandered the streets wore suits or dresses. As the assassin strolled on through he greeted each person with a hello. Whether they were a resident or servant they all received the same treatment. Merciful death treated all with equality, why should Michel not do the same in life?
Word spread fast, for a young female goblin rushed up to Michel. Blonde hair tucked behind the ears started to fall into her eyes. One of her hands reached into her brown trousers and pulled out a brass pocket watch. A mass of speech flooded out of her lips. Streams of words, if granted solid form, dripped down her shirt.
"Miss Frank." Michel held his arm out to cap the fast speech. "Please slow down. I can't understand a word you're saying."
Halting in mid-sentence, Miss Frank took a deep breath. She spoke slower, but the sentences still rammed into one another.
"It's good to see you in one piece, Mr. Angelo. You were supposed to be home several weeks ago." Miss Frank jabbed a finger at her pocket watch. Numbers at the bottom of the watch said it was 5/22- the date. "It has been a wonder deflecting all the strong noses, and your children..."
"Are they alright?" A frown tugged at Michel's lips. Punishments and comforting words prepared themselves in his mind. Miss Frank's casual waving hand dismissed the worst predicted situations.
"Fine, fine. Suz is acing her studies and Fadil is getting interested in the Navy."
"Of course," groaned the assassin. Of course, his son had chosen such a meaningless career. "How much longer till the Navy thing starts?"
Miss Frank shrug offered little help. "Technically, he needs your permission."
"Technically, kids can lie about their age. Where are they now?"
"At the house. We were in the middle of magical storytelling when I got word."
Smiling, the assassin checked himself one last time before walking home. "Shall I see my children?"