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Soooo... here it is, the first part of the 2nd chapter of my Red Lantern Universe 'fanfic' (is it even fanfic if there's no Luther yet? nevermind...). Enjoy some silly new characters.

AAAAND, as a compensation for the long wait, HERE: http://we.tl/3TgswMoru5 is a link to some bacground music I believe goes well with the setting, it's mostly instrumental and it's all nordic (fennoscandian) or central asian music (except for that one track from Vangelis, but at least the name fits ). I thought a single file would be more convenient than a bunch of links to youtube and whatnot, but if you can think of an even better way how to deliver this please do tell. And of course this kind of music might not be to everyone's liking so feel free to ignore it or lament my poor taste in music. (Btw, I f*ing LOVE Annbjørg Lien...)

Lastly, anyone interested in correting all the mistakes and doing some editing (a certain cave lion and an anarchist medic come to mind), note me with your e-mail so I can send you the original .odt file

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A Fine Line – Chapter 2 (part 1)
Snow-white


Their first fortnight on the sea was rather uneventful. Even as late in the spring as it was, there was actually very little traffic heading in or out from the Kadrush strait. The increased intensity of raiding and reports of a new wave of border skirmishes likely didn't help the matter. They rarely met any other ship bigger than a fishing sloop or an occasional whaler and the only action they saw so far was a short clash with two reaver longships. The encounter was very swift and one-sided, since it took only one broadside and a few hits to see one of the longships on the bottom of the sea and the other retreating hastily into the mouth of a nearby river, where Esca couldn't follow. The only real nuisance, that kept buggering them constantly, was the weather.

The northern seas were known for many difficulties they caused to sailors. The currents could be pretty unpredictable due to seasonal salinity drifts. Just as unpredictable, but much more dangerous was ice. Drift and pack ice, or even icebergs, could appear anytime and almost every morning they found the hull and almost everything on the ship covered with icing. The Captain made sure the ship is well equipped with grappling hooks and pikes to make sure they would not get trapped in ice, but there was still the possibility that ice floes could suddenly block their path and they would have to turn back. But even without any ice endangering the ship itself, it's crew could still suffer from frostbite or hypothermia. It would be much worse in winter, but even now, the air was cold enough to make everyone miserable.

Well...., not everyone. Captain Alden seemed to be very much used to it, but that was hardly surprising, since he was a wolfdog and hailed from the northernmost regions of Amuresca. So did, as it turned out, the ship's 'surgeon', Torsten Lindholm, an elkhound from Nordsund. He wasn't a real physician by training and, according to hearsay, he wasn't as skilled with knifes and saws as the ship's carpenter. But he used to be an apothecary by trade and he read a lot, so it was definitely better to have him on board, than to have nobody at all or a substitute of a different trade, as was common in the navy. He also didn't mind the cold, but he could rarely be seen outside of his cabin anyway. Sorokin was grumpy and miserable no matter the weather, so he didn't count. And then, there was Blackie... .

To Felix' mild vexation, the black dog took to the climate far better than himself. True, he was 'fluffier' than most of the crew, but Felix suspected his apparent resistance to cold was just a by-product of his unrelenting enthusiasm. Blackie seemed to beam with energy, that would keep him going with a warm smile even during a blizzard. Felix expected this state of his to wear off in time, since there really wasn't anything to be so elated about for the last several days, but nothing of that sort has been happening so far. His only consolation was, that there were also some crew members who got even less used to the cold than himself.

Maurice in particular got the worst deal by far. His real name was „Kamal Shams Nasir Malik“, or something along those lines, but, naturally, almost nobody remembered that and it was also somewhat inconvenient to shout a seven syllable name in the heat of action. And thus, much to his own chagrin, he became „Maurice“. He was a sand cat of small stature, coming from some Mataan desert, and a rather poor sailor, but he spoke Amurescan well and was fluent in Huudari and several other dialects, which the Captain thought might come in handy in the future. Right now though, he was about as useful as a trap door on a life boat and, not surprisingly, he just couldn't stand the cold at all. Even the bosun, who was usually a strict taskmaster, took pity of him and confined his responsibilities to kitchen duty and whatever needed to be done on the lower decks.

A sudden gust of chilly wind snapped Felix out of his reverie and almost made him chatter his teeth. He huddled his cloak closer to his body and wished for some more pieces of clothing. He seldom wore spats before, but this place has seen him wrap both his feet and hands in whatever pieces of wool cloth or soft leather he could find. It was enough to keep him warm during the day, but hardly sufficient when he was assigned to a night or morning watch. Just like right now. Thankfully, it was already past dawn and the prospect of a warmer day off-duty was slowly becoming reality. He straightened himself and peered out of the crow's nest to check the sky and the horizon once more. There were some clouds north from them, but they didn't seem to pose an immediate threat. Storms weren't as violent in these waters, as they were in the wide ocean or in the tropical regions of the south, and winds in general were more stable and weaker here than elsewhere. In fact, it was fogs and whiteouts that posed a greater hazard to ships in Kadrush. Combined with the unpredictable ice drifts or shallow water, they could make a ship sail to it's doom completely unaware. Felix leaned out a bit to look for any indications of sand bars, low islands or rocks under the water's surface, but he couldn't see anything of that sort. They were still quite a distance away from the long mountain range to their starboard, nevertheless, sailing in these parts with a ship as big as Esca usually demanded a native guide for increased safety.

Speaking of native guides, Felix thought. He glanced abaft, at the quarterdeck below him. All the officers except for the doctor were there, as if waiting for something. The tervuren, Edward Rooke, their master and second mate was at the helm. Nearby the bosun, a setter by the name of Allister Bryson, and midshipman Francis Morgan, the terrier in charge of Felix' watch were discussing something with their third mate and gunmaster Marco Orsini. Orsini was an old-fashioned pedigree from some southern region of Amuresca. Felix has never seen anyone else of his particular breed and only knew that it was called 'segugio', though to him, he looked like a mix halfway between a bloodhound and a greyhound. But saying anything like that aloud in his presence would of course be very unwise. Then there was the Master-at-arms, Philips van Mieris, a hovawart, who was leaning on the starboard gunwale and looked thoroughly bored. And finally, captain Alden and First officer Sorokin, who were standing just next to the helm and let themselves be entertained by the presence of their 'guide'.

The leopard joined them just two days ago, when they stopped briefly at one of the fishing villages along the coast, and Felix has never seen a cat as big as him before. He could have been almost twice the size as Sorokin and his fur was ashen grey and speckled with spots and rosettes from head to toe. And he certainly didn't mind the cold, for he only had a pair of shalwar pants, a leather vest and an old worn cloak, that probably used to be red a century or so ago, on himself. His name was Asudai Sirbi and he was clearly well acquainted with both the Captain and the fox from before. No doubt they didn't pick him up by chance. He seemed to be a mere mercenary more than anything else; he knew a thing or two about the land and the current situation, but apparently knew next to nothing about ships and sailing. Yet, he managed to stay out of the way, when tasks had to be done on the deck and he proved to be a jovial companion during his first evening on board, so no one in the crew had any reason to consider him an unnecessary nuisance. The fact, that he carried a pair of heavy scimitars, most men would lift and swing only with great effort, on his belt at all times, certainly seemed to encourage that kind of opinion as well.

Felix cocked his ears trying to pick up at least some pieces of the conversation below. He was always rather proud of his acute hearing, though he knew it wouldn't last long with all the gunfire he could expect in his line of work. Still, the distance made it difficult to make anything out over the mast's and the rigging's creaking combined with the sounds of sea and wind, as gentle as they were at the moment. Sorokin was particularly hard to eavesdrop on since he always spoke in that low calm voice. This Sirbi guy on the other hand seemed to be capable of using 'subtlety' only as a swearword and his voice, as was everything else about him, was very hard to miss.

”That's mount Imandra over there,” the leopard exclaimed suddenly, pointing to a distant peak. “There's a small promontory just at it's base, that's where they should be waiting.”

The Captain nodded and issued an order: “Helmsman, rudder two points starboard.”

“Helm, two points starboard. Aye, aye, sir,” Rooke replied and turned the steering wheel clockwise. Felix steadied himself in the crow's nest as the main-mast swayed while the Master turned the ship and adjusted it's course.

“Keep her so,” the Captain added when he was satisfied with the new heading.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

After that the conversation quieted down again and Felix couldn't make any more from it than a few sporadic words, apparently something about the depth of water near their destination. Felix went back to scanning the horizon and wondered whether they were bound for another prearranged meeting. It didn't take long before he was roused from his thoughts by the ship's bell. Eight bells rung on the deck below him, marking the end of the morning watch. He carefully straightened himself and looked below for his replacement, where Hawker was already making his way up the ratlines. As they carefully exchanged their places Felix drew the beauceron's attention to the clouds to the north and started his descent down the topmast shrouds.

Partially out of sloth, partially out of excitement from the upcoming meeting, which would hopefully break the tedious daily routine, he decided to slide the topmast backstay for the last part of his way down. With his hands wrapped in cloth he didn't risk any burns and the rope was wet and slippery with rime making the slide even easier. That however brought up other risks, which the rat confidently decided to ignore for the moment.

What he did not take into account however, was that the deck itself wasn't particularly dry and safe. As soon as he landed on the boards, he felt his paws giving way and sliding forward. Quickly, he grabbed at the rope again to steady himself and regain his footing. Sorokin noticed him and gave him a long, stern and disapproving glare, but didn't say a word. Felix cursed himself silently and slowly made his way afore. After the hours spent high on the main-mast he treated himself to a badly needed stretch. Then he sat down in the wind-shielded nook between the starboard bulwark and the ladder, just below the quarterdeck. He could see the mountains well enough from there, but more importantly, he could listen in on the officers on the quarterdeck without being noticed. He got quite absorbed in this underhand activity of his, that he didn't even notice a black dog approaching him from his left side until a pewter mug full of flip was shoved into his face.

“Thought you might need some,” Blackie said with a smile, “I've some hard tack too.”

“Thanks,” Felix replied and took a sip of the hot mixture of beer, rum and sugar.

“To be honest, I kinda expected you to go get some rest belowdecks,” Blackie added looking around and watching the crew of the forenoon watch rushing to their posts. “So, what are you up to?”

“Oh, nothin' much, I'm not really tired, just a bit cold. So I thought I'll hang around for a while... and listen.”

“Listen?” the schipperke asked puzzled.

“Aye, you know,” the rat replied with a mischievous smirk and pointed with his thumb at the quarterdeck, “to Captain and the cat.”

Blackie paused and pricked up his ears to listen to the conversation for himself. He seemed confused for a while, until he realized what it was he was hearing. “But... they're speaking in törgu!” he exclaimed and looked at Felix with apparent suspicion.

“So they do,” Felix confirmed with a nod, mild smile tugging up the corner of his mouth.

“Are you kidding me? Don't tell me you understand törgu!”

“Just a few words here and there,” he admitted. “I learned a bit as a kid. You meet all kinds of folks in the docks.”

“Figures,” Blackie shook his head slowly, still eyeing Felix incredulously. “So? What's the word around?”

“Well, much of what they say sounds like names,” he said thoughtfully. “Persons, places, tribes and peoples, that sorta' things. From what little I could gather, I think the leopard is apprising them of how things stand in the region, while Captain and Sorehead are tryin' to sort it out and decide what should be our target. I don't believe they've settled on anything yet, but the cat repeated one of the names several times, like he was trying to persuade them that it was important somehow. Anyway, I think we're going to meet with some other folks soon, that's why we changed the course a while ago.”

“Oh? Any idea who?” Blackie asked tilting his head.

“No,” Felix shrugged, “but someone better informed and with fresher news I guess.”


In the end it took them another hour to reach the meeting spot. Felix' assumption was confirmed when Hawker yelled from the crow's nest. “Boat, broad on the starboard bow! Heading our way!”

“Heave to, Mr. Bryson,” the Captain ordered at once. “Furl all sails and let them approach.” As the bosun relayed the order, more loudly than was really necessary, the wolfdog turned to midshipman Hunter, who was in charge of the current watch. “Hoist the colours, Mr. Hunter and fire the bow chasers. Regular charge, no ball.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” the foxhound replied and moved off to carry out the orders.

Felix stood up and leaned on the gunwale to have a better look at the approaching boat. It was an oar propelled longboat, but it was still too far away to make anything of it's crew. After the guns fired, there came another shout from Hawker. “No change in course, sir. I think they're waving at us.”

“So they do,” the Captain said, more to himself than anyone in particular, examining the boat with his spyglass. “Maybe you should take a look, Sirbi, just to be sure,” he said and offered the spyglass to the snow leopard. He took it eagerly, looked through it and fiddled a bit with the lens, likely to adjust it's focus, until a wide grin split his face. “Yep, it's them,” he said and handed the spyglass back to Captain.

“Good,” the Captain said, then turned to address the whole crew on deck. “Attention, gentlemen! We are about to have some guests visiting and while no official ceremony is required, it would certainly help our as of yet non-existent reputation to show ourselves in the best of light. So kindly make yourselves as presentable as possible and try to look professional while you're about your duties. And, I know I'm asking for the impossible right now, mind your language, if you please. Carry on.” There were a few muffled chuckles at that, but most of the men expressed a genuine effort to fulfil the Captain's wishes. Felix wearily glanced over the rags on his hands and his bland, salt-ridden cloak and came to the conclusion it would be best to sit back and try to blend in with the surroundings. Blackie tried to groom himself with his paws, but to no avail. He sighed and sat down beside the rat.

The boat was closing in with every moment, it was surprisingly fast for something principally driven by man-power. They could now see the oarsmen were all wolves, or very wolf-like dogs, but there were two other persons on board. They were smaller than the others, but appeared canine as well, yet their pelts were much brighter, practically white. And when the boat finally reached Esca and docked alongside it's hull, only these two were the ones to come on board. The first one turned out to be a pale grey vixen, one of those steppe foxes from deep inland regions of Kadrush, who could only very rarely be seen in Amuresca. Felix didn't realize she was a woman at first, for she was dressed like a man in a practical, although elegant and moderately adorned garment. Something a wealthy merchant would wear while travelling, or a nobleman would dress for a hunt. But whatever decorum the Captain attempted to keep, it was all but immediately ruined by Sirbi.

He rushed down the ladder to the upper deck in two giant leaps, grinning like a fool, and cried: “There you are, sis!” Before she could react, he grabbed the vixen by her waist, lifted her in the air with ease and let out a predatory laugh.

“Let me down, you silly bugger!” she yelped in mock panic and batted at his arms. “I am a respectable woman of important economical position, you dirty old sod! Put me down this instant!” she added and giggled like a little girl.

He finally relented and gently laid her down, which only pronounced their height difference even more. She was even smaller than Sorokin so the leopard loomed over her like a real behemoth, she hugged him by his waist affectionately nevertheless and said: “I missed you, Sirbi.”

“You did?” he asked, candidly pleased but also more than a little surprised.

“Mm-hmm. You know, a large walking shield you can hide behind always comes in handy, even in my line of work,” she said teasingly.

Sirbi chuckled at that. “Ha, well, if you'd asked me to guard one of your caravans again, I wouldn't say no. That always gets interesting,” he added and ran a paw down her back gently. “Anyway, we can natter some more later. Right now, you should meet the captain.” He turned abaft, where the Captain and Sorokin already descended the upper deck ladder, albeit in a much more graceful manner than the cat did just a moment ago. “Bolormaa Sarantani,” he declared in a more solemn voice, “meet Lionel Alden, captain of Esca.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, lady Sarantani,” the Captain bowed courteously and lightly kissed her offered hand. “Welcome on board.”

“Thank you. The pleasure is all mine, captain,” she replied and eyed the wolfdog with keen interest.

“And this is his First officer,” Sirbi continued, “Anton Savrasov So-.”

“Sorokin,” she supplied for him and tilted her head in recognition “We have met before.”

“So we did,” the fox confirmed. “It's good to see you again, milady.”

“Likewise, sire,” she said with a mild smile.

Sire? She really called him that? Felix thought in amazement.

“Huh? So you two know each other?” the leopard asked, puzzled.

“Yes, our families had some dealings in the past,” Sorokin admitted.

“Dealings, eh?” Sirbi remarked with a sly smirk and nudged the vixen with his elbow.

“Trade dealings, Sirbi,” she retorted and kicked him in the shin. “And as a matter of fact, I should probably make some introductions of my own,” she added and turned back to her companion. He was a fox as well, about the same size as her, if not a bit smaller, and completely white. His muzzle was shorter and his ears smaller than in most other foxes, but he made up for that with incredibly long and thick fur, especially on his tail. Felix has never seen any of his kind before, but he has heard of the white foxes of the far north, who managed to survive in places where no one else could. “This is Áigesárri, my contact for the Yurati tribe and a skilled hunter and scout. He speaks Amurescan quite well, so there's no need for a translator.”

“Well then, welcome aboard, Áigesárri,” the Captain said with a slight bow.

The white fox nodded in return but didn't say a word so far. He didn't look entirely comfortable, like as if he wasn't used to big ships. Which probably made sense if he truly was a hunter by trade.

“What of the men who brought you here?” Sorokin asked.

“Just some hired muscle,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I'll send them on their way home and we can get right down to business.”

“Good, we need to decide on a course to plot soon and I've been told you may have some insights on the current situation. If you would follow me to the quarterdeck,” the Captain said and led the way.

As they passed by, Felix tried to take better stock of the newcomers, but there wasn't much worth notice he wouldn't spot already upon their arrival. Sarantani was apparently a merchant of sorts, given by both her outfit and what little of her background gleamed from the conversation so far. Áigesárri wore some kind of a leather tunic, apparently a local hunting outfit, girded by a belt with several knifes of various shapes and sizes. He also carried a large sack on his back, which Felix could only guess contained a bow or a long barrelled firearm.

“So tell us,” the Captain said once they were all on the quarterdeck and the wolfs' boat broke away from Esca's hull and turned back towards the shore, “what's really going on here? We heard various rumours, but many of them were rather unclear and confusing, some were outright contradictory.”

“Hah, well, I wish I could help you there, but the fact is, that the situation is rather unclear and confusing. And it's definitely not good for maritime trade. Ever since Norgova, Korstom and Pasma Zori changed their tax rates, the tsar of Kalandogorsk refused to patrol along their trade routes and withdrew his fleet to only protect their own shores.”

“Rather short-sighted, isn't it?” the Captain wondered. “Kalandogorsk will need those trade routes just as well, if they hope to ever trade with Amuresca again. And they can't really send half of their fleet with every merchant vessel they dispatch in that direction.”

“I suppose it won't last long, it's more of a sulking gesture than a genuine threat,” the vixen replied with a shrug. “They just need some time to figure out which side losses more money because of the current mess, then we'll see another round of haggling and bickering, until they agree on a new deal nobody will be happy about. Politics,” she added, shaking her head. “In the meantime however, the raiders took on the opportunity and are attacking whatever suitable target they can find. The fleets of Norgova and Korstom are small and incompetent, which every would-be-pirate in the area puts to good use. There are plenty of independents with mixed crews, only few of the raiders are actually aligned with Varakka, or any other city-state not fond of Amurescans for that matter, and only unofficially at that. They wouldn't risk breaking the truce and going into another all-out war with Amuresca, not until they recover from the thrashing the Khoydan and Vadul gave them a year ago.”

“What of the Cheva?” Sorokin asked.

“Not in this region. You could encounter them further north, but they've been keeping to themselves these past few years. Which reminds me, Áigi here tried to employ the Yaranga, but they don't want to get involved.”

“As always,” Sirbi stated. “It's a shame though, a few ice bears would be useful against this lot.”

“So, who do you think we should focus on?” the Captain asked.

“No doubt Sirbi already told you about the Uiskeids, they are currently the most active group. And they are targeting Amurescan coast specifically, because they often have friends on the Kadrush side, who provide them with safe haven for a cut of the profit. Our officials have put up high bounties on any Uiskeid ships taken or sunken, so there's that at least.”

“What about Varakka merchant vessels?” Sorokin queried. “Are they not considered viable and legal targets as well?”

“No,” Sarantani shook her head, “as long as there is no proof of Varakka's direct involvement in acts of aggression against the Crown, they are considered peaceful civilians. There aren't many left in the area anyway. And if you were hoping to confiscate smuggled goods, the chances you will come upon those on regular merchantmen is quite low. You'd have to scour every fishing cockleboat to find anything and most of the trafficking is actually done by the raiders in any case. Really, you should concentrate on those, with their loot taken into account the profit is almost the same and you'll help a lot of people, who will like you all the more for it. Me included,” she added with a smile.

“Well, we hardly have any other option, as it stands,” Sorokin remarked with a disgruntled growl. “The whole situation is one giant mess. It's a bloody Chaos out here.”

“Welcome to Kadrush,” Sarantani said deadpan and then gave him a look like he suddenly discovered something so obvious and simple even small pups could see it.

“Attacking merchants ain't no fun anyhow,” Sirbi remarked with a snort. “These ruttin' raiders give you some sport at the least. You wanted to try how your lil' ship fares against real enemies anyway, didn't you?”

“I think Sirbi has a point there,” the Captain said with an amused smirk. “It would be a real shame to leave without having to use any of that expensive gunpowder we have stockpiled at all.”

“My thoughts exactly!” the leopard exclaimed. “Now, there is one Uiskeid captain in particular I was thinking would be an ideal mark, a brown bear going by the name Rybakov. The bounty on him is considerably higher than on the rest of them.”

“How so?” Sorokin asked.

“Because, allegedly, during one of his raids he managed to, quite possibly unknowingly, violate the baroness of Korstom.”

“Oh...”

“Yes, 'Oh'.”

“This is all really just hearsay,” the vixen added, “since nobody seems to know what actually happened back there. Knowing both baron Osterman and his wife, I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out she had an 'affair' with the man more or less willingly or on her own terms. Might be, she even welcomed some male attention for a change. So I wouldn't put much weight on any of the juicy details. What all the gossips have in common, and can thus be considered 'fact' is that she was staying in one of the coach houses just outside Korstom when it was picked clean by Rybakov's raiding party and that she was later found in a 'dishevelled state' with the bear's scent all over her. Long story short, Osterman got furious and is now mightily pissed at Rybakov. I'm not sure what he plans to do if he really gets his hands on him, but it's been more than a week now and his vengeful rage hasn't subsided one bit.”

“Truth is, the reward is even higher if he's brought in alive,” Sirbi observed with a distant look, like he already saw himself spending it.

“He's offering so much only because he feels he was ashamed and no one will take him seriously any more,” Sarantani continued. “Not that anyone did before, for that matter, just don't say that aloud in front of him. He doesn't have any real regard for the woman, though. Might be,” she added in thought, “you could get an even higher prize from her for releasing him. Just to piss her husband even more.”

Sirbi laughed at that. “Well, that's all the more reason to go after him.”

“Sounds promising,” the Captain said, although he didn't sound entirely convinced. “Alright, what do we have on him then?”

“From what I heard,” Sirbi replied, “he's actually quite predictable and a coward. He only fights if he's certain he can win. If ambushed, he will try to run, which would only make it easier for us to get him. But we need to act fast. He is an easy mark, which means we need to get to him sooner than others. The bounty is free game, whoever gets him first will get the reward.”

“That seems be true,” a low voice with a strange palatalising accent barged in all of a sudden. That must be the other fox, Felix thought; he couldn't see much of his face since he was turned with his back to him.

“Bear always raids the coast in a sort of... arc,” the voice continued with a pause, apparently trying to recall a not-so-familiar word, “then retreats to some of the fjords further north. Predictable like a herd-animal. Was captured several times before actually, but he always negotiate and was released for ransom. I know position of his last raid, so we can estimate which places he will strike next.”

“That's why I brought Áigesárri with us, actually,” Sarantani said. “He's been keeping an eye on Rybakov's activities these past few days and he knows the bear well enough to recognize him. I only saw him once and from a distance myself.”

The Captain and Sorokin exchanged looks without words, at length the Captain sighed and nodded. “Very well, let's hope you are right on this one. We should set sail either way.” He turned to the bosun. “Let's get under way, Mr. Bryson, unfurl all courses and topsails. Mr. Rooke, steady as she goes.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” both men replied and started preparing the ship to set out once more.

“What do you know about his crew and their armament?” Sorokin asked in the meantime.

“Criminals, deserters, wretched scum with nothing more to lose..., the usual,” Sarantani replied. “They are a mixed lot, wolves and dogs mostly, and only a few bears, as a matter of fact. For some reason he can't get on well with others.”

“Good, that doesn't sound too hard. What about leopards?” the fox kept on asking and glanced at the one leopard they already had on board.

“Unlikely,” Sirbi answered before the vixen could, “as far as I know, most of the tribes are steering clear of this fix. Of course we could always stumble upon a stray or two and there were some rumours about Rybakov employing some cat as a a new officer, but that could be a bloody lynx or a wildcat for all we know. Or just an unfounded gossip.”

“And their weapons?”

“They're not an army,” Sarantani waved her hand contemptuously. “They're armed with whatever they could scrape together. Expect to see a lot of antique junk, some bows and crossbows, old matchlocks otherwise. As for big guns, I doubt they have anything that could harm a ship like this. They could be dangerous in a melee though, these folks tend to be quite fond of their knives and axes.”

“Right, and what kind of ships do they have anyway?”

“Uiskeid longships,” the vixen said, “over hundred feet long, sixty rowers and up to fifty additional fighters each.”

“Single masted?”

“Yes, they have one of those triangular sails on the rope in front and that weird asymmetrical sail in the back.”

“You mean a gaff rig? Really now, I would have thought you would be well acquainted with ships and rigging by now. Don't you travel with merchantmen quite often?”

“As a passenger, not a sailor. I use ships for transport, I don't work on them. That means I don't have to remember all that bloody crazy-ass terminology you people seem to be so fond of,” she retorted defensively.

“Right, right... ,” Sorokin put up his hand in a soothing gesture. “Well, they certainly sound like well accustomed to these waters.”

“Deeper in the strait, they will have all the advantage,” the Captain added. “We'll have only gun range and fire power.”

“And given their usual tactics, they won't let us use those for long.”

“Likely not, we should engage them closer to the ocean where the winds are stronger. Set up an ambush maybe, deeper into the strait, but not too far,” the Captain said in thought. “I suppose it's time to take a closer look on our charts.”

“Sound idea,” Sorokin agreed with a nod, then cleared his throat. “Sharf!” he called out sharply out of the blue, without even turning to regard him. “Stop playing deaf and go tell the cook to prepare tea and some refreshment for the officers and our guests in the wardroom. And lively now!” he ordered.

“Aye, sir! Right away, sir!” Felix replied as he hurried to his feet. So much for being subtle, he thought as he descended on the main deck