Chapter 15 - Ginger Beer

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Nearly four days since Vinie left for Moaan, and every hour felt like an uphill battle for Gideo. Progress was slow, but at least the sighting of the warship off Danitesk's coast seemed to have made some impression on Kuman. The contrary old LawMaker remained slow to act on Vinie's recommendations for a militia and a watchtower; every time Gideo brought them up, Kuman fretted and fumed and pointed out a thousand nonexistent reasons why they couldn't be done. Naanti, the town's shaman, was thankfully at least willing to discuss what Danitesk's future would look like as part of Undor. If it weren't for her and the increasingly reliable enthusiasm of Kuman's son, Jalatu, Gideo reckoned he might have given up the stubborn little fishing village as a lost cause.

Their most recent and pressing undertaking was to organize a scouting party. The more Gideo heard about the rumored royal shipyard at the tip of Auli's Inlet, the more convinced he was that it would inevitably pose a real threat. With most if not all of Undor's livelihood and travel reliant on the sea, a naval attack from the capital would be disastrous. A still not-so-small part of Gideo piped up from time to time, reminding him of the collateral cost of striking first. In those moments, he would pause to think of Margalee - the Blue Obad who had lost her both home and her eyes to help him escape capture - and wonder if she was alright. The memory of her and Zaneo was usually enough to override Gideo's quiet concerns. If Mahir was building warships on Undorian land, then he would have to be stopped. There was no two ways about it.

The members of the scouting party had been chosen; hunters who knew the jungle and footpaths around Danitesk well. The date and time were set; they would leave tomorrow morning, a group of four traveling light and quick. With any luck, they would reach the tip of Auli's Inlet and return within a week. The final decision as to what exactly would be done with the information the scouts brought back was just being made as the sun set beyond the window of Kuman's home.

"And you can promise that any attack on the shipyard, if there is to be one, will be staged from Moaan, not Danitesk?" Kuman was saying for the hundredth time.

Gideo sighed. "Yas Kuman, you have my word." Moaan was further away from Auli's Inlet than Danitesk, with no immediate road between them. The best and only route would be a narrow, obstacle-laden canoe trip through the jungle; not ideal, but doable. At least basing an offensive out of Moaan would be easier logistically in terms of weapons and people. It was also the only way that Kuman would permit Danitesk to act as the staging point for this first, crucial scouting party.

At last, Kuman settled back in his chair looking at least somewhat appeased. Jalatu and his friend Balik exchanged a glance across the table. Mugs of ginger beer sat untouched at everyone's elbows, except for Naanti who was currently nursing her third. Outside, the barking of dogs and the ever-present crashing of the surf made a strangely ordinary counterpoint to their talk of war.

"Well, I suppose that's that then." Abruptly, Kuman snatched up his mug. Tipping back his head, he drained the whole thing in a series of dramatically loud gulps. Then, pushing back his chair, he stood. "I'm off to bed. You all can do as you like, there's plenty of drink in the cellar downstairs. Just so long as there's no more Factionist business under my roof tonight."

"I should be getting home too." Gathering up her skirts, Naanti slid off her stool with remarkable ease for a woman with three mugs of ginger beer in her. "You should too, Kaulo. You're leaving with the other hunters before sunrise tomorrow."

Kaulo, a broad-faced fellow seated next to lanky Balik, patted his still-full mug. "Soon, SeaShaman. I'm not so rude as to leave Kuman's beer to the flies."

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