Pirates of Vallahar: Chapter 7

Chapter 7
Two Mains and a Spanker

         The morning sun flooded the floor of a winding valley and warmed a soft breeze gliding down into a vast forest at the north end. Juryrig and Vixie stood on a shallow hill of golden grass and gazed up at the violet mountain range surrounding the large, secluded valley. Juryrig was not familiar with this majestic mountain range, but its intoxicating beauty immediately lifted the weight of worry and responsibility from his heart. A stream cut through the dense forest of monstrously tall redwood trees at the mouth of the valley and babbled out into hilly, gold grassland. The stags, Paradise City, and Jim Piper all seemed to exist in another time. Nothing could touch the two of them down here.
         The two friends walked down the gentle stream towards the floor of the valley. Juryrig closed his eyes and listened the sound of the trickling water as he took a deep breath of the fresh breeze. As the terrain leveled out, he sat down in the cool grass and gazed up in awe at the breathtaking scenery. Vixie sat down next to him and leaned affectionately into his shoulder.
         "Juryrig?" she asked.
         "Yes?"
         "When you're powerful and you control all of this, this whole place," she gestured across the landscape, "will you still remember me?" A breeze wafted up the brook. He turned.
         "Remember you? Vixie, you're the only family I ever had. I'm not giving you up anytime soon." His heart skipped a beat as he looked into her eyes. They seemed bluer than he’d ever seen them: Bluer than the sky above him. He spoke before he realized what he was saying. "I love you Vixie..." Her expression changed. She slid her arms around his middle and pulled herself close. She paused a moment and gazed into the young man's face, then she shut her eyes and kissed him. He could feel her lip tremble slightly as they embraced. Juryrig felt something inside. It was as if all his life there had been a void in his heart he hadn't noticed and now, in Vixie's arms, it was suddenly filled with exactly what he'd been missing all these years. He felt time stand still as he held on to the treasure he'd taken for granted for so long, but never truly appreciated. He could feel her hands quiver, her chest expand with each breath; he could feel her heart beat against his. He could barely hear the blasts of cannon fire... Cannon fire!?...
         Don’t forget me Juryrig!…

         Juryrig's eyes flashed open. Above him in the dark, lit by flickers of blue light from the porthole, was Vixie. She had her hand on his chest and was shaking him.
         "Are we here?" he asked bewilderedly.
         "Wake up 'Rig!" she said urgently. "It's a lightning storm! Came out of nowhere. You better take the helm." He sat up. As he suddenly remembered to breathe, he realized he was in his quarters on the Odin. The ship reverberated with the deafening sound of thunder, and the deck rocked under him. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip and looked up at Vixie through the darkness, his heart still pounding. She was dressed in her white tank top and brown flight pants with those black fingerless flight-gloves that went halfway up her forearms that she sometimes wore, and her raven hair was down and draped over her bare pink shoulders. He licked his dry lips and tasted sweat. She leaned over and put her hand on his. "Hey, you okay?" she asked. "You look like you seen a ghost." He took a breath.
         "I'm fine." As he got out of bed, he tried to hide his shaking hands. "Roust the boys. And tell 'em to make sure they're not wearing anything metal."
         "Aye skipper... You sure you're okay?" she asked. He cleared his throat and tried to smile at her.
         "No problem. Just get us the hell outa this storm. I'll be up shortly." She gave him another worried glance and left. As he changed into his flight clothes, he realized how stupid he must have looked. I must be comin' down with something... No more pepper jerky before bed.

         It had been two days since their daring escape from Pedimar, and Juryrig, Bullseye, and Vixie hadn't stopped once. It was a happy coincidence that Galloway's friends happened to be in Pedimar on unrelated business during the stag raid. They were rookies, but Juryrig needed a crew to man the guns and help unload the cargo when the time came, so he was more than happy to have a few strong backs onboard. Not only had they lost almost everyone over the Ubaries, they had also lost Galloway in Pedimar.
         Now it looked like these young ruffians were going to get their chance to prove their worth. In the high winds, they would need to make sure the cargo was secure, monitor the repulsor pads, and make sure the control core didn't overload; and Ensign Percel was just the ship hand to do any of it. He eagerly jumped out of bed and looked out at the storm through porthole.
         Webs of lightning darted across the black sky as the Odin bucked in the gale force winds of the storm. All around the great vessel he saw monstrous clouds lit by flashes of purplish white and speared with intense jagged streaks of light. As the Odin fought its way ahead of the lightning cloud formation, a bolt of electricity arced out and struck the bottom of the ship.
         Juryrig almost lost his footing as he was thrown against a bulkhead from the explosion caused by the lightning hit. Probably hit one of the repulsors. He pulled himself to the crew quarters as the deck shuddered and swayed underfoot. "All hands on deck!" he shouted down the rocking hallway over the thunder, even though there were only a few men on board. "Batten down the hatches! We might have to land! And don't take anything metal above! No weapons!"
         The skeleton crew was already pulling on their clothes and heading for their respective posts. Ensign Percel ran out of his quarters, and then abruptly doubled back. "Almost forgot you," he said as he snatched a necklace off of his nightstand. The necklace was leather with an iron cross pendant: a good luck charm given to him by his grandmother. "Kail knows what would happen without this!"

         Bullseye and Vixie struggled at the helm to keep the Odin steady as the storm raged into a tornadic squall, threatening to toss them out of the sky. Juryrig climbed up onto the flight deck holding on to the railing against the bucking floorboards. The hot, dry, gale-force wind sizzled with electricity and threatened to rip his flapping jacket from his body.
         "What's the quickest way outa here?!" he shouted over the din.
         "Ya got me!" Vixie shouted back. "We've been trying to head west but we're not getting anywhere." Juryrig looked toward the bow. The stabilizer node had a safety that would disengage the repulsors if it sensed enough opposing force to damage the wooden structure of the ship. So it seemed they were currently at the storm's mercy. I'll have to find a way to disable that thing! Lightning lit the sky as it danced between the cloud columns and walls. A few of the crew scattered over the main deck to secure tools that hadn’t already been swept away and lock slamming hatches.
         Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashed out of the heavens and struck one of the men in the chest sending a shower of sparks over the bow. Juryrig shielded his face as the man was thrown across the deck and landed in a smoking heap against the guardrail at the far end. Vixie carefully pulled her way over to him through the gale. As she knelt down beside him, she saw a young face with smoke billowing from his mouth and eye sockets. She shut her eyes and put her hand on his. "It was Percel!" she called weakly after a moment. "He must have been wearing a chain or something!"
         Juryrig turned to Bullseye. The young man's eyes were wide with fear but he gripped the wheel solidly. Just as Juryrig opened his mouth to order the kid to land, the sky above their heads erupted with blinding electricity. Everyone instinctively ducked.
         "SHIT!" Juryrig rasped. He grabbed the controls from Bullseye and sent the Odin into a dive, leaving the electrically charged reaction above and behind them. Hauling on the wheel, he rode the storm all the way down until the clouds broke and the roiling waves of the Humphrey Sea pitched in front of the bow. Another bolt of lightning licked out from under the storm cloud and blasted out another repulsor in an orange fireball: a parting gift to the unlucky ship.
         Finally the air began to cool and Juryrig's hair was no longer standing on end. They'd cleared the storm. He checked his instruments against the violently battling Odin. Sure enough, two repulsor pads were damaged and disabled, and the Odin creaked with strain. "We're gonna have to land here for repairs," he said worriedly to Bullseye as the lapping water reached up for the wounded ship. "And then find out where exactly 'here' is."

*          *          *

         The sun shone brightly the next morning as the Odin rolled calmly on the waves of the Humphrey Sea. She sat relatively low in the water: her bilge flooded with sea water despite the speed of the crew in sealing her up the previous night. Bullseye walked up onto the main deck wiping his hands on an oily rag. The cool sea breeze and the orange light of the recently risen sun were a welcome change from the dark, greasy air of the belly of the Odin. Plus, the unnatural rocking didn't seem to bother him as much up here. They'd spent all night working on the repulsor pads and the damn stabilizer node. It wasn't reading right since the two repulsors were fried. They were lucky, though. The pads were repairable, but they'd need to leave the node shut down and get her out of the water. No easy task, especially for the largest battle cruiser in Vallahar. Galloway's boys were still below, sealing the patched holes in the Odin's hull.
         Bullseye noticed Vixie standing at the bow. He guessed that she'd watched the sunrise. He flipped the rag carelessly over the guardrail and walked over to her. The rag slipped into the water as soon as he left it.
         "Never been on the water before," he remarked.
         "I hate it," she said. "All this movement, up and down, side to side. It doesn't feel right. Like we're not in control." She stared silently out at the undulating sea.
         "We're not, at the moment," Bullseye reminded her unnecessarily.
         "I prefer the solid feel of a level deck under you and a balloon above," she said. Bullseye couldn't blame her. They were, at the moment, the very definition of the phrase 'shittin' ducks.' Bullseye wondered for a moment where that ridiculous saying came from anyway.
         "Do you think that Galloway character made it out of Pedimar?" he asked.
         "No tellin'," Vixie responded. "I wish we'd had time to look for him. If he did, maybe he'll find us. He knows where we're going." Bullseye watched her in the morning light. She looked like she was watching the sunrise, yet she had her eyes closed.
         "It's a shame about Percel," he commented. Vixie turned to look at him.
         "What did I tell you? Don't ever touch anything metal when you're caught in a lightning storm like that. If the lightning strikes, it'll often hit a good static conductor like repulsor pads, tools, or even a piece of jewelry."
         "Who're you, my friggin' mother?" he interrupted with a wide smile.
         "Sorry, I guess I get it from 'Rig. He always used to give long lectures and preach about the best way to survive. I think he got it from his stepmother Nadie. She always had to look out for him. Now I think he thinks he has to look out for me."
         "You seem like you can look out for yourself better than anyone else I know."
         "He can't help it. He's got this crazy idea that it'll be his fault if I kick. Like he's somehow responsible for everything that happens to me. Drives me nuts. I think he's sorry he took me with him."
         "What do you mean?"
         "Back when we left Carrion Flats. I think maybe he had second thoughts about bringing me along."
         "You mean the Death Mark base? You think he would rather he'd left you there?" Bullseye asked skeptically. Vixie looked back out at the horizon. "No," he continued, "If the guy had second thoughts, it was for something other than taking you along." he suggested.
         Vixie looked at him in surprise. Her expression was difficult to read, but it was obvious she was going through some inner turmoil. Realizing that he'd perhaps hit too close to a tender spot, he glossed over the question. "Well... if you didn't feel welcome, why didn't you ever just leave? How come you're still around after all these years?" Vixie looked away. Abruptly, she ran the back of her fist across her face.
         "Who're you my friggin' mother?" Behind them there was the sound of grunting and cursing coming from below deck. They turned to see Juryrig coming up the stairs backwards hauling out several long wooden posts along with two large white canvases.
         "Hold it! HOLD IT!... easy..." Several crewmembers came out with him pushing the heavy poles from the other end. With a final grunt he leaned the long post over the prow and looked up at Vixie and Bullseye, smiling brightly.
         "Still got those sail riggings from that time we disguised the Odin as a sea barge in the Gantry Islands," he said to Vixie with a wide smile. She looked away without returning it.
         "Those things'll never work," Bullseye complained.
         "The hell they won't! Well... we can make 'em work. Better than nothing at least." Bullseye rolled his eyes. Juryrig turned to the paltry mess of riggings and sails in far too good a mood. "C'mon kid. Help me put these fuckin' things together."

*          *          *

         The crew worked through the morning erecting the massive sails to take advantage of the salty winds of the Humphrey Sea. By noon the Odin was sailing under its own power.

         "Sail!" yelled the lookout. "Sail off the starboard bow!"
         "Take the wheel, donuts," Juryrig ordered one of the portly rookies as he jumped down to the main deck. They had rigged up an old rudder he'd had in storage and connected it to the helm. The massive Odin was neither fast nor maneuverable on the water, but it was, just barely, sailable. Vixie was already at the bow and was peering through her tattered binoculars. Juryrig stood next to her as she scanned the horizon. "It's gotta be human. Stags don't have sea craft," he commented as Bullseye joined them. "You ever seen a stag try to swim, kid?"
         "Looks like it's probably a merchant ship," Vixie interjected. "Must've come from a pretty out-of-the-way port to still be using the sea for transportation."
         "Lemme see," Juryrig said as he grabbed for the binocs. Vixie lowered them and eyed her partner strangely.
         "Don't you trust me?" Juryrig looked at her for a moment, gave her a 'what's your problem?' look, then turned.
         "Full about!" he called up to the flight deck. "Bring us alongside!"

         The ship was fairly large with a very old and elaborately decorated hull. Unlike the Odin, it looked as though it belonged in the water. Her sail riggings dwarfed the Odin’s even though the latter was a much bigger ship. As it drifted in close, Juryrig could see the word "Abraham" displayed on its flanks. A voice called out.
         "Ahoy!" A figure made his way out onto the deck of the merchant windjammer and gave them a friendly wave. "Haven't seen a vessel that big or that poorly rigged since the Bosun back in 'twenty three." Juryrig approached the side railing of the Odin. The man was in his sixties. He had a shock of white hair under a sailor’s hat and wore an overcoat to protect against the cold breeze of the Humphrey Sea. "I'm captain Starleg of the Abraham," The stranger said. Juryrig smiled as he motioned Bullseye to extend a board across to the other ship.
         "Ahab," Juryrig introduced himself as the man stomped jollily over to the Odin. "This is my ship, the Pequod," he shot a glance at Vixie. Vixie stood stone-faced behind him as Starleg first shook Juryrig's and then Bullseye's hand firmly. "This is my second mate Bullseye, and my first mate Jasperwina."
         "Ah! A kingly name, that! Welcome to the Humphrey! I've never seen the Pequod 'round these parts before." He gestured towards the main foremast. "Have you traveled far... on two mains and a spanker?" Juryrig glanced quickly at Bullseye who was apparently just as befuddled as he was.
         "Uh, we shipped out from Potter Island," Juryrig responded. "Ran into a kicker of a storm." The old man eyed him for a moment.
         "You're not pirates are you?" he asked suspiciously. The man's perception impressed the veteran smuggler, and Juryrig gave him as reassuring a smile as he could muster.
         "No sir. We're just trying to avoid attracting too much attention and hoping for a little assistance. Do you know of a safe port nearby where me and my mates here can make some repairs?" Starleg regarded them for a moment, then smiled.
         "Aye. I'm headin' fer one right now if you'd like to follow," the old man said.
         "Well we'd certainly appreciate it captain," said 'Ahab' with relief. "What's the name of this harbor?" Juryrig wondered if he'd ever heard of it. He'd been almost everywhere in Vallahar.
         "Herob. Just a few klicks west of here," Starligg called as he returned to his ship. "We'll be there in no time!" Juryrig pulled the boarding plank back in.
         "Thank you captain!" He turned to Bullseye and Vixie. "Finally some good news. Mr. Donuts! Let's get this bucket movin' before my I get my repulsors wet."

*          *          *

         Port Herob was situated in the back of a winding cove where it was safe and remarkably well hidden from stags and pirates by the tall overshadowing redwood trees that made up much of northern Vallahar. There were several ships, all sea vessels, docked in the small and non-descript harbor. The town itself was equally unremarkable with dull stone and wood shops lining the one large street overlooking the harbor, with the exception of a particularly large structure barely visible back in the woods. It had a bell tower and what looked like a steeple at the top. Juryrig had never seen one before, but he knew instantly what it was. I’ll be damned. A temple. And here I thought religion died with the mountain folk. He leaned over to Vixie at the bow. "First headless goat I see, I'm leaving..."
         Up under the protective canopy of the trees there were several shacks where the population probably spent their nights. The tired town looked empty at the moment and was deathly quiet. The only sign of habitation was a few curls of smoke floating out of the chimneys of some of the larger stone houses, and some kind of orchard or vineyard in a clearing next to the church that looked well stocked.
         Juryrig strolled down the ramp to the docks and surveyed the other ships docked nearby. There was one other large sea faring vessel besides the Abraham in port and three that looked like they were under construction. One looked vaguely familiar. Where've I seen that one before?
         Upon closer inspection, the town was a bit more awake than Juryrig had previously thought. There were a few people milling about in the main road that ran alongside the docks, and several women were staring at him from across the street and gossiping outside of what appeared to be a general store. A few older deck hands from other ships were gaping in awe at the size of the Odin around the harbor. These men were all veteran seafarers, and Juryrig hoped they didn't ask too many questions about the Odin's half-assed rigging. Bullseye and Jasperwina finished docking the Odin and joined him on the docks.
         "Don't get too many visitors 'round here," said captain Starleg cheerfully as he walked up the dock towards them. "'Specially two in two days." Juryrig turned. Vixie looked at him in alarm.
         "Two? Who else came through?" he asked.
         "I knew it was you 'Rig!" someone shouted in a loud, obnoxious voice from down the docks. The Odin's crew turned to see an overweight man with a couple of week's worth of thick stubble ambling quickly towards them. "I'd recognize the Odin anywhere! You got her all anused up, but I'd know her anywhere!" Madric Galloway threw his hairy arms tight around Juryrig in a friendly embrace. Juryrig winced over the man's shoulder.
         "Galloway!" Juryrig excalimed, genuinely relieved to see his lost pilot. "What happened? How did you get here? How'd you get away from Pedimar?” The shorter man smiled and slapped him on the shoulder.
         "I ran into some old buddies in town and we got hammered drunk. Naturally. When the stags whacked the place I told 'em to head fer the Odin. I had some personal business and couldn't make it back, so I snaked a transport parked out on the other side of town and made for Paradise City. I was hopin' to run into you there but I had to make a pit stop here for a refuel." The man tapped a metal flask he was carrying on his belt with a wink. "Port Herob is well-known for their grape juice. Funny how things work out, huh?" The man turned to greet some of his old chums as they filed out of the ship.
         "You stole a transport from Pedimar?" Vixie asked. Galloway motioned towards one of the sail-free transports parked in the harbor that Juryrig had mistaken for being under construction.
         "The Loki," he identified her with pride. "Turned out to be a pretty good little ship." Juryrig glanced at Starleg who was listening with interest.
         "Heh," Juryrig laughed guiltily. "Well I guess I owe you some explaining..."
         "Tonight lad," Starligg said simply. "You and yer mates are invited to dinner and prayer service with my wife and I. We don't get many visitors as I said, and I long to hear any news about the war. I live in the stone house at the back of town." At the mention of prayer service, Juryrig looked like he'd just been sentenced to twenty four hours in the county brig.
         "Oh we wouldn't want to intrude," Vixie quickly insisted.
         "We can’t stay that long anyway," Juryrig added desperately.
         "Nonsense! Stay for dinner and service tonight and I'll have the wife put together some food and supplies for the lot of you. If you're going all the way out to Vaspur, you could certainly use them." Bullseye's face had lit up at the prospect of a hot meal. "I insist Captain Ahab! Consider it payment for our towns' hospitality," Starleg said with finality.
         "... all right..." Juryrig said through a poorly hidden grimace. It was one thing to study ancient mythology from an historical perspective, but he hated the idea of participating in some long, pointless ceremony with people who actually believed that nonsense.
         "We'd be honored captain..." Vixie quickly added.
         "Excellent. I'll see you at sundown," the old man said and headed off across the street into town. Galloway watched him go.
         "I don't trust that dude," he said, wiping his sleeve across his nose. Juryrig raised an eyebrow at him.
         "What exactly is a prayer service?" Bullseye asked.
         "We get to help them talk to god," Juryrig said.
         "God?"
         "Yeah, you know: robes, white beard, sits on a cloud, shoots lightning out of his butt..."
         "Please don't insult the man's religion while we're here..." Vixie interjected wearily.
         "I just want to get my repulsors fixed so I can get my ass to Paradise City."
         "Well I think we should come clean with him," Vixie told him.
         "Yeah," Bullseye agreed. "I don't know who Ahab is but I know he ain't you." Galloway looked at Bullseye with a suspicious grimace.
         "Yeah, I mean, what if he'd read Moby Dick?" asked Vixie.
         "Old people can't read. Once we get this damn Vaspur run over with we can stop with all this cloak and dagger crap," Juryrig said tiredly. He lowered his voice. "Not only is our cargo worth a fortune, I'm worth a fortune to Piper, and apparently the stags are gunning for me now too. There's no way the attack on Pedimar was a coincidence. Somebody tipped somebody off. Whether it was Piper or the stags there’s no tellin'. Probably both. I just wanna get to Paradise City, offload this red hot merchandee and then get the hell out of the Northern Wilds. The sooner we get south and away from here the better."
         "Away from here?" Bullseye repeated. "'Here' is where the money is man! Well, not right here..."
         "Who the hell are you?" Galloway suddenly asked antagonistically.
         "This is Bullseye," Juryrig introduced the two men. "We hired him on just before the stags hit Pedimar." Galloway sized the young man up with distaste. Bullseye returned the feeling with a sneer. "Galloway, do me a favor and see if you can't get the Odin up on dry land before she soaks her repulsors: That empty lot in front of the southernmost berth..." Juryrig pointed to the end of the docks across the street from the port, not far from the vineyard, unfortunately. "Careful though, she's only running on four."
         "Aye cap'," Galloway responded. "My crew and I'll get her up there in no time." He gestured fondly at his own ship. "The Loki can lift more tonnage than any ship her size..." Juryrig turned to Vixie and Bullseye before he could finish.
         "Vixie, make sure the cargo bay is secure, and then do some scouting. Find out exactly where this Starleg fella lives. And make sure there's nothing funny about that church up there." He turned to Bullseye. "C'mon kid. Let's go see if we can find some tools in this backwater rat-hole. And remember everybody... Keep it quiet!"

*          *          *

         "So you're wanted by the Death Mark and the stags, and you're trying to reach Paradise City to sell a load of valuable relics from the ancient world?" asked Starleg that night over dinner.
         "That's about the size of it, chief," said Juryrig after a drink of some of the sweetest wine he'd ever tasted. Starleg had one of the larger and better-furnished houses in the small port village of Herob, yet even so, the furniture was humble and the living room cozy. He was the pastor and acting mayor in the now three year absence of the real mayor. Apparently, he'd found more fulfilling work elsewhere and never bothered to tell the villagers. Juryrig, Vixie, and Bullseye sat at the dinner table eating a fine meal of wild turkey prepared by the old sailor's wife: a kind, rotund woman perpetually in an apron. Juryrig had ordered Galloway and his crew to stay with the Odin and help the hire-ons repair the repulsors. By the time the meal was ready, the sun had set and he was anxious to get back and help with the repairs.
         "Now, Paradise City is way off in Vaspur... How did you plan to get there?" the old man asked with a cocked eyebrow. Bullseye looked up from his plate long enough to glance at Juryrig with a mouthful of food.
         "Yeah, how did we plan to get there?" Juryrig gave Bullseye a look, and the kid nonchalantly went back to his meal.
         "You see Starleg," Juryrig began. "I wasn't completely honest with you. I wanted to be sure I could trust you." The old man sat back in his chair.
         "Are you sure you can trust me now?"
         Vixie glanced over at Juryrig. He was eased back with a faint, non-committal grin on his face, but answered, "I am." The old man shifted forward in his seat and placed his hands on the table, apparently pleased.
         "You speak with conviction, son. So who are you?"
         "My name is Juryrig. 'The Pequod,' my ship, is actually called the Odin." The young man waited for some sign of recognition. The old man just blinked.
         "So that sail rigging was just a disguise, then. That's a relief. I thought you might have been trying to get your crew marooned out in the middle of nowhere." Though Juryrig's expression didn't change, he was clearly nursing wounded pride. "So I assume she's repulsor powered, eh?"
         "That's right. We lost a couple in the storm. Galloway was on my crew but we got separated a few days ago. Him and his boys are repairing the Odin tonight. Hopefully we can move out tomorrow."
         "Tsk!" Starleg's wife chirped with concern. "You should never fly at night over the Humphrey! The lightning storms are too severe. Even sailing ships can't stay afloat."
         "We appreciate your concern Mrs. Starleg," Vixie said diplomatically. "The rest of our trip is safely over land."
         "Speaking of which," Juryrig started to stand up. "We better get out there and help if we want to be out of here by sunrise."
         "Nonsense!" Mrs. Starleg exclaimed, sounding not unlike her husband.
         "You and your brave crew are welcome to stay here in our guest room," Mr. Starleg added. "There's no need to rush out of here so fast. We enjoy the company. Perhaps you will find something important you can take with you at the church?" Juryrig raised his eyebrows at Vixie in a 'here we go' gesture, who gave him a hard look.
         "I'll take your dishes." Mrs. Starligg started rounding up their plates, leaving only Bullseye's, the user of which was still helping himself to potatoes.
         "We don't want to intrude," Vixie protested.
         "Oh, there's plenty of room for the three of you!" She said jovially. "We have a guest room for just this kind of thing. After service many of our neighbors come here to sing and dance." Juryrig stifled a disgusted groan rather well.
         "Yes, we always welcome visitors to our little cove," Starligg smiled at them. "And you needn't worry about stags or pirates during your stay. You will be safe here my friends, for in this home, you are under the protection of God."