Interlude: Nivard

[Revel]

with half-credit to Eliza Lacrimosa


Kirby grimaced and sighted down the end of his knife. Just beneath the hovering needlepoint tip, a fly sat on the lip of the porridge pot, wringing its forelegs together.

He was nervous. This was not just any fly. No, this was a villainous winged demon in insect form. It would continually stamp its grody little feet all over the soup spoons, whizz about in front of his face, and buzz incessantly in his ears whilst he was napping. Kirby had put up with these shenanigans for long enough. The fly had to die.

The ferret cook raised the blade ever so gradually, lulling his nemesis into a false sense of security. Yes, ever so slightly, he would raise it to a throwing position. Then, when the tiny insect's brain would least suspect it... Sklick! His whiskers twitched with anticipation; his paw perfectly still.

"Hellgates!" roared a voice from outside the hut. The fly buzzed off, just half a second before the knife flew.

Kirby nearly gulped back his tongue as former First Mate Nivard staggered in. The stoat didn't even notice the knife sticking out of the wall just inches from his ear.

"Thrice-blasted... worm-ridden... Hope yer 'appy! Ye coward! All warm an' snug wid yer treasure keepin' ye fed! Rah, 'm not yer lickspittle, Matty! Ye can't tell me wot ter do no more!"

Nivard stumbled further into the warm shade of the kitchen hut, a clay flask clutched in his paws. His course veered and twisted as his footpaws fought to keep him balanced, until at last he fell against a barrel of water, tipping it over on himself and turning the dirt floor to mud.

"Feh," he growled, laying in the sodden grime, empty eyes drilling a hole through the smokey ceiling.

Kirby trudged around the fireplace in the middle of the hut and offered Nivard the end of a ladle.

"C'mon, Cap'n... Up y'get, now."

Nivard shook himself loose from the ferret and leaned against the wall. Leaning around to peer out the doorway, he stared at the remainder of the crew splashing about in the shallows of the oasis pool.

"Lookit 'em, Kirb. Lookit 'em all... plottin'! Schemin'! 'Let's go an' save Matty', d'you hear 'em? 'Ol' Matty wos th'Cap'n fer us, aye.' Cowards! Sneakin' around my back, comin' in my hut at night an'..." The stoat swallowed, shivering. "Cowards..."

Kirby noted the pervasive scent of alcohol on Nivard's breath. "Speakin' o' huts, Cap'n, ye need yer rest... I've made ye some coconut soup an' some nice buns - no weevils, even!"

"No - no weevils?" Nivard said, turning around and gaping. "But - but wots th'point, then? Can't 'ave a bun without weevils... can't 'ave 'em!

"Well, alright..." Kirby scratched his head. He wasn't accustomed to this sort of conversation. "Th'buns have got weevils in, then?"

"Good! It's my ship, Kirby - my ship! I tell you wot gets done, y'hear me? No one else! Don't listen to 'em! I'm th'Cap'n now. It's my ship. My ship..."

There wasn't a ship anymore, not really. Kirby decided not to mention that. "Come on now, then, Cap'n..."

The stoat's face was flushed, his eyes reddened around the edges. Kirby had heard tale of what the sands could do to you if you stared at them long enough, but he'd never really believed them... Well, not until now, anyway.

With his unkempt wet fur, his whiskers still half-missing, and the fresh scars still lining his chest, Nivard cut a fearsome sight. The effect was somewhat ruined by his whimpering and clinging to the fat ferret, causing Kirby's pegleg to sink deep into the sand with each step.

"Y'won't turn coward on me, wouldjer, Kirby?"

"No, Cap'n, never. On me oath as cook!"

"Not like that snivelin' lizard... settin' all 'em slaves free."

"Aye, not like him."

"Or that wretch of a bosun, Flitgut! Hah... hah. I flit 'is guts good, didn't I?"

Kirby winced at the memory. "Aye, Cap'n. Not like Flitgut. I'm loyal to ye!"

"Tried ter stab me in th'back... an' missed! Butterpaws."

The ferret snorted back a sigh. "Flitgut weren't good for nothin', everybeast knew it."

And the two other corsairs Nivard routed out and slew as well? Of course they were good for nothing. Except watching the slaves. But what was the point of watching the slaves? They never went anywhere. Until suddenly they did. 

Kirby gently kicked open the Captain's door and helped Nivard to the cot in the corner. The stoat drew up the sheets to his chin - even though it was midday - and stared at the wall.

Nivard was right to worry, Kirby reflected, as he went back to his kitchen to fetch a bowl. The corsairs were getting tired of the ghosts in the desert stealing things in the night. And they were tired of the nights being so cold, and the days so hot. They wanted their ship back - some had set about deconstructing the huts for firewood.

But it wasn't the corsairs Nivard had to worry about. They were mateys, they knew how to work together. It was that blasted Venril's lot that was trouble, refusing to take orders without their Captain about to give them. Lounging in the shade all day, playing in the water. Kirby had been ordered not to feed them. Secretly, of course, he rationed out some supplies to keep them sedated, but Nivard had it firmly in his head they were just waiting for their best chance at his neck. He was probably right.

Kirby set the bowl on the low table beside the cot, and helped Nivard to sit up.

"Can I get ye anything else, Cap'n?"

Nivard, shivering madly under his sheets, turned his face towards Kirby.

"Aye... find Matty. I don't wanna be Cap'n no more."

"Alright..." That was impossible, and Kirby knew it. Matukhana was dead, crushed to bits by the rocks. Ruddy shame, that. He hadn't been a half bad captain. 

"An' find..."

"Aye?"

But the stoat was now occupied with spooning scoop after shaky scoop into his maw.

Kirby grimaced. It actually pained him a bit to see Nivard like this. The stoat wasn't a bad sort, really, not like some of the other Captains he'd cooked mess for. Just... off. Aye, that was it. Off. Couldn't handle the, whatchacall, stress, of his new position.

"Well, Cap'n, I got ter go an' feed the rest of the lads. You just get yerself some rest, aye?"

Nivard nodded miserably. "Aye."