“Well then, what would you ask of me?” Pericolo asked, seeming genuine. “I agreed to compensate Eiverbreen in return for the oysters.”
“Bring him here,” Regis said.
“That cannot be,” Pericolo replied, and Regis began shaking his head.
“But perhaps …,” the Grandfather went on, pausing and tapping his finger against his lips. “There are houses farther from the taverns that I might appropriate for him.”
“That would be a start.”
“I cannot forbid him from his vice,” Pericolo explained. “That is not my business.”
“Then I cannot dive.”
The Grandfather laughed. “Well, perhaps I can dissuade the local tavernkeepers from doing business with Eiverbreen. That is the most I can promise. Are we agreed?”
Regis stared at him for a long while before finally nodding his agreement. “And what of Spider?” Pericolo asked. “What do you wish for your efforts? You are doing all of the work, after all.”
“Take care of my father.”
“Oh come now, there must be more. That is already agreed. But what for Spider?”
Regis didn’t quite know how to answer. He could think of many rewards off the top of his head. He had been the champion of luxury in his previous life, after all, and Pericolo’s lifestyle afforded such things in abundance.
“I look at you and I see myself,” Pericolo said before Regis could formulate any requests. “Such potential! And more than from your extraordinary ability in the water. I rather admire your courage, and your skill is without question.”
Regis shrugged and worked hard to prevent Pericolo from seeing the inner smile that beamed through him. “You have something in mind.”
Pericolo laughed again. “And your perception!” he said. “So let us change the bargain, you and I. I will open my pockets deeper and purchase for Eiverbreen a home of his own, and will open them wider for you, and purchase the cooperation of the tavernkeepers in limiting, nay denying, Eiverbreen the drink he so craves. And in exchange, you work for me.”
“I already do.”
“Not just diving for oysters,” Pericolo clarified. “You come and join in my … organization. There is much you should learn, and much I can teach you.”
“Like?” Regis prompted.
Pericolo stood, and turned just a bit to better display the amazing jewel-studded basket of the fabulous rapier that hung easily on his left hip. “How to fight,” he said. “And how to get that which you desire without fighting-that is the more important skill.”
The jarring offer asked, and Catti-brie nodded.we DR) Netheril
“Good,” Pericolo remarked, for Regis wasn’t that skilled at hiding his feelings, obviously. “But I do demand one more thing of you-two, actually.”
Regis nodded.
“First, your loyalty. I warn you only once that if you betray me, if you steal from me, your end will not be pleasant.” Regis swallowed hard and nodded.
“And second, I will call you Spider hereafter, and you cannot choose to change it-for me at least! I rather like that name.”
On the surface, it seemed quite a silly thing to Regis, but as he thought about it, as he remembered his time working for the pashas of Calimport, he understood the seemingly odd request. Pericolo was asking about controlling more than Regis’s name: he was asking to control Regis’s identity.
So be it, the young halfling decided. He looked at Pericolo’s rapier once more and considered what he might learn from this accomplished halfling. This was the solution to achieving his purpose in stepping forth from Iruladoon, held before him within his grasp.
He nodded, smiled, and asked, “And I am to call you Grandfather?”
“I would quite like that, yes.”
“Only ten,” Wigglefingers explained to Regis a few days later, when the youngster was ready to dive once more. The mage had escorted him to a private wharf and a private boat, which Wigglefingers captained out from Delthuntle and to a remote location, guiding Regis as he rowed. All the way, the halfling mage kept casting spells, peering intently at the water as he finished, and often correcting Regis’s course.
Clairvoyance, Regis understood. Wigglefingers was hunting for oysters with his magical sight.
Finally the mage signaled for Regis to put up the oars, and sat nodding as he unrolled a long elven cord that was secured to a metal eyelet on the craft. He tied the other end to a small harness, and handed it to Regis.
“Only ten,” he reiterated as Regis strapped the harness around his torso. He noted then that a small vial hung on one side of the vest, secured with a slipknot.
“Ten?”
“Ten oysters, no more. We’ll not fish them out, and ten is enough.” Regis looked at him curiously. “Then we move on to another spot?”
“Then we go home,” the mage corrected.
Regis’s expression became incredulous. He normally returned to Delthuntle with more than twice that number, sometimes several times that number, in his considerable pouches.
“Ten is enough to fit our needs,” Wigglefingers explained.
“I could eat ten myself!”
“Eat?” Wigglefingers laughed. “Nay, on days when we intend to eat them, we’ll get more, but these are not for eating.”
Regis started to question the mage on that one, but Wigglefingers held up a hand to silence him. The mage began to led them at a great pace o the Desaioncast a spell then, and Regis felt the soothing magical energy fall over him. Another spell quickly followed.
“You will swim faster and your breath will hold for longer now,” the mage explained. “If you find that you have tarried too long down deep, do not panic, as that potion on your vest will also imbue water breathing, if necessary. If necessary, I say, and try not to make it so! Such potions are not made cheaply or quickly.”
“We are far out,” Regis noted, glancing back toward the distant shore.
“To keep away those who might try to steal our catch, of course. The Sea of Fallen Stars has no shortage of pirates.”
“Or killer fish,” said Regis. “I usually stay near to the reefs …”
Wigglefingers grasped him by the shoulders and moved him toward the edge of the boat. “I am watching. Be quick, then. Only ten.”
Before Regis could respond, the mage shoved him overboard.
He returned in short order, ten oysters in his belt pouch, and though he was tired from the deeper-than-normal dive, Wigglefingers put him right back to the oars and started them for home.
“When we return, I will teach you to be more discerning in your choice of oysters,” Wigglefingers said, examining the catch and sighing often. “Yes, you have much to learn, much to learn.”
Regis kept rowing and said no more. He had stepped into it deeply, he knew then; his position with Grandfather Pericolo was not to be without serious responsibilities, so it then seemed.
So it went that Regis found his days quite structured over the coming months. Each morning, he was taken to the boat beside Wigglefingers, who, he came to learn, was quite adroit at clairvoyance and used the skill to position them far from shore, always over beds rich with oysters.
Their return had him doing the bidding of the mage for the rest of each morning, and there he learned the truth of the oysters Pericolo desired. The Grandfather wasn’t selling them as exotic food delicacies, for these particular deepwater shellfish had the highest rate of producing pearls, beautiful pink pearls that Wigglefingers knew how to entice from them.
That first day back with the catch, Regis was taken to one of the mage’s private laboratories, where watery tanks lined several tables. Another table sported a complete alchemy lab, it seemed.
Wigglefingers taught Regis to gently cut a slit in the mantle tissue of the oysters, and to then gather a small dropper and smoothly add in the potion of irritant. As the days moved along, he even taught Regis how to brew the irritant, and then began to instruct him in many other aspects of alchemy.