Weaving - Whine Barrel

Note: this weaving is heavily inspired by The Lies of Locke Lamora, by Scott Lynch

“Shame isn’t it? Such a beautiful vessel.”  Kazen said wistfully as he gazed up at the Halz Crodanza’s ascent.

Myer furrowed his brows in suspicion as he drew on his long pipe. The cloud of sweet smelling smoke adding itself to the wharf nook’s catalog of potent smells. “Since when have you given two fucks about airships?”

Kazen’s beak clicked as he took a puff from his own pipe. “Whaddya mean? I’ve always had a fascination with them.”

The only discernible difference between the two Aaracockra was their clothes. Myer was still dressed like a simple airdock worker while Kazen only bore some affectations from his false constable’s uniform. Having discarded most of it already.

“You’ve literally never remarked on a single airship. Not once.”

“Maybe to you.”

“We literally shared an egg, you dolt. You don’t think that once in our thirty three years of life we’d have had a single conversation about the beauty of airships?”

Kazen shrugged, taking another beakful of smoke.

“It is a nice ship though.” Myer admitted. He and Kazen both nodding in agreement.

The sound of a wagon making its way down the quiet harbor took their attention. Kazen, being the active lookout, stood and pretended to stretch his wings in order to get a better look. Myer appeared not to notice the incomer, but placed a hand on the hilt of his pistol beneath his jacket.

“Excuse me,” The portly human began “would either of you happen to be Waldred?”

“Indeed I would.” Kazen gave casually. Waldred being one of the codenames they’d all chosen for today in case someone needed to discreetly pass a message.

“I was told if I delivered this here barrel of wine to a Waldred on Plank Row, and didn’t ask any questions, I’d be paid a handsome eight silver doors.”

“Well,” mused Kazen, “must be some wine then for such a pretty penny.”

“Not sure,” said the man as he hefted the barrel from the cart. “Sure does swear a lot more than other wine though.”

“Ah,” Kazen gave an understanding nod, “well at the very least we’ll use it for cooking. 8 silver you said.”

“Yes, my good sir.”

“Here’s a full crown for forgetting about this whole ordeal.”

“My,” the man palmed his sweaty forehead, “I seem to have wandered all the way to Windcliff!  Always seems to be the case for me on sunny days. Silly me!”

“Good man.” Kazen gave him a pat on the shoulder. Sending him on his way.

Myer stood once the man departed. “Y’know Kazen— I’ve been thinking… while this windfall of wine has been mighty fortuitous, it’s high time we give up our drinking! What say we dump this in The Narrow Sea as a show of willpower.”

“Let me out already!” Piped Zeke’s youthful, muffled voice from within the cask.

“Y’know what brother. You’re right!” Kazen said, theatrically ignoring Zeke’s pleas. “Though, perhaps I could be persuaded into one final glass… If there were a good story to drink to that is! Perhaps the story of how our newest member got himself shut into a barrel. Hm?” Kazen casually placed the flat of his palm on the barrel. Leaning it to one side as he shifted his weight against it.

“Fine! Fine!” Zeke groaned, “gods damned patrols showed up the one second I went for a piss. And I had to get those droids on board somehow…”

“Zeke, remind me of your role as lookout.” Myer tapped his chin in mock-contemplation.

“Hey, I got them on board! I just had to make a distraction to do it.”

“Which was?” The twins said in unison.

“Pulled one of the purple caps trousers down.” Zeke said half guilty, half amused.

The twins gave a hearty laugh. “Wait till Morza hears about this one! You’re gonna be in so much shit.” Chuckled Kazen.

“They chased me for a quarter hour! I used to hide at that wine trader’s storehouse when I was little. He let me sleep in the sheds if kept him in loop with the quiet folk. Agreed to bring me here if you paid him 5 silver.”

“Five?!” Kazen kicked the barrel. “He got ten!”

“Ouch— that’s not my fault.” There were sounds of shifting from the barrel. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I got his purse.” Zeke made the faint jingling of coins from within his wooden prison.

“Gentlemen,” Myer made a wide gesture. “Lets not concern ourselves with meager sums. Should everything go well we’ll all be rich men and women come sunset.

A distant boom shook the sky. The twins looked up to see the Halz Crodanza hurtling down towards the Narrow Sea in a ball of fire. No one spoke in the awed, slightly guilty moment that followed.

“Are we terrorists now?” Zeke asked earnestly.

“Nooo,” Myer started, “Well… sponsored by some. Maybe. The Septimus is a crazy bastard but he pays well.”

“Plus Kaleen made sure there would be extra ‘chutes on board. We’re thieves, not murderers! That metal freak only wanted to make sure the cargo went down. Not the crew.” Added Kazen

“And if Kaleen’s math was right, which it always is, she and the rest of the gang are all already waiting on the bottom of the ocean to pick the sunken wreck clean. And The Septimus will be none the wiser! Think of it as us… playing both sides, dear Zeke!”