Beau Bergeron was sopping wet, bloodied, and exhausted, having been hauled back aboard La Danse Calinda by the Selkies. Don’t everyone thank me at once, he thought sourly as the royals simply moved on and the last of the flames were being put out by Lafitte and Larman personally.
Beau limped his way over to his would-be Captain. “Our enemies have been dispatched, Captain,” he said, putting uncharacteristic emphasis on the title.
“Good man,” Captain Jean Lafitte III replied without noticing, replacing the now empty bucket on the deck. His Captaincy was his life’s pursuit and he had no intention of it going down in flames to a band of petty thieves and gangsters.
Turning to his ship’s wizard, Tayliana Winddancer Dahtaligaar, he simply nodded. She knew her job at this point and he trusted her to do it.
He left her to supervise the ship’s crew gathering the damaged ropes while she began to cast the Atultaec spell that would save as much of the lines as possible. As if alive and healing, the burnt fibers began to mend and repair themselves at her command. But even though the burned lines themselves would be repaired quickly by the magic, the hard work of re-rigging the damaged sections still had to be carried out by hand by the crew.
For at least a day, the Calinda would be limping. Lafitte’s estimate of three days would be pushed to at least four and probably five.
Lafitte addressed his royal guests directly. “I’m afraid the repairs to the ship will take considerable time…” and he trailed off, unsure of what exactly to say. He wasn’t yet ready to admit defeat on the endeavour, and certainly not due to the likes of their recently disposed of enemies. However, time was of the essence to the prince and the wizard.
“I don’t suppose you’d have anything in your bag of tricks for this, would you?” Lafitte said, looking at Jeneyeru.