As night finds the airship rocking gently beneath its gas bags, the porthole shuttered against the glow of the Procession, a light snoring comes from the door where Achimed's faithful (if somewhat dilidipated) hound bodyguard rests against the frame and blocks the hallway with his legs, to occasional complaints of sailors. The silk-clad rat himself curls into the bed's blankets twisted about his body, his wooden left hand removed for the night and perched on the bedstand as if the furniture were waving brightly.

A few bags lean against the bag, not even unpacked. Evidently Achimed has fallen into a habit of always being ready to leave somewhere quickly, even at the expense of wrinkly shirts.

A gust of wind rattles the shutters briefly, as if testing them.

Achimed stirs. "Go away," he mumbles into a soft feather-stuffed pillow. "Shop's not open 'til I'm up… "

Again, the shutters are rattled.

The rat turns over, then pulls the pillow over his head to cover his ears.

His snore soon rattles the sheets again. *SNRRrxx* *SNRRrxx*

Outside, hidden by the night, the shutter rattler smiles at the sound of the familiar snore, and marks the porthole with an X scratched into the wood below it.

Above the X, in the middle of the frame, a tiny pit is scratched out with a black claw, and something placed within. Anyone opening the shutter will be sure to see it.

Satisfied with his work, Vorgulremik glides back along the length of the hull to the external cargo net he's chosen to sleep in…

The Procession glints as morning comes, turning it into a band of white stars that glitter over the powder-blue sky, like an arc of diamonds thrown high into the air… Sinai's green and gold hills rolls slowly beneath the Rephidim Princess.

As the shuttered porthole clatters open, a voice exclaims in surprise. Beady rat eyes peek at the child of the Procession ensconced in the wood.

"By Dagh, I'm sure that wasn't there before," a calculating rat voice says. Achimed reaches up with his right hand to try and reach through the grill, succeeding only in bruising himself. He winces.

The rising sun sparkles off of the tempting diamond.

Achimed's bald pink tail flicks back and forth. "Someone left it, that I am sure of," he mutters. "But who? And why? It must be a message of some kind… " He walks to the door, then bellows, "HAMID! You miserable cur! I could have been killed a thousand times while you slept at the door. Look! Some fool who thinks himself clever seeks to threaten me by showing how easy it was for him to place yon sparkling gem." The guard blinks away sleep.

The rat straightens and tugs on his whisker. "But no matter. I will simply change cabins and that will be that. As for you, well, if you want to stay on the payroll… " He grins a gape-toothed grin and orders Hamid to fetch plenty of rope.

The bright daylight of mid-morning finds the bodyguard Hamid grunting as he lowers Achimed carefully over the side of the ship, several sailors standing about and watching with curiosity. The rat yells, "Lower! A few more feet, and be careful how you let the rope slide, I'm taking five shekels out of your pay for every jounce you give my innards, you clumsy cretin!"

Hamid looks at the sailors. The sailors twirl their fingers next to their heads and give him sympathetic shrugs. The rope sings over the side again.

Vorgulremik stirs, able to hear the rat's complaints now that he's outside. He pokes his head out of his temporary nest and cranes it to watch.

Achimed appears to be playing spelunker. The rat gulps as he begins to swing more in the wind, then tries to grab out at passing porthole frames, using only his right hand. His left stays clutched against his stomach stiffly, possibly an attempt to avoid becoming airsick. "Careful, you imbecile!" he yells up the side of the airship.

Vorgulremik thinks, o O { Why didn't the fool just have the grill removed? }

Mutters come from above, "Why didn't he just remove the grill?" "Who cares, give you ten shekels he loses his breakfast." "Cover." "Fifty he drops the gem." The sailors start betting energetically.

Vorgulremik hmmms. He had planned on recovering the gem eventually, so it wouldn't do for the rat to drop it. Wouldn't do well for the rat, at least.

At last Achimed braces himself against the side of the porthole, then reaches in to grab the gem… "Hah! Got you… What's this?" He peers at the X scratched onto the frame. "Conspiracy! Those crewmen must have put me in this cabin just so some hireling could send me a message. But I see right through their plan," he mutters to himself. "Lie and say no one wants to trade cabins, will the Captain? We'll see how Hamid likes the bed for a change, yes we will."

The rat continues muttering as he twists the gem loose and tucks it into a pouch. He peers over at the other portholes to see if any are similarly decorated.

Vorgulremik cranes his neck out far enough for the sunlight to strike the scales on his head.

"Can't trust any of them… " Achimed mumbles darkly to himself.

The rat looks upward. "Hoist me back, you Bromthen-handed fool, and be careful or there'll be no bonus in your pay when we get back!" he yells to Hamid.

"He got it," a sailor mutters. "Pay up."

Vorgulremik considers the risk of being seen, and decides not to try and spook Hamid. He'll have to see just how far Achimed can be pushed before the crew disregards any claims he'll make later…

The rat clambers over the railing again and continues berating Hamid for deliberately dragging him over every obstruction and bump to be found on the hull. The sailors settle their bets with laughs, and then Achimed's voice drifts off to belowdecks.

…

That night finds Hamid snoring on the stripped bed, the blankets and pillows purloined to make a rat's nest for Achimed in the corner. The shuttered porthole allows only faint beams of light to enter from the Procession's radiance.

Vorgulremik flies out from his hiding place, and finds the marked portal again. He grabs out and hooks his talons into the grill, his body hanging below and hitting the hull with a *thump*.

Mutters drift from the blankets as Achimed dreams. "Yes sir, a genuine ferazi, a rare artifact brought back from the ruins of ancient Cameleopard… " He shifts uneasily.

Hamid snores.

Vorgulremik presses his ear to the hull to make sure the occupants weren't awakened, then carefully gathers his legs up to brace against the edges of the portal. Once in position, the dragon begins to pull at the grill with his back…

The hound bodyguard moves, trying to make himself comfortable on the bare bed. He whines a little.

Vorgulremik shifts his grip on the tough reeds of the grill, and pulls harder.

The grid bends outward at Vorgulremik's pull. It sits not too tightly in the porthole, but it was intended to be removed from the inside rather than the outside, to better resist someone falling against it.

Vorgulremik leans back further, letting gravity assist him as he pulls *down* on the grill and pushes *up* against the hull with his hindfeet. He hadn't expected the reeds to be so firmly seated or elastic.

*spang!* The reeds twist and bend as the grill pops out of the porthole.

Vorgulremik falls backwards and down, dropping well below the ship before spreading his wings.

Hamid creaks an eye open. He looks at the shutter which is unoccluded, thanks to Vorgulremik's departure, then mutters, "Hull's creaking."

The hound fluffs up his forearm and rests his chin on it, settling back into sleep.

Vorgulremik begins to spiral back upwards when no signs of alarm are shown. He transfers the slightly bent grid to a hindclaw, and makes his way back to the portal. Again he hangs from the sill, and listens for sounds of activity.

Nothing… For the moment. Off-color singing comes from a nearby cabin where several passengers pass a bottle of some rotgut back and forth. Above the railing, an occasional sailor passes by to look over the darkened Sinai countryside, where only occasional campfires mark the presence of hunters or tribal villages.

Vorgulremik reaches out with a claw to see if the shutter can be slid back.

A simple little hook-latch holds the shutters closed against the wind.

Wooden slats look gray in the half-light that glows from the Procession, tilted so that air will continue to pass through them even when they are shut. Through the slats the dragon sees a hound's head pointing straight back at him!… Eyes shut.

Hamid's feet start to churn a little on the bed. Perhaps he's having one of those dreams about chasing rabbits in the woods.

Vorgulremik plucks a splinter from where the grill frame was ripped free, and tries to wedge it through the edge of the shutter to flip the latch.

*click* The latch comes off easily. Under a steady breeze, the shutters threaten to fold inward.

Vorgulremik grips the edge of the loose shutter, and brings his wings forward to form a windbreak around the window. He carefully slides the shudder open far enough to allow his forearm to reach into the cabin.

Achimed, in his rat's nest of blankets, turns about so that his head faces the inside cabin wall. He mutters something muffled by his bedding.

Vorgulremik's black wings also cut off most of the light from the procession. Blindly, he moves his hand around until he can feel Hamid's breath… then clamps down on the hound's muzzle to hold it closed and block the nostrils.

Vorgulremik grimaces. His 'hands' are already sore from clinging to the side of the ship and pulling out the gridwork.

Hamid mmfs! He struggles, coming to wakefulness quickly, hands clawing at Vorgulremik's scaled arms, then jacknifing to try and wrestle Vorgulremik into a position where he can kick at him.

Vorgulremik does not have the best leverage, with all but his arm hanging outside. He pushes the shutter the rest of the way open and tries to drag the struggling hound through the portal instead.

Hound claws aren't very effective against dragon scales… but pounding fists hurt just the same. Vorgulremik shifts his weight, and reaches his other arm in to try and catch Hamid by the neck. The only firm hold on the airship he has now is the one set of hindclaws not holding the ruined grillwork.

Hamid's feet kick blindly at the edge of the porthole as the hound tries to resist being suffocated. With a sudden dizzying drop, both the dragon and Achimed's bodyguard fall through the air, Hamid trying to wrestle his muzzle away from Vorgulremik! He whines in his throat.

Vorgulremik pushes the struggling hound away from him after only a few moments, hoping that the distance and Hamid's need for air will prevent any screams from reaching the ship.

Vorgulremik has also managed to lose the grillwork.

Hamid grabs desperately for handholds… And finds Vorgulremik's free trailing hindleg as his body twists in the wind. He sucks in air desperately and tries to strengthen his hold on the dragon's leg, looking down with wide eyes.

Vorgulremik spreads his wings, and takes a moment to notice the heavy hound dragging him down. "Sorry," he hisses, "But I cannot lift thou and I both." Fanged jaws gape, and flame erupts forth.

"AHHhhhhh!… " The hound screams engulfed by fire, then falls into the night like a falling star. His clothes trail flickering ashes.

Vorgulremik shakes his hindfoot to shed a few scorched scales, and beats hard to catch up to the airship. He doesn't bother heading for the portal to close the shutter, as he originally intended. His wings and arms are too sore, and his only goal now is the nest of ropes near the aft of the ship.

Vorgulremik grumbles, "Let them think Achimed killed his own servant… "

Safety. An uncomfortable nest amidst unwieldy boxes and crates and barrels, but at least it's not an area that the sailors check often. Somewhere far below in unmarked Sinai countryside, a fire blooms for a moment as the hound hits the ground, and then dies out slowly.

Vorgulremik takes some small comfort in anticipation of Achimed's reaction to his missing bodyguard. He curls up and tries not to think of how hungry he is until morning.

…

The third night of the Rephidim Princess's voyage finds the porthole shuttered, and all dark inside. The Procession's light glimmers on the wooden slats of the covers.

Once again, a dark winged form checks the window. Would Achimed be stupid enough to stay in the same room, unguarded?

A rat's nest of bedding shows where Achimed must be sleeping… Closer examination reveals a candle holder placed on the porthole's frame, heavy enough to resist the wind, but undoubtedly capable of waking the sleeper if some unwary thief were to try opening the shutters inward.

Vorgulremik chuckles to himself. The rat would undoubtedly get tangled in his own bedclothes if he tried to react to the crude alarm. The dragon pokes open the latch, and opens the shutters just enough to tip over the candle before dropping out of sight.

"Who's there! Come out, I saw that!" a voice yells from inside the cabin. No sounds that would be that of someone struggling with his own blankets.

Vorgulremik keeps below the curve of the hull, riding the same wind as the airship. He waits to see if Achimed will actually stick his head out to look around.

A pause. The rat calls out, "You're just waiting for me to stick my head out, eh? Well, you can tell S'Lezan that Achimed the Glove won't be bluffed by some two-bit flyer sent to terrorize him. I've got the money to pay him back, but I don't appreciate this kind of treatment, not at all. I won't take this lying down, I have friends… " He continues rambling in this vein for a little while.

Vorgulremik listens closely. Perhaps this rat will be more useful than he thought, to have so many enemies and debts. Cowardice and greed are two things Vorgulremik understands very well.

A stomach rumble decides things for the dragon. No sense in putting off a meeting now…

"You're out there, I know you are," the rat says as he moves closer to the window. "If you've got something to say, come in and say it, otherwise just get out of here, I don't have time to deal with the ineffectual melodramatics of a half-shekel thug… "

Vorgulremik drifts out from the hull as far the length of one of the large horizontal masts, then climbs to nearly the level of the upper deck before swinging back and diving at the window…

"Hah! You're afraid – you're – AHHHH!" Achimed stumbles back at the sight of a dragon barreling right into his cabin. The crossbow he was holding discharges its bolt into the floor, the metal head biting deep into the wood.

Someone yells from the next cabin, "Keep it down, we're trying to sleep!"

Vorgulremik's head and shoulders fill the porthole, and after a moment of wiggling and pulling his wings in close to his lean body, the dragon is inside.

Vorgulremik turns to reshutter the portal, and takes over the bare mattressed bed. "Yess, time to talk face to face… "

Achimed scrabbles on his hands and feet. "Yahh! Dragon! It's a dragon! You – I – money… Here! S'Lezan's money, you can take it to him," he babbles, scrabbling around his travelling bags. "Little tip over for the good messenger, what? We've always been good business partners, everyone has little difficulties, you know… "

Vorgulremik says, "Silence."

Achimed covers his mouth in mid-babbling, staring with saucer-eyes up at the dark dragon blocking the ring-light from the porthole.

Vorgulremik says, "I am not a hireling of this S'Lezan thou… you speak of. I bring you an offer of a different sort, which may allow you to keep this money."

Achimed blinks.

Vorgulremik grins grotesquely, "Art thou interested?"

"Noble sir, you of course have my most profound attention," the rat says. He continues to look edgy. Not unreasonable perhaps.

Vorgulremik says, "My offer is simple. I seek allies on this world, and I have determined you to be of some worth as one. As allies, we shall both profit from the other's well being, and your enemies will become my enemies as well."

Vorgulremik crosses his paws before him on the edge of the bed, and says, "You can of course refuse, and serve me in other fashion."

Achimed rubs his left hand nervously. "Eh… Allies. Yes, of course. A splendid idea. Marvelous. It's most generous of you to consider me for… What exactly did you want with an aging antique dealer?" His hairless tail flicks back and forth.

Vorgulremik says, "Your contacts, your household, your mobility, and your avarice."

Vorgulremik smiles grimly, "In return for your service, I will assist you in dealing with your creditors and competitors. I can be very persuasive on your behalf."

Achimed starts to sit up. "Ah… I see. You need a front! Of course, of course. Achimed's Antiques and Good as New Pawnshop is a fine front for almost any sort of shady activity you might want to pursue," the rat says as he switches with an almost audible click into sales mode. "We offer refurbished goods, purchase items of dubious pedigree, no questions asked… " His voice trails off as he studies the dragon. "Er. Yes, that sounds very agreeable. Yes, yes."

The rat's ears twitch almost uncontrollably.

Vorgulremik says, "Ah, clearly you are wise beyond your years. And without external stresses, those years can be very comfortable. You may yet wear a metal hand, and be known as Achimed the Fist."

Vorgulremik's stomach rumbles loudly.

Achimed looks suspicious. "You didn't break into my cabin and kill my bodyguard just to give me an offer. You want something, right?" His eyes narrow. "Dragons like you are rare. I've only *heard* of a dragon somewhere up in the Guild… And you aren't him. *He* has a thousand underlings to serve his needs and wipe his scales, if he's real." The rat begins to stand. "We can deal. I'm flexible! All I ask is a fair share, even split, I put up the front and the money, you… you do what you want. Gehnoh?"

Vorgulremik smiles, "Agreeable. Let us toast the future with some wine and a bit of stew perhaps, if you would be so kind to acquire it?"

Vorgulremik thinks to himself, { You can keep all of the ceramic coins you want, Achimed. You've already told me enough to prove your value. }

"Of course, my fine scaley friend," Achimed says with a broader smile, then mutters to himself, "I hope the kitchen's still open… " He sweeps a courtly sort of bow, or at least a semblance of one. "Achimed the Glove is at your service… How may I address you?"

Vorgulremik smiles, "Remik. Although, as a trusted ally, you may call me Remy for short."

"Remy. Remy… " Achimed mulls that over as he turns to the door. "Of course, Lord Remy. I'll be right back with your wine and stew. Please consider me your faithful servant in all ways."

Vorgulremik says, "Of course, Achimed. And do take care. These magnificent flying ships are somewhat fragile. I wouldn't want to lose you to any… misfortune."

The rat drifts out into the corridor, beginning to fantasize about himself as a dragon crimelord's right hand. Yes. Profits can be made here, he thinks to himself. He'll have to make sure to become indispensable. He freezes at the door. "I assure you, that was the farthest thing from my mind, Lord Remy." Another bow, and then he runs for the kitchen.

Vorgulremik coils his tail against his side, relaxing on the thin mattress, already beginning to forget about being hungry. He doesn't expect to go hungry ever again…