I
The Captain had arranged the meeting for 4 in the afternoon. When he arrived at the bar he’d found it empty save for the barman who was lazily wiping glasses. He’d crossed to the very back-booth where they’d agreed to meet and ordered a drink.
  After two hours of waiting his two lieutenants arrived. Then as the hours went on, and as soon as their captains permitted, fishermen, whalers and all the workers from the ports came to the “Salt”. They filled the air with pipe smoke and din of conversation and clattering glasses. But when the sun went down and the captains themselves arrived to the packed bar the trio grew impatient and filled their table with an assortment of alcohols cursing their appointment.
A quarter down their fifth bottle of wine the door quietly opened and a short figure in a monks green garb entered the establishment. He moved through the crowd in stunted steps and sat down in front of the captain.
“You’re late” the captain said red in the face and bitter waving the bottle so it spilled over his blue coat.
The man in front of him bowed to the table,” My apologies, but I hope what I bring can, partially, make it up to you”. The captain’s dull eyes took on a drunken luster in their greed as he watched the monk take a yellowed chart from out his chest. He practically salivated when it was laid on the table and he had to resist the twitch of his hands to grab it.
   “Luckily for you…it does”
   Lt.S who was seated to his right tossed a satchel of coins to the monk and ownership of the map was granted to the Captain. He spread it in front of him and started reading, shooing away the Lieutenants.
  Satisfied he whooped and jumped up on unsteady feet, “Gentlemen” he cried to the whole bar, “we three are going to kill a god!” No one paid any-mind to the drunk but his seconds hollered and clapped. The hunch-back monk smiled lopsidedly, revealing a single glass tooth jutting out of the blackened gums.
“Captain,” he lisped, “when we first met you assured me that you only intended to visit the monastery.