Princess Sweetpea's plan was simple. Pretending to be a Sawashian acolyte, she had already arranged to buy a particular flask and a scroll in Golandton, in the kingdom of Goland, across the bay. She had arranged a meeting there with a man with a doctorate in Old Sawashian who could interpret the scroll. What she still had to do was:
"Not without payment. And insurance," said Elspbeth, her washmaid. "I've seen how your plans go."
"Oh, I could offer you a ticket to the royal ball ..." smiled Sweetpea.
"Gold, thank you," said Elspbeth, crossing her arms. "For insurance. I'll give it back once you return my boat in one piece. Otherwise I'll use it to buy another."
"My! It's just an outing. Surely you could trust your old friend!" said Sweetpea.
"About as far as I could throw you," said Elspbeth. Sweetpea frowned. "That's about six feet," clarified Elspbeth. "What are you up to this time, may I ask?"
"You may not ask," said princess Sweetpea. "And gold would be too much for payment."
"True."
"How about ... an antique bottle?"
"You have one in mind? What's its history?" asked Elspbeth, interested, raising a calloused hand to her chin. She had a collection.
"I really don't know. We shall see? Will you at least trust me to make other arrangements if it's not to your satisfaction?"
Elspbeth grinned. "Deal."
Sweetpea arrived in Goland around noon. She tied the rowboat to a tree and hid it behind bushes along the bay's edge. Her hands were red and slightly blistered. Nuisance.
Dressed as a Sawashian acolyte, Sweetpea walked the cobbled streets of Golandton. It was cold and blustery, but bright, day in late October. Old wet leaves accumulated in piles and fresh dry ones swirled in the air. People walked and rode by, going about their business. The air smelled of saltwater and horse manure.
She found the right address. Knocked on the door. A small scrubby old man peeked out. "Who's there? Oh you're them? Come in, don't be seen!"
"You have the flask and scroll?" asked Sweetpea. His house was a mess, and smelled of old socks.
"Shhh! Shhh! Have them? No no I put them somewhere safe you just have to get them."
"Where are they?"
"Where are .. oh .. where .. ah yes .. where did I .. hm .." he started rooting through piles of discarded wrappers and unwashed clothes.
Sweetpea tried to appear patient, watching him hunt about aimlessly.
"Ah! Yes! Here it is!" He had a flimsy piece of paper. "See, I put them somewhere safe, here are directions to where it is. You just have to go retrieve them."
She reached for the paper.
"Ah ah ah pay me the rest first!"
"I'll pay you half of the rest now, and the other half once I've actually got what I came for," she said, handing over coins.
Grumbling, he gave her the paper. It had a sketch of the streets of the town, and directions, and an X in the middle of a field.
"You BURIED them?" asked Sweetpea incredulously.
"You canna be too careful," said the old man. "Go! Go! and don't let anyone see you were here," he said. "And make sure you remember to pay me." He shooed her out.
Sweetpea was in a pickle. The Old Sawashian doctor was to meet her at 2, and she didn't have the scroll yet. She had to dig it up somewhere and she didn't even have a shovel. OK, improvise.
"Hello?"
Sweetpea stood at the doctor's door. "I was supposed to meet you, and show you a scroll. You have a doctorate in Old Sawashian, yes?"
The man was portly, bearded, with a pocketwatch and well-tailored clothes with many pockets. "Yes indeed. Would you like to come in?"
"Ah, sorry, but I don't yet have the scroll. Do you have a shovel? My previous contact saw fit to bury my scroll in a hidden spot, instead of just giving it to me. Oh and there's a valuable flask of old brandy buried with it, so we have to be careful with the shovel."
He looked amused. "I believe I can help you."
Together they followed the map. The field it led to was a pasture of sorts, behind a heavy fence. They opened the gate, paced out from the gate and barn where the X was, and dug. By the time they uncovered the scroll and flask the sun was setting. It was getting quite cold, and the streets were empty for the night.
Sweetpea pocketed the flask and showed the man the scroll. The man looked at it carefully. "You have a doctorate in Old Sawashian," she said. "What's it say?"
"Yes," he said. "Yes, I do. Hm. Very interesting. Hm." He peered at it academically.
"You can read Old Sawashian, yes?" asked Sweetpea.
"Oh yes. It says here, 'Ancient Sawashian History' ..." said the man.
"No it doesn't."
"Right here?"
"None of that says 'Sawash'. 'Sawash' is this word over here. And that word you're pointing at means 'Beware'."
"You can read Old Sawashian?" asked the doctor.
"Just a little. Can you?"
"Um. No."
"But you have a doctorate in Old Sawashian."
"Yes," said the man. "I do have that one degree. Right here, in fact." He pulled a scroll out of one of his pocket, unfurled it, and it was indeed a doctorate in Old Sawashian.
"I'd think you'd have several ... Bachelors, Masters, Doctorate right?"
"Well, no. Only the one degree." He coughed apologetically. "You see, it's really a WON degree. I got it in a high stakes game of Old Bones."
"i SEEEE," said Sweetpea. "You're a !@#$#$%^ fraud."
"Yes," agreed the man, "but is that language appropriate for an acolyte?"
"Oh," she clarified, "I meant to say you're a $#%#$*@ %#$&#@ wad of fetid ..."
"aWOOOO", said a 12-foot-tall bird, a moa, standing behind them.
"Excuse me," said the man, "but what exactly is this pasture for?" A herd of moas had rounded the barn and noticed the open gate.
The man and Sweetpea quickly reclosed the gate, not bothering to refill the hole they had dug, but half a dozen moas escaped into the streets before they got the gate closed. "aWOOOO! aWOOOO!"
"Perhaps if we leave quickly nobody will notice," said Sweetpea. They went their separate ways ... the man back to his house, Sweetpea to her hidden boat.
A full moon was rising. Sweetpea located her boat. It was still tied to the tree and hidden by the bushes, but it was no longer in water. It rested in mud, on a slough that stretched about a mile out to the bay. It must be low tide. She could be stuck in Golandton for the night. One of the moas had decided to tag along behind her, leaving muddy tracks in the street. Time for more improvising.
Sweetpea banged on the bearded man's door. "Hello fake doctor fellow! I need your help, you owe me here!"
"We already have one," said the man from inside his house.
Sweetpea kept banging and kicking the door. "OK, OK," he said, opening the door. There was a moa behind Sweetpea. "Did your travel arrangements fall through?"
"Yes, my boat is marooned a mile from shore."
"Low tide. Are you asking to stay here until high tide at midnight? Or noon tomorrow?"
"No, I can't be caught here at all. I need to get back. I need your help to carry the boat to the water."
He tried closing the door on her, but she kept her foot in. "You help me or I'll tell them you were stealing their moas!"
"OK OK," he said. "Looks like I can't shake you off easily. But come in first. Let me get you a better coat and some boots at least."
She came in. His house was tastefully decorated. Fine lamps, hanging carpets, large portraits, full bookshelves. "You are QUITE the fraud, aren't you?" said Sweetpea.
"Oh quite, young acolyte," he said, bringing her a warm coat that was many times too big. "I'm sorry, this is the best I can do." The boots were also many times too big, and hopeless to walk in. They would not do. Sweetpea would have to wear the shoes she came in.
"I'm grateful," said Sweetpea. "Now hurry."
They hoisted the boat over their heads and trudged through the mud. The moa decided it didn't like the mud and abandoned them.
"At least the full moon lights the landscape well," said Sweetpea.
"Ah there are clouds rolling in," said the man, glancing at the sky. Then he glanced again. The edge of the moon was turning red. "I say, I think we're going to have a lunar eclipse here."
As they squelched on, the sky grew darker, and it started raining. Soon it was pitch black and pouring in freezing torrents.
"What do you thing the temperature is?" asked the man.
"One?" ventured Sweetpea.
"Aren't boats a grand form of transportation?" asked the man.
"Go soak your head," suggested Sweetpea.
"See, on point! This boat is keeping my head from being soaked. Splendid, isn't it?"
Sweetpea trudged on in silence, splashing through the rain.
"Have you noticed," said the man, "that the moon and the sun are the same apparent size in the sky? They fill the same angle. It's quite a coincidence. The earth's shadow is much bigger than the moon, though, that's what causes complete lunar eclipses like this one."
"This astrologic trivia is truly fascinating," said Sweetpea, "but I really would have preferred you to have known Old Sawash instead."
"Is this how your days typically go?" asked the man.
"Go soak your head," said Sweetpea.
"I'm trying not to," said the man.
"I'm THIS CLOSE to just dropping this boat and throttling you," said Sweetpea.
It was impossible to tell how far away the water was.
There was some commotion behind them. They turned back and saw torches through the rain, coming towards them. People were yelling. Something about rustlers and thieves and sharp farm implements. It did sound like they fully intended to kill them.
There was an outcropping of rock up ahead, perhaps a small island of sorts if it weren't low tide. "I would suggest dropping the boat and running for the island?" suggested the man.
"Oh indubitably," agreed princess Sweetpea. They dropped the boat and ran.
The rain quickly erased their footprints from the rock. They found a cave and hid. After hiding together in the cold dark for about an hour, it seemed pretty clear they weren't being pursued any longer. They looked out of their cave. The rain had tapered off, the full moon peeked through, the eclipse was waning, and their island was now surrounded by water for at least half a mile in all directions. The rowboat was not to be seen.
"Rising tide," said the man.
"How high is it going to rise?" asked Sweetpea.
"I don't know," he said.
Their cave was starting to fill with water. They hid in a crevice instead, out of the wind. The man took out a small oil lamp from his pocket and lit it. "Oh, maybe there's a genie in there?" asked Sweetpea.
"'Fraid not," said the man.
They waited. The water rose, and they moved to a higher spot.
The water rose more. They had to come out of the crevice entirely, sitting on top of the rock. The water continued to rise.
"The sun and moon's pull is proportional to their apparent size," said the man. "That's why our tides are so variable. Highest and lowest ties happen at new and full moons, when the sun and moon are aligned."
"Is that so."
"Actually, the moon's pull is stronger anyhow, because the moon is denser. The sun is made of fire, which is pretty light, but the moon is made of cheese."
"Green cheese," said Sweetpea.
"No, blue!" said the man, offended. "Just look at it. It's obviously BLUE cheese. Not green at all. I don't know how these old wives' tales get started. Anyone with eyes can see that it's blue."
They looked at the full moon. The water continued rising. High waves now splashed over the rock.
"We're probably going to die here," said the man.
"Maybe," said Sweetpea.
"What had you planned to be doing this evening?" asked the man.
"Oh, rowing out to Golandton, collecting a scroll and flask, getting the scroll interpreted, then rowing back."
"Do all your plan work out this well?" asked the man.
"Go soak your head," said Sweetpea.
"Not right now," said the man, "the rain stopped." Another wave washed over their feet. "Perhaps in a bit."
They stood on the top of the rock, now underwater about half the time. The man's lamp flickered in the wind.
"Perhaps we should make use of the brandy in the flask?" asked the man.
"I think not," said Sweetpea.
A sailing boat appeared, attracted by the lamp, and a rowboat came out to the island. It was not townspeople out for blood. It was pirates.
"Aye, what have we here?" asked the captain, as the man and Sweetpea were muscled aboard.
"Lookit this toff!" said a mate. He poked at the man's jacket, pulling interesting things out of the pockets.
"And what is a pretty little thing like you doing out on a night like this?" the captain asked Sweetpea. "You would have drowned. Happy to be rescued, are you?"
Sweetpea spat at the ground.
"Oh, look here!" said a mate, pulling out the flask from Sweetpea's jacket. She grabbed for it but they pulled her back. "What's this?"
"Brandy," said the fake doctor. "But she's rather protective of it."
"Oh thank you, don't mind if I do!" said the mate.
The captain grabbed it from him. "Executive privilege," said the captain.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Sweetpea.
The captain gave it a glug, then staggered back, giving a surprised warble, that turned into a highpitched keening. His eyes bugged out. Tentacles grew from under his coat. His head was blowing up like a balloon and his eyes grew to the size of dinnerplates. He was turning purple and growing a beak, and rapidly growing in size. Tentacles grew huge and started grappling the ship and crew.
The crew hacked at the tentacles and fled, jumping on rowboats and rowing away.
The man and Sweetpea were held by the tentacled captain monster and could not escape. It grew, climbed the masts, and continued unworldly screeches under the light of the full moon.
The mast wobbled. The creature dipped in the ocean, abruptly lost interest in the ship, and dropped into the water. The man and Sweetpea were left alone on the suddenly empty deck. Sweetpea grabbed the wheel and the wind caught the sails. The ship set off, leaving the pirates in their rowboats behind.
"So, that wasn't brandy?" asked the man.
"Possibly not," said Sweetpea.
"Oh. I told the captain the wrong thing, then. Too bad. What was it?"
"Well, if you knew Old Sawashian, we'd know, now wouldn't we?"
Sweetpea steered out to sea.
"How's your plan going? Lost the flask now, eh?"
Sweetpea held up the flask, once again stoppered.
"How do you DO that?"
"Just keeping my eye on the ball."
"Hey! There's another rowboat!"
Sweetpea swung the ship around. Sure enough, there was Elspbeth's rowboat, just bobbing around empty.
"And this is where I get off," said Sweetpea. "How about a change in careers, Mr. Fake Doctor Guy? How about your own pirate ship?"
"Sure. Why not. It's been quite an evening, Miss Sawashian Acolyte."
"Likewise," said Sweetpea. "I had a lovely time. I can honestly say I hope I never see you again." She started climbing down to the rowboat.
"Oh quite!" said the man. "I generally consider myself a resourceful fellow. But being around you seems to be a continuous life-threatening experience. I don't know if I would survive another encounter."
"Piracy will be better?"
"Hm." He considered. "Quite likely it will. And now, good night to you. I wish you the best of. Um. No, not luck. You obviously have a very strange relationship with luck. I wish you the best of ... um ... whatever it is that you do."
Sweetpea had climbed in the rowboat, figured out the oars, and was headed back home.
Back home, Sweetpea emptied the rest of the flask into another container, carefully washed it, and dumped the washwater in her garden.
Sweetpea returned Elspbeth's boat, in one piece.
Elspbeth gave Sweetpea her piece of gold back, in exchange for Sweetpea's empty flask.
Sweetpea arranged for the remaining payment to be sent to the stubbly man.
Elspbeth, in her room, held the flask up to the light and admired it. It was over a century old. Deep green, with bubbles in the glass and speckles on the surface. She put it in an honored place in her collection. No WAY would she find something like this just from swap meets.
Sweetpea, back in her garden, watched her bean plants that she had poured the washwater on. They were visibly growing, writhing across the ground. She smiled. On to the next phase of her plan ...
This was in response to a prompt on reddit.com r/WritingPrompts: "One degree." Although there is only one explicit one degree, there are many implicit ones.