Though the Norscans had been fought off, any praise Baltazar and his companions received was short-lived, and once the food started running out, so it seemed did any remaining gratitude from the crew. Going hungry was a minor inconvenience at worst - he was used to it, from long years starving in the streets of Marienburg, and many more eating half rations at sea - although he resented the captain for such obvious poor planning. Worse yet, for lying about their food reserves. Getting thrown off the ship outright was the final insult, although Baltazar held his tongue as he went below deck to gather his belongings. It never paid to be rash - although by all rights, they should have thrown the captain overboard and sailed to Skeggi themselves, the lord of luck condemned unnecessary violence. Instead, he gathered his belongings, happy that he traveled light, and pulled a shiny, slender lockpick out of a pocket in his spare cloak. With any luck, their mysterious employer would have paid the captain in advance.

As a consummate professional, he left no trace of his misdeeds, aside from - obviously - the missing coin. Even magic can only do so much, though, and there was no time to leave any false trails. It would hardly take a genius to imagine where the money had gone, once the captain had cause to open his strongbox. Baltazar had left just enough to pay the crew; the captain would make it to Skeggi without mutiny, at least. He might even decide to sell the horses to recoup some of his losses, and the knights' reaction to [i]that[/i] would naturally be priceless. The god of thieves would no doubt approve.

Cheerfully waving goodbye to the rowers as they took their boats back to the ship, Baltazar followed a handful of steps behind Darren as the wizard led the way into the jungle. The warmth was a pleasant change from the dank chill of Marienburg, although he had a sense that it would get hotter soon, and a lot less pleasant. Already he was swatting unknown insects off his face and shoulders. 

"I dearly hope some of you are skilled at living off the land. I've got, maybe three crumbs and a mouthful of rum to my name," he said, patting his pocket flask. "There's got to be something edible in terrain like this, right? And plenty of poisonous somethings too, I bet."