Fata Morgana

by Thomas J. Radford

  “Fancy a swallow?” Gravel offered her the flask as soon as Kaspar had put it down. Violet took one sniff and her eyes began to water. Strong. She pushed it away, to the lad’s amusement.

  “Dab some on your ear,” Kaspar told her, holding the now red-hot needle through half the sail cloth wrapping and holding out what was left to her. “The rum should burn off any nasty so you don’t take sick.”

  “And the needle does the rest?” Violet did as she was told, still eyeing the red-hot metal sliver cautiously. She wanted to back out but a voice in her head wouldn’t let her.

  “You don’t want your ears to take sick,” Gravel assured her. “Look right silly without your ears, you would, and then nothing to tuck your hair behind.”

  “Stop scaring her,” Kaspar said, shuffling over. He held up the cork. “I’m going to put this behind your ear so I don’t stab your neck when the needle goes through. Ok?”

  Violet nodded, not at all comfortable. She took a deep breath and held it as the cork was pressed against the back of her earlobe, held tight by Kaspar’s hand.

  “One . . . two . . .”

  He never counted three.

  “Sonofa—” Violet jerked away from Kaspar, clutching her ear. The ear he’d just stabbed with white-hot lightning doused in vinegar. Alcohol her bright, fluffy tail!

  “Hells!” Violet swore, feeling something damp on her fingers. She looked at them and saw red. “Bloody hells!”

  She glared at Kaspar, went off on another blue tangent for a full minute. “There’s a hole in my ear, damnit!”

  Kaspar stared at her, his eyes wide like dinner plates. “That was . . . the idea.”

  “That hurt,” Violet cried. “That really, ploughing really hurt!”

  “I’m . . . sorry?” Kaspar faltered. He shoved Gravel next to him. “And what are you laughing at?”

  Gravel clutched at his stomach, gasping. “Can’t breathe,” he wheezed out. “Can’t . . . gods, but that’s the funniest thing I ever saw. And look . . . the needle’s still in you. In your ear. It’s stuck in the cork!”

  Gravel howled with laughter, rolling around on his perch hysterically. Violet aimed a savage kick at him while trying to dislodge the cork from herself. Gravel didn’t notice and she was no more successful with the needle and cork.

  “Here,” Kaspar reached for her, making Violet recoil.

  “Don’t you touch me!” She raised her foot to kick him if he tried, hopping away from him as best she could.

  “Think you’ve done enough, sir,” Gravel gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. “Gods, lass, did you cry this much when you got your ink done?”

  “Shut your face,” Violet told him. Her fingers wouldn’t grip the needle, too slippery with blood. Was it meant to be bleeding that much? Surely that was too much blood. Surely.

  “I’ll go,” Kaspar held up his hands wearily. “I think we’ve done enough here. Brandon, we have the watch.”

  “You have the watch, sir,” Gravel corrected him. “I’m with this shrieking siren, at least until the next bell turns.”

  “Right,” Kaspar frowned. “I’d forgotten. Well . . . carry on.”

  “Aye, sir, carrying on,” Gravel saluted him. “Enjoy your watch.”

  “Want me to help with that?” Gravel asked when Kaspar was gone, pointing to her face. “You were a mite harsh on the ensign, but he must have hit some sore spot for you to be carrying on so.”

  “Fine,” Violet said, tensing as he took hold of the cork behind her ear. His hands felt hot against her skin. She expected more pain but there was none yet.

  “Hurry up,” she told him impatiently.

  “Easy, lass, got to get the earring through first. Otherwise this was all a waste and would be a shame to waste a scream like yours. Language too, never heard the words come from such a pretty face. I know hussies and harlots you could turn red. Where’d you ever learn such colour?”

  “Is there much blood?” Violet wanted to know.

  “A drop, that’s all.” Gravel stepped back from her, holding up the piercing instrument. “All done now, lass. And the pearl is pretty, if I do say so myself.”

  “Hells,” Violet shuddered, resisting the urge to reach up and feel for herself. She didn’t want to see any more blood. She could feel the earring though, an odd weight, just on the one side of her face. Felt like she was listing to one side, which was silly. Barely weighed a thing. Just felt heavy. Unfamiliar.

  “Looks odd,” Gravel told her, echoing her thoughts. “Drags your ear down. Should even it up, pop the other one too.”

  “No,” Violet shook her head. The movement sent her new earring shaking, knocking against her skin. It was going to take some getting used to.

  “Hells,” she said, holding it still with two fingers. She spied the vial of rum next to her, still corked. Lucky she’d remembered to do that; she had a use for it now.

  “That’s truly not for drinking,” Gravel warned her as she raised it up. Violet ignored him and swallowed half the contents. It burned hot and fiery down her throat, bringing a flush to her face. And another laugh from Gravel so she downed the rest of the rum. It was smoother the second time.

  “Works for drinking just fine,” Violet told him. She considered the empty vial, then shrugged and replaced the cork, tucking it inside her shirt.

  Give it back to Kaspar later.

  “I worry for my ears now that you’ve taken to liquor,” Gravel said. “Be stripping the rust right off the hull with just your tongue come our next walk. Where’d you learn to cuss like that anyhow?”

  “Before,” Violet said. She frowned. Hadn’t been thinking about the skipper too much of late. But there she was, all bright and vivid in her mind. Redheaded and stern disapproval on her face. Reaching for her that last time . . .

  Red, like the blood on my hand ought to be.

  Violet rubbed her fingertips together till the blood dried and crumbled off.

  Except the skipper didn’t reach. She let me go. I saw. I remember.

  “Don’t wanna talk about it,” Violet said.

  “Aye, as you like,” Gravel shrugged. “There’s a look on your face, though.”

  “What look?” Violet glared.

  “Lonely,” Gravel said. “You look like I felt, way back when. When I first came up from the mines, didn’t know nobody. Not a friend nor family to my name.”

  “Don’t need a friend,” Violet said.

  “Aye, that’s what all folks without friends say. Everybody needs friends. Even Mors and Aristeia got each other. And I’ve got Kaspar, bless his heart. For all his faults as an officer, he’s a good lad. Had my back since those first days so I try to do right by him.”

  “You are friends,” Violet said. “That’s . . . odd. That is odd. For an officer and a sailor to be friends like you two.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Violet looked Gravel up and down. There was a rush in her head, the spirits going straight to it. “Because he’s better than you.”

  Gravel shrugged, the words missing their mark. “Aye, so I’ve heard. Fact is I didn’t know squat about being a bluejack, couldn’t read colours or tie my own shoes with nought but a nest knot. Niko taught me all that. Took me under his wing.”

  “Charitable of him,” Violet said. “Won’t have done his career any good though.”

  Gravel shrugged. “Didn’t quite fit in amongst the officers, even before we joined this lot. Wasn’t mean enough. Didn’t like giving orders much. Kept to himself where he could.”

  “What’s his secret?” Violet asked.

  “Secret? What secret?” Gravel said. Too quickly.

  “Everyone’s got them. A secret.”

  “Secret of Niko Kaspar is he ain’t his own man,” Gravel said. “Got pushed into the fleet life and never got a say about it. Been lonely ever since.”

  “Got you, hasn’t he?”

  “Aye,” Gravel said slowly. “But . . . well, sometimes it ain’t enough, you know? Like it could a
ll be taken away from you. Just like that. Lost to the black.”

  Changed my mind, bluejack. Don’t like your words. You can go back to shutting your face. Don’t need a friend.

  “You look lonesome, lass,” Gravel said quietly.

  “Shut your face,” she told him out loud.

  “You’re a mean drunk,” he replied. “Won’t be offering you any more bottles.”

  “Fine.”

  “Come on,” he stood up and held out his hand. “Got something to show you.”

  Violet looked at him, all suspicious.

  “What?”

  “Come on,” he repeated. “Been wanting to show you for a long time. Now is good, assuming you’re done bleeding on the deck.”

  He pulled Violet to her feet before she could even touch her ear.

  “ARE WE MEANT to be back here?”

  “No,” Gravel looked back at her with glittering eyes. “No, we are not.”

  Back here was the cargo deck of the Fata Morgana. It was far smaller than the Tantamount’s, which had in fact covered an entire deck and often spilled over from that. Gravel had led her deep into the bowels of the metal ship, towards the stern if Violet had managed to keep her bearings, which wasn’t easy since they’d crossed over the plane twice. A roundabout way to get to something Violet suspected was strictly off limits to her.

  And not just to stowaway little girls. Dockside mining orphans aren’t high on the chain. Whatever it is, he’s not meant to be here either.

  Violet grimaced, shutting down the thoughts. She had to hold onto the wall to keep from falling over. The change in direction and the after effects of the drink. Any more and she’d struggle to lie on the floor without holding on. Whatever it was had best be worth it.

  They stopped in front of a bulkhead door. The Fata Morgana was extremely compartmentalised, making the most use of the multiple plane layout and enclosed interior. Gravel spun the wheel, the door opened outwards.

  “Ladies first,” he gestured.

  “Ain’t no lady,” Violet muttered as she stepped past him. Gravel just grinned at her. She held one hand on the doorjamb, taking a moment. The ship was swaying. Or maybe the drink, and the dark wasn’t helping.

  “What are we looking—” Violet bit off the last word in a strangled squawk as something dive-bombed her. She dropped to the deck, grabbing for whatever was suddenly caught up in her hair. Hot breath and sharp claws scrabbled at her face as she tried to fight it off or get away.

  She became aware of deep, uncontrolled laughter. Her assailant vanished at the sound, leaving Violet gasping on the floor. Violet reached up to touch her face, expecting it to be bloody and ruined. Instead she found it more or least unmarred.

  “You scared him.”

  “Scared him?” Violet cried. “The hells was that?”

  Gravel stood in the doorway, backlit by glowstones in grey and silver. His silhouette was hunchbacked, one shoulder grossly malformed and moving all its own. Violet stared.

  That’s . . .

  “Bandit?”

  An uncertain chitter greeted her inquiry.

  “Bandit, get over here, you mangy rodent!”

  The loompa dropped to the deck and closed the distance in a single bound, wrapping trembling, wiry limbs and tail around her. The impact rocked Violet onto her back and she crushed Bandit to her chest, an embrace that must have squeezed the air from his small lungs from the wheeze he gave off.

  Violet didn’t care. She hadn’t thought about Bandit since coming aboard, a guilt that made her cradle him all the tighter.

  For a moment, just for a moment, it was all right. She was back in the hold of the Tantamount. She could smell Gabbi’s cooking mixed in with the acrid smell of loompa fur. She could hear Quill and the skipper bellowing at each other across the deck, almost drowned out by a shanty Piper and the captain had sparked up.

  In a moment those all faded away, into dust, into the black. Gone.

  They’re all gone.

  Except for the smell and feel of Bandit’s fur against her face.

  When Violet felt she could let go, that the only other member of her old crew wouldn’t vanish like so much dust in the air, she realised there were tears streaming down her face. She hoped Gravel couldn’t see them.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Gravel shrugged uncomfortably, but still smiling. “Came in with you, poor thing that he is. More than half frozen to death and scrawnier than me when I first signed up. Didn’t think he had much of a chance but he’s a tough little furball.”

  “Who else knows he’s down here?”

  “Just the right honourable Niko Kaspar. Didn’t approve, of course. He never does.”

  “Thank you, Gravel, thank you both.”

  “Well, don’t thank me too much, little lady. Our friend has to stay down here. Half the crew would spit him just for the practice and that’s not even including Coldstream and Quinn.”

  “This is a wonderful surprise,” Violet stood up. Bandit perched on her shoulder, a familiar weight she hadn’t known was missing.

  Gravel chuckled. “Worth it for the look on your face. Before and now. You’re a sight prettier when you smile. Less so when you’re spiteful.”

  Violet flushed, remembering her words not so long ago. Could blame the drink but it was more than that. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Makes all the difference, lass. Fact is you can’t hurt my feelings much but prefer if you didn’t try so hard at it.”

  Violet hung her head. Hells, what did get into me?

  “Enough of that. That’s only half the surprise you’ve seen.” Gravel rubbed his hands together conspiratorially. “We have to go right to the end here.”

  Gravel led the way with Violet and Bandit in tow, the loompa riding her shoulder, the opposite one to her new jewellery. It felt right somehow, balancing her out.

  “Is that—” Violet stopped, squinting in the dark. They’d come to a mostly empty area of the hold, which was sectioned off into compartments. There was a ship inside, a small tender, tarped over.

  “Aye, the Fata Morgana’s grand-daddy, wrinkled wee thing it is.”

  It was small, Violet thought. Very small, for two people to spend a month on. The mast had been lowered to make it easier to store but she could make out that the tarp covering it had once been the makeshift sail. Under that she glimpsed a bulkier, less elegant design of the pipes and coils that festooned much of the Morgana.

  “Would it still sail?” she asked.

  “Probably,” Gravel said. “Wouldn’t want to have to test it again though, once was enough.”

  “Kaspar fell off that.”

  “Aye, he did.”

  Violet frowned at it. How had it gotten in here? It was too big to be lowered in from the deck above. The deck above was enclosed, anyhow. Part of the hold must open up to the black, for loading and unloading purposes. Strange design.

  “Come on, that’s not what I was looking to show you.”

  Gravel led her further in, to an out-of-the-way corner of the hold. Whatever stores were kept here were bulky and little used. A layer of dust covered everything, sending Bandit into a fit of sneezing. Her guide stopped her in front of one of the darker shadows. Something bigger than both of them.

  Violet let her eyes travel from the feet, almost round and featureless, up to the more sculptured torso, where she could make out individual muscles, almost lifelike in their detail. Finally the face, almost a blank slate again, but for the two deep-set eyes. There was no trace of colour now but Violet had seen them lit from inside. Blood and red in colour. She never thought to see them again.

  “Where did this come from?” she asked. She rolled her shoulder, realising Bandit had vanished from his perch.

  “Can’t tell you that one,” Gravel admitted. “Truth is, he’s a scary fellow to be staring down inside or outside of a ship. Had the pleasure once before, during those riots on Border. Didn’t realise the fellow was a paying customer until I
stumbled across it looking for a place to rest my head one day. It’s something though, ain’t it.”

  “It’s . . . something.” Violet reached out, the tips of her fingers brushing the obsidian golem’s carved chest.

  Onyx’s hand closed around her wrist. Just like that. Violet tried to pull away, but she was held fast, the grip solid, if not crushing. She glared furiously at the construct. It had moved just the once, seemingly lifeless again. But it wasn’t letting go.

  “What happened?” Gravel rushed up, staring at the black polished hand.

  “Grabbed me,” Violet scowled, tugging harder with her free hand.

  “How did it grab you? It’s never moved for me, I would have sworn it didn’t move. What did you do?”

  “Maybe it just remembers me,” Violet gritted her teeth. She braced her feet and tried to push the arm up instead. It wouldn’t move, as solid as the statue it pretended to be.

  “Remembers you?”

  Violet ignored that. “Find me a hammer, a tool, something.” She jerked her head. “Bandit, smash, go fetch.”

  Bandit was gone off into the darkness. Gravel cast about, looking perplexed.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “Don’t need to understand, just need to break the dumb rock.” There was a cry from the darkness. “Go see what he found. Go!”

  Gravel jumped at the barked order, leaving Violet alone with the golem. She stared up at the face.

  He could crush you just by flexing his wrist.

  “All right, you big, dumb rock,” she leaned in as close as she could, “do you remember me? I’m the one who dropped you off the Tantamount. I watched you float off into the mist, and if you don’t let me go by the time my friends get back with the biggest hells damned hammer you’ve ever seen, I’m going to watch them smash you into pebbles. You hearing me, you dumb slab of granite?”

  The head shifted, she would have sworn to it. Twisting just a bit to look down at her. Condescending. Mocking. Daring.

  “Fine,” Violet swallowed, hearing Gravel coming back. “What’d you find?” she called out impatiently.