Chasing the Lantern (The Dawnhawk Trilogy, Book One)

by Jonathon Burgess

  "Well," said Henry after a few minutes. "You stayed up all night, so you'll be on the evening shift under Gunny Lome. You'll sleep and go to mess with her crew. She'll show you the ropes. Aft deck just below has got cots, that's where you'll sleep."

  Lina relaxed. She was seriously considering laying down out of the way on the deck somewhere.

  "But, I can't let you go just yet," continued Henry. "Got a job needs doing, and you happen to be free."

  Lina blinked. "I'm not my best at the moment."

  "Shouldn't take long. Come along now."

  The acting mate led her back to the rear hatchway. Lina followed him down to the deck below, a tight corridor dotted with doorways to either side. At the far end she spied a wider, open space full of swaying hammocks and snoring pirates. Henry led her back away to where the corridor ended at a heavy metal door, then banged upon it twice.

  "Just do whatever he says," said Henry Smalls. "It shouldn't take long. When you're done go grab some shuteye." The acting mate turned away just as the metal door creaked wide.

  Through the portal Oscar Pleasant blinked at her, ratlike. "What are you doing down here?"

  Lina stared in confusion. Henry Smalls wanted her to work under him? She frowned. "Whatever you need," she said tiredly, "let's get it done with."

  Oscar leered at her and then laughed. "You're an eager one." He waggled his eyebrows. "But it's not me who asked for ya. Mechanist called us down here." A rough voice shouted out from the depths of the space beyond. Oscar frowned, then jerked his head toward the sound. "That's him now. Best not to keep him waiting. Ever."

  Resigned, Lina stepped past the pirate through the portal. The room beyond was unlike anything she'd seen. It might have been large, but was so packed with boilers, pipes, and copper tubing that she couldn't tell. Needles vibrated within their pressure gauges and linkage mechanisms whirred. Small puffs of steam escaped through baffles and valve-releases. A bucket-and-pulley system stood ready to bring loads of coal from compartments down below. A slow, steady thumping sound reverberated throughout, like the echoes of a beating heart.

  A furnace dominated the far end of the room. The fire burning behind its grill was the only source of illumination, casting mad shadows among the pipes. Beside it stood a figure in a scorched and stained leather greatcoat, hunched over a long workbench nestled into a space all its own.

  Oh, now what have I gotten myself into? Lina glanced back at Oscar. The pirate was smiling, clearly enjoying her confusion. Ass. Lina turned away from him and cleared her throat.

  The figure whirled. Lina jumped. It was a man, most of his features hidden by the wraparound collar and a pair of thick goggles. Despite that she could tell he was small, roughly her own height and older, his frizzy hair colored salt-and-pepper.

  "Who are you?" he demanded, voice muffled by his collar. The figure stalked over and stopped with his face only inches away from her own. "What are you doing in here? This is the domain of the Brotherhood."

  Lina took a step back. "I'm Lina. Henry Smalls sent me down with Oscar. To...help you, I suppose?"

  "You are no pirate." The Mechanist peered at her through his goggles.

  "Yes I am," corrected Lina.

  "No. You are not." He gestured Oscar over from the door. "It is no matter. Come."

  The Mechanist returned to his bench. Lina followed. Just when she'd reached him the man wheeled, jabbing a finger at her. Startled, she jumped back again, running into Oscar. The pirate smirked and offered a hand to help her. She refused it.

  "Here," said the Mechanist. "See." He pointed at a portion of his workbench where a brass pipe was mounted to the wall, its length running up to the shadows of the ceiling while the close end terminated in a horn pointed out at them. "Fengel's piratical shenanigans were most untimely. I had not yet completed my modifications to the vessel. I will do so now, and you will assist me."

  Lina was surprised at the heat in his voice, at the imperious nature of the command. But she was too tired and bewildered to fight it. "All right," she said. "But what do you want me to do?"

  The Mechanist pointed at the tube. "I am installing a speaking-tube from here to the captain's wheel," he said calmly. "The two of you stay here and listen until you can hear me, and I can hear you in turn."

  "Oh," said Lina. "That's easy enough." But the Mechanist ignored her, already pushing past with a bag of tools in hand. She watched him leave the engine room, and then turned to Oscar. "All right. Who in the Realms Above is that? And what's going on?"

  The pirate smirked. "What, you ain't never heard of the Brotherhood of the Cog?"

  Lina had, actually. "Aren't they a bunch of posh types that sit around and drink sherry?"

  Oscar shrugged. "Back on Edrus, maybe. A secret society that want to build the perfect world. There are different sects; back there it's rich folks in clubs, but out here it's the Mechanists. They make the skyships. Every vessel's got one of them aboard to keep it running."

  "I haven't seen him before."

  "Doubt you would have." Oscar stretched, leaning against the workbench, using the movement as an excuse to sidle within arm's reach of where she stood. It was not subtle. Lina wrinkled her nose. He had the oily salami stink of a man who drank too much.

  "But isn't he part of the crew?'

  "Nope. The Mechanists stay on the ships they service. So long as they get a small cut of the booty, and no one interferes with their work, they don't give a damn who runs the thing. But enough about that." He put one hand up against a pipe, enclosing Lina in a small space against the workbench. "He's right."

  Lina narrowed her eyes. She took comfort in the weight of the daggers in her waistband. "About what?"

  "You're not one of us. You wanted to get away from Triskelion, I can understand that. But just because you're along for the ride doesn't mean you're a pirate."

  She tightened her lips. "Captain Fengel said I could be on the crew. I spent a week dying on that longboat, same as you. I helped row us back into port, steal this ship. I may be green, but I think that counts."

  Oscar shrugged. "Captain Fengel's a good sort. Took pity on you back in the city. But being a pirate's not about asking, right? It's about taking. I can tell, girl, you're a fish out of water. The others can all see it, too. Now, we're not barbarians, Fengel's Men are one of the best crews I've found to ship with. But you've got to prove yourself to join us. That, or have…protection. Now I've got a solution—"

  A screech echoed from the speaking tube, startling them both. Lina thought she heard words. Lina took her chance. "Yes!" she yelled into the horn. "Works fine!"

  The tube screeched again, discordant and even louder than before. She winced and Oscar started, losing his balance against the workbench. He tripped over a shovel and a bucket of coal and went sprawling to the floor. Lina turned and exited the room.

  She paused in the corridor to make sure he didn't follow, then walked to where she'd seen the hammocks, furious. Pirates snored there, hanging like exotic, smelly fruit. Lina found an empty one and, after some trial and error, climbed up into it. Lina lay awake, hand to a dagger, listening for Oscar's footsteps, wondering if he would need further dissuading. She thought that she would be too angry, too worked up to sleep. She was wrong.

  No sooner had she closed her eyes than it seemed like she was opening them again. Light filled the room from a number of portholes. The hammocks around her were largely empty, she recognized those still asleep as the skeleton crew from the evening before. Through a door at the far end of the room, opposite the corridor back to the hatchway and engine room, she heard the sound of people eating, the clatter of tableware and muted laughter.

  Food? Her back ached and her mouth felt parched. But more painful than that was the hole in her belly. The fripperies she'd consumed at Mr. Grey's hadn't been nearly enough, especially after having to fight both the captain and the steward for them.

  Lina tried to leave the hammock, failed, tried again, and fell to the wooden deck wi
th a thump. Cursing herself, she climbed to her feet and crossed the room to the door. It opened into another room, longer than the sleeping space. Benches and tables filled it, along with pirates making regular trips from them to a wide sideboard brimming with food and drink. Another doorway at the far end opened into the kitchen.

  A few pirates glanced her way as she came through the door. Lina was aware of their overlong stares before they turned back to their food. Unbidden, Oscar's words came back to her. She shoved them aside and made her way to the sideboard.

  It was ladled almost to overflowing with stew, fresh fruit, ship's biscuit and other things, a mismatched amalgamation of whatever the cook had found at hand. None of the pirates seemed to care, and made trip after trip, the weird menu pure heaven after a week of starving at sea.

  Lina didn't mind either. There seemed to be no order, so she grabbed a plate and filled it, ducking underneath and in between the larger pirates before slipping back to a free space along a bench. Those beside her didn't offer a greeting, only looked at each other. Lina forced herself not to care, tearing into an orange as if it had personally offended her.

  She was halfway through her platter when the room went dead silent. Oh Goddess. I'm eating like a pig. Face hot, she looked up. Thankfully, no one was staring her way at all.

  Captain Fengel stood just inside the door. Lina felt her heart leap a little in her chest. He was as impeccably dressed as always, looking much better for an evening's rest. The clammy pallor to his skin was gone, and he smiled as he took in the room.

  Thundering applause erupted. Fengel made a slight bow to the room at large, then a small gesture to the woman at the bench nearest him. She hastily stood and he leapt onto her seat. He held up his hands for silence, and the room quieted.

  "Well," he said. "That was quite a little trip, now, wasn't it?" Everyone laughed. Fengel reached down to the table below him and grabbed up someone's mug, which caused the owner to frown slightly. The captain held the mug before him. "I won't lie. Our little trip to the Western Continent was a complete shambles. We lost our ship, any chance of loot, and more than a few good men and women. But! We made our way home, and it was wholly your doing, my good friends. So, here's a toast, from me to you, for your continuing perseverance in the face of incredible odds, and for those who are unable to join us here today."

  The captain raised his mug. The mood in the room went somber and the pirates raised their drinks, or hastily acquired one with which to do so. Fengel led them, tipping back a long gulp. He returned the mug to its owner and then suddenly grinned.

  "But let's not be maudlin. The Flittergrasp was a good ship, but this one's not bad, save the misfortune of being owned by her previous captain." The room broke out into laughter. Fengel grinned and held up a hand. "Now. I've got things to do, and so do the rest of you. We'll be picking up Lucian tonight, and I want things shipshape and the lot of you familiar with your stations. Mister Smalls will have your shifts and assignments settled." He made to turn away when one of the pirates spoke up.

  "But Captain, where are we going?"

  Fengel turned back, smiling. "Whatever kind of question is that? We're going after the loot, my mates. Buried treasure. Enough to make us all fat as kings." He descended and left the room as the assembled pirates fell to chattering excitedly.

  Lina gave a sigh, then blushed as she realized what she'd done. I've got to fix that. This was a new life for her. Nursing a flame for the captain would not end well, regardless of what the plays and penny-papers said.

  Someone dropped down beside her, and she jumped. It was the thin navigator, Maxim. His unruly hair dangled to his shoulders like a black curtain, and he stared down his beak of a nose at her.

  "No one likes to sit near me," he said, a faint accent coloring his voice. "It's the daemon on my shoulder. But you look like an outsider too, so I am joining you."

  This again. "I'm not an outsider," she muttered defiantly. Lina couldn't help but notice the small bubble of open space that enclosed them; otherwise, the table was packed.

  The navigator raised an eye. "No?

  She threw down half an egg. "No! I was on that longboat, same as the rest of you. I fought to the serpent, and helped us get into the harbor."

  Maxim peeled a banana. His fingers were long and lithe, like a pianist. "That you did," he replied neutrally. The aetherite frowned, as if he had just been told something that he didn't like. Surreptitiously, he laid down the banana and retrieved both salt and pepper shakers from the table near the others.

  "Captain's a good man," he said conversationally. "Most of us here used to work under him. On a Perinese ship. H.M.S. Reliable. Know what he was then?"

  "No," said Lina. His abrasive manners aside, Maxim's words made Lina curious.

  "Petty Officer."

  Lina recalled the internal map she'd long ago built of navies and their rankings. In her former line of work, it had paid to know such things. "Not commissioned then?"

  "No. Fengel was a better sailor, leader, and swordsman than anyone alive on that ship. But he's lowborn, yes? No patronage." Maxim fiddled with the pepper shaker in his hands, as if he were nervous. "Perinese ships...do you know how most sailors end up on them?"

  Lina nodded. "Press ganging."

  "Yes. Slavery, really." He returned the pepper shaker to where he'd found it. "Slavery is a rough thing, and the Perinese know they need to be rough in return to make it work. But Fengel...Captain Fengel looked out for us all, took floggings he need not have more than once."

  Maxim picked up the salt shaker next and fiddled with it. "What happened next?" she prompted after a moment.

  He set the saltshaker down in front of her. "Bad storm. Sick captain. First mate could not handle it. Fengel stepped up and saved us all, took command when no one else was able to." He shrugged. "Made everyone up the chain look bad. They were going to execute him. Now, pirate crews are democracies, yes? So, we took a Crewman's Vote. Then mutinied, made Fengel our captain. Took the Reliable and made for Haventown." The navigator touched her hand, drawing in close. "My point is, most of us have been together since the beginning. Others will be cordial, but if you want to be accepted as one of us, you must earn it. Earn their respect, yes?"

  Lina felt a sinking sensation. She picked up the salt shaker and her half-eaten egg. "Haven't you ever wanted to make a change? To start fresh?"

  Maxim turned his palms upward, leaning back. "It's just how things are. We're mostly good people, though. You've got a chance with us. Any crew really, one must—"

  A cry came from down the table. Lina peered past the navigator to a burly male pirate sitting at the end of their bench. He had grabbed the pepper shaker and upended it over his plate. The cap had fallen off, dumping its contents everywhere. Lina and several others laughed at the prank.

  "Maxim!" cried the pirate. "You horse's ass!"

  The navigator turned around slowly. "The daemon made me do it," he said. "Earned a small Working. Be thankful."

  The pirate swore and stood, taking his ruined breakfast elsewhere. He gave Lina a dirty look as he left. Belatedly she realized her mistake. Great. I really shouldn't have laughed. The strange navigator was right, she was going to have to earn acceptance.

  Lina upended the salt shaker over her egg without stopping to think. The end flew off, dumping a tablespoons' worth of salt to spill over her egg, hand, and the rest of her plate. She cursed and started back, then glared at the aetherite.

  "Daemon made me do it," he said with a shrug.

  Maxim turned to look out across the room. Lina followed his gaze to a knot of pirates at the far end from them, Oscar Pleasant in their midst. He was telling a story, punctuated by obscene hand gestures and glances in her direction. His assembled mates laughed uproariously.

  "He is causing you trouble," said Maxim. "You should do something about that." Then he stood, leaving her alone again.

  Lina picked about her plate for anything edible. Eventually she stood and left the mess to
find Henry Smalls. As he'd said, she found herself assigned to the night-watch under the huge piratess, gunnery mistress Sarah Lome. Lina was told she would be expected to fight, and help in any emergencies that threatened the ship. Otherwise her time was her own and she was simply expected to stay out of the way. Depressed now, and still feeling exhausted from their ordeal, Lina drank more water, found the head, and then went back to bed. She awoke around seventh bell, late in the afternoon.

  Lina ate another meal by herself in the mess, this one not so extravagant as the last, then made her way up to the deck. Pursing her lips, she approached the rails and looked past them down onto the world below.

  The setting sun sent shafts of umber light across thick tropical jungle stretching out along the Copper Isles beneath them. The Dawnhawk rode a few hundred feet above the canopy, cliffs and rivers separating the land into islets. The Isles spread out in a crescent across the horizon, the blue water of the Atalian Sea surrounding them.

  It was glorious. Lina laughed at her earlier trepidation. She rested her arms on the railing and enjoyed the view. I'm home. Lina blinked in surprise at the realization. Maybe she'd expected a bit much. Maybe the captain had taken pity on her. It didn't matter. She suddenly knew that this was the life for her. I'm going to make it work. To the Realms Below with everyone else.

  The last of the sun sank beneath the horizon and a shrill whistle rang out across the deck. Lina looked back to see Henry Smalls standing amid the deck with a boson's whistle, Sarah Lome standing behind him, cracking her knuckles. The evening crew was assembling, hurrying from up the hatches or wherever they'd been loitering about the deck. Lina moved to join them.

  Henry passed his whistle to the gigantic woman. "Gunnery mistress," he said, "you have the watch."

  "I have the watch," she repeated formally. Then both of them relaxed.

  "All's straight and clear," said Henry. "This is a good ship."

  "When are we picking up Lucian?"

  "Around dawn. Captain say's it's going to be the usual spot, along Breakneck Bay."