His skin told a story of years in the sun. Ford’s blonde hair was tucked back in a ponytail, and he wore a gold earring in each ear. His weathered look contrasted sharply with Mannevy, whose ebony skin was soft with no wrinkles and whose dark hair was tightly coiled hair and cut short.
“The first among many, and you’ll be the admiral!” the first minister had promised in a rich bask voice. Ford had known the King — and his promises — long enough to know to take that with a large grain of salt.
#
“In the name of my husband, good King Markel —” the queen’s words brought Ford back to the present “— I commission this ship the royal airship Spite.”
Ford couldn’t help smiling to himself: up until a month ago, his ship had been the good ship Sprite but in the aftermath of dealing with the Crown Prince, his mother the queen, and the shadow of the man that had once been a proper King, he’d decided in the dead of night to change the name to something more appropriate.
The queen splashed the holy water on the prow and everyone applauded, some only for the joy of the occasion, others because it meant they could go off to their afternoon meal. Crown Prince Nestor, turned his pale face back toward Ford, brows furrowed in a demanding look. Ford bit back a harsh retort — the child pretending to be a man! — and turned to the end of the gangway.
And now I command His Majesty’s Airship Spite, Ford thought to himself. He surveyed the length of what had once been a very jaunty two-masted brig and bit back an oath. The masts were gone. In their place were ten large balloons filled with a magical air that could raise the ship from the ground. At her rear, where the proud rudder had once been mounted was nothing. At the stern, instead, were two large upright spars with large furled vanes of strong cloth. It looks like a two-tailed peacock, Ford thought ruefully to himself.
“Ship’s crew, man your stations!” Ford barked, moving up the walkway to take his place at the helm. A rush of feet followed behind him and took their places, although Ford knew full well that some were already aboard, stoking that never-to-be-sufficiently-damned coal burner set just before the wheel to provide heat and steam for the thaumaturgy that would propel his ship into the sun-drenched sky.
“Stations manned and ready, sir!” Boatswain Knox bellowed from his place by the wheel.
“Prepare to release mooring lines!” Ford called. He turned toward the infernal machine not ten paces in front of him. “Mage, prepare the lifting spells!”
“How many times, Mr. Ford, must I remind you, I’m a thaumaturge —”
“It’s Captain Ford and if I call you a mage on my ship, then a mage you shall be, sir!” Ford roared back, drowning out the thin young man dressed in purple robes. The mage looked ready to argue so Ford took a step forward and gestured upwards commandingly.
“Aye sir,” the mage said in a smaller voice, “at your command.”
“Are we ready?” Ford said in a lower voice to the boatswain. Boatswain Knox looked around to all his people and nodded. The Boatswain was short and muscular, with thin black hair beginning to thin. Like Ford, Knox’s skin was withered, and wore a gold earring in each ear.
“Wait!” a voice called from the prow by the gantry. “I shall join you on this magnificent journey!”
“Oh, cripes, it’s his nibs,” Knox muttered.
“That’s Prince Nestor, Knox,” Ford growled. “Never forget that. If he heard you call him ‘his nibs’, he’d have you flogged.”
He turned back toward the Prince.
“We would be delighted to have you on this most dangerous voyage,” Ford called down the length of the ship. “Crewmen, help your prince aboard.”
“Look at him, he’s turning green already,” Knox muttered as the Crown Prince paled at the words: ‘most dangerous.’
“If he pukes, you’ll be cleaning it up, Knox,” Ford warned the man.
“He’ll have the best view at the bow, sir,” Knox replied, waving forward. “I’ll let Doyle know to escort him there.”
“You do that,” Ford agreed with a half-smile. He scanned the length of his ship and called, “Single up all lines!” He waited while one set of ropes securing the ship to the docks were pulled away. Then he said to the mage, “Prepare to lift ship!” He turned to the mechanic, “Prepare to deploy propellers!”
“Aye, sir!” Mechanic Newman said, saluting smartly.
“I already said I was —” the mage started irritably.
“Release all lines!” Ford shouted. He turned then to the mage, “Lift ship!”
With a heavy sigh, the purple-robed mage turned toward the bow and raised his arms upwards in the lifting incantation.
“Check all rigging!” Ford shouted to his idlers. He didn’t need one of the lifting balloons to come loose.
Slowly, with great reluctance, the good ship Spite floated upwards. Ford looked down below him waiting until the keel was clear of the highest spire before turning to the mechanic, “Deploy propellers!”
On either side of the stern the large booms lowered and locked in place. The feather-like cloths unfurled and turned to lock, one at each corner of the compass to form giant four-bladed propellers which began turning, slowly at first, until they provided the airship with a steady forward thrust.
“Adjust for level sailing!” Ford ordered, wondering just how his mixed crew would respond. It was the first time he’d issued the order for effect — all other times it had been on a ship that was being fitted out for the King’s latest venture.
“Check the rigging!” Knox added to the idlers who scurried about, checking to ensure that all the ropes holding the balloons were taut and none were chafing.
“Oh, my goodness!” a voice wailed from the bow. “We’re ever so much higher than I’d imagined!”
“He’s fainted!” Doyle called in alarm. “You lot, come help me bring him below!”
“Apparently His Majesty has become a bit overwhelmed with excitement,” Ford remarked tartly to the boatswain.
“Indeed, sir!” Knox agreed. “Fortunately, we’ve lost naught in the change!”
“What heading sir?” the helmsman asked.
“Take us toward the coast, lad,” Ford replied. “I’d like to see how she handles a real wind.”
“Aye sir!”
“I’m not sure how the prince will fair it,” Knox muttered loudly enough for others nearby to hear and grin.
“It’s the way of all landlubbers to wobble a bit when finding their feet,” Ford allowed diplomatically, casting an eye on the mage, Reedis. The other must have sensed his gaze for he turned back and bowed deeply.
“Carry on mage, carry on!” Ford called to him with a half-bow of his own. The mage might be strange and in purple but he clearly knew his stuff.
“Shall I have us go higher?”
“No, I think we should be close to the ground for now,” Ford replied. Mage Reedis agreed with a nod.
Chapter Two: The Crown Prince
The shoreline approached at a leisurely pace, so much so that Ford, called to the mechanic, “Can we increase speed?”
The mechanic nodded toward the coal-blacked sailors — no, airmen, Ford corrected himself — who grinned in response.
“We’re only running at half pressure, sir,” Newman assured him. “Shall we go full out?”
“No, save that for later,” Ford replied. “Let’s try two-thirds power, if you would.”
Newman knuckled his forehead in a salute and turned to the stokers. “You heard the captain, lads, let’s see some effort!”
“When we get to the new power level, I’ll relieve you if you want,” Ford said to the stokers. He knew that stoking a steam boiler was hard work and he prided himself on sparing his men when possible.
In a few minutes the airship noticeably increased speed and the coast rapidly came into view.
A stiff offshor
e breeze slowed their progress measurably but Ford was still impressed. He glanced to the boatswain who nodded in appreciation.
“We’re sailing straight in to the wind,” Knox said in awe.
“We’re flying straight into the wind,” Ford corrected him with a twitch of his lips.
“Aye sir, that we are,” Knox agreed. “That we are.”
“Once we get over the sea, I’ll have us reverse course,” Ford said. He turned and let his eyes scan the deck from stern to prow. All seemed in order. “Lieutenant Havenam!”
“Sir!” the red haired first lieutenant jogged from his place amidships back to the helm, saluting his captain properly. He has a wiry build and his hair was short and curled.
“Are you ready to take her over, Sam?” Ford asked.
Havenam’s face burst into a huge grin for a brief moment before he schooled his expression into a proper officer’s stern gaze. “I believe I am, sir.”
Ford grinned back at him. “Good! Then, sir, let’s be about it.”
“Sir, I relieve you,” Havenam said in all seriousness.
“Mr. Havenam, I stand relieved,” Ford said. The first lieutenant came to attention and saluted his captain. “Mr. Havenam has the watch!” Captain Ford called through the length of the ship. In a normal voice he said, “I’ll be below, Sam, if you need me.”
“Aye sir,” Havenam replied. “Did I hear correctly that we’re to reverse course when we’re properly over the sea?”
“You did,” Ford agreed. “But I’ll amend those orders. Steer out to sea, then back to the Westing lighthouse before you turn back to shore. Go full around the Westing lighthouse — show them what we can do — and then back home.”
Havenam’s eyes widened with surprise and delight. “Aye sir. Out to sea, back to the Westing lighthouse, circle it, and then back to the capital.”
“You have your orders,” Ford said, exchanging salutes before turning to the hatchway. He turned back to call over his shoulder. “And send the watch below.”
“Aye sir!” Havenam replied. “All hands, watch below! First watch, man your stations!”
Ford was in his cabin before the second and third watches came scuttling down the hatchway to their quarters.
#
Ford had just enough time to settle at his desk before someone was pounding on his door.
“Sir, sir! The prince is awake and calling for you!” a sailor — no, airman — called nervously.
“Escort him to my quarters, please,” Ford replied. “And ask the cook to provide us with some tea.”
“Aye sir,” the man replied.
Another knock on his door warned him of the prince’s arrival. Ford rose to greet the haggard young man courteously but Prince Nestor was having none of it.
“I shall not have it said that I was inconvenienced on this first voyage, Captain!” Nestor said as soon as the door opened.
“Inconvenienced, your majesty?” Ford replied, his brows creased in question.
“I heard your men snickering!” Nestor said, his voice rising in a whine. “I am the Crown Prince, I will be king someday and all shall fear me.”
“As they do now, your highness,” Ford agreed. “If you heard the men act inappropriately, I assure you it was not directed at you, sire.”
“If not me, then who?” the prince demanded.
“Why seaman — or should I say, airman — Lubber, your highness,” Ford replied. ‘Seaman Lubber’ was the name given to the non-existent worst crewman. Ford was certain that the Prince — no sailor he, let alone airman — was not familiar with the name.
“Airman Lubber?”
“Yes, your majesty,” Ford replied. He spread his hands expansively. “I’m afraid I made a poor choice in him, your majesty. Only he was an orphan and now he’s got a wife and she’s expecting so I took pity on him when he applied — even though I’d been warned that he’d heave his guts—” Ford noted with enthusiasm the way the prince turned slightly green at the phrase “— at the first opportunity.”
The prince started to reply just as lieutenant Havenam ordered the ship to turn to port and the airship heeled in the wind. “What’s that?”
“We’re turning, your highness,” Ford replied. “I don’t doubt that the wind’s pushing us over a bit as we’re going broadside to it.”
The prince stared at him wide-eyed just as someone knocked on the door.
“If you’ll be seated, your majesty, I sent for tea,” Ford said.
“I’m not thirsty,” the prince said, even while taking his chair.
“Would you permit me, I’m rather parched,” Ford said. Prince Nestor gave him a jerky nod. Ford waved the crewman inside and nodded politely as the tea was placed on the center depression in the table.
“When you get a moment,” Ford said to the crewman, “please inquire after the mage and see if he requires refreshment.”
The man gave him a jerky nod in response and Ford thawed enough to add, “He’ll probably just want some tea, don’t worry.”
“Aye sir,” the airman returned, knuckling his forehead in acknowledgement.
“Do you think that’s wise?” the prince asked as the airman turned away. Ford raised an eyebrow in inquiry. “If Reedis gets distracted won’t we all die?”
“Mage Reedis assures me that his magic is contained, sire,” Ford said. “He uses it only when we need to go up or down. Other times he is completely at his leisure.”
“That’s not what he told me,” the prince said darkly.
“Perhaps he was unclear,” Ford said. “I know that I have seen the effect of the spells on the magic air balloons and how they have maintained their buoyancy without his direct attention.”
“If we crash, captain, I shall have your head,” the prince promised.
Ford managed a small nod, raised the teapot and gestured toward the prince’s cup. “Are you sure you won’t indulge?”
Prince Nestor shook his head with a shudder.
Captain Ford held back a sigh and raised his cup to his lips partly to refresh himself and partly to hide the fact that he had absolutely nothing to say to the man opposite him.
“When were you planning on drilling the guns, captain?” Nestor asked after the silence grew oppressive.
“Why, sire, I had thought on our maiden voyage —”
“My father will want to know that his ship is fully capable of dealing with dragons and other aerial menaces, captain,” Nestor broke in frostily. “I’m certain that he’d be very disappointed if you could not tell them the state of your weaponry upon our return.”
“Sire,” Ford said slowly, “we still have not planned on how to arrange targets for our guns —”
“Deck there!” a lookout shooted. “Something in the clouds to port!”
Nestor shot to his feet. “There’s your target, captain!”
“Indeed, we’ll certainly want a look,” Ford agreed, placing his cup on the table and rising briskly from his chair.
Chapter Three: A Cannon’s Fire
On deck, Lieutenant Havenam saluted quickly then pointed to the prow. “I have Senten and Marder out on the bowsprit, sir.”
“Good,” Ford said with a quick nod. “I’ll take a look myself.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Mage Reedis asked as Ford and the Prince passed him by.
“See if you can bring us to the same altitude,” Ford said giving the man an encouraging look.
“Aye, captain!” Reedis replied surprisingly.
“I think I’ll rate him mate,” Ford said to himself as they continued on their way.
“He should be an officer,” said the prince who’d overheard him.
“If I do that it’ll go to his head,” Ford replied. “No, I think I will warrant him as an airmate, first class.”
The prince scowled at
him but said nothing as they neared the bowsprit. The ship’s original bowsprit had been maintained even though it no longer had the support of the stay lines rigged from the foremast. And there were no sails hung beneath it. The catwalk had been widened and safety nets strung below in a poor attempt at providing the lookouts with a sense of protection from any mishap that might cause them to slip from their perches.
“Are you coming?” Ford called over his shoulder as he started his way out on the broad spar supported only by his nimble feet.
The prince, eyes wide with fright, shook his head once in a quick jerk and stood, transfixed, as Ford waved a hand and continued running down the bowsprit toward the forward lookouts.
#
“What have you got?” Ford asked as he straddled the bowsprit just behind the two lookouts.
“I saw it first to port, sir,” airman Senten said, pointing toward a bank of clouds.
“Then I spotted it — or maybe another — down and starboard, sir,” Marder added.
“What does he mean ‘starboard’?” the prince called from the safety of the deck.
“Starboard is the side of the ship that’s on the right when looking from the stern toward the bow,” Boatswain Knox explained, coming up to the prince’s side. “‘Port’ is on the left as you’re looking forward.”
“Why not say left and right, then?” the prince asked petulantly.
“Because, sire, left and right depend upon where you’re looking,” the boatswain said patiently, “while port and starboard always mean the same thing.”
“Another?” Captain Ford asked the lookouts, shaking his head in dismay at the prince’s ignorance.
“It was smaller, golden, and very fast,” Marder said. “Wasn’t the same as the first one.”
“And the other?”
“It was a dragon, sir,” Senten said, “I’d stake my life on it.”
Twin Soul Series Omnibus 1: Books 1-5 (Twin Soul Series Book Sets) Page 6
