Minerva looked down, confused. "It chose me? How can a dagger do that?"
"It's magical, for one, and two, it's a sword."
"Did it shrink?" she asked, making an incredulous face.
"Yes," he said, unexpectedly confirming her disbelief. "Look, it says right here. The Sovereign Sabre may reveal its full form when the one it protects calls for its aid. The chosen ward must simply run their open palm flatly along the blade, from hilt to tip for expansion, or in reverse for contraction."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Should I try it?"
Lintumen smiled warmly, offering absolutely no indication of his thoughts on the matter, so Minerva placed her palm on the side of the blade and arched her fingers backwards, fearful of its slicing edge. Then she slid along the blade.
Nothing happened.
"Maybe it's a different sword that looks the same?" she said.
Lintumen looked back down at the page and read some more.
"The queen's weapon may choose to protect many that deserve it, and reveals itself to many more that seek to employ it in desperation. However, the absolute might of the weapon is only harnessed by the one who truly owns it."
"How do you own something other than keeping it?"
"Arguably you would need to claim it. Try to make your intentions known."
Minerva considered his words, and then held the dagger in front of her with her arms extended. "Sovereign Sabre. My name is Minerva, and as your keeper, I lay claim to all of your power." Lintumen shrugged at her after she said it, and she ran her hand down the blade a second time.
Again, nothing happened.
"That didn't feel right," she said.
"How so?"
"It felt like I was talking to a rock. Not that it isn't a rock, but it just felt so feeble, and the name didn't sound right. If I was a sword, I wouldn't want people just up and claiming me like that. What other names does it have? Maybe one of those fits it better?"
Lintumen rambled through an expansive list of names. A common theme of protection and hidden power certainly dominated, but nothing struck her as a proper name. Most of them were titles, which hardly felt like a good name, and it reminded her of when Gunner referred to her as The Girl.
"Doesn't it have a normal name? One that doesn't sound like a title?"
"No, they're all like that. Common theme for naming an object, I suppose."
"That feels wrong. There should be a name and a title. What if I gave her a name?"
Lintumen raised an eyebrow. "Her?"
"I don't know," Minerva said with a shrug. "People call lots of things her."
"I concede that to be true. No, I see no restrictions regarding giving her a new name. You're perfectly welcome to try."
Minerva caressed the weapon with her fingers, seeking an appropriate moniker. The cold edge of the steel felt smooth, sleek, and shiny, and she wanted something that would reflect that.
"Velvet. I'll call her Velvet."
Lintumen nodded approvingly, and then gestured for her to try again.
"Miss Velvet, the sword sometimes known as The Sovereign Sabre, The Assassin's Bane, The Unseen Aegis, and many other titles. I am Minerva, The Girl, and I request of you your power, your protection, and all that you offer."
Minerva laid her palm flat once again and let the dagger dangle freely as she ran her hand down it for a third time.
It wasn't the sensation of the metal expanding beneath his skin, or the chill of the blade, that startled Minerva, nor was it the sudden extension of the weapon in her hand, stretching swiftly away from her body. It was the fact that it ran straight through Lintumen's book, table, robe, and the cushion between his legs, without so much as a twitch of resistance.
"Sorry!" she screamed, hauling backwards.
Lintumen pressed himself into the cushions, away from the swinging edge, as the sword sliced cleanly through the table and book during its liberation. Several loose pages flitted about in response, and Minerva idly swung the blade in the dust of the room. It didn't just reflect the candle light, it beamed like a hero arriving to save the day at the perfect moment.
"What kind of sword is it?"
"Specifically, it's a tulwar. Although many might call it a sabre, or a cutlass, or even a hanger. They're very popular among sailors, and other inexperienced duelists." Lintumen explained himself expertly, and then the ancient navigator leaned forward with a mischievous ripple in his cheeks. "And now a magical sword has added itself to your list of tales," he said with a chuckle. "I suspect that this sword stowed itself under our noses a long time ago, waiting to be discovered by the one person who would need it the most."
Minerva smiled, proud and honest. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"Of all the events that have transpired on this ship," Lintumen added, as he moved to pick up the pieces of his book, "this moment will undoubtedly prove to be of critical importance, and I have no doubt that your adventures are only beginning."
Chapter 13
The Maiden in the Mirror
Olbus arrived to release Minerva from Lintumen's cell slightly before breakfast the next morning. "You're free. Captain's orders."
Minerva thanked Lintumen for his efforts and then left with Olbus. When she arrived in the galley, most of the crew was still absent.
"Oh look, princess is back," said the giant man behind the serving table as she approached with her plate. "Let me get yer cutlery ready for ye." The fat man brought out two pieces of stale bread with what were clearly large bite marks out of them. "There, ye see?" he chided, dropping them onto her plate. "One can be a spoon, and the other a fork, and from what I hear, ye already got a knife!" He suddenly laughed hard and slapped a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto her plate, catapulting them down so hard that half of them flew off the sides and made a mess of her shirt, at which he only laughed louder.
Minerva considered running him through with her new sword, but decided to sit down at an empty table and clean her shirt. Shortly afterward, the room filled with the sounds of the crew stumbling their way to morning meal. As they passed her table they didn't speak, and did their best to avoid eye contact. She was somewhat enjoying hating them all when Lockjaw sat down across from her sporting a massive black eye.
"Mornin'."
"Morning," she replied, trying not to smile too much. His company made her feel welcome.
"Ugh, Mean Jim got after you, did he?" he mumbled, looking down at her plate.
Minerva nodded in disdain, doing her best to separate the chewed-on parts of the bread. At least she knew his name, now. "Thanks for helping me," she said.
"No problem."
"You're a good fighter. Grunts is a lot bigger than you."
"Weren't my first," he replied, and laughed a bit. "That's why my jaw don't work right. Poppa always said, 'you can be good with words or you can be good with fists.' I never was good with words."
Minerva tried to smile with him, but mostly she just felt sorry for him. "Think you'll be able to patch it up with Spit and the others?"
"Yeah, if I wanted to. Those guys are no good, though. I'm getting out of here when we dock in Riggersport. See if I can't apprentice to a carpenter, or something."
"Oh, that would be good," she said, wondering about Riggersport and how far away it was. She was about to ask when a very animated pair of twins spotted her from the food line.
"Minnie!" the twins yelled simultaneously, looking something like two men in a mirror. Somehow, it didn't sound quite so bad when they said it. They both hugged her when they arrived with a thump, flanking her on the bench. "Quick girl – this one – eh swabbie?"
Lockjaw nodded.
"Saved my life – she did," they said, although the statement forced Minerva to wonder exactly which one she had saved.
Minerva looked down at her plate, trying to avoid embarrassment, but the twins wouldn't stop. They launched into a grand exposition about the frightful fall, her daring le
ap, and their crash landing. When they finally finished, she was about to explain to Lockjaw how it wasn't anything special, and that anyone could have made the same rash decision, when a shirtless Gunner sat down across from her. He asked to hear the story again.
Minerva stared wide-eyed at her food, poking it repeatedly without truly acknowledging its existence.
The twins launched into a repeat of the tale, but Lockjaw interrupted them. He instead began to tell his own story about how it was Minerva's idea to use the sails to snuff the oil fires. Once he was done, the twins resumed their telling, until it came to the moment of Gunner's participation, at which point the handsome man happily took over.
"Cloudscorch went down because of her," Gunner began, nodding at the other sailors that gathered to listen. "She called out that hit, just perfect."
Feeling entirely sheepish, and somewhat wishing that she wasn't there to be the target of such attention, Minerva went back to eating, but found her plate oddly full. Someone had replaced her bread with three additional pieces, and a much larger helping of scrambled eggs. She looked quickly at the twins, who were busy swallowing what was probably her chef-bitten bread.
Over the course of the meal, Minerva heard her name mentioned many times, but did her best to pretend that they were talking about someone else. Once, when she dared to look up into his charming face, her eyes met Gunner's as he talked animatedly to those around him. When he caught her looking, he gave a wide smile and tilted his head back in a quick jerk, the way that two men might greet each other in public. His hair was still behaving perfectly, even though he'd obviously just woken up.
Minerva's face flushed instantly, leaving her to stare down at the table and wait for mealtime to end. When it finally did, she was feeling quite good about herself. On her way to retrieve her supplies before the arrival of the other swabbies, several passing sailors nodded approvingly at her, or even smiled.
Soon after arriving on deck, Captain Glass and Olbus approached Minerva with Luff and Leech grinning behind them.
"Miss Minerva," the captain started, but paused.
"Yes, Captain?"
"How'd you like to be a rigger, miss?" Captain Glass always had an odd, jaunty speech, as if he wasn't quite sure where to end his sentence, and he rarely looked at her when he spoke.
Luff and Leech caught her attention with hearty nods and approving smiles. Olbus said nothing.
"I don't know much about knots, sir," she replied, longing to agree. Anything to get away from the other swabbies was a good option. Luff and Leech glared at her, in a friendly sort of way.
"You've got some skill on the ropes, no doubt, and Olbus here thinks it's best that someone with your work ethic be given a more fitting role. Lint tells me that you have a special talent for cloth, or something like that. Are you interested in learning?"
"I think I would like that, sir."
Captain Glass nodded at Minerva and then turned to Olbus. "Boatswain, inform the crew. Mates, teach her what she needs to know."
"Yes, Captain," Luff and Leech replied, grinning wide. "Come with us - sailor," the two commanded, using a stern voice as they put their arms around her and led her off to show her the ropes. "You any good – at climbing?" they asked as they walked.
"I think so," Minerva said, feeling reasonably confident. "Still wobbly on the deck, though."
"Not a problem. None at all. Plenty of holds – up in the sails. It's mostly climbing – and a little jumping. You any good – at jumping?"
"I'm not sure. I can swing from things pretty good."
"That works. I hear you're a tailor – so that should help. Sails and ropes – are just big sheets – with big stitches." Luff and Leech pulled open a storage trunk near the fore deck and threw a short fine rope into her arms before grabbing one for each of themselves.
It had been only a brief time since Minerva climbed aboard the Skyraker with William, but that day felt like weeks ago. Learning to tie knots with Luff and Leech, in the warmth of the spring air, was the first time in days that she was able to relax. Just as Lintumen had pointed out, an unreasonable number of life-changing events had transpired within that period.
"Rabbit comes – out of the hole – around the tree – and down the hole. That's a – sheet bend." The twins had fun little mnemonics for all the knots.
As Minerva practiced her knots, the twins strung a horizontal line between the foremast to the bowsprit, and with both of them working at once, began to weave a net. Minerva could barely track the fingers of the weaver as they flew down the line, using a belaying pin as a gauge and running knot after knot together in a single smooth motion. While one twin strung the net, his brother wound lines around a weaving needle, and when the line ran out, they switched places.
"You're really good at that," Minerva said, complimenting their prowess.
"You will be too. Come over here," they replied. "We lose our nets – all the time. So you're going to – make one with us."
With the twins as her guide, Minerva took to weaving her first net. After completing a small section, about the size of a shawl, the twins came over to inspect it.
"Time to test it," said one, and then they unhooked the net and took it over to the side of the ship. "Get in," said the other, pointing at the net.
"Pardon?" Minerva asked.
"Get in," they repeated, smiling with eager confidence.
A few nearby sailors stopped their work to observe Minerva and the twins, and after some further insisting and the gathering of a crowd, Olbus came to supervise the situation. Minerva expected the boatswain to intercede and rescue her, but he merely crossed his arms while the twins beckoned her to sit in the net.
Wholly terrified by the people around her, Minerva allowed the twins to scoop her up. They lifted the ends, closing it in around her and raising her feet off the ground.
"Okay, that's enough. Put me down," she begged.
Without any warning, the twins hooked their arms together and each flung one leg over the side of the ship, holding Minerva out over the sky. Minerva shrieked and tightened her grip on the net, realizing at once that it would mean nothing if they dropped her.
"Pull me in!" she shouted, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of wind beneath her toes.
"Why?"
"I might fall!"
"Did you build it – how we showed you?"
"Yes!"
"Then you – won't fall."
After a few additional seconds of terror, the twins pulled Minerva back and dumped her on deck still in the net, much to the amusement of the crew. As Minerva attempted to escape the tangled ropes, the twins did nothing to help her, and finally extricating herself from the mess of knots left her boiling with fury. If not for the eerie calm of a looming Olbus, she might have lashed out physically.
"What did you do that for?" she snapped.
Luff and Leech couldn't reply, even if they wanted to, as laughter incapacitated them both. When they could move again, they mocked the state of her hair and the scene of her flailing in the ropes, bringing on another fit of laughter.
"A rigger must trust their own work," Olbus said, in a voice of cold steel, and the only man not laughing. "The crew of this vessel relies upon the quality of your skills. We trust you by necessity. In return, you must trust your fellows to support you. Both of these relationships are now suitably demonstrated."
"Why didn't you help me out of it?" she barked at him, much to the surprise of the other sailors.
"A net is both useful and dangerous. A loose net on deck could cost a sailor his life. Now you know why."
After that, Olbus walked away while the twins helped her to clean up the supplies, talking very little as they did. The silence gave her time to reflect on their brief, yet profound, lesson. When they broke for lunch, Lockjaw and the twins again sat with her, and again, several members of the crew asked them to recant the tale of their incredible rescue. Occasionally they prodded Minerva for the few details she was willing to provide.
In the line for food, Mean Jim spat on her plate to clean it again, but the twins switched with her before she could react. In the afternoon they showed her how to climb the shrouds and stand in the rigging, commenting all the while on how she was a natural and how she looked right at home in the sails. For her part, she felt terrified, and stuck to the lowest sails at first, even though all of the lift sails were at the top. Up in the masts, everything wobbled and weaved, even the things that helped her stand on the things that were wobbling and weaving. Whenever the wind gusted, she seized up, too petrified to move.
The twins, however, danced across the spars and connecting walkways seemingly oblivious to the hazards, often dangling by one arm while they scrubbed a sail with the broom in the other hand. Sometimes they held nothing at all and just jumped from one beam to another. The thought alone made her nauseous.
At supper, a few of the sailors commented on her progress, sometimes adding that they wouldn't be caught dead climbing around in rigging. Revealing their own fears made her feel proud, and gave her renewed resolve to do better tomorrow.
Mean Jim resigned himself to mocking her and the twins, calling them princess and a couple of toads. Luff and Leech didn't seem bothered at all, and made certain that Jim couldn't defile her food. She really wanted a way to show her appreciation, but couldn't think of anything, so she settled on a hug for each of them.
Feeling fully exhausted, she declined an invitation to join Luff and Leech and the other sailors for a few games after supper, and retired early to her cabin. Once inside, it occurred to her that she had yet to sleep anywhere outside of Lintumen's cabin. She checked the storage drawer for her dress, and it was still stowed safely. Then she laid down on the bed and began to wonder about the three unused bunks.
"She's a girl. She shouldn't be here," she mumbled.
Patch's words hung heavy in her mind. She didn't belong here. That's why she had her own cabin, to separate her from the others. They thought she was a witch. That she was bad luck. No wonder they hated her.
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