The Maiden in the Mirror

by Scott Hamerton

  "It looks like a tree fort."

  "Well, it kind of is," the man explained. "He never leaves, and nobody is welcome up there, unless he invites them."

  "Sounds like a lunatic," Minerva commented, watching as a few birds landed on the edge of the nest to peck at its various shiny baubles.

  The rigger looked over at her, and then down at the sailors on the deck below. "Yeah, but around here, who isn't?"

  Chapter 17

  Midnight Stations

  Minerva bolted upright in bed. Many hurried footsteps were rushing past her door. In the distance, she could hear a bell ringing fast and constant. She ripped her covers off and threw her nightclothes onto the bed, immediately noticing the chill in the room. She dressed quickly and joined the throng of sailors outside.

  Luff and Leech greeted the riggers as they reached the deck, sending them to various stations in the sails. "Minnie! Topgallant! Mizzenmast! Go!"

  Minerva ran to the rear mast of the ship, watching as a falling counterweight hauled the rigger in front of her straight up. Luff and Leech already showed her which ropes released the weights, if she wanted to climb a mast in a hurry, but she had never tried it.

  Run with it, the same way that the twins do, she thought.

  Minerva put her right foot to the mast, cinched the rope around her hands and wrists, and swallowed hard.

  A pirate is brave!

  "I know!" she hissed under her breath. "I'm just thinking about it, first." Then she took a deep breath and pulled the belaying pin from the mast.

  What nobody had really taken the time to consider was that Minerva was substantially lighter than the other riggers. What was a counterweight to them was a wrecking ball to her.

  Minerva's arms snapped out to their full length with a painful whack as she catapulted straight up the mast, rocketing skyward until she caught the edge of her sail with a free hand, sending her wrapping painfully around the yardarm and knocking the wind out of her. Her grip failed quickly and she tumbled off the far side of the boom, thankfully ensnaring her legs in the rigging as she went.

  "Nice jump. Not bad, for a first time," commented her rigging partner, as he untangled her.

  She would have thanked him if she could breathe.

  It was the middle of the night, but the waning moon still shone brightly. Minerva looked around, trying to see a threat or a reason for the call to stations. Several other riggers pointed and whispered, and she followed their attention. All she saw was the darkened shadow of a small ship in the distance. "Are we attacking?" she asked her partner.

  "Yup! Looks like a merchant ship. Probably unarmed. Just keep your sails lit and we'll be fine. The boys on deck will board and plunder her. Should be an easy haul."

  For some reason, Minerva had never really thought about how the Skyraker made its living. Who a pirate was and what a pirate did were not the same thing in her mind. The oath she made instantly gained significant weight in her mind. She was a criminal, and would be forever. She had scarred herself to prove it.

  "Will we have to fight them?"

  "Probably not. Glass is a talker, not a fighter. He'll fire one or two shots as we overtake them, and then we'll toss some grapples to tie them down. Then he'll meet their captain for negotiations."

  "Negotiations?"

  "Yeah, parley. Few captains prefer to murder and plunder. Too dangerous. Glass is a talker, and he's damn good at it. Most of us here like it that way. Less reward, but less risk, too.

  "Whose ship do you think it is?" she asked, wondering if maybe they were heading in a direction that would take her home.

  "Empire. Usually they stay out of the skies around here, but this one looks a little different. It's all dark, but its sails are still full. It's moving fast for a night flight. I bet they thought they could sneak through."

  "Why do they avoid this area?"

  The other rigger laughed when he saw her honest expression. "Because there's pirates in the area."

  The attack on the merchant ship went exactly as foretold by Minerva's partner. The Skyraker fired a few warning shots across the bow. Grappling hooks were thrown across the gap, and the crew that went to fight boarded her with ease. The other crew surrendered. No injuries on either side. It all seemed too easy, and she didn't even need to do anything.

  Captain Glass negotiated with the other captain for the spoils that they took. Luff and Leech said it was because pirating wasn't all about killing and loot. It was about getting by in life by whatever means they could. They didn't plunder everything from a ship because other ships formed allied fleets, and if a captain made enemies with the empire, or a merchant fleet, they weren't likely to live long. They also said that most of the merchant ships bought into something called insurance, so as long as the pirates plundered an amount under what the insurance would pay to replace, the victim wouldn't retaliate.

  "So what do we do with the loot?" she asked Luff, or perhaps Leech, when they came to congratulate her on her majestic launch into the sails.

  "We divvy it up. Rank first. Then seniority. Then age."

  "How much do we each get?"

  "First the purser tallies it – then he sets a share value – based on sailors present. Captain gets four. Boatswain gets three. Mates get two. Able bodies – riggers – other crew – single shares. Swabbies get half."

  Knowing that her pending rewarded exceeded that of Spit made Minerva happier than she liked to admit. "How do we collect it?"

  "In the hold – when the purser says."

  Down below, the sailors carried the spoils of victory towards the hold. It looked to Minerva like a line of ants working to build and furnish a new home. Once everything was safely below deck, Olbus appeared and retrieved Lintumen.

  "Old Lint is pretty quick – with the numbers. Ten minutes. Twelve. Tenth of a share. Deal. Minnie. Help us count time."

  Minerva had counted to eight minutes, twenty-two seconds, when Lintumen appeared again.

  "Ten and sixteen. Eleven and fifty. Minnie?" They both looked over at her very expectantly.

  "Um, I got eight and twenty-two, but I think I counted slow."

  One twin smiled and the other one frowned. It was the first time she had seen a different expression on each of their faces. "Good enough. Thanks, Minnie. Let's go."

  As they climbed down, Minerva saw that the ship they robbed bore the name the Lily May, but nobody else seemed to care about that.

  Luff and Leech, as mates of the ship, went down to collect their reward from the Lily May earlier than most. It took hours to run through the crew, until just Minerva and a few others remained. The swabbies stood alone on the deck, looking somewhat dejected, except for Spit, who looked furious.

  When Minerva arrived in the hold, it was already a total disaster. Bags and crates had been torn open very unceremoniously, and many articles of clothing, most of them ripped, lay strewn about between the ribbing of the ship. Minerva stepped carefully, dodging the broken glass with her bare feet. The heat of bodies choked the space and it smelled of dust and oily sweat.

  A few sailors lurked about, Big Mean Jim included. Lintumen stood off to the side with Olbus, holding a large ledger in his hands. He greeted her with a smile. "Ah, Minerva. Has this been explained to you?"

  "Sort of. I get a share of what's in here."

  "Yes. If something is of interest to you, bring it to me and I'll inform you of its estimated value. You may take whatever you want, up to the value of your share."

  Searching about the room didn't reveal much of interest to Minerva; however, the search itself interested her greatly. At first, she was hoping to find some sewing material, or maybe a washboard to clean her clothes, but she quickly became distracted by a large number of fashion accessories discarded by the other sailors. Girls dresses—most of them torn, but she could fix that—and quite a few shoes. She did her best to collect the pairs she could find, and gathered them all together.

  It was the best shopping experience of her life, and it w
as all free.

  Minerva also found a beautifully carved white wardrobe with a strangely engraved front. Where she expected the case to open, a massive contraption of large gears and wheels, pierced by several large holes, ran up and down the doors. When she tried to force it open, it wouldn't budge. It didn't have an apparent keyhole, and all along its edges were dents and dings. Obviously, she wasn't the first to try to break it open, so she moved on, content with what she had already found.

  A surprisingly animated Lintumen greeted Minerva as she approached with her pile of goods. Someone should have gotten him a chair, she thought, but the late hour and prolonged standing didn't seem to bother him. Lintumen looked over the goods, checked his ledger, and then informed her that she held only about half a share.

  Minerva glanced around, noticed the swabbies enter the room, and then decided that she was already tired and didn't really need a full share.

  "I'll just take these—" she began to say, before a familiar voice cut her off.

  "I'll take what she's got."

  The smell of onions and garlic assaulted her nose.

  "These are all things for girls," Minerva protested, as she spun on her heel to face Big Mean Jim.

  "They're for my niece," he countered, wearing a wicked smile.

  "Can he do that?" she demanded, turning to Lintumen and Olbus, who both gave the fat man a discerning glance.

  "He can if he wants to," Lintumen said. "Seniority is awarded preferential choice."

  Minerva looked from Lintumen to Olbus, and then glared at Mean Jim. Everything he inflicted upon her up until now just seemed petty and rude, but this was just mean. "Fine, take them!" she shouted, shoving the dresses and shoes into his arms and stomping for the door.

  "Sailor," Olbus called, forcing her to stop.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Your share will be forfeit if the purser departs."

  "That's fine, sir," she spat back, doing her best to invoke her magic and believe with all her heart that the fat man who hated her so much would just drop dead in front of her. It didn't seem to work, though, so she settled on storming out of the hold.

  Chapter 18

  Nezzen

  As she attempted to sleep, Minerva wrestled with her conscience. She tossed and turned for the better part of an hour, trying to figure out exactly what she had done to deserve such hate from Big Mean Jim. Being a girl wasn't a good enough excuse, she decided, so she got out of bed in a huff and went up to the deck without changing.

  It was a cold clear night, and the midnight riggers greeted her casually as she climbed up into the sails. She wanted to be alone, so she went to the top of foremast and sat on the top spar, watching the stunning vista of clouds and stars flow past.

  A few minutes in the cool wind left her shivering and wishing that she had changed into something warm. She was about to return to her cabin when something small and golden whizzed past her head. She looked for the source behind her, but couldn't see anyone, and whatever flew by had fallen overboard and out of sight.

  Turning back, her thoughts shattered again when something small and heavy struck her in the back. A golden necklace with a circular locket hung in the rigging behind her. Minerva picked it up and looked around again.

  Someone in the crow's nest was waving.

  Almost as quickly as they appeared, the ragged tarp over the nest fell down, concealing the person inside. Minerva eyed the locket a little longer, and as she did, a thin arm snaked out from under the cover of the crow's nest and beckoned her over. Completely overwhelmed by curiosity, Minerva descended to the nearest cross bridge between the masts and climbed the mainmast.

  The exterior of the crow's nest looked a little strange, sure, but it was nothing compared to the interior. Entering through a hole in the floor, Minerva found a tiny space packed to overflowing with golden trinkets, large and small. Many jewelry boxes littered the floor, with their lids forced open due to an abundance of treasures and coins. Golden chains hung from every available corner, and a small iron fireplace, built against the mast, lit and warmed the impromptu cabin with a soft glow.

  It all smelled faintly of vanilla.

  Amid the mounds of golden treasure and endless wealth, there sat a tiny and frail old man. He was smaller than even she was, and probably weighed less. His overly large head hung low on his bony shoulders, and he wore the standard attire of the crew like a loose sack. In Minerva's mind, his appearance left the impression of a poorly constructed scarecrow in a field of golden straw.

  "Come in, come in," he whispered when she appeared, extending a hand to help her. "I'm Nezzen, the lookout," he added. Only a few lonesome teeth made their home in his mouth.

  "I've heard," she said, taking a seat opposite him and pulling her knees up to her chest, trying to find a clear space inside the golden turmoil.

  "You're Minerva, yes, or Minnie, maybe, which do you prefer?" He spoke like a man that was worried that he might wake his neighbors.

  "Minerva, I guess, though some of the others call me Minnie, and I don't mind."

  Nezzen gazed into her eyes for an uncomfortable length of time, but didn't say anything. She tried to think of something to break the silence, but came up with nothing.

  "Yup, he was right."

  "Pardon?"

  "A friend of mine said that you had the eyes of a fighter, and that you were going to make him very proud."

  Well now, her mind said, that's not something you just throw into the air the first time you meet someone. "Who did?" she probed, hoping against reason that maybe Nezzen somehow knew her from somewhere else, and thus knew how to get her back home.

  "You'll find out."

  Minerva was at her limit of mysteries, so she ignored his cryptic comment and let her gaze wander about the room.

  "Up a little late, aren't we?" Nezzen asked. "Is something bothering you?"

  At first, she wasn't sure what to say, but then she started talking, and before she knew it, she told him about Big Mean Jim, Luff and Leech, the swabbies, Lintumen and magic, all of it. Something about Nezzen completely disarmed all of her emotional defenses. He looked like a person that would earnestly listen to her, so she told him everything. When she finished, he reached over beside himself, rummaged through a few small wooden boxes and crates, and then passed two things to her. One was a silver-plated hairbrush, with horsehair bristles and an ivory handle. Alongside it came a hand mirror, also framed in silver with a porcelain back. Someone had painstakingly painted a black and white crest on it before lacquering it.

  "For you," he said. "You can keep the necklace, if you like. Too bad I missed with the gold coin."

  "You threw away a gold coin?" she balked, louder than she intended.

  Nezzen laughed and grinned. "It's not like I have much use for it, now do I?"

  Minerva remembered then that Nezzen never came down. "How do you eat, or relieve yourself?" she asked without thinking, instantly regretting the potential knowledge he might impart.

  "Jim, the cook. He brings me my food and takes away any waste that I've made."

  Jim, the cook. Big Jim. Big Mean Jim, the meanest, fattest person she had ever met, climbs all the way up to the crow's nest to bring a crazy person his supper. The thought left Minerva confused beyond any understanding. "Why?" she drawled, trying to make sense of it.

  "Every pirate has a story. Some pirates are bad men that are trying to hide, and some of them are good men that have done bad things. They might be bad men that seem good, or they might be good men that seem bad. I'm sure you've met some of each, but of the ones you've met, how many of their stories do you know?"

  None, she told herself honestly. She didn't know why any of them chose to be career criminals.

  "I know it's hard to believe, but Jim is one of the good pirates. He doesn't look it, and he might not act it all the time, but there's a reason the crew puts up with him. One day you'll know why, but like all pirates, you won't know until you know his story."

  "Will you t
ell me?"

  "It's not my story to tell. Now, before it gets any later, I suggest you go and collect your share of the loot. Besides, you can come and visit me whenever you desire, but only if you bring the hairbrush with you."

  "Lintumen will have left by now," she protested, feeling upset at herself for storming out.

  "Perhaps you don't know him as well as you think you do. Lintumen is a man that abhors an imbalanced ledger."

  Minerva caught herself eyeing Nezzen suspiciously, wondering how long he had been up here.

  "Go," he urged, motioning at the hole in the floor. "He'll be waiting, and he's older than I am. You don't want to keep him up, do you?"

  "Okay," she agreed, tucking the brush and mirror into her belt and stepping down into the hole.

  "Thank you, Nezzen," she added with a sincere smile. "Thank you for listening."

  "I said go," he insisted, emphatically widening his eyes.

  "Goodnight, Nezzen."

  "Goodnight, Minerva."

  Chapter 19

  Late to the Spoils

  Nezzen wasn't wrong. Back in the hold, Lintumen and Olbus both waited behind, although she saw no one else, and most of the lights had burned out. Olbus lay on a curved section of the hull, clearly asleep. Lintumen remained standing, idly staring at the ceiling.

  "Ah, Minerva, good. I was worried I wouldn't be able to balance my books."

  All that remained in the room that seemed to be of any value was the large wardrobe.

  "How much of a share is the wardrobe?"

  Lintumen checked his ledger, probably out of habit, or perhaps as a show of power. It really was the only thing left in the room. "One share exactly, on account of it being securely locked and of unknown contents."

  "I'll take it."

  Lintumen smiled and Olbus yawned, awoken by the conversation.

  "Do I take it now?"

  "I'll help," Olbus replied, wiping sleep out of his eyes.

  To say that Olbus helped was more than an understatement. The wardrobe was incredibly heavy. Even Olbus, the strongest man she could even imagine, needed to rest several times while transporting it. Both of them were soaking in sweat by the time it finally sat in her room, completely filling the far end of the tiny cabin.