The Maiden in the Mirror

by Scott Hamerton

  Minerva felt a cold guilt claw its way into her guts.

  "You are in a bad place, Minerva. A girl on a pirate ship. Olbus knows that. He seeks to protect you, in what ways he can. In this way, he protected you from them. Perhaps even endeared you to them, at the cost of his own peace of mind. That's how it is, with him. He hardens his mind, grits his teeth and sneers, but inside he is dying. This is not the life for him, and it's killing him."

  "Why does he continue with it, then?" she asked.

  "Olbus is a powerful man, a smart man, but he is a broken man. He accepts an order willingly, because to think for himself brings only doubt and self-loathing. All his life, his superior officers dictated his goals. When he thought for himself, only once, he became that which he hated. An outcast. A deserter. A pirate. He has nowhere left to go."

  When Nezzen finished speaking, he put the brush down beside her and handed her two beautiful picks of pearl and gold.

  "For what do I deserve another gift?"

  "For listening."

  Perhaps it was the way she didn't reply, or the way she sloped her shoulders, that brought out his explanation. "Because you are in a bad place, Minerva. You are far from home. Surrounded on all sides by uncertainty and risk. I give you gifts, because what girl doesn't love gifts free of consequence?"

  Minerva still didn't believe him. There must be something, she thought.

  Nezzen smiled weakly for a moment, but relented. "All my life I've gathered trinkets and baubles. Treasured them for their luster and sheen, like a wily crow. I'm old, now, and my desire for such things is waning. I desire to bestow a gift upon all my guests when they come to visit. Gifts that they'll find useful, or meaningful. Not random wealth that they'd rather sell. How often do you think I see a girl of any age, while holed away up here on a pirate ship? I can finally rid my collection of some of the clutter that's been here for years."

  Nezzen laughed along with Minerva as she accepted his gift, mocking her worried expression. She thanked him for his time and made for the ladder.

  "Have you spoken to Jim yet?" he asked.

  Minerva shook her head.

  "Oh," Nezzen added with a knowing smile. "Goodnight, Minerva."

  Haunted by the lingering thought of Nezzen's smile, it wasn't Minerva's wounds that kept her awake that night.

  Chapter 24

  Big Jim

  It was well before the morning bell when Minerva stepped into the galley the next day. She smelled eggs and garlic, and the air had yet to warm with the breath of the crew. She sat down at a table and waited. Not much later, Jim made his way out of the kitchen with a large pot of boiled eggs in his hands. He looked over at her for a moment, and then continued on his way.

  He was limping.

  "Breakfast isn't for another hour," he commented, as he shoved the pot onto the table with his hip.

  Prior to arriving, and in the few moments she had been alone in the room, more than a hundred possible conversations went through Minerva's mind. She wanted to say sorry, for many reasons, and in many ways, but now she felt stunned into silence.

  "If yer lookin' for another scrap, it's a little early. How 'bout lunch?"

  Jim threw the towel he used as a potholder over his shoulder and hobbled his way back to the kitchen.

  "I'm sorry!" Minerva shouted, just as the door was about to close.

  Jim turned to face her, halfway through the opening. "For what?"

  "The rod, mostly. You could have struck me back, much harder than I did you, but you didn't. I see now why you didn't."

  Jim laughed, but differently than before. This was a genuine laugh, a contagious laugh, and it fit him well. "Bosun strikes hard, don't he? No sense in addin' to it."

  Minerva smiled big in return, and nodded, still feeling the sting of the rod on her back. Jim glanced once into the kitchen, and then lurched over to her table. His huge gut forced him to lean forward on one arm just to avoid falling backwards.

  "Sorry about the leg, too. And the nose. And your—"

  "Do ye know what tallow is?" Jim asked, abruptly cutting her off.

  Minerva nodded. "It's what you get when you render fat."

  "It's purity. This crew, we depend on each other for our lives. Weakness, fear, they're impurities, and they cost lives. On this ship, I'm the heat that boils the fat. I boil the crew to find the tallow."

  The image of Jim's many scars came back to her. Regardless of his past punishments, he still quarreled daily with the newest crew, knowing there would be more in the future. Nezzen understood the sacrifice that Jim was trying to make. To force Minerva to prove to the crew that she was strong and able, in the most genuine way possible.

  "You weren't fighting back, were you?" she asked.

  Jim shook his head. "Never more than I must, but most sailors stop when the bosun shouts, so there's usually no whippin' in it. Ye just kept swingin', though."

  Minerva couldn't recall hearing anyone shouting at her.

  "I gotta say, Minnie, ye've got more fight in ye than o'er half this crew. I've been beaten on plenty, in my day, and less than a handful of 'em gave me a bloody nose, much less a limp and a mark. I'd hate to see what ye do to a man when ye've got a sword in yer hand. I told Nezzen ye'd make me proud, and ye did, no doubt."

  Minerva smiled and blushed, not entirely sure how to thank one of her greatest enemies for complimenting her. "I still feel that I owe you, though. For the rod. I should have realized."

  "But ye didn't. Now I don't mean to insult, but ye didn't hit me very hard."

  "Still, I'd like to make amends."

  "Alright," he relented, "what're ye gonna do 'bout it?"

  The conversations in Minerva's head hadn't gotten this far. At best, they had ended in mutual silence, so she took some time to think about it. The bite mark she had left. The limp she had given him. They seemed like small badges of war on the great husk of his body.

  "Do you get any extra ale as the cook?"

  "No, and if I took extra, the crew'd lynch me fat arse."

  Minerva tried not to smile when he said it. It was a serious topic, lynching someone. "Well, I've recently come into possession of an unexpected wealth of ale tokens. Would those interest you?"

  Big Jim raised an eyebrow at her. "Yer offerin' me yer tokens?"

  "I have fifty-nine in my room, and I don't really like alcohol. Would that make us even?"

  Jim laughed warmly, appraising her expression for its sincerity. "Minnie, I'd be in yer debt."

  Chapter 25

  The Helm

  Even after handing over her ale tokens, Minerva still felt guilty about her bout with Jim, so she consoled herself by helping him prepare breakfast. Jim enjoyed the benefit of a capable hand, and Minerva enjoyed the knowledge that she was good at something on the ship. Minerva also learned that Jim possessed an incredible set of skills as a chef, but lacked resources, leaving him to cook with mostly eggs, rice, and onions. He told her that the Royal Society of Chefs and Bakers in the Linoran Empire trained him. When she asked why he became a pirate, he said that he always had a big mouth and a quick temper, and had gotten into a brawl with the royal chef. In the empire, that was like attacking the crown itself, necessitating an immediate departure, or else he would be executed.

  Most of her time Minerva spent up in the rigging, and usually ended up assigned to the mizzenmast with another slender rigger. The similarity of their body mass permitted them to lighten the counterweights.

  Sitting in the rigging was easily Minerva's favorite part of the job. She could see for great distances in all directions, and if she desired, she could observe whatever was happening on the deck from a safe distance. On this particular day, she caught herself absentmindedly watching the captain at the helm, trying to figure out the unique purpose of all of the controls.

  The helm of the Skyraker had one big wheel and two smaller ones, one on each side of the big wheel. The big wheel filled the same role as a wheel on a waterborne ship, that is, it determined d
irection, but she was having trouble figuring out the functions of the other two. While she watched, the captain retrieved a sextant from a case near his feet and held it to his eye to sight the sun. When he did, he looked directly at Minerva, quite unexpectedly. A strange sort of expression went across his face, and then he beckoned her to come down.

  As Minerva arrived at the helm, Captain Glass greeted her with a warm smile. "Nice day, don't you think?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir. Very nice, sir."

  "Much too nice of a day for formalities."

  Minerva nodded, watching him slowly turn the giant wheel in his hands.

  "You're wondering what does what in this maze of wooden cogs and handles."

  "Yes, sir. I mean, yes."

  "Come around, I'll show you," the captain said, in his wandering drawl. Captain Glass moved aside slightly to allow Minerva access. "The big wheel controls port and starboard but I bet you already knew that. This small wheel controls the fore and aft lift." Captain Glass spun the wheel a half-turn and caused the ship to lean forward. Minerva tumbled into him in response, but he only laughed and helped her stand upright again. "You try," he said, pushing her in front of him. "You don't notice it when you're in control."

  A surge of power coursed through Minerva as she placed her hands on the wheel. After a tentative fractional turn of the big wheel, she felt the ship slide sideways beneath her feet, too slight to be noticed by anyone else. Her entire day instantly felt clearer and brighter, as she became wholly aware of her ability to determine the destination of the ship and everyone aboard it.

  "What's that?" she asked, pointing to a glass ball in the center of the main wheel. Bands of color marked a wobbling sphere contained within the glass.

  "A compass. It indicates heading. The lines show angle of offset, and one face aims towards the mountain range, although we usually just say range. Degrees to range, we might say."

  "And that?" Beside Minerva was a tall glass tube that contained a series of small glass bubbles. The bubbles floated in an oily fluid, and an inscribed metal tag hung beneath each bubble, which was in turn anchored by a chain to the bottom. Within the tube was another central tube, much narrower than the outer cylinder, that contained a silvery metallic liquid. A miniature depiction of the Skyraker floated atop the silver liquid in the complex device.

  "That is an altimeter. The bubbles are the height of landmarks, while we are the ship in the center that sits on the column of mercury. As we rise or fall, the height of the mercury will reflect the change. That is, it shows how high in the sky we are."

  "How does it work?"

  "That is a question for Lintumen, as I have no answer for you. All I know is that it is one of the most expensive parts of the ship, and I would appreciate it if you didn't tell the other sailors, lest they might try and hock it."

  Minerva grinned, enjoying their secret, when she noticed a handful of additional etchings that scored the outside of the device.

  "Close calls," Glass said lightly, sensing her curiosity, and then he pointed at one of the markings. "Ran her aground in the Riggersport canyon, not quite a year ago. Just a scuff, but it earned a mark."

  The sheepish admission of failure by Captain Glass emboldened Minerva to inquire more aggressively. "This handle has grooves on it," she remarked, idly inspecting the only spoke on the wheel with a unique appearance.

  "That's the sky spoke. It points upward when the rudder is straight."

  "What are these levers?"

  "Emergency controls and one-time triggers, mostly. Anchor locks, lift shunts, sail cutters." The captain carried on down the row, but Minerva lost track shortly after anchors. His oddly unbroken, monotone style of speaking was hard to follow.

  For a while, Captain Glass allowed Minerva to control their flight, guiding her hand when required. For the most part, she didn't need his assistance. Flying high and straight was easy.

  "Where's Riggersport?" she asked.

  "Five days to sunrise and about twelve degrees to range. We generally head to sunrise until we hit the mountains, and then turn and sail to range until we see the river. Riggersport is a little into the mountains from there."

  "Where's my home from there? The place where you were attacked by the Phoenix."

  "It's back that way, in the empire. A long way away."

  The captain's response felt evasive, but Minerva couldn't explain why. "If pirates are a problem for the empire, why don't they attack Riggersport?"

  "That wouldn't accomplish much. Pirates rarely band together, even under the best of circumstances, but Riggersport is neutral ground. An attack there would provide a reason to cooperate, and could incite a war with just about every pirate in the sky. They would need to eliminate the sail supply in Reshampur to even have a chance, possibly combined with a full-scale invasion of Vangal."

  "What's Vangal?"

  "A very sad story," Captain Glass replied pensively. "Vangal is here. We are sailing over it right now."

  "It's a country?"

  "It was a country. These days it's mostly just a name and a memory."

  Right then Minerva seized an old thought drifting in her mind.

  "Why did Cloudscorch try to sink us? Why not try to plunder us?"

  Minerva looked up at the captain when he didn't reply. He just stared off into the distance until she called out to him.

  "Yeah," he said, snapping back from his thoughts. "I've got an old gambling debt, you see. I owe Black some money and he's out to collect it the hard way. I'll settle with him once we get to port. Would you like to learn how a sextant works?"

  The sudden shift to a question made Minerva nervous. Even though she agreed to his offer, and delighted in the information that he provided, she could not shake her thoughts free of the fear revealed in his voice. Captain Black was out to kill Glass, and Glass couldn't win every time. That's why they were flying a damaged ship straight for the closest neutral port without a single day of rest. Cloudscorch was just the beginning.

  Chapter 26

  Scouts

  "Scouts spotted 'em a few days out from Riggersport, sir."

  Captain Black nodded at Squints. "Thanks, Squints. We'll anchor for a spell, resupply and repair, and then we can enter Riggersport from sunrise." The captain leaned back, not waiting for a reply. "Tell the twin ships to tie them down outside of Riggersport if they see them. If they can't, run them off in the direction of Hero."

  "What if he won't leave Riggersport, sir?"

  "Then I will kill him when I get there, if he even lives that long. Let the trade barons know that we are coming to port, and that we'll hire riggers for double shares."

  Squints saluted with a twisted smile and hustled from the room.

  After Squints departed, Captain Black pulled an ancient, tarnished coin out of his pocket. It possessed a front-facing head on both sides, rather than a head in profile, one of which wore a mask. Two tiny pinholes pierced the eyes of the heads, connecting through the coin.

  Black toyed with the coin in his hands a few times, and then pulled over an exposed candle on the table. When he held the coin above the flame, tendrils of smoke flowed up through the eyes, expanding and forming the disturbing shape of a black and cloudy face upon the ceiling.

  A face that spoke in the hollow voice of an echoing tomb.

  Agents, one, called to the attendance of Captain Black of the Phoenix, of the Black and Red Consortium. Inform the agents of this counsel as to the matter of discussion.

  The emotionless voice of the shadow imposed an unnerving deadness upon reality. Even in the quiet that followed its words, the absence of its speech suffocated any conversation that might follow, like a strangled throat begging for air.

  "I'm calling in a favor."

  Agents of this counsel recognize a favor of indeterminate worth owed to one Captain Black. state the nature of your request.

  "Captain Glass of the Skyraker. Kill him. Painfully."

  A long pause wedged itself into the conversation.


  Understood. This counsel recognizes that, upon success or failure of the agreed upon favor, Captain Black of the Phoenix will remain in possession of a favor of indeterminate worth, to be remitted at any time by this agent and its counsel, at the discretion of the owning party.

  When Captain Black looked up, nothing but smoke wafted between the rafters. What could have been a face moments ago was now just the eerie shadows of a candle dancing in the currents of an unseen breeze.

  Chapter 27

  Riggersport

  Before reaching Riggersport, the Skyraker plundered a second ship, the Striped Hen, but Lintumen designated almost the entire haul necessary for repairs, leaving little-to-nothing for the crew. Minerva didn't mind, as she enjoyed browsing their ill-gotten goods almost as much as she did the idea of owning them.

  To her surprise, Minerva found Big Jim lagging behind in the hold again. He approached her almost immediately when she arrived and asked her to pick out some things for his niece. He even offered to return the other goods taken from the Lily May, but she refused. Knowing that he had a niece, and that it wasn't a lie meant only to torment her, was something of a comfort.

  Minerva spent most of her evenings alone in her cabin, or up in the crow's nest speaking to Nezzen. Sometimes Luff and Leech, or even Gunner, asked her to join them in the communal area where the sailors slept, but she always declined.

  After a journey of several weeks at sky that began at Minerva's homestead, the Skyraker arrived at the entrance to Riggersport, a narrow, dark, and craggy canyon with a stream of water trickling out of it. As they approached, a terrible wind tossed the ship back and forth, which left Minerva clinging to her lifeline in the rigging.

  While the trip into the opening was certainly bothersome, sailing up the canyon towards Riggersport downright terrified Minerva. The nearby rocks encroached much too closely on either side, and the entry wasn't so much a canyon as it was a tunnel. The cliffs on both sides bowed inward, leaving only a thin line of sky above them. All along the canyon floor, half submerged in the shallow depths of the narrow waterway, countless ships rotted in various stages of decay. The dams created by their remains generated terraced pools, each one pouring into the next. Many wrecks appeared to be recent, and it was obvious that a bad turn or poorly judged spacing could quickly send a ship into the waters below.