The Maiden in the Mirror

by Scott Hamerton

  The further the Skyraker flew, the more the tunnel tightened, until eventually even the light of the sun fled from the deck of the ship. Small stone pylons, with brightly burning fires, dotted the upper reaches of the cavern. They gave the slow-moving river an eerie, ghostly look, and every sound from the ship echoed back at them in the cold darkness.

  As they approached the port, Minerva heard all the chaos of a bustling city tumbling down the cavern towards her. The shouting voices of people, the sounds of construction and labor, and even the occasional gunshot. Then they passed the cannon towers. Deck after deck of manned and loaded cannons built into the walls and pointed outward down the canyon.

  From there they entered the infamous city of Riggersport.

  Constructed almost vertically, mostly haphazardly, and in many cases, entirely unintentionally, Riggersport defied all reasonable standards of engineering. Hundreds of ships, massive to minute, sat atop each other, anchored to the walls of the canyon on both sides by any material at hand. Many of the ships wore ragged weathered sails that supported whole columns of the city with the lift of their hammers.

  Gangplanks, rope walkways, and even buildings, connected the ships, making it difficult to tell where one ship ended and the next began. In several places, where three or more hulls hugged each other, the whole of their decks combined into a single, massive surface on which even roads ran through. Endless ropes ran up and down the interlaced hulls of the city, acting as both elevators and scaffolding for repairs. Many ships moored upon the outer cusp of the city, clearly at risk of becoming a permanent fixture.

  A lake filled the canyon below the city, wide and dark in the middle of the mountain. A few weak beams of light shone down from above, spotlighting a body of water choked with the debris of dozens of hulls, masts, and keels.

  High above, strung between the shifting columns of wood and rope, hung an immense black sail, and it cast a dark shadow over all those below it. White markings depicted a dueling pistol and a fencing sabre that crossed over each other.

  Throughout the wreckage of the city, people swarmed everywhere. People climbing, people working, people laughing, and people fighting, sometimes doing more than one at the same time.

  Minerva felt the twins land on the spar beside her and pat her on the back.

  "Welcome – to Riggersport."

  Chapter 28

  Crew Dismissed

  The Skyraker moored in the coops near the bottom of the cavern, special docks used for long-term anchorage and repairs. Once there, the lead carpenter assessed the Skyraker and provided a cost estimate. Based on Captain Glass' reaction, the number obviously exceeded the value he expected. Shortly afterward, the captain dismissed the entirety of the Skyraker's crew, at which point they disembarked. Almost all at once, in fact. They jostled and shoved each other and joked about what they would be doing while in port. Mostly, the choice activity involved alcohol.

  Minerva spotted Luff and Leech among the crowd and pulled them aside. "When do we come back?"

  "Just wait – for crew call," they replied neatly. "To the Blowhole?" said one. "To the Blowhole!" shouted the other, before pushing off together and beckoning Minerva to follow.

  A thousand questions raced through Minerva's mind, like where to acquire food and lodging, but no one lingered to answer them. Nearly in a state of panic, she gently reminded herself that Nezzen never leaves.

  "I thought you'd come here," Nezzen said with a smile. "Scary place, isn't it?"

  Minerva nodded, handing him the hairbrush, and then she sat down in front of him. "The captain dismissed the crew. Shouldn't we all be leaving?"

  "Well," Nezzen said, in a slow drawl, as if he was winding up for a long explanation. "I'm guessing the repairs are going to cost substantially more than Captain Glass expected. That's a problem. Pirate crews aren't beholden to a ship. They come and go when they please, as they please, on whatever ship pays the best shares. When they have money, they stay here, indulging their vices. When they don't, they go out to sky on whatever ship will take them. If Captain Glass can't afford the repairs, then he's in a bind. A broken ship can't attract sailors or earn money, but if he can't pay, then he'll be forced to leave the ship here."

  "Why doesn't the crew help pay for repairs? It supports their livelihood."

  "No need. Plenty of other ships to take them. Olbus will be back, no doubt. He likes Glass, and Glass will choose him to be boatswain. That makes it his duty to choose a crew from the applicants, but if the sailors don't like the captain, or his boatswain, or they think there won't be any profit in it, they won't come. If Olbus includes you in the crew, then that's a sign of bad luck. No girls allowed, you might have heard."

  It felt like Nezzen had something more to say, but he ended his explanation there. Rather than putting her at ease, as she had hoped, he had caused her tension to rise dramatically.

  "So, I can't come back?" she asked. "Even if I took the oath, I'm still stuck here."

  "I didn't say that."

  "Not with those words, but you did."

  Nezzen hummed but didn't reply. In Minerva's heart, a great pain swelled forth. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt a lump in her throat that would eventually leave her sobbing.

  "Leave your things on board," he said softly. "It shows the captain, and the boatswain, that you intend to return. Of your friends, the ones that left just now, how many of them took their belongings with them? Most importantly, the ship does not provide a sailor with a hammock. So, did they take their hammocks, and not just their plunder?"

  Minerva thought about who was carrying what when they disembarked, blocking out her fears. Lockjaw had a whole sack over his shoulder, but she already knew he wasn't coming back. Luff and Leech both carried small satchels. In fact, most of the sailors carried little more than what they would sell. The few that did have their belongings were mostly the ones that didn't like her.

  "See," Nezzen continued, not letting her reply. "They'll be back, and they don't even care that you're here."

  When Minerva turned to look at Nezzen, his sincere expression still wasn't enough to sway her back to comfort. "What about food? Where am I to stay?"

  "That, I'm afraid, is a far more difficult question to answer. Once you leave, you're expected to stay ashore until crew call. You will need to sell your shares to pay your way until that time."

  Minerva did not feel at all comforted by the thought of fending for herself in Riggersport for an indeterminate amount of time. Not only that, her only salable share was an intensely heavy wardrobe, and she couldn't even open it.

  Still dissatisfied, she thanked Nezzen none-the-less, and made for the exit.

  "Before you go," Nezzen said, reaching into his pile of treasures, but Minerva refused before he even offered. "You could sell it, to pay for room and board," he urged.

  "No," she insisted. "You have given me enough gifts. I don't want to diminish their value through excess, and you said yourself that you would rather not give them away only to have them sold."

  "Then how about some advice?"

  Minerva nodded.

  "Two things. First, you're a girl in a port city that is mostly men and mostly pirates. Second, pirates love stories."

  Nezzen was like Lintumen, she decided. He didn't like to tell the full story right away, so she did her best to take to heart what he said.

  "Goodnight, Minerva."

  It was still daytime, she almost replied, but quickly uncovered the joke; daylight never fell on Riggersport.

  Chapter 29

  Seamstresses

  The first thing to do in Riggersport, Minerva decided, was to find a seamstress. For some time, she had been dealing with clothes that didn't fit. She already hemmed a few of her garments to stay rolled or pinched, but now she had a genuine opportunity to find some properly fitted shirts and trousers.

  When she asked one of the coop workers about a seamstress, he gave her an unsettling look, but he also gave her directions. Riggersport
proved to be difficult to navigate by word, though, so she stopped several more times, and the response was always the same. The men all looked her up and down, and then gave her a very lecherous smile and directed her on her way.

  They were all filthy, she thought. Every plank, every person, every surface was just covered in dust and dirt. Aboard the Skyraker, she had kept herself clean using water from the bucket room, when she could get away with it, but only a few of the other sailors did that. Yet here, despite the abundance of fresh water and easy access, no one seemed to bathe at all.

  The place was utterly pungent.

  With only a few wrong turns, Minerva found the establishment she sought. A handful of women stood outside a large ship-turned-building, and they pleasantly greeted all the men that walked by. They also modeled elegant gowns, although they were too low cut for her tastes. A large depiction of a threaded needle hung from the prow of the ship.

  Minerva approached the women with as much courage as she could, eager to hear another feminine voice. "Excuse me," she said. "I'm looking for a seamstress."

  A tall girl with black hair, somewhat well-behaved, turned and looked down at her. "For you? Or are you looking for work?"

  The prospect of potential employment ensnared Minerva's interests immediately. If she could raise enough money, then she could not only cover any interim expenses, but she might be able to charter a ship to take her home, or at the very least, in the right direction.

  She nodded, trying not to appear overeager.

  "Hey, Roker," the woman shouted over her shoulder. "New girl out here! Wants work!"

  It wasn't long before the man called Roker arrived to greet Minerva. He was tall and stately, with a handsome shaven face, but older, perhaps in his fifties. He wore a bleached white shirt, black leather shoes, and a tall white hat. When he saw Minerva, he smiled and bowed, taking her by the hand.

  He was very clean, she thought, and he smelled like fine perfume.

  "Come to work, have you?"

  Minerva nodded again, thinking that he seemed like a good employer.

  "I see," he said, looking her up and down and leaning sideways as though he was trying to look at her back. "Yeah, we might have some work for you. I know some customers that would pay extra for your services."

  Roker then reached forward and gently touched Minerva's face.

  The hair on Minerva's neck stood on end and her arms and legs went tense. The image of the stately man in white suddenly shattered, and her excitement turned almost instantly to terror. There was something very wrong with this man, but she couldn't see it plainly.

  "Perhaps later, for the work, you see I'm just passing through for now, so I'm looking for clothes, new clothes, first, to buy."

  It certainly wasn't the most elegant sentence she had ever constructed, but it sufficed. Roker gave her a wicked grin and said that he would be there when she came back, and then directed her to speak with a man named Thimbler that lived a few decks up.

  Minerva took the information and left, doing her best to avoid running.

  Unlike the Needle and Thread, where Minerva wondered if they even manufactured clothes, finding Thimbler's ship was much harder. The few men she did pass on the upper decks gave her troublesome glances if she asked for directions, and if she happened to mention that she was looking to make money, almost all of them told her to go back and talk to Roker, usually with the same unnerving smile.

  To her dismay, she also discovered that several decks up was a very literal direction, as Riggersport lived up to its name. She found herself climbing whatever cordage or shrouds were available, just to reach the next level of the city. When she finally arrived at her destination deck, her scarred arm ached immensely from the effort.

  Minerva rolled up her sleeve and began to massage her scar while she looked around, taking note of how everything smelled like smoke or peat up here. A little way down the deck, she spotted a small sloop buried half into the hull of a larger vessel. A very solid bell, dimpled like a thimble, hung outside the only entrance. A faint light shone through the dirty glass of the door, but she pushed on, hoping for a better reception.

  Ding-a-ling.

  The sound of the bell above the door bordered on insulting, Minerva thought.

  The smell of musty old cloth smothered Minerva's mind inside the space. Within the small cabin, dresses and other womanly clothes cluttered the many racks and shelves that lined the walls. A few delicate shoes for women sat on a dusty box near the entrance, and several hats dangled from the ceiling. A row of fine corsets modeled on a series of wooden mannequins impressed her the most.

  A moment after she entered, a red curtain at the back of the shop drew aside and a very tall and very thin man walked out pinching several pins between his lips. The low ceiling forced him to stoop through the door, and he wore a long shapely dress that boasted a full bosom.

  "Hello, miss. Welcome to Thimbler's Fine Textiles. How can I help you?"

  In her mind, Minerva said hello to the man, greeted him politely, and then complimented him on the design of his dress. In reality, she stood there making a stupid face.

  Chapter 30

  Lady Lost

  "Get three – for us!"

  One of the rigger twins tossed a departing sailor a few coins to pay for some drinks.

  "You'll love this place. Good food. Good drink. Good song. Good times. Everyone will be here."

  Luff and Leech turned to face Minerva, and then stopped as steady as stone, staring at the empty Minerva-shaped hole between them.

  "Where's Minnie?" they asked each other.

  Then they turned on the group around them, but no one replied.

  "Did she – get off the ship?"

  "Yeah," said one of the sailors as he was about to drink.

  The twins had him by the collar before his lips hit the tankard. "Where did – she go?"

  "Up to the nest. You know, Nezzen. Then she came down and left."

  The twins leaped away from the table in unison. "I'll ask Olbus! I'll ask Nezzen!" they shouted at each other as they bolted from the table, bounding over the railings and almost falling down the infinite ladders of rigging towards the Skyraker.

  Chapter 31

  Thimbler

  "Thimbler?" Minerva stammered, struggling to connect the fragments of a sentence together.

  "Yes," he replied in a throaty voice, possibly deeper than any she had heard before.

  "Um, I, uh, let's see—"

  "Never start a sentence with filler," interjected the man. "Um, let's see, like, you know, any of those. Take a breath and think about what you want to say." He stood with his hand on his hip and let his body swing at a jaunty angle.

  Minerva swallowed hard and inhaled fully. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've never seen a man in a dress before."

  Thimbler smiled, apparently impressed by her honesty. "Many of the girls around here are my dress size, if not my height, so I tailor my products to fit them and then test them for comfort."

  Minerva caught herself staring at his chest, but not before he noticed as well, in response to which he reached down the front and pulled out a small bag.

  "Sand."

  "Oh."

  "What can I do for you, young lady?"

  "Roker said I should come here for clothes."

  Thimbler gave her a very stern look, and his body tensed. "You're one of Roker's girls?"

  "No sir, not yet. He said I could work for him, though."

  Her reply seemed to disappoint the man dramatically. "If you see anything you like, let me know and I can price it for you. I will likely need to hem it, though."

  Minerva nodded and began to peruse the selection. She decided quite quickly that Thimbler was a great judge of color and style, producing excellent patterns and very appealing visuals. His stitching, however, was awful. His entire product barely held together, tethered loosely by large, sloppy stitches that were likely to burst under any amount of significant force.

  "Um,
" she said, but caught herself when he made a face at her. "Did you sew these?"

  Thimbler nodded proudly, and said that he had taught himself.

  "Do you create your own patterns?"

  This time he shook his head, and pushed some papers towards her. "I mostly try to copy what I find in here. If the crews bring back a dress, I buy those and copy them, as well."

  Minerva picked up the papers and looked through them. They displayed many elegant patterns and styles from a place called Taladihn. She had never heard of such a place, but she loved it already.

  "Do you sell needles and thread, too?"

  Thimbler shook his head, sensing the true nature of her persistent questioning. "You don't like them, do you?"

  "I do," she insisted. "It's just that, um—"

  "What? It's not like I have a lot to work with here."

  "No, they're great. I love them, but your stitching is, well—" Minerva struggled for a polite way to say terrible. "—not good."

  Thimbler raised his brows, astonished and insulted. "Awful or not, if you're not going to buy anything, please stop wasting my time."

  Quickly and decisively, Thimbler retreated through the curtain, out of view.

  Great way to make friends, she said to herself, and then promptly told her other self to shut up.

  Minerva looked around the cabin again. The designs really were wonderful, but even if the seams weren't atrocious, she didn't have any money to buy them. Even worse, she had the feeling that everything here had suddenly gotten a lot more expensive.