“Loose the sails!” Captain Deacon marched across the deck of his ship. Choppy waves battered the Crooked Crane as it rocked and swayed with the sea’s fury. A rectangular canvas unfolded as it fell from the yard, then caught like a cloud in the wind, its center contoured and rounded. The ropes binding the sail crackled as they pulled taught, and the vessel lurched forward, cutting through the chop. “We’re underway!”
Augustus stood on the yardarm, soaring over the deck and the violent sea, watching the City of Caliacra shrink into the distance, becoming a pile of dull red rubies and gleaming white pearls. The Crooked Crain was a light cog with four guns and an oversized, lopsided sail, hence the name. Gus climbed down to the deck alongside a diverse cast from various parts of Milanis. Their lookout, a young refugee from Colonia named Theo, remained atop the yardarm, dangling his feet as he whistled a sailor’s tune. Deacon’s seasoned crew tended to their duties as the Mysterium stood upon the stern castle, peering into the East with looks of deep contemplation. Gus moved up the steps and joined them at the wooden parapets. Rose, Dori, and Skiggi huddled together, wearing overcoats lined with brown fur. “It’s beautiful!” Dori said.
“It’s frigid!” Rose wrapped her arms around her dwarven companions, whose oversized coats folded into deep wrinkles of cured hides.
“That’s the fresh air of a new journey!” Captain Deacon bellowed as he approached. He waved his right hand at the city. “Farewell! I’ll see you soon! And, hopefully, I will be wealthy when I do!”
“How are you walking around in nothing but sleeves?” Rose asked the Captain.
Deacon laughed. “I’ve got more blubber than a seal.” He patted his round stomach as he walked over to the ship’s railing, doubled over it, and drew in a lungful of salty air. “Ah! Do you know what that smells like to me?” He stood, both hands clutching the rail, arms stiff, holding his head straight and nose high. He looked down at the dwarves. “It smells like money.” He grinned.
Skiggi chuckled. “I love the smell of money!”
“Then you love the smell of the sea!” Deacon declared. “I’ve known a fair few dwarven sailors. Were they your family?”
“Not mine,” Skiggi said.
Dori shook her head. “No. They were all smithies, tinkers, or miners. We’d like to learn, though. If other dwarves can sail, then we can learn, too! If you’re willing to teach us, Captain.”
Deacon scratched the red stubble on his left cheek. “Just don’t get in the way of my crew. But what am I saying? Alessandro, here, will look out for you! Your friend knows his way around a ship. You will look out for them, won’t you, Alessandro?” He glared at Gus.
Augustus smiled. “Of course, captain,” he spoke with his Milanese accent.
“When do we start? What should we do?” Dori asked. “Should we scrub the decks first? Prepare the canons?”
“Can we go below, now?” Rose sniffled, then wiped her runny nose.
Gus held up his hands. “One at a time.”
Captain Deacon laughed.
“My wife and I are handy,” Skiggi boasted. He walked to the center of the platform, running fat fingers through his black beard. He pointed at the yard. “That rigging needs maintenance.”
“I just had it worked on!” Deacon’s pale cheeks flushed red.
“I meant no offense, Captain,” Skiggi said. “Dori and I will look at it, won’t we, dearest?”
Dori’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yes!”
“Is that your dwarven opinion?” the Captain asked. Skiggi nodded. Deacon groaned. He marched down the castle's stairs, grumbling to himself, then pointed at his first mate: a gray-haired man with a short beard hidden behind a gray woolen scarf and an oversized fur-lined coat. “I need to talk with Master Rizzula when we get back. Remind me!”
The first mate stood at attention. “Aye, captain!”
“Well?” Dori asked. “You didn’t answer me, Gus. What’s first?”
“Let’s get out of the wind,” Rose said. “I’m ready to go below.”
“We’re not going below,” Gus informed. “That’s where the crew sleeps. Deacon is letting us take quarters in the castle.”
“I don’t see a castle,” Dori said. “Did you have anything to drink this morning, Gus?”
“We’re standing on the castle.” Gus tapped his foot on the decking. “This part of the ship is called the ‘stern.’ That’s the back of a ship. The front is called the ‘prow.’ Bigger ships sometimes have castles on the stern and the prow.”
“And this type of ship is a cog,” Skiggi said. He chewed on the words, working his mouth from side to side, ruffling his beard. “For some damned reason.”
“I’m not sure why it’s called a cog,” Gus said.
“Who cares?” Rose bounced her weight from foot to foot. “Why don’t you all go tinker with something?”
“This is an excellent opportunity for you to prove your worth,” Gus said. “Go look at the rigging while I show Rose our sleeping quarters.” The dwarves bounded down the stairs and across the deck. Skiggi and Dori laughed as they crawled up the ship’s mast. The dwarves’ antics amused Deacon’s crew, who laughed and cheered the duo. “They’ll make fine sailors.”
“Every one of you is crazy,” Rose said.
Augustus chuckled. They descended the stairs and found a set of double doors leading into the castle. Wooden beams crossed overhead, six pillars held the roof’s weight, and four separate stacks of crates sat in each corner. Eight iron-rimmed barrels stood netted in the center of the room, lashed with ropes and chains, tied to the pillars. Deacon never disclosed the contents of their cargo, so Gus could only assume it was firepowder. For what could be more valuable in a time of war? They found a lane between crates and barrels. Gus pointed at the floor. “I’ll sleep on this side if you take the opposite aisle. Skiggi and Dori can have the back half.”
“It’s still cold,” Rose said.
“Deacon doesn’t want us keeping a fire here,” Gus said. “He’s afraid we’ll damage the cargo.”
“We are the cargo!” Rose crossed her arms and ran her hands along their length for warmth. She huffed a cloud of steam. “Sorry, Gus. I know I’m acting like a baby. I hate being cold. Do you…” Blue eyes floated around the room and then settled on Gus. “Do you want to share quarters?”
Gus felt a slight flutter in his stomach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You’re not a priest anymore, you know?” Rose batted her eyelashes, causing Augustus to take one step back. She laughed. “I’m only teasing. And I’m only asking because this ‘castle’ feels like an iceberg.” She studied Gus, looking him up and down. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you look twice at a woman. As a friend, and out of morbid curiosity, I have to ask: did the temple do something to you? Or are you simply uninterested in women?”
“Many priests give in to their desires,” Gus said. He glanced at the floor, then matched Rose’s crystalline gaze. “But few have time for romance. I was of the latter sort.”
“Maybe you’ll find time for romance in your new life,” Rose said as she toyed with a strand of red curls.
Gus’ fingertips glided across palms wet with sweat. “I don’t think my new life will be so different. The Holy Order will hunt me; eventually, they will find me.”
“You’re always talking about how we get to choose who we want to be,” Rose pointed out. “That means you, too, right?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Gus said.
Rose stepped toward Gus and placed a hand on his chest. “Come on, Gus. What’s the point of being alive if you’re too afraid to live?”
Gus plucked up her hand with his own and removed it from his chest. “You don’t even know my name.”
Rose scoffed. “Do you think ‘Rose’ is my real name? It’s a stage name. The name my former master chose for me. I kept it because men like it: roses are pretty red flowers. It’s simple. And that’s what you’ve done, too. You took everything the Holy Order taught you and used it to your advantage. We don’t care about names, do we?”
Gus’ neck felt as stiff as the pillars holding the roof over their head. She wants me to protect her from the Order. He forced himself to breathe. “My real name–the one I have no right to–is a death sentence. My children will be hunted, and their children, until my line is eradicated.”
“I don’t want kids.” Rose raised a hand to her mouth to hide a smile. “Or romance.” She jabbed out with her forefinger, poking his shoulder. “I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”
“It wasn’t funny,” Gus said.
Rose stepped away from him. “You’re a good man, Gus. Too good.”
Augustus walked away, lost for words.
The night air carried a deathly chill. Cold crept closer and closer as a warm bed became a distant memory. Gus nearly went to her but couldn’t decide whether she was serious or just getting a rise from him. A small part hoped she was serious. Don’t be a fool! He twisted upon planks as his mind turned over and over, replaying their encounter.
Gus woke up early and joined the rousing crew on the deck, where sailors gathered around iron braziers and kettles full of stew. The cook of the ship, Master Giuseppe, wore a white apron over his brown fur coat and tan trousers. He dipped a spoonful of stew from a pot, filled a wooden bowl, and handed it to the first mate. Their Captain stood on his castle, pacing back and forth as he shouted: “They’re expecting us in Eirgo! Be quick about it!”
Gus waited in line before receiving his bowl of stew. He sat on the castle's stairs while he ate, then climbed the mast and ventured out onto the yardarm, balancing many feet over the ship's deck.
With every man at his station, they released the sails, capturing the frantic winds, tugging them westward. Scattered rays of sun glimmered over the surface of the water. Puffs of purple clouds streaked the sky. As they carved their way across the Milanis Straight, Gus sat, looking into the East. Is a new life truly possible?
Skiggi and Dori emerged from the castle to join the crew for their noon meal. “Where have you been?” Captain Deacon eyed Skiggi as the dwarf scarfed down his steaming hot bowl of potatoes and fish.
Skiggi put his spoon in the bowl and wiped his lips. “Staying out of the way.”
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“Good man.” Deacon took a swig from his wine bottle. “You did a fine job on the rigging. I don’t hear that incessant creaking anymore, so my ailing head and I offer many thanks. Perhaps you’d like to join Alessandro on the yardarm this evening? You know how the rigging works, but you’ve got to learn how a crew works.”
“That sounds fun!” Dori fidgeted her feet, rocking the bowl of stew in her lap, which spilled onto the deck.
“Sounds good to me,” said Skiggi.
Deacon’s first mate, Federico, stood beside his Captain. “Will the men like that, sir? Not everyone trusts the dwarves yet.” His eyes widened. Federico turned to Skiggi and Dori. “Not because you’re dwarves! It’s because you’re still green. Sailing is dangerous. Our men have families.”
Deacon waved his wine bottle around. “They’ve proven themselves useful. Our rigging has never worked so well! We’ll send them up one at a time. Blackbeard tonight, then the little lady tomorrow morning.”
“Aye, captain,” Federico nodded, then swallowed a spoonful of fish.
Dori giggled. “Are those our pirate names?”
“As you wish!” Captain Deacon took another swig of his wine. “Get these men moving within the hour, Federico. We’ve got somewhere to be!”
“Aye, Captain,” Federico said.
“What about us?” Dori asked. “What do we do until this evening?”
Deacon shrugged. “Find something to fix.”
“Can we look at your cannons?” Skiggi tugged at his braided beard. “What size do you got?” Dark eyes twinkled as if he were staring at Dori or talking about money.
“Don’t touch my guns.” Deacon sliced the air with his wine bottle.
“Aye, captain,” Skiggi said.
“Keep them above decks,” Deacon commanded Gus.
“I will,” Gus said.
Their Captain marched across the deck and joined another gang of sailors who hovered around a brazier full of red coals. Gus observed the way Deacon joked around with his crew. They looked at him with admiration and respect. “The Captain is a good man,” Federico said. He set his empty bowl on the railing of the swaying ship. “I think I have a job for you and your friends.”
“Really?” Dori asked.
Federico waved a hand wrapped in wool mittens. “Come.”
Gus, Skiggi, and Dori followed Federico to the castle door, then waited for the first mate’s return.
I wonder what Rose is up to? Gus pondered.
Federico burst through the door with a wooden bucket and a bundle of rags. He threw the bundle of wadded cloth to Skiggi, then handed Gus the heavy bucket full of thick gray sludge. “Best to start greasing early rather than wait for things to go bad again. Off you go!” He shooed the trio away with both hands. “I expect every block on this ship to be greased before sundown!”
Gus led the dwarves to the ship's prow, where the rigging met the hull. He watched them dab their fingers in the grease bucket and work the rigging with deft hands. “Sailing is fun!” Dori smiled as she painted Skiggi’s fat nose with a streak of gray grease. Skiggi laughed.
“I’m glad it suits you.” Gus leaned against the hull. “I’m not so sure about Rose.”
“I think the Southern Continent will suit her much better.” Dori dipped out a little more grease. “It’s a lot warmer down there. Deserts, jungles, more deserts. Mountains. Towering, daunting mountains.”
“Deacon may take you on,” Gus said. “I don’t know how Rose will feel about that, though. The Mysterium can’t carry on as a one-woman show.”
Skiggi scraped the gunk from his fingers onto the rim of the grease bucket. “These last few years working for Rose have been some of the best,” he said. He rubbed his hands clean on a rag. “But we’ve always wanted a ship of our own. That’s why we followed her around.”
“And she’s good with money,” Dori added. “I guess Rose can always hire more performers, can’t she?”
“She is resourceful.” Gus rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “So, are your minds made up, then?”
“If the captain will have us,” Skiggi said.
The trio worked their way around the ship's starboard side, greasing every pulley connected to the hull. As they finished rounding the top of the castle, Gus looked to the north and spotted a shadowy speck on the horizon. He looked at the crow’s nest. The whistling sailor was nowhere to be seen. “I’ll be right back,” Gus said.
“Where are you going?” Skiggi asked. “You haven’t greased anything!”
Gus moved toward the stairs. “I need to speak with the captain.” He descended, crossed the deck, and found the lookout speaking with first mate Federico. Gus approached the men. “Did you spot something?”
“Captain will hear it first,” Federico spoke for his crewman.
Gus didn’t press the issue.
Deacon emerged from below deck a few moments later, followed by two sailors with equally blocky, shaved, heads and burly builds. Their only differences were tattoos: squids, sharks, and the like. As well, one sported a thick brown mustache. Rumor had it that Andrea and Tyandrea Accardi had double-crossed the Morelli Syndicate and things went south. Somehow, Deacon helped them negotiate a deal with their former employers, allowing them to remain in the world of the living.“Well?” the Captain asked as he strolled across the deck. “What did you see?”
Theo, with his boyish looks and build, shrunk beneath the eyes of the surrounding men. “It was a ship, Captain!” he blurted. “I saw it through the looking glass—white sails. You told me to report anything suspicious. Well, they’re heading straight for us and gaining ground. I thought–”
“We don’t care about the color of its sails!” Federico barked. “What color was its flag?”
“It’s too far away!” the boy cried.
“Calm down.” Deacon placed a hand on the young sailor’s shoulder. “Climb up and give that looking glass another try.” He turned toward Federico and winked. The Captain straightened his back and placed his hands on his hips. “Likely, they followed us out of port! Best we mind our business.”
“You heard our captain!” Federico shouted. “Back to work!” The sailors grumbled and whispered as they dispersed.
Deacon walked to Gus. “Keep the dwarves grounded tonight.”
The crew continued their duties, and the Crooked Crane stayed true to its course. Gus, Skiggi, and Dori returned to their work. The shadow grew closer with every passing hour. Finally, the lookout climbed down from his perch and disappeared below deck. The Captain emerged–alone–with a less jovial disposition, and found his first mate atop the castle, where they held a private council. The crew crowded the stern. Gus and his dwarven companions stood at the back of the pack, next to the mast. Deacon stepped toward the castle’s wooden rail, overlooking the deck and his crew. “We’ve got two ships following us! Black flags.” Sailors moaned and groaned like petulant children, though some appeared excited by the news. “We’ll try to negotiate with them, of course, but be prepared for anything. Ready the cannons! Ready yourselves!”
“Every man to arms! Man, your stations!” First Mate Federico shouted. The crew of the Crooked Crane scrambled in every direction.
Gus felt a tugging at the sleeve of his coat. Dori stood beside him. “Yes?”
“What does a black flag mean?” Dori asked.
“Freemen pirates—slavers,” Gus said. “They have us outnumbered, so fortune does not favor us in a fight, but I don’t think we can outpace them. This ship is fast, but it’s still a one-sail cog, and two bigger fish are swimming straight for us.”
Skiggi wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Then what do we do, Gus? If we can’t fight and we can’t run, what do we do?”
“Be prepared,” Gus said. “Let’s go tell Rose.”
The trio sprinted across the deck and entered the wooden stern castle. Rose sat on a pile of blankets with her legs crossed and her back leaned against a wall. Several coats lay draped over her. “What’s all the commotion about?”
“Pirates!” Dori’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates.
“Two ships are closing in on us,” Gus said. He walked down a narrow aisle and found his magical blades, wrapped in his invisibility cloak, tucked behind a stack of crates. He unfolded the cloak, then fixed his dagger and the longsword, Ninathril, to his belt. “Deacon hopes to negotiate with them.” He marched back down the aisle and stood in front of the entrance. “Arm yourselves.” He tossed the Retaliating Rapier and his gray cloak to Rose. “Barricade the door. I can’t use my magic in broad daylight. We don’t want the Holy Order picking up our scent when we’re this close to freedom.” Rose grabbed the elf-woven cloak and pulled it closer. “Twirl the fabric to turn invisible.”
Rose freed the pearl-studded rapier from its scabbard and stared into the silvery steel of its blade. She stood. A cascade of furs and woven wool fell from her lap onto the floor. “Can we win?”
“I’ll do what I can,” Gus said.
Skiggi drew a dagger from his belt scabbard. A hammer set on a nearby crate, so he grabbed that, too. “I’m not hiding in here. I’ll fight with the rest of the crew and prove my worth to Captain Deacon.” Gus didn’t have the heart to tell him Deacon might not be Captain much longer.
“Then I’m going, too!” Dori walked to the corner of the room and picked up an abandoned harpoon. Gus couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m not letting you all fight on my behalf,” Rose said.
“Stay here for now,” Gus said. “Deacon and his men know what they’re doing, and you three would only add to the chaos. I’ll come for you if things get bad.” He turned and pushed open the door. “Stay put!” Gus shut the door behind him and sprinted up the castle's stairs, where Deacon stood with both hands clasped behind his back, surrounded by six crossbowmen. Andrea, with a squid tattooed on his elbow, and a shark fin on the side of his head, stood behind his captain holding a two-handed ax. “Can we outrun them?” Gus asked.
Deacon stopped. “Why have you abandoned your post, sailor?”
Gus halted.
“I have friends on these waters, boy,” Deacon said. “Don’t let everyone get you fired up and ready to start a fight. You’ll see. Now, off with you! Get to your station before I discipline you!”
Augustus looked past the Captain at two tiny ships bobbing across the sea. “Aye, captain.”
“Go!” Deacon barked.
Gus ran to Federico, who stood beside the mast holding two crossbows. “Alessandro!” White teeth showed through the bushel of gray hair on his face. “Where have you been, man? Take your bow.”
Gus took the crossbow. Sailors lined the starboard and port sides, armed with bows, hatchets, hammers, and swords. Harpoons and spears leaned against the hull, close at hand. Gus ran to his station at the starboard prow. Tyandrea, the mustached twin, lugged buckets full of bolts. He sat one at Gus’ feet, then scrambled to the next station, to a man with brown leathery skin hanging from his face in folds. His blue eyes were hollow and half-blind. Of course, he’s behind me. Gus squatted. Winter winds and sea sprays whipped overhead. Huddled against the ship's hull, his large fur cloak was no better than his bare skin. He shivered. Breathing cold, salty air loosened his nostrils. Shivering and sniffling, he remained, listening to the Crane’s creaking and popping, the lapping sea, and the whirling winds.
“Don't lose your heads!” Deacon shouted. The sea and the wind nearly drowned his voice.
No matter how Gus calculated the odds, nothing equaled victory. Should I let loose and risk the Order catching our scent? Their pursuers, caravels with many sails, handled by larger crews, traveled directly at the Crooked Crane, then split. The shouting and cursing of their enemy carried over the waters. Steel blades and spear tips gleamed under the scattered sun as the pirates stood on the yards and leaned over their vessels' edges, growing increasingly raucous as they inched closer. Gus pulled back the string of his crossbow and slid a bolt into place. He lifted the crossbow and rested it on the hull. They didn’t come to negotiate. Their prows cleared the stern of the Crooked Crane, where First Mate Federico stood atop the castle surrounded by four crossbowmen. Massive sails cast ominous shadows over the Crane.
Captain Deacon stood on his castle. “Hold! Hold!”
“Cowards!” a grizzly freeman shouted from the safety of his caravel’s high hull. His friends joined his mocking.
The crew of the Crooked Crane looked to their Captain for orders, but Deacon held his tongue. Grappling hooks flew and found purchase in the Crane’s hull. “Captain? They’re trying to board us!” Theo, who straddled a yardarm and cradled a crossbow, shouted. “Captain?”
“Drop your weapons, boys!” Deacon shouted. “We’re outmatched.”
None refused. Metal clanked against wood as weapons hit the deck. Deacon’s trying to save his ship. He might bargain away a few items for his freedom and enough men to sail. Gus sat his crossbow to the side and drew his dagger, holding it behind his leg and tucking it into his right sleeve. The pirate vessels closed the gap. Wild-looking men with little armor–or no armor at all–swung from ropes or leaped unaided, landing on the Crane with weapons drawn, storming across the deck. A pair of spear-wielding freemen, wearing black dyed boiled leathers beneath gray wolf fur cloaks, fell from the sky and landed next to Gus. Deadly points prodded, encouraging him to remain huddled against the hull.
A dark-skinned man wearing a fox fur scarf over a large-collared jacket marched up the steps of the sterncastle, accompanied by a retinue of ax-wielding freemen, including a tall red-headed woman whose hair formed rows of tight braids in zig-zagging lines. Atop the castle, the dark-skinned man drew his saber and pointed it at Deacon. The Accardi twins stepped in front of their captain: Andrea with his two-handed axe, Tyandrea with a dagger and hatchet. Deacon placed a hand on their shoulders and laughed. “Calm down, boys.”
The pirate lowered his sword. “It appears I have taken your ship. And it appears you have already conceded this. Am I mistaken?”
Deacon chuckled. “Are you the captain of this rabble?”
“I am,” the stranger said.
“Then you’re a businessman like me,” Deacon said. “I just left Caliacra loaded down with cargo bound for Eirgo. Firepowder. It could be useful for your crew or valuable as a commodity.”
The pirates and their Captain laughed. “I took your ship, my friend! You have no cargo!” He sheathed his sword. “In truth, I have little use for a wobbly little cog. I need slaves. Money. Then I can buy all the firepowder my guns need.” He smiled. The pirate snapped his fingers. “Bind them!” The spearmen advanced, so Gus raised his hands, sending his magical dagger sliding toward the pit of his arm. Thankfully, it did not jab him. The spearman to his left snatched Gus’ arm, who curled both at the elbow, flexing his right bicep to keep the dagger in place. The other took Ninathril by its handle and drew it from its sheath. The pair ogled at the silver steel blade, then, together, bound Gus’ wrists with a cord. “Take anything useful!” The pirate turned and bowed to Deacon. “Captain, would you care to join me on the Painted Steed?”
Deacon lowered his eyes. “Stow me with my crew.”
“As you wish,” the pirate captain turned and walked to the Crooked Crane’s castle parapet. “I am your captain, Inigo!” The pirates cheered for their leader. “You chose a wise path today. Many will be sold as slaves, but there are always opportunities to prove one’s self! Don’t lose heart! I am not a cruel master.” The song of the sea filled a moment of silence. “Take everything and burn the ship!” A gang of six pirates battered the double doors of the castle with a decommissioned cannon. Each strike rang like a dull bell. Their every blow folded the wood a little further.
Did Rose use the cloak? Gus pondered. Will Dori and Skiggi try to fight? His mind swirled with a million thoughts as the spearmen prodded him toward the enemy’s caravel. Will they make it?