Chapter 40: Boat Over Troubled Waters
As seemed to be traditional when leaving to go on long voyages, Mitty was woken rather abruptly by Dantes picking her up rather clumsily. She’d been enjoying a lovely catnap on Dantes pillow, having claimed it for herself after he’d foolishly ceded it earlier in the night, thinking she wouldn’t notice his brief departure. The pillow still smelled like him, which she might’ve appreciated with another 10 hours of sleep. As it was, she gave him a bite for the indignity of being woken up before noon and a soft glare.
She wriggled out of his amateur cat wrangling grasp and took a better vantage point from atop his shoulder. It seemed they were going to the docks, presumably to take one of the merchant ships leaving after the celebration. The trading would have been conducted beforehand with the less reclusive groves and the few coastal settlements, ending the day before the festival. With their hauls secured, the ships were already leaving, about half remaining, and of those, the majority were being loaded up to leave with the tide.
She recognized Hawk from afar with his cloak distinguishing him from the dock workers. She was surprised he wore it still, after learning of the strings that could be attached. Then again, perhaps he felt he had little left to lose. She couldn’t judge; in the end, she’d kept her cloak too, unwilling to give away something that was rightfully hers. It seemed like Colin would be too busy to deal with her for the next few millennia anyhow, or so she hoped.
She thought back to the drink she’d gotten from that light goddess. She’d unstopped the decanter of crystal light to get a good whiff, and found it was what she’d expected. A complicated, delicate aroma, promising much more than any mortal drink could, she’d had to stopper it again lest she be tempted. If it lasted thousands of years, it would last a while longer. Eventually she would want to make something with it, but you couldn’t rush perfection, and this deserved nothing less than an inspired hand idea.
Something to consider another time, she figured, as they came up to Hawk, who’d waited for them in front of a sleek vessel. The men she could see aboard indicated a primarily Estharian crew, though she spotted the odd northerner as well among them. As for Hawk himself, she noticed he seemed younger. She knew he was only twenty and some years old, but he’d always had a hardness and tension about him that indicated experience. It was somewhat diminished now, his eyes somewhat fuller, jaw less clenched, brow less creased. She was glad her friend seemed to be at ease with his decision.
“Dantes, Sha- Mitty. I was going to secure us passage aboard this ship. They are heading north, to New Vairon” he said.
“You haven’t spoken to the captain yet?” Dantes said.
“Meow” she meowed.
Dantes glanced up at her, and she remembered with some embarrassment that he understood all tongues like her. How embarrassing.
Ignorant of their exchange, Hawk continued. “No, but any ship loyal to Esthar will take us. I was just waiting to make sure you arrived.”
She blinked once emitting as much curiousity as she could, and the message was received.
“You’ll see, you’ll see” he said with a laugh. “It will be nice to have some proper Estharian jaffa again. I do hope they have some White Beans.”
The trio approached a man scribbling on some parchment as boxes were carried up the gangplank. He glanced up at them in question, but did not stop his writing.
“Yes? Make it quick, I assure you, this is harder than it looks, and the manifest won’t write itself.”
“We’re looking for passage aboard your ship! We’re going to New Vairon. I’ve worked on a ship before, if you need hands!” Dantes blurted excitedly.
Apparently, the prospect of working on a boat had his figurative tail wagging. Personally, she was just excited to be out of the jungle. The availability of non-rabbit food had been disappointingly slim around here.
“We have enough hands. We might have a hammock or two if you keep out of the way though. Does your cat mouse? If so we can provide its food for free.” Not stopping his writing, the purser’s eyes flicked to Hawk, seemingly questioning if they were together.
“Pardon my companion” Hawk started, switching to Estharian, “he is far from our home in the shifting sands.”
The man’s scratching quill stopped as he evaluated Hawk.
“And with what coin will you pay?” he said after a pause.
“The coin of duty” Hawk replied.
“And we will honour that duty” said a woman from the top of the gangplank. “Welcome aboard, child of sand. You will have a room. Let us speak in my quarters.” Hawk and her porter made their way aboard the ship, and she hopped onto Hawk’s shoulder as the two parted ways, Dantes eager to explore their new leaky tub they’d be calling home for the next week or two.
Perched atop Hawk, they followed the captain to her quarters, which were neat save the slew of papers messed upon her desk.
Once the door closed, the captain gave a deep bow.
“What can this humble ship do for you, Child of the Sultan?” she said.
“Our stated purpose is our actual one. We are heading north to New Vairon. We will want two cabins for the trip.” The way Hawk spoke was harder than usual, filled with the authority of a power greater than his own.
“Of course, it will be so. If I could bother you with proof of your claims?”
Hawk produced a shiny golden medallion from his cloak, nearly as big as his hand, embossed with a bird on one side. The captain flipped it over, and on the other was an intricate rune which she translated to simply mean ‘9’.
“Apologies for doubting your word. When I saw a Child of the Sultan I immediately assumed you would be following the others to Windcrown.”
Why were there agents going to Windcrown? Hawk voiced this question for her.
“We sailed from there. When we left, the whole city was a kicked termite’s nest. Apparently, someone kidnapped the Queen’s friend’s nephew or some such. But I saw several of the Sultan’s Children in town, likely helping look. Very noble of them.” She gave a sly smile indicating she thought differently but said nothing further.
Hawk simply nodded and left the cabin, leaving the captain to gather her papers. They made their way to the upper deck, watching the sailors preparing the ship for sail. The cargo was all stowed now, and it seemed everyone aboard was above deck, untying sheets, and hauling lines and whatever else it was that sailors did. She even saw Dantes among the crowd, somehow having integrated into the crew in no time at all, despite having been rebuffed by the man on the pier.
“That sounded like Will. We should go to Windcrown!” she meowed into his ear.
“It almost certainly is, Mitty. If I identified him as the loose thread, then the others would have as well. And why do you think they would capture him?”
She blinked, surprised he understood her. His cloak, she realised. He’d mentioned it connected him with nature among other things once. She guessed this was other things.
“To get back at Captain Crow for stealing the Sultan’s chest?”
Hawk shook his head, jostling her about a bit on his shoulder. She gave him a quick smack and he stopped, a bit sheepishly.
“As leverage, Mitty. They can’t find the chest without Captain Crow, and he would never give up the location of the island that houses his family’s legacy, supposed or not, much less whatever he stole from the Sultan.”
“You don’t know?”
Hawk stopped himself from shaking his head again.
“No. Only that it’s extremely important to the Sultan. A weapon of sorts, I assume. Not much else could be important to that man. Nothing that could fit in a box, at least. He has diamonds the size of this ship; losing a small box of treasure would be no different than a cat shedding a single hair.”
She harumphed at the comparison, as a single one of her hairs was more valuable than a measly box of treasure, but she supposed not all felines were as exemplary a specimen as herself.
“So shouldn’t we go to that island too?”
“Yes,” he started, “but there are two problems. One is that if I changed my mind so soon, the captain would be suspicious. I will tell her to change course in the morning, pretending to have received new orders. Second, I do not know the name of the island we are going to.”
“Why would that matter? Dantes should know roughly where it is. We stopped by there on the way to Windcrown” she meowed.
“It’s not so simple. To set foot on that island, you need to know more than its location, but the name of the island too.”
“That’s dumb. How are we supposed to know the name of a little reverse puddle in the middle of a big puddle?” she complained.
“I did find some papers but unfortunately, it’s in an old language I don’t understand. I doubt many alive would. I’ll have to consult some references I brought with me, but it may take a long time to decrypt. Don’t worry, we’ll save the boy.”
She supposed that was good enough. She’d take a look at it later. With all the important stuff out of the way, she hopped off his shoulder, and followed her nose to the kitchen, where she would triple the amount of fish being served on this bathtub.
***
It didn’t take long to find the kitchen. The halls below deck were mostly clear of sailors and their pungent scent, so following the smell of food was no problem. Making sure no eyes were watching, she ducked in to a neighbouring room to transform back.
Since she’d lost the clothes Delphi had given her back in Windcrown, transforming had become slightly more inconvenient, since only her cloak stayed with her through the transformation. She now had to store her clothes in her magic cloak pockets and equip them normally. She didn’t particularly care about being clothed, but unfortunately being half naked was frowned upon by humans, so she took it upon herself to protect their delicate sensibilities. Clothing also held an authority that humans seemed receptive to. It was an unfortunate need to garb herself, but without the external fur, human skin could get rather chilly, so it was a necessary burden.
After quickly pulling on her new favourite, if magically mundane dress, she strutted into the kitchen. Not waiting for a wiry boy to scramble out her way, she strode up to kitchen area and started pulling out drawers to take stock of what she was working with.
The cook appeared to be a rather large man in a stained white apron chopping some vegetables and throwing them into a big pot. He seemed unsure of what to do, expression fluctuating between stormy and servile. Seeing her pull out every drawer, setting random items on the formerly barren counters, he settled on stormy.
“If you don’t explain yourself right quick, amira, you’ll be finding yourself over there with Erqat peeling carrots. Not even the captain can boss me around my kitchen, so who are you to come in and treat it as your own?” he asked dangerously, still trying to guage where to put her in his internal hierarchy.
Unconcerned, she handed him a pot.
“Boil some water for me would you? I’m Mitty, your captain will be taking me north along with my friends. Wow, your kitchen is understocked. Where’s the cooler box?”
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“Err, over there” he pointed. “Wait, no, get out of my kitchen” he caught himself.
“No” she responded, peering into the runed box. Inside were a dozen fish on ice. Hardly enough for a crew. She supposed she’d have to improvise. “We’re making sushi tonight. Do we have seaweed? Ah nevermind, found it.” She stopped working to stare at him. “What are you gawking at? Put on some rice. We’ll want it dried before we can finish. And keep working on that soup thing you have going but add some more basil. And thyme. No thyme? Ugh, take this.”
***
In his thirty odd years since becoming ship’s cook for Captain June, and several more before her, Griffon had never felt as green as he did now. He knew there were important guests on board, but if they were bringing a chef of this caliber with them, they might be more important than he’d thought. A prince, perhaps. The hair on his arm stood up, though the kitchen was hot as always.
He tasted the soup. The odd little chef was right. Sailors rarely cared too much for quality beyond a minimum baseline, and complaining about the food was a favored pastime in fact, but he would be eating the same as they, though with some choicer scraps. He smelled the jar she’d handed him and was blasted by a thymy smell. Not just regular herbs then. He slowly added pinches until it tasted right, finding it required much less than he might expect would be needed to feed fifty men. Not even a spoonful.
Griff resumed his own task, trying to work around the piles of mess the amira had created on his pristine countertops. He wanted to be angry, to dunk her in a barrel of water, but the way she’d looked at him made him freeze. Even remembering it made his neck tickle. Like an ant, beneath her notice. A slab of meat on a cutting board.
He looked over discreetly while stirring the soup. Already it smelled better. She was hacking up seaweed into tiny slivers using a knife he’d trade his left nut to own. It wasn’t fancy, but the edge was wicked sharp, and the confidence with which it was wielded spoke of quality beyond what money could buy.
Wherever she went, a trail of disarray followed her. He winced when he saw the state of the cutting board after she’d done with it, scored badly, even a chunk taken out of it in one place. He’d heard noble kitchens had all enchanted gear, knives that stayed sharp, pots that didn’t char, and boards that didn’t fall apart under this sort of abuse. That the amira left his cutting board in the state it was in seemed to confirm his previous theory about her being personal chef to a prince.
His heart sank as he saw her throw a pan onto the hot plate. Those weren’t cheap to replace if they got chipped.
He opened his mouth, resolving to give her a piece of his mind, but she beat him to it.
“Oh right. You, go chop some cucumbers. And have the boy start peeling carrots, he’s been slacking off once he finished with the potatoes since before I got here.”
His mouth still open, the only words that escaped were “yes, amira.” He cursed himself for letting her walk over him. He looked over to see Erqat stifling a laugh.
“Enjoying the show boy? Why don’t you enjoy it while peeling those carrots. And washing the dishes tonight, hmm?”
A complaining look was quickly erased from Erqat’s face, and he just nodded reluctantly. He was a good kid, and clever enough too. If the boy didn’t one day end up on a nice contract for a big trading company he’d be surprised. But for now, this was still his kitchen. Well... he looked over, seeing the whirlwind who’d taken over his kitchen pull out the seaweed puree; it was now one solid green sheet. She replaced it with a second sheet of puree and then moved on to transfer the rice onto a clean towel.
He sighed, slicing up cucumbers into the finest strips he was capable of.
Suddenly she was next to him.
“Not like this. See, you want to score them like so before you cut them lengthwise.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin, all 300 pounds of him, but he nodded, noticing it was much easier to prepare the way she’d shown him.
He looked at the countertop, now packed with numerous pots and pans filled with unique sauces splattered all over. He sighed. This was going to be a long voyage. But perhaps one that he would enjoy.
“Hey cook man! Go catch us some fish! We’re going to need like 20 more! At least!”
His soul sighed, but “Yes, chef” was all his mouth said.
***
It was good to be back on the water. The smell of salt freshened the stale air in a way that lifted his spirits even when he hadn’t known they were depressed. He brushed off the sweat mixed with spray from his forehead as he trimmed the main sail with a heave. They were well underway now, the wind blowing from behind now, and the thin vessel near skimming the water. The Oasis was thinner and larger than the Spitfire, and not quite as fast. Additionally, there weren’t as many enchanted conveniences aboard, ropes needing to be pulled by hand, sheets trimmed and halliards tightened.
He almost preferred it this way, though the grumbling sailors around him certainly wouldn’t appreciate him saying that.
“Yer the new guy, eh? Ye know yer stuff, obvious. What’ya been doin’ with those vine eaters?” a man with tanned leathery skin asked.
“Just traveling with a friend, but I’m always on the lookout for more. Dantes’ the name” he said, sticking out a hand.
“Peter” the sailor responded, shaking his hand.
“Well Peter, how about I tie this sheet off, then we can go find something to eat. Supper’s going to be great, so we just need to make it there.”
Peter was a friendly sort, having sailed for over 50 years. He was apparently from a little village way up north but ran away from home and found work on a ship in New Vairon. He’d never returned. As they talked, they ate a surprisingly tasty soup from wooden bowls. It was well seasoned, but basic ingredients and simply prepared. According to Peter, this was about as good as it ever got, but Dantes smiled imagining how he’d would react tonight.
He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist taking over the kitchen as soon as possible. If she hadn’t already had the cook jumping at her word, he’d be shocked. From the two guys fishing off the back of the boat, he figured it would be fish. He did like fish, but he assumed Mitty was doing this for herself, he being only an incidental recipient.
That was fine with him. While their first arrangement had been only food based, he now understood what made the food she cooked for him special was not the taste of the food, but the intention behind it. That she cared enough about him to make him something, or something like that. He wasn’t great at putting words to it, but it gave him a nice fuzzy feeling knowing she cared.
Peter was currently trying to persuade Dantes to come dice with him, so they detoured the kitchen to get some money to gamble. He wasn’t sure how it worked exactly, but Bill assured him money would be required.
“Ah, Dantes, lad. This be the kitchen, not a cabin. Yer friend be put up in the captain’s cabin; we saw ‘em go in earlier, ‘member? Don’t wanna mess with the kitchen unless yer’ keen on peelin’ spuds, ya get me?”
“Oh, that’s Hawk. Friend of a friend, but I guess he’s not that bad. No, she’ll be here, I imagine.”
He swung open the door, revealing a mountain of pots and sauces and scents.
“Dantes! Here to help wash dishes? I’m running out of space. As you can see. The scrubs are… um… over there I think. Thanks!”
“No, we’re just here for money. Bill said he was going to teach me how to gamble! We do have some money, right?”
Mitts paused her rapid knifework to wash her hands. He hair was plastered on the sides of her head in a way that made his heart beat a bit faster. Her gaze held his for a moment, a smile creeping onto her face.
“Yeah, I think losing some money might do you some good. Unfortunately for you, we’re dead broke. The Order of the New Sun was quite stingy with their donations. Though that jerk had something… Oh! I have a couple silver cards. I picked them up in Windcrown because they had funny little doggies on them. Look!” she pulled out two silver tablets depicting wolves snarling. The eyes were a bit slightly worn, looking more like dots than eyes, giving them a somewhat cute look.
Peter seemed very shocked, likely also finding the dogs funny looking. “Er’ no, amira. We be playin’ for cops n’ beers mostly. I could break a sil if you had one though.”
“Hmm, no, nothing else. Here, take that plate over there and these pebbles. I’ll give seconds to anyone for one of these. That’s a fair trade, right? Here, there’s something on your shirt” she motioned him lean over.
As she brushed off some lint stuck to his collar, she pulled it down so their heads were level and he felt a soft pressure on his cheek.
“Have fun boys” she said shooing him off, face red. He hoped it wasn’t too hot in here for her. It did feel rather hot. Still, he knew she wouldn’t appreciate his concern in her domain, so he cleared out at her insistence. He felt rather hot too, even after having left.
Beside him the middle aged man chuckled. “Thas’ a nice lass ye’ got there. Make shore ya’ be holdin’ on wit’ both hands, ya hear?”
He nodded, only vaguely aware of what he meant. “I will” he said. “With all I got.”
Leaving with a handful of smooth black rocks and a plate of fresh uncooked fish wrapped in rice for whatever reason, they soon made their way to the sailor’s quarters. Most were idle now that the ship was properly underway and gathered around some dice. They looked up interestedly at their arrival.
The sailors were happy for the sushi, as Mitts had called it, and offered 2 coppers apiece for the stones.
After a short while of dice and then cards, he decided gambling was not for him. He was efficiently separated from all but one of his rocks which he kept for himself to secure a second serving later. For uncooked fish, it had surprising appeal, and he hoped to try a greater variety.
His wish was granted at dinner, which he ate with the rest of the crew, where they had all manner of different fish and vegetables, all wrapped in rice with various sauces laid out to try. His favourite was a dark brown one that was slightly salty with a faint hint of toasted seeds.
After he ate, he decided to work topside to relieve one of the sailors so they could come down and eat while it was still fresh.
When he finally made it back to the small cabin he’d been allocated for the trip, he found a little black ball curled up in the dead center of his bed.
***
After establishing proper hierarchy in the kitchen and finishing up dinner service for a bunch of unwashed sailors, she decided to let the former cook and his aide enlist some help to clean up. She certainly wouldn’t be getting her paws dirty. She vaguely recalled there had been something she’d meant to speak to Hawk about, but she couldn’t remember, so it probably wasn’t important.
Patting herself on the back, she headed back to Dantes’ room and went to sleep.
***
She woke up at a respectable hour the next day for the first time in what seemed like ages. After making sure Hawk had informed the captain of their change in course, she went back to sleep. Cooking for that many people was exhausting. She’d let someone else handle it.
***
Apparently, there was an underground (underboard?) fighting ring that Dantes managed to get himself roped into. She spent much of the day enjoying seeing him beat three sailors around the circle of barrels until no one was willing to take him on. Unfortunately, the first mate came in to break things up, as fighting onboard was against their sailor’s guidelines, effectively nixing her entertainment for the remainder of the short trip.
***
The sky was cloudless that night, and the stars painted the sky that milky twilight purple she so loved. Apparently Windcrown was the best place to stargaze, but she’d been too occupied during her visit to properly appreciate it. At least she’d seen the Aurora.
And stolen it.
Or at least some of it. Her hand lowered to her pocket guiltily at the thought. It was one of the many wonders she’d seen since coming to this world, and though she’d thought herself over adventuring, the sights she’d seen had boiled her blood in a way a cat her age’s blood ought not boil. Well, she was young yet, she just had to remind herself of it sometimes.
It was the companionship, she thought. Alone, these experiences had little meaning. But shared, they became treasured memories. Good memories enough to paint over the bad. That was why she was here.
If she were honest with herself, she didn’t too much care what happened to Captain Crow. Maybe Will, somewhat. Certainly not enough to sail halfway across the sea and throw herself into an island crawling with agents of the Sultan at a chance of maybe saving them.
No, she was here to protect Dantes from that loss. He’d never experienced it before, and she didn’t want him to have to. If she didn’t come, he would probably go anyway. He was stubborn like that, but she loved him for it. His loyalty. Unable to give up on those he called friend.
The boards creaked as she saw that very man climbing up to join her in the crow’s nest.
They sat in peace for a time, watching the stars.
“Cold night, huh?” he said.
She glanced sideways out him, noticing he didn’t look cold in the slightest, despite wearing nothing but that sleeveless white shirt that revealed his toned arms. It annoyed her though, because it was cold. She pulled her cloak tighter around her.
“It was like this that night back in Windcrown. You know, the one where you…” he trailed off.
“Broke down like a little girl and ran off crying?”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You were thinking it” she accused.
A pause.
“Well, it’s fine. I did. Back then you were saying what you would wish for, if you had one. Do you remember what you said?” she said with hopefully more calm than she was feeling.
“Family.”
“Yeah. Someone to love, who loves you back. I got mad, because I… had one, once.”
He looked with interest, but didn’t comment.
“Or I thought I did. I had a human named Emily. Emily Clark.”
“You’re Mitty Clark then?”
“Not quite” she said, looking away. She thanked Colin above for the darkness that hid her blush. “She named me Princess Fuzzy Mittens. It didn’t even make sense. I don’t have mittens. And the Clark was tacked after for paperwork reasons, I guess. ANYWAY, point is Emily loved me, and I loved her. Emily’s parents also loved me, I thought. Who wouldn’t? I was adorable. But it was mostly just me and Emily. Anyway, one day I made a mistake. I was napping by the window in the spot next to the potted plant, and Emily came up behind me to scratch me behind the ear. Usually, I like scratches behind the ear, but she surprised me, and without thinking, I scratched her.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. Everyone makes mistakes…”
“They took my claws Dantes. Pulled them right out of my paws. Sometimes I can still feel them missing. And then only a month later, they left.” She felt the ugly feeling welling up deep inside but continued. “They left. And they didn’t bring me with them. Just left me on the street and drove off. I loved them. But they… they…”
A warm blanked surrounded her as Dantes pulled her into a deep hug, completely engulfing her with his larger frame.
“It’s okay Mitty. I’m here” he said.
She nodded as best she could, buried in his chest. Tears trickled freely, but it felt right. This was someone who cared. Someone who loved her.
She could feel his heart beating strong and slow, and in time, her racing rhythm slowed to join it, two hearts beating in tandem.
They stayed like that for a long time, she thought, for when he spoke, she realised her eyes had dried.
“So, what would you wish for, Mitts? You said last time you didn’t know.”
“I wanted a place to call home. A place I belonged, I guess. Why? Still wishing for family?”
“Nah, family sounds lame if that’s what it’s about. We’ll do something better. Like super family. Anyway, I already love you, and you love me too, right? I didn’t even need to use a wish.”
She felt her face heating, but didn’t deny it. He continued.
“Maybe… hmm… oh! A cake! You promised me a cake! I wish for that.”
“Did I?”
“You did. Back in Esthar, you definitely said you’d bake me a cake.”
“I don’t remember that” she lied.
“Don’t deny it Mitts, I definitely remember you saying that.”
“I think your brain is fried, pooch. And stop scratching me behind the ear. I’ll bite you.”