Captain Adelaide Springett

My retirement had never sounded so sweet as when we took that scoundrel aboard. Within five minutes, our new recruit had slipped belowdecks, astounded Bly with her obvious flirtation, toppled my bookcase, and charred the rug with my favorite candle.

When I caught up to her, dragging my bad leg behind me, all she did was look around with wide eyes and say sweetly, “When will dinner be served?”

“As soon as you’re done cooking it,” I replied. “Report to the galley and Kiona will instruct you.” Kiona would be happy to have a pair of fresh eyes. She was nearly as old as I. “Oh, and one more thing - remind me of your name?”

“Daisy,” she replied. “Daisy Bernice Gunne, and don’t you forget it, Captain.”

“I won’t make any promises.”

After 30 years, the airship Quaerere was old and tired, just like its captain and crew. Most of us have been here since the beginning, when we first mapped the Arctic. Ropes that were once stiff with newness now coil nicely into their places. The stairs have grooves down the middle, worn down by decades of foot traffic. My rear has permanently dented my chair in the bridge. I could navigate these halls in my sleep - and I do. When I dream, it’s the Quaerere that I’m always trapped inside.

My crew is ready to quit. I’m ready to retire with all the honors of three decades of mapmaking. We just have one last run to make - to Antarctica. Sending us here was one of Queen Angeline’s first edicts.

I hated our Arctic sojourns. The cold never leaves your bones. So what will the feared Antarctic be like?

We stocked up in Londinium. That’s where we picked up the girl. Apparently she was the Guild’s best and brightest, chosen specifically by the queen to accompany us. When I passed the mapmaking test with the highest possible score, Queen Nicola gave me a medal. I still wear it as part of my uniform.

After her passing last year, I wondered what would become of the Guild. Most of the world has been explored, the original maps safely stored in the Archive. I expected the mapmakers to slowly wither away with age: meeting for reunions every year, and fewer people every time. What else could there be?

Apparently, the Antarctic.

I remember being just like her. Bubbly, energetic, playful. I didn’t know what being a mapmaker really meant. Long nights tracing by candlelight. Always gazing at the land while your hand follows the curves and swirls of the coastline. The obsession with making your perfect map. Hours spent practicing your insignia for a finished piece. And the constant, mind-bending fear of pirates just over the horizon.

I’m numb after 30 years of this. And I don’t even make maps anymore. I just hope that this new recruit, whatever her name, is as good as Her Majesty thinks she is.

The food that Kiona and the girl cooked was fine, but I could tell by Kiona’s face that it hadn’t gone well. I pulled her aside. “What’s wrong?”

Kiona scrunched her face, chin quivering. “She wanted to change the recipe!”

I jumped, startled. “Change the recipe?!” I stomped my left foot two times, to let Garland, the god of mapmakers, know that we would never do such a thing.

“I couldn’t believe it either! What kind of guild school did she go to? Did they not teach her the importance of following the recipes? Why, Sir Julius Glass could not have made the best maps without the help of the Mapmaker’s Stew.”

“I’ll have to talk to her,” I sighed. Kiona tapped her left hand on the wall twice, and we turned to look at the table just as a cheer erupted. My crew members clapped as the girl inserted another olive into her bulging mouth. “Twenty-one!” Sidney shouted.

“Stop this nonsense!” I said loudly. The room quieted, and the girl chewed the olives, a smug look on her face. “Everyone, it’s time to eat. You, follow me.”

I pointed at the girl and she came with me to my office, still loudly chewing. I pulled out a chair for her to sit down, and I stood at the window. I could see the waves of the sea, hundreds of feet below us. “It seems that we have started off on the wrong foot,” I began. “Which is partly my fault. I neglected to tell you about my job.” I pivoted and leaned against the windowsill. “My job is to make sure this ship is in the air and making good maps. And I will tell you now - we cannot make good maps if you insist on making a spectacle of yourself. You are not here to make friends. You are here because the queen insisted on it. She said you are the brightest mapmaker in the guild.”

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She interrupted, her eyes shining. “She really said that about me?”

“Yes. But that’s besides the point. You are here to make good maps once we reach Antarctica. That’s it. Until then, you will help Kiona in the galley. But do not ever speak again about changing a recipe or doing anything else out of the ordinary. Garland does not approve of it. If you have any further questions, Kiona and I would be happy to set you straight. The 200-year history of the Guild is resolute and unchanging. Do you understand?”

“What’s wrong with changing the recipes? It’s just food.”

“It is not just food, and I do not understand how you made it through your apprenticeship without understanding the superstitions and rules that we Mapmakers have.”

“I didn’t have an apprenticeship.”

“What? Then how did you learn to make maps?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I practiced.”

“Everybody practices. I don’t understand what makes you different.”

“I don’t either, but everyone seems to think I’m special.” She shrugged, a smirk on her face.

Oh my. At mapmaking schools, this sort of pride is taught out of new recruits. What did she have to do, to hide this so obvious personality trait from her instructors? And why, of all captains, must I deal with it? I expect uncharted waters in the future, in more ways than one.

Junior Mapmaker Daisy Gunne

Today was the best day of my life. Until I realized that I was aboard the wrong airship. I’d just gotten a new job in Parisius, and my transport was an airship on its regular schedule between the two capitals

Well, due to my truly terrible sense of direction plus poor attention to detail, I got turned around at the airport. By the time I figured out my mistake, we’d already left Londinium behind. And everyone thinks I’m a genius mapmaker. I pity the real apprentice, who is probably freaking out right now.

Captain Springett is definitely off her rocker. All that talk about recipes? And who is Garland, anyway?

More importantly, how am I going to draw these maps? I know close to nothing about their craft. And they’re under the impression that I’m a prodigy. I’d better figure out what to do, and quickly. Good thing I’m so good at lying.

I noticed lots of old books in the captain’s office. Maybe I can learn from them. I hope mapmaking is easy. All you have to do is look, and draw what you see? Easy-peasy. A toddler could do it.

I’m half-listening as the captain continues her lecture. Finally, it’s my turn to talk. I gesture toward the shelves. “I’d love to borrow some of your books. Learn from the old masters.”

“Which is your favorite?” Her eyes narrow with suspicion.

Let’s hope my bluff works. “I enjoy all of them, how they have, um, different styles but keep the cohesion. It’s amazing what we can learn from older maps and their makers.”

She walks to the bookshelf. My answer must have satisfied her. She limps as she brings me half a dozen thick books. “These are some of my favorites. I hope you enjoy them too.”

“Thank you. May I return to dinner now?”

“Yes, as long as you put the books in your cabinet first. And no more shenanigans.”

“Okay.”

Head Cook Kiona Bream

I tapped my hand on the counter twice. Garland be praised, this girl has really improved! No longer questioning the recipes, she cooks, cleans, and serves without complaint. Tomorrow we will reach the Antarctic coast.

Our airship is buffeted by strong winds. Captain Springett and the deck crew struggle to keep her on our southerly course. I can tell, because their faces are downcast even as I serve our favorite meals. After thirty years, I’ve learned to pick up on their signals. We all look forward to when this job is done. I, for one, will be living in a cottage by the sea, tending to my herbs until it’s time for me to rejoin the earth.

I’m curious about this girl. She is supposed to be a mapmaking genius, and yet she does not have the steady hand or focused mind of a true mapmaker. Perhaps when the charcoal is in front of her, she can fixate on the map? I hope to see her in action tomorrow.

After supper, Bly finds me in the galley. We chat for a few minutes, but I can tell something is on his mind. “Kiona? Do you think Daisy likes me?”

There it is. “Oh, Bly, why would you think that?”

“She laughs at everything I say, and she played checkers with me.”

“Personally, I think she’s a bit of a flirt. Why don’t you try befriending her first, and then see what happens after that?”

He looked at me with renewed confidence. “Thanks, Kiona. You’re the best.”

I glared at him.

“Excuse me. Garland is the best. But Kiona, you have been very helpful. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Bly.”

Bly is much younger than the rest of us. I think sometimes, while we complain of our aches and pains, he wishes he was someplace else. It will be good for him to befriend someone closer to his age. And who knows? Maybe a romance will blossom, right here on our very own Quaerere.