Pots, with an awkwardness of growing too tall too quickly that was often seen in young men like him, nearly tripped across the open deck of the barge. The aft bargeman chuckled and then turned away, not wanting to appear too friendly to the young man with the handsome face that edged on prettiness. Pots had caught himself before dropping the wrapped basket of cakes and continued on his path between the aft port of the cook hall and the warrant’s stern cabin. They were far out in the central channel; here, the river was so vast that either shore was only a skim of brown. They were still weeks away from Central City. A few gliders and a single tug balloon dotted the sky. Their tug lines glistened with wet and ran tight to upstream trading barges that passed in the distance.
The lad stopped, balancing the cakes, and for a moment watched the airships far overhead.
Camomile had been wearing this shape for a week now. It was not a difficult disguise. It was not far off of her own, but she had made herself look male and much thinner. This shape she wore was what she imagined her younger brother would look like if she had a younger brother. This had always been a simple disguise for her, but something had been taxing her lately. She thought it was having to deal with Scrab. The way he lurked around her he seemed to be watching and listening all the time. Or possibly it was this Sister. As the High Priestess had warned her, she was a Seer. Seers were rare, and because of this, she had never worked against one. She didn’t like the unknown. She was always prepared. Always tested. This was ground she had never walked before. Unfamiliar ground she couldn’t prepare for. She was sure it was the thing that was making her feel uncomfortable. Unprepared. It was something the Brotherhood taught you on day one. Your footing was everything.
Cam, still appearing as the new recruit Pots, reinserted the clumsiness into her walk and continued across the open deck. She came up to the open hatch of the warrant's quarters. Since this was its own sealed compartment, it had an inner and outer hatch. The inner hatch would be kept closed by the Sister, and between the two doors was a small shadowy vestibule that could serve as a depressure chamber. It was just large enough for two men to stand abreast. Not very much space. She stepped over the door sill and glanced at the aft bargeman to check his sightline. His post didn’t give him a clear view of this small vestibule. She dropped to one knee, lay the basket on the deck and slipped a fold of cloth and a wrap of parchment from under the wraped cakes. From the cloth, she dropped some flour onto the door latch. Then, taking the parchment, she opened it over her palm, being sure to keep the oil side out, and very carefully grasped the latch with the parchment and knocked.
Instantly the door latch was ripped out of her grasp as it was thrown upwards from the inside. The hatch door was opened, and the stout sister stood there in her narrow mask and long robe.
“What do you want?” What are you doing?”
“Ah. Ma’am. The Warrant said you might like some of the fresh rice cakes I made…?” She paused. Still nothing. “That I just made. They’re still warm Ma’am.”
“What are you doing?”
“Sorry Ma’am. I just stopped to wipe the handle. My hands are dirty from baking, and I didn’t realize it. I left a mess here on the door. I was just cleaning it.”
The sister looked at what Pots held in her hand—the folded material, the flour and oil—and then at the basket of cakes as Pots threw back its cover.
The sister hesitated. “I was just leaving,” She said.
“There ain’t no place to leave, too, Ma’am.” Pots replied, tucking the rags away and picking up the basket to stand.
“I was going back to study my fa… the Ambassador’s airship.”
“Why?”
“I’m. I’m interested in studying the wreckage. The Ambassador was killed in the crash.”
“That’s what some say. Others say the wayfarer folk assassinated him. But you’re sure you wouldn’t like some rice cakes? I just took them out of the oven. I haven’t seen you in the kitchen. You must be hungry Ma’am.” The priestess studied the outstretched basket of golden biscuits.
“Come in.”
It wasn’t a very large room, but with the far wall open and unsealed like it was now, it seemed as if they were standing outside. The sister withdrew to a small table in the middle of the cabin and stood with her back to Cam as she watched the clourful tug kites. They would dip and swing a pendulum arc downstream, then turn, grab the upstream wind, and climb to pull their tug lines behind them. Like a hand on a fishing pole, they would pull with the wind until the tug line stalled their climb and then plunge to give slack as they gathered enough airspeed for another climb and tug.
“They are beautiful, aren’t they.” Cam heard herself saying in not quite the right vocal register.
“Yes.” The Sister, also a disguise Cammomile thought to herself, the former Princess of The People’s Army, and now the Empress since her father had been assassinated, turned and locked those red seer’s eyes onto her. She had taken off her mask and placed it on the table as her back had been to her.
“Just leave them on the table. I may have a few then go.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“The Warrant has asked me to keep you company for a bit, Ma’am.”
“I don’t want company. And stop calling me that. It makes me sound old.”
“What should I call you then?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know. But not that. I said you could leave.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“That’s no business of yours.”
Camomile gestured to the basket. “The cakes I brought you are getting cold. I have a dab of honey in there from the ship’s stores. Would be a shame to let them get cold.”
The empress looked at the basket of rice cakes. She didn’t recall the last time she had eaten and the warm aroma of baked cake was mouth-watering.
“You even brought a kitchen knife to cut and spread the honey with.” She looked back up to the young man—the same one who had come and fetched her from the village lodge house. Now their new cook.
“I apologize. I have been rude. You have been nothing but kind to me, and what you have done here is very considerate. You’ll have to excuse me. I have been experiencing a phase of upheaval for the last little while. Much of this is new to me. Will you sit with me and have some with honey?”
“Yes. I would like that. The Warrant wouldn’t let me have honey. Are you new to the sisterhood? Left home and all that? I have too. New recruit. On a new adventure.”
“Well, then. Let's sit. I’ll pour us some water. We’ll have lunch, and then I’ll go about my business. Yes. I guess we’re similar, aren’t we? We're starting new phases in our lives. And it takes getting used to.”
The young man, Pots, pulled out a chair and sat while the Sister went to the water carafe and took down two stone mugs from their wooden pegs.
“About that, Sister. The Warrant really doesn’t want you up going about your business. He’s said he’s given you his cabin so you can stay back here aft and away from the men.”
“Well, I don’t really care what the Warrant wants. I’ll go about as I wish.”
“He thinks it will be safer, and if you don’t, it may start a fight.”
“How so?” She sat, placed the mugs down and poured. Pots took up a biscuit, cut it, and spread it with a touch of honey.
“He sent this honey in order to convince you.”
“It is rare—all the way from the east. I’ll still go about as I wish. This is a long voyage. I won’t be confined to this room for the entire time.”
“This is the only little carafe on board. He said a merchant gave it to him. I wish you would stay in here as much as you can.”
“Why would you care what I do?”
“The Warrant has given the task to me. To ensure you’re ok here and don’t wander about.”
“So his men fight. Men fight every day. Let them.”
“He has a very rough crew on this ship. He doesn’t think the fight would end with a fight. The winner would consider you as the prize.”
The sister set her sip of water down.
“Well that would be an interesting turn of events. Let one of them just try it.”
“That’s the thing. He doesn’t want his men getting out of hand.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad here. This doesn’t look like a ship of pirates. It’s a barge of The People’s Army. I don’t see any Marines on board. This is not a prison ship.”
“Nonetheless, Ma’am, the Warrant considers it pretty much that way. He says his able men are one step out of jail.”
“Then how does he keep them in line without a ship's detachment of marines?”
“That blaster. It’s a tech-controlled thing. One that only answers to his touch. Then he bribes the bargemen to watch his back by giving them equal parts of all the coin he gets his hands on. The Warrant doesn’t consider himself safe on board. He sure doesn’t consider you safe.”
“Well just let them try.” She said, and picked up a cake and spread honey on it, and passed it to the young cook. “I have questions I want answered, and I’m going to start by studying that airship.”
“Why the airship?”
“I think it is the first step to attempting to discover what truly happened to the Ambassador.”
“Are you, like, an official investigator for the Sisterhood?”
“No. Not really.”
“Well, Ma’am. The airship isn’t going anywhere, and neither are we. It’s my duty to make sure you stay here, so why can’t you just stay here, for most of the time, at least? It’s not like you can’t go out with that wall there that opens right up to the outside. It’s nice here.”
“So then what happens if I don’t obey?” She said, her expression challenging.
“Then I’ll probably get a beating.”
“I will in no way let that happen.”
“May just be easier for everyone if you just stayed in your cabin, Ma’am. Let me bring you things. It is the nicest room on the ship. I’ll probably get beat worse if you say something and try to stop it.”
The sister picked up another cake and put some honey on it for herself.
“You may be right. I could try staying put for a little while, at least. Tell me. Do you play cards?”
Camomile, the assassin hunter and top agent of the high priestess nodded and said, in the voice of a young man, “Yes, I do. I’ll warn you; I’m quite good.”
The former Princess, the new supreme commander of The People’s Army hiding as a travelling sister replied, “You better be. I’ll need a challenge if I’m going to be confined to this cabin.”
“You’re thinking you’ll beat me anyways. You have the eyes of a seer.”
The sister shook her head and let out a self-depreciating laugh. “No. I won’t be able to see your cards. I’m not near-sighted. I’m far-sighted. Far too far-sighted for this ‘gift’ to be of any use. If you believe in the sight, that is.”
“Good. No cheating. It will give us a chance to get to know each other.” Cam said, smiling. “Although I think I know you well enough.”
“How so?”
“You’re all about the business.”
“How so? What business?”
"Any business you may be about."
“And this? What about this?” The accolade asked, and pulled a lanyard from inside her neckline. On it was a tiny crystal ball, an optical sensor. The one that had sat on the High Priestess’ desk. The one that the woman, the professor had spoken to them through. “Does this worry you? Do you know what it is? If we are to sit and play cards, can you be comfortable with this?”
“It is a thing of your office?” Cam had been able to conceal her surprise. She had been playing the spy game for a long time, and was used to people trying to shock her into revealing herself. It hadn’t worked, but she wondered now if the Princess, no, the Empress was her new title, she wondered if the Empress suspected her.
“What can it do?” Cam asked, “What is it for?”
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to take it to the Central City.”
‘She is not bad at lying,’ Cam thought. “Well. Should we look in here for some cards? And if you’re agreeing to not use your sight on me, then I agree not to try to cheat you…” and then Cam smiled at the Empress and recited;
“… ‘or I’ll pick those rings out of the wall behind you,’…” she mimicked, and they both laughed, and Cam could not help but look at the optical sensor. She could almost feel the woman from the top of the central tower, the professor that had spoken to them like a god, staring back at her.