Chapter 5:

  Things settled into a routine. The Admiral would visit with Nereida when the children pyed, a break from her work, but a pleasant one. They never talked about much of importance. Nereida told her stories of growing up in a seaside manor, of how the sea always called to her. Light stories, about pets and childhood adventures with her brothers. She never named names. Ael returned in kind, telling of her favourite horse as a child, of the scrapes she’d get into with the servants’ children.

  The boys were enamoured with Epelda, and sought her out at every given opportunity. Their signing became more precise. Epelda had never looked so happy. She pyed with the boys, ughed deeply and roughhoused with them at least twice a day. She taught them to safely climb, and the little boys heeded her words as if she were a family member. She also taught them how to scrub the deck and peel potatoes. Soon both little boys were happily helping in the kitchen, peeling while she chopped. Either their mother or father went with them, keeping little boys under watchful eyes. The countess would help but the count simply watched. That was fine by the Admiral; she worried his anger at being stuck at sea would boil over and roast the potatoes.

  The little boys adjusted quickly to the moving deck, as if they were born of it, and by the end of the week they were begging to be allowed to climb the ropes and riggings, to be “part of the crew”. After a brief discussion with Nereida, they were taught how to safely climb, but never went beyond the arms' reach of an adult or Epelda. The Count rarely appeared above deck, but when he did he was brooding and quiet, watching everyone with dark, unfathomable eyes. He had switched into simple clothing like Nereida and the children, the only mark of his royal upbringing was the circlet that tamed his red, receding hair. His expression only softened when he watched the children py. His gait was still awkward, and he moved about with difficulty, often cursing quietly when he thought no one could hear him.

  Every night, once the men in her family were asleep, Nereida would join them and spin fantastic tales. She spun stories of adventures where heroes went looking for the entrance to the Heavenly Paces said to be hidden on a secret isnd. She told the story of a princess leaving behind the trappings of royalty every day in disguise, hoping to find true love. She told stories of a brave Sylph who rescued a hurt Siren from Demons most foul. Her stories were full of life and energy, almost too fantastical to believe. The crew adored her stories. Ael began to wonder if this noblewoman had spent time hiding in a performers troupe. The Admiral’s favourite of the stories was the second she told, for it made her long for what could be for Epelda. In a just world, one where her family accepted adoption, she’d make Epelda her heir.

  “Long ago, a Great King and Queen ruled over their nds. They were said to be fair and just, ushering in a new era of peace and prosperity for their people. They ended disputes between the lords and dies of their realm. They had grand balls and invited all, threw festivals that celebrated their people. They lived modestly for royalty.

  “But there remained a great sadness in the Queen’s heart. For she loved her husband dear, and, as the story goes, often.” This was met with ughs from the crew. Nereida paused her tale and let them snicker, a mischievous smile pying on her face. “Theirs was said to be the truest love. But despite years of trying, the Queen did not fall pregnant. All hope seemed lost, and the King began to fear what would happen when he and his wife perished.” Nereida looked appropriately sad at these words, letting the feeling of doom hover in the air before she continued. “The Queen decided to pray to the gods. She went to the holiest site of her people. It was deep in the mountains, where fire churned in the belly of the sleeping Volcano known as Dragon’s Rest. She forced herself to walk as any other pilgrim; no escort, no guard, only herself, her pack and her walking stick. Each night, she offered up quiet prayers to the gods. Each day she walked miles under the hot sun until she found the sacred caverns.

  “But she was not the only one at the temple. At the foot of the altar was a basket. Swaddled in the basket was a baby boy, no more than a month old, with hair of the brightest red and eyes bck like coal. She picked up her miracle from the gods. She named the child Diodoro, gift of the gods. The little foundling prince was cherished beyond measure, but was loved most of all by his mother.”

  A week in, the weather changed. The wind blew against them, a cold, prickly wind that heralded a storm. There would be no stories that night. The Admiral approached Nereida as the children pyed, heedless of the danger that could overtake them by nightfall.

  “A storm is coming,” Nereida said without preamble. The Admiral gaped at her. “I told you, I’ve served on a ship. And I grew up on the seaside. I know this wind.” There was no patience or grace in her tone, but an icy hardness. “Let me help.”

  “And risk you going overboard?” The Admiral could not help but let some concern into her tone. She wanted to see the Countess safe. Besides, it would be bad form indeed for their guest of honour to go overboard. But Nereida scoffed at her haughtily.

  “It’s all hands tonight. I can help. Leave the boys below deck.” The Admiral scowled at the unruly Countess. Was this woman as much as a pain in the arse for her family too?

  “Epelda! Bring me a rope.” The deckhand, unaccustomed to the sharpness in the Admiral’s tone, scurried to comply. She handed the rope the Admiral, gncing nervously between the two older women before she decided to flee back to her post. The Admiral tossed the rope at the countess. The noblewoman fumbled but caught it.

  “Show me a bowline, a clove hitch and a cleat hitch. If you can do all three, you can stay.” The countess narrowed her eyes defiantly, and she took the end of the rope, dropping the rest.

  “Even my boys know “The rabbit comes out of the hole, goes around the back of the tree, and then jumps back into the hole.” I am not a hapless child.” She twisted the knot as she spoke, hardly even gncing at the rope as she did so. Her muscles remembered, this was not an unpracticed skill. The Admiral took the knot, slipped it over the fife rail, pulling it tight. It was a solid knot, and she nodded her approval.

  The countess did the other two knots with little difficulty, and they were well constructed. She was not as quick as some, but extra hands could be the difference between life and death. And so, despite herself, she sighed in resignation.

  “All hands starts now,” the Admiral said firmly. “Go change; trousers if you have them, no belts, no coronets and have your hair in the tightest braid you can. If the wind is half as bad as I expect, stray hairs will be blinding. Dismissed.”

  “Yes Admiral.” There was a fierceness in the stormy eyes, the crows feet crinkling as the noblewoman fought a smile. She clicked her heels together and stomped off, calling for her children with a sharp tone that made them both jump. Ael watched the woman leave, the noblewoman’s hips swaying as she glided across the deck. Her gaze lingered longer than was acceptable, and so she turned to busy herself.

  The Admiral found Epelda a few moments ter.

  “The countess will be with you tonight. She’s well trained in knots, and while she doesn’t look too strong I trust you can keep her occupied and useful?” She signed slowly, sharply, as her mind whirled with ways this could go sideways.

  “Mama-Samander is staying on deck?”

  “All hands. She insisted.” The adolescent sighed a deep sigh that seemed to come from her toes.

  “I’ll keep her out of hot water.”

  The crew responded swiftly to the All Hands. The countess was up in minutes, ready and dressed as ordered. She clearly had some training, but struggled to keep up even with Epelda. Still, she did not falter, she did not slow. The Admiral worked alongside Evander, the two of them in harmony the way she was with no other.

  The wind was strong enough to steal the breath from the Admiral’s lungs if she turned the wrong way. Water sprayed up as the waves responded to the storm. Everything that could be secured was tied down or nailed down. The thunder and wind made communication nearly impossible, and the driving rain limited what they could see.

  The Admiral sent the bulk of the crew down to row. They needed to maintain forward movement to escape the storm. She bustled over toward where Epelda and Nereida were finishing up with a cannon. The helmsman was tied to the wheel, a precaution against him being washed overboard. The Admiral yelled out for Epelda, but over the roaring thunder and waves, the girl did not hear her. She should have just ordered the dragonsforsaken nobles below deck and had Epelda sing them away!

  Gritting her teeth and grabbing the railing, the Admiral made her way toward the st two who were not needed above deck. Lightning lit up her vision, nearly blinding her as thunder roared at the same moment. Her senses completely overwhelmed, she had no time to see that the mizzenmast had been struck by lightning. The scent of burning wood and canvas was the only warning she had before something heavy struck her and she knew no more.