NaNoWriMo: Spirits of Escape

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Spirits of Escape

Chapter 1: Fall of Escape

She was always scheming.

He could see it in her eyes before she even said those magic words.

“I have a plan.”

“Really, Azara, what is it? I can’t be out all afternoon,” a thin boy said as he shut the door to a small dirty shop that sold a variety of wares.

“I can’t tell you here,” the little girl he was following said with a roll of the eyes. “Honestly, Rory, you never know who is listening…” she continued, squinting her eyes into little hazel slits and looking at the townsfolk as they strolled down the main thoroughfare.

Azara Starcatcher whipped her mane of dreadlocked red hair around and smiled somewhat evilly. Rory had a moment of trepidation before he heard the words come out of her mouth.

“Race?”

“Race,” he replied, sounding just and mischievous as her smile.

They took off.

Azara started laughing as her leather strip covered feet slapped against the dirt road. She was sprinting as hard as her legs could handle, arms out stretched. Rory was at her heel, the tufts of bleached blonde locks waved into his eyes. He was smiling. They hadn’t raced one another for months. Rory was determined to show her how strong he had gotten and how much taller. He stretched his legs out bare feet and all, passing her easily. He heard her scoff behind him. He turned his head just once and grinned.

They ran past the small cluster of stores and taverns that made up the main portion of the town of Sevens Port. They passed the docks of the port and flew into the market place filled with men and women selling fruit and smoked meats. Far out in the bay was a tall ship with its anchor weighed. Rory spared it one quick glance, he’d have plenty of time to look at it again the following day. Right now he was racing and the afternoon on the island was perfect.

They passed the town’s council building and the few scattered homes on the edge of town before passing under the town’s north gate. They ran past the first outlaying farm. The dirt road was beginning to thin to a space wide enough for only one cart. Rory sped past the wood fencing and the field that was already harvested. The wind flared up and rustled his pale linen shirt. They were passing the farmhouse. It belonged to the Grainreaper family. All nine of them. The house itself was built from logs of the forest that once stood there. It had a beautiful entrance with a wide welcoming door. Rory and Azara both knew the children there and each were tempted to call out as they passed. But this race, was for them alone.

“TURN!” Azara called roughly and veered sharply to her right, the little silver hoops in her ears flashing.

Rory, who was caught off guard, stumbled as he tried to slow his speed and double back to where Azara has turned off the road. She was jetting past the backside of the farmhouse toward the barn that was nestled in the far corner of the field. She was running harder, he could tell. She really wanted to beat him, prove that not seeing each other for the months he was on the ship had changed nothing. She was still Azara and Azara always beat him. Rory smiled to himself and watched the light blue tunic she was wearing flutter at her sides. He knew he had gotten taller but Azara was still the small skinny girl she had always been, dry elbows and all.

He chased her for a while, always running just behind her, seeing her hands clench and dart out, grabbing the air. They darted through the thin woods, dried leaves crunching under their feet. The trees were nearly bare this time of the year. Azara darted in and out of them, her hair setting fire to the landscape. It was so red it reminded Rory of the cardinal feathers all spread out in flight. Her skin blended with the autumn background, golds and browns. He could hear her laughing. He quickened his pace and dived in and around the trees following Azara’s nimble steps.

Both were laughing as they leapt over the thinnest part of the stream that ran through the woods out to the shore. When they broke out of the woods, Rory lightly tapped her shoulder and took off at a dead sprint, leaving the girl several paces behind him.

“DOWN!” Rory called to her and took off toward the bottom of the valley.

They were on a field. Before them were huge rolling golden fields. Rory sped down the hillside kicking up blades of the long grass behind him. Azara was beginning to get angry. He had changed while they were apart, and what she was feeling was more jealously than dislike for this Rory who was her Rory, but not at the same time. How dare he run off and grow and learn how to beat her at her own race. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, but it was great fun.

The grass was soft under her feet and the wind was strong. They were running hard, but moving slow. Rory’s hair, that was several shades lighter than it had been at the beginning of summer, curled and twisted above his head. It had a strange cut to it, longer on top and haphazardly hacked away along the sides and in the back. It looked like someone, probably a man, had sliced it with a dull knife. Not that it looked terrible, but it was different. Rory’s arms had out grown the light colored shirt he was wearing, his thin wrists pulled out of them, showing off the two blue beaded bracelets on his left arm. He was leaping down the second hill at great length. Azara reasoned that he had finally grown into his name. Rory Breezerunner.

They were almost there. So close. They had just crossed over the East Road and flew over the other side. Azara’s legs were becoming numb and it was becoming harder to breathe. Rory showed no signs of slowing, so she pushed herself harder. She grunted as they hit the rocky shoreline on the opposite side of the island. Rory was two paces ahead of her still. A few more steps and it would be over. Azara dived forward, her dirty feet hitting the water at the same time as Rory’s.

“—Tie,” he huffed and collapsed onto the wet sand.

The wave retreated in to the wide ocean before them. Azara stood a moment longer, breathing hard. She staggered back a few steps and fell next to where Rory lay, sounding like he was dying.

“You’re… taller,” she said, half panting.

“I know,” he replied, eyes wide and staring up at the bright blue sky.

Azara turned her head and stared at her childhood friend, her snarled and thick hair dragging through the sand. His profile was the same. Stupid upturned nose and all. His lips were long and thin, and started to curve into a grin.

“You’re slower, have you been stuffing yourself since I’ve been gone?”

The answer he received was a face full of wet dirty sand. Azara stood up, angry and started to dash down the rocky sandy shore.

“Azara! I was kidding! Come back!” Rory jumped to his feet and wiped the muck out off of his cheek and out of his eyes.

Before he took off running after her, he scooped up a handful of the slimy sand under the incoming wave. It didn’t take him long to catch her, and he reached his arm back well behind his head and let the soggy missile fly at her back. Azara was turning as it hit, her eyes narrowed in rage.

“You’re a dead man, Rory Breezerunner.”

***

The sun was getting low in the sky and soon it would be setting below the horizon of the ocean. Azara was hopping around on the rocks, jumping from one to the next. Rory walked beside her, looking out down the shore, watching the way the land curved out before them. Azara was making a ridiculous amount of noise on the rocks. Pebbles were sliding all about and she was setting larger pieces off balance as she landed on them and quickly leaped off. Dried sand covered her legs all the way up to the cut pants she had on. They were made of a thick brown material and were probably one of her older siblings before they were hers. They were laced with leather along the sides of her hips and hung too low to be proper for a girl her age.

“Is it terribly different to be thirteen, Rory?” she asked, smearing dirt from her arms onto the blue shirt.

He turned and gave her an odd look. “No different than it was to turn twelve, I’m sure.”

For a moment Azara studied him. His eyes shone bright in the late afternoon. They were a shade of blue that was clearer than the water around them and light enough that sometimes they looked white. Azara slipped back into her thoughts and kicked a stone off of the boulder she was scaling.

“I don’t want to turn thirteen.”

“Why? It’s not that bad. You get to be taller,” Rory said light heartedly, but he guessed where Azara’s comments were going.

Her voice turned a slightly bitter tone, “I’d rather be short, and stay a child then turn thirteen and have to be a lady. Tarria says that when I’m thirteen I’ll have to stop acting the way I do and act like one of the ladies of the house. I’ll have to be responsible, and watch the boys instead of playing with them and…and it’ll be just awful… but I’ve got a plan!”

“So what’s your grand scheme this time?” Rory almost automatically began to roll his eyes.

Azara lit a wicked smile. “I’m going to join your ship!”

Rory stopped dead in his tracks and started up at the girl clambering off of a two-foot rock and onto the sand.

“You’re – what?”

“Going to join your ship. And you are going to get me on it.”

“I’m going to get you on it?! How am I supposed to get you on it? They don’t allow girls,” he said abashedly. She couldn’t really expect him to help on this. “It’s bad luck.”

“Who’s going to tell them I’m a girl?”

Rory crossed his arms.

“I’m not helping. Besides, you’re mom won’t allow it.”

“Who cares?! And you will help me,” she said quite firmly.

“It’s dangerous you know.” Rory puffed out his chest and jutted his chin in the air. “Man’s work.”

“Oh, garbage! You know that’s a lie. I could do just as well as you. Better even.”

Rory sighed. There was no arguing, he knew that. Once Azara had a plan the only thing you could do was go along with it until something else caught her eye. She had obviously been thinking about this for sometime. She had the look in her eyes. That look that told him if he asked the right question she would launch herself into a diatribe. Plots thicker than the sand they were walking on.

“Alright, Azara. I’ll help, what do I have to do?”

She clapped her hands together and smiled hugely. “Oh, excellent! This is going to be such an adventure, Rory!”

“I’m sure it will. Let’s hear it then.”

“First we need to cut my hair—“

“Cut your hair? What for?!” Rory said louder than he meant. “I mean, you have nice hair. For a girl. You can just put it into a ponytail. Boys do that too.”

Azara frown. “No, no. It has to go. I’ll look too much like myself if I have long hair. And I can’t be me while we do this. It won’t work otherwise. It’s a pity, but it has to be done. I’ve made up my mind. Do you have your knife?”

Rory ran a hand threw his hair, which had become quite a bit curlier since being drenched in sweat and salt water. Instead of answering he pulled open a small pouch attached to his belt. After rummaging for a moment he produced a small blade and undid it from its sheath. It was fairly sharp and would work well on her hair.

“Are you sure about this? What are you going to do once your hair is cut?”

“Dress like a boy,” she said fingering a starfish necklace she had on.

“You already dress like a boy,” he said gesturing to mud and sand soaked attire.

“Shut up. Then we’ll go find your captain. And talk him into letting me work on the ship,” she replied irritably and tucked the starfish under her tunic collar.

“You don’t know the captain, it will never work. Besides, he’s terribly strict. And disciplines the hands when they’re out of line. You don’t know the first thing about working a ship. He’ll give you lashes faster than you can run,” Rory told her matter-of-factly.

“He let you on didn’t he? And if you’re ship’s boy, I can be like the assistant ship’s boy.”

“My assistant? Well, I might like that,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, stop. Then once he says yes, we’ll sail at dawn! To adventure! To treasure! To—”

“What’s your mother going to say when you tell her you’re dressing as a boy to serve on a pirate ship?”

“She won’t say anything, because I’m not going to tell her.”

“But—“

“No, Rory. My family isn’t like yours. They’ll hardly notice I’m gone anyhow. Come on then, cut my hair.”

“Azara—“ he started.

“Azar.”

“What?”

“Get used to calling me that. Azara is a girl’s name. I’m going to be Azar now.”

“Azar. This plan is mad, you know. It isn’t going to work,” he said with a mild amount of annoyance.

“How do you know, until we’ve tried?”

Rory sighed again, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time today either. That was her motto. How do you know until we’ve tried. He’d heard it come out of her mouth so many times he couldn’t count. Azara had more up his sleeve, he was sure, that she wasn’t telling him.

“You’re still going to turn thirteen someday.”

“But not as a girl. I’ll turn thirteen as a ship’s boy and that will be brilliant!”

Rory laughed. “Come here then, sit down on that rock.”

Azara smiled triumphantly and plopped down on the boulder she had been climbing before in a very unladylike manner. Rory started to put his hand on the back of her head and paused. He rolled his eyes, he was being stupid. Hair would grow back. And by tomorrow morning Azara would have decided that she wanted to start her own farm or build a tree house and live in the forest.

He grabbed one of her blood red dreadlocks and held it out straight from her head. He bit his lip slightly and slid the blade through the thick hair. Rory did this over and over, dropping the tips of her hair into her lap. After five minutes Azara had a head of stubby dreads and a handful of what was once a long attractive mane.

Rory laughed.

And then he laughed some more. Much harder.

Azara pursed her lips. “What?”

“You…you look like a red dandelion!” Rory spurted out.

Azara slapped him on the shoulder. “You were supposed to make me look like a boy! Not a fool!” she yelled.

“Well, I can’t change who you are, Azar.”

“Not funny! Fix it!”

Rory took the blade and thinned out the locks around her ears and the back of her neck, allowing for the top of her hair to lie more flatly.

“There, now. Much better. See?” He held the blade out for her to see her reflection.

She smiled and put her hands through it. “Perfect! Let’s go!”

“Now?”

“The sooner the captain says I can come aboard, the sooner I can pack.”

Rory sighed, he knew what was coming next.

“Race?” Azara asked, eyes alight.

***

The sun was setting as Rory and Azara slapped the wall outside the Inn of the Farburn, claiming another tie.

Rory bent over, hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Azara leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. She began adjusting her tunic and removing the starfish necklace. The pair of them were already so dirty, no one who didn't know Azara would assume she was a boy. No proper girl would run around like that.

"Well? Do I pass?" she said, trying a deeper voice.

"As long as you don't talk like that you will," he replied and started to open the inn's door.

"Wait!"

"What? You're not having second thoughts about this are you?" he said with a challenging grin.

"No! 'Course not! Go on then, open the door. You won't forget to call me Azar will you? What if someone in there recognizes me?" Azara rattled on.

"No one will know you except me. You know most of the townsfolk are down the road at the Water Rogue tavern. Captain comes here because his wife owns it, don't she?"

"Oh, right. Ok. Let's go." Azara took a deep breath.

Rory opened the door and stepped in, holding it open for his dirt and sand covered companion. Azara stepped in, walking as straight and tall as she could. Inside the inn a few out-of-towners sat by a hearth eating something chunky out of wooden bowls. None of them glanced up to see the children. The room was dark and somewhat dank. Dusty wood made up the walls and the floors. They were standing in a small entryway that opened into the great room of the inn. It housed several tables and chairs. There were a few benches along the wall and a large stone fireplace. Along the long wall of the room was an unmanned bar. There were bottles covered in thick dust lining the wall behind. Next to the bar was a swing door.

In the entryway there was a large counter top in front of several small keys nailed to the wall. Behind the countertop was a hallway lit by two candles in rusty sconces high along the wall. Azara could see that at the end of the hallway was a set of stairs leading up into blackness.

The children stood in the entry a few minutes before venturing into the dinning area, looking for the captain or his wife. A few minutes later a woman pushed out of the swing door beside the bar holding a tray with a loaf of hard bread stacked on it. She eyed the pair momentarily before she swept into the dinning room and set the bread down on the table for her guests to eat.

She rounded back on them.

"What'chu want?" she said rather loudly, startling both the children and her guests.

She had on a pale peach dress. It was long, low cut and fairly well made. It matched the captain’s wife, as she was a well-made woman who carried herself with force, and faulted her best features. Over it she had tied a mint colored apron, it hung like thick rich drapes. On top of her head was a massive amount of thick black ringlets pinned up away from her face. Her sleeves were pushed up and her arms were covered with patches of flour. She wiped them off on the apron and rested them on her great hips, glaring down at the children.

“Well? Cat got your tongue? What do you boys want in here?” she said just as loud, causing Azara to take a step back.

"To see the captain, ma'am," Rory said quietly, staring up at her.

She crossed her arms and scowled. “Why? He don't want to be disturbed just now."

"Oh, but ma'am it's terribly important!" Azara burst out.

Rory shot her a dirty look and motioned for her to be quiet.

The lady was giving them suspicious looks now.

"Um. I'm the ship's boy, ma'am."

"Are you now?"

He nodded sheepishly. "And I brought my friend here, Azar, because he's wants to work on the ship too, just like me. And we sail at dawn so I thought we should ask the captain tonight..." he faltered, meeting her stern gaze. "It won't take but a moment ma'am, only it's important see because Azar needs to tell his mom about it and she's waiting up for us to come back and she wanted to help him pack and make sure he has everything and she wants to write a letter to send to her family on the main lands for him to take if he's to go, and the sun's already setting..." Rory shot the lady a wide-eyed pathetic look.

Azara thought he was brilliant. Rory always knew just want to say to people to get them to do what he wanted. Azara, herself, would never have thought to appeal to this woman as a mother. She could see that mentioning that another woman was waiting somewhere for her kid to come home had softened the lady's heart to their request. Surely they would get an audience with the captain now.

"Alright then, you two stay down here. Go sit down by the fire and warm up, both your knees are shaking. I'll tell the captain, but I ain't making no promise that he'll see you." She walked down the hall to the stairs and began to climb them.

“You’re a genius Rory!” Azara said, clasping her hands before her.

“Shhh!” Rory grabbed her forearm and hauled her over to the corner next to the fire, opposite the table full of people. “We haven’t talked to him yet. Keep your voice down. Try not to talk too much, you don’t want to give something away.”

“I know how to act, Rory,” Azara said, slightly offended. “I have brothers you know. I know what boys say.”

“But you’ve never talked to a real pirate captain before.”

“How do you know I haven’t? Maybe I talk to pirate captains all the time—“

“Azar—“

“Boys!”

Azara and Rory whipped around quickly. Rory dropped her arm and his hands flew to his sides sharply.

“He’ll see you. Follow me,” the captain’s wife turned back to the hall and began walking.

Azara turned to look at Rory and pushed him forward. He gave her a dirty look before scampering off after the woman. Azara was right on his heel, practically clutching the back of his shirt.

“Back off, would you?” he whispered.

The woman led them up the staircase and down a very narrow hallway. There were several shut doors along the right side of the hall. From behind one of them the children heard a nasty coughing sound. They quickly passed it and followed the woman’s swishing skirts through the darkness. At the end of the hall, the captain’s wife stopped, opened a door and ushered them through.

Inside, the room was lit very poorly. At the center was an old wooden table with one candle burning on it. The wax was dripping heavily onto the tabletop and the flame flickered back and forth. Just outside of the candle’s light, was the shadow of a huge man, sitting far back into a chair. The door slammed shut behind them, and the woman was gone. Azara gulped and fought the urge to grab Rory’s arm. Rory, who had seen and talked to the captain on several occasions, froze and desperately tried to think of something to say in greeting.

The captain leaned forward, smoke clouded the light of candle.

“So Rory Breezerunner, you’ve taken it upon yourself to recruit on my behalf?”

Chapter 2: Bittersweet Home

It is hard to decide what Azara first thought as she gazed at the man before her. Admittedly, it was quite dark and that added a large sinister factor to his character. And he was leaning over the candle in a way that cast dark shadows on his large features, and large features are what he had. A huge hooked noise jumped out of the middle of his head that barely covered the wide dry lipped mouth below. His forehead was long and it looked as though it would never end. Azara quickly realized that the captain’s entire head was shaved. She also quickly realized he was gapping at her with swollen bloodshot eyes shadowed by thick dark brows.

“Unless you’re going to explain yourselves, you best be leaving.”

“Sir!” Rory spurted suddenly. “Sir! I brought my friend… he wanted to join the crew. He’s quick on his feet sir, and wants nothing more than to serve under your flag.”

The captain ran his tongue over his teeth and puffed on the strong smelling cigar he had lit.

“You want to work for me, do you boy?”

Rory jabbed Azara with his elbow.

“Aye sir!”

“What’s your name?”

“Azar Starcatcher. Sir.”

“Starcatcher, aye? East coast farmers? Or of the Sevstown Starcatchers?”

Azara’s mouth opened and shut a few times trying to decide whether or not the captain knew more about her immediate family or her kin on the other side of the island before she managed to answer, “Yes sir. East coast.”

“What are you, nine? Ten summers?”

“He’s eleven sir,” Rory jumped in and gave Azara a look that said to go along with it.

“Eleven, aye… Small for eleven. Too small to work on the deck, boy.”

“But sir! I can climb… I can tie good knots… I can—“

“You can shut your yap, you can. You’re too small for the decks boy. Work hard for a few years and I might put you on them,” the captain said loudly and harshly.

“Sir? Work…?”

“Officer’s cabins. Last cabin boy fell overboard and got eaten up by a serpent.”

Azara gulped deeply again. “S-s-Serpent?”

“Aye, rather nasty business it was. But he was a fool of a child. I hope for your sake you have some common sense,” he said, rubbing a hand on his unshaven chin.

Azara heard Rory stifle a snicker.

“Aye sir. I can do the job,” she said through clenched teeth, glaring at Rory.

“I’ll hold you to that, boy. You work for me I’ll see that you have one hot square a day, and two shares of dry rations. A place to bed down and after a year, a quarter of a share in what the ship takes. Does that suit you Azar?”

“Aye sir!” Azara was beaming.

The captain stood up and walked around the table and stood directly in front of Azara, who barely came up to his stomach.

“Pack your things, Azar be at the docks before sunup. Welcome to the crew of the Spite and Malice. I’m Captain Adder Swiftstream.” The man held out a huge callused hand for Azara to shake.

She reached out confidently and took it. She shot Rory a look that said, “See I told you it would work.” And he knew he’d hear those very words out of her mouth very shortly.

“And boys…bathe before you get on my ship… you’re both filthy,” the captain added with a mild amount of mock disgust.

***

"See! I told you it would work!" Azara sang, dancing up on her tiptoes.

Rory rolled his eyes, put his hands into his pockets and began walking down the main street of Sevens Port into the market place headed to his home above the shop his family owned.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed! The sun's been down for hours now. We've got to be there early remember? See to tomorrow. And remember, pack light. You won't have a lot of room you know. Cabin boy," Rory teased.

Azara smiled back at him and took off running toward the east gate out of Sevens Port. She passed the bakery that was already dark and Sparrowsinger’s restaurant that looked empty. She ran by the Water Rogue tavern that, unlike its neighbors, was quite lively at this hour. Next door was Tristan Swordforger’s shop, filled with beautiful iron objects. The gate was just ahead of her, she sped up, the wharf and the last few shops on the town’s edge disappeared. Azara passed under the stone archway that marked the east entrance to Sevens Port.

She flew down the lane as it skirted the shoreline. Her family owned farmland along the east coast of the main island of the Escape Islands. She knew she could cut through the Henfeeder’s homestead and make it home in half the time but instead she continued along the road and ran by the Moongazer’s farm and the Sunswimmer’s orchard. She hit the bend in the road and started north. She could see fire light in the windows of her family’s home not far away. Her feet carried her off the path, like she’s done thousands of times. She ran through what was their wheat field, cold soil sprinkled with straw and dying wheatgrass the scythe missed.

Azara slowed to a halt and stared at her home. It wasn’t large. None of the houses on the Escape islands were large. There was a foundation built of stone in a large rectangle. The walls were built of wood planks all tightly notched together. It had a high, steep roof that jutted into the sky above the trees. Someone had built it, her great grandfather or farther back, Azara couldn’t remember. It had been the Starcatcher family farm since the islands were settled. The house was old and parts were falling apart. Her older brother, Harrow, was always fixing portions of it. Azara could remember that her father used to do the same. One of the few mental images she could bring up of her father was him with a hammer and nails and a piece of wood just walking along the side of the house.

Hark Starcatcher had died with Azara was six years old. Her youngest brother, Bartel was still two months from being born. Azara, Bartel and her other brother, Parlan, who was eight this summer, barely remember the man that gave them life. Harrow talked often of their father, trying to fill his footsteps in their home. Azara’s mother, Siran, still worked the farm and did her best to manage the family businesses, but Harrow was quickly learning to take over. After all, the farm would be his someday. Nelli, the oldest daughter in the Starcatcher family slightly resented that fact. She was 16, only two years younger than Harrow, and worked it just as hard. When their mother started taking over the chores Hark had always managed, Nelli was the one who started watching over the children and the household. Tarria was steadily heading in that direction herself, she was only two years older than Azara but she had already started acting like the old spinsters in Sevens Port.

Azara sighed and started walking toward the front door. She hoped everyone would be asleep or sitting in the far room and she could sneak in unseen. The door creaked as she pushed it open. Inside, a lantern was resting on the thick wooden table. Beside it the fireplace glowed with dying embers. Azara tiptoed into the house and quietly shut the door behind her. There was no one in the front room. Only the remnants of dinner. Seeing what little was left of the food made Azara realize how hungry she was. But dinner could wait.

Azara slipped across the room to the little step ladder that led up to the attic loft. She climbed it quickly and found herself in the little room she shared with her sister Tarria and her younger brothers. Bartel and Parlan were already in their small bunk beds. The walls of the room were slanted to a point. A steeple. A tiny window let in light from the night sky. If you squinted just right you could see three stars in the frame of the glass from the bed that Azara slept in. She walked quietly past the boys. They were used to Azara and Tarria coming in later than them, as the girls usually stayed up to do chores. The slept peacefully, one of Bartel’s hands flailed over the side and hanging down just above Parlan’s nose.

Under her bed she kept a small box of things she had collected over the years. Things she kept hidden from her brothers and sisters. Things that were hers and hers alone. She slid the box out and set it on the mattress. She also pulled a small satchel from the wall were her clothes hung. Into the satchel she put a few pairs of the pants and some of the lightweight linen shirts she thought would be useful in a life at sea. She also took an old leather coat that had been Harrow’s at one time. There was enough room to place a few light underclothes and some leggings.

From the box she had set on the mattress she pulled three bronze pieces and a piece of cut glass. There was a quill, two pink seashells, a little carving of a horse and scarf that had been her mother’s at one time. The quill was her father’s. She had taken it from his desk when she was four because she loved how blue it was. She remembered him being angry that it was missing, but she never told him that she has been the one to take it. Azara slipped these things into her bag. Lastly, she placed the starfish necklace that she had taken off earlier inside. She hated not wearing it, but she decided that boys didn’t often wear large necklaces like that so she’d have to keep it hidden. She liked it because it sort of looked like a birthmark she had on her upper chest. She fitted the necklace so that it would hang just over it, somehow it felt just right. She hid the bag under the bed and slipped the closed box under as well. From the wall she took a long linen nightshirt off of a peg and folded it over her shoulder.

The boys still sound asleep, Azara walked back to the ladder and climbed down. The kitchen was still empty so Azara walked to the fireplace and placed a log on the coals, coaxing it back to life. She readied a kettle of water and hung it on the hook over the flames. There was also a side door in the main room of the farmhouse. The side door opened to a path that led to the outhouse and also to a large wood tub and pump. Azara walked this path and found herself at the tub. She pumped it halfway full of clean cold ice water. She set the nightshirt she had brought out with her over the little screen that was built around the tub.

Azara paused before walking back into her home and looked up to the sky. The stars were very clear tonight, she could make several of the consolations that sailors steered by. This thought made Azara smile, soon she would be a sailor too. She walked back into the house and found a rag to take the kettle from the fire. The water inside was boiling, letting steam rise from the spout. She carefully carried the water out to the tub wear she mixed it with the cold water already there. She set the kettle down along side on the ground.

Under the stars, Azara undressed and climbed into the now warm water. Rory told her that they hardly ever get to bathe on the ship and everyone gets dirty and gross all the time. She wanted to make sure she was at least clean to start with. Besides, the captain had given her his first order ands he wasn’t about to dismiss it. She scrubbed with the bar of sweet smelling soap and did her best to wash her hair. The dirt and sand from the fight at the beach with Rory was crusted in her now stubby dreads, behind her ears and down her neck. Actually it was all over. The water was cooling off quickly and Azara reasoned she was as clean as she was going to be. She climbed out and shivered. The night air was freezing against her skin. She pulled on the linen nightshirt she had brought with her. It wasn’t very warm, but it helped against the wind.

Quickly, Azara dumped the tub onto the ground and picked up the kettle. She hurried back inside to the warmth of the fire. She stood next to the hearth for a few moments, making sure her skin and hair were completely dry. From one of the back rooms she heard rustling and quiet chatter. Azara’s mother was probably asleep now, but Harrow and Nelli were always up quite late. Both of them had rooms downstairs along with their mother. There was also a small sitting room in the back with a little wood-burning stove to heat it. Nelli and her mother usually sat in there and mended clothing in the evenings. The little boys and Azara would lie on the floor and play games. She wondered if Terria was still in there, and she wondered if they missed her. None of them came out into the kitchen to find Azara sneaking around.

She climbed the ladder once more and found that Tarria was here in bed, the blankets pulled tight around her. Azara walked to her bed and carefully took down a few pieces of her remaining clothing. She pulled on a pair of wool pants that hung down to her shins. She had to tie them up with a cloth sash. She wrapped it around her waist several times before making a tight knot. Over it she pulled on a camisole and a yellow tunic shirt. Over that she put on the leather coat. She had left the little leather strap shoes she had been wearing down by the tub, but they were falling apart anyhow. She put on instead a pair of thick stockings and some brown leather boots. They were too large for her, they had been Nelli’s not long ago, but Azara was still too small.

She lifted the satchel from under the bed and slipped it over her shoulder. Quiet as she could she snuck out of the room for the last time. She paused at the top of the ladder and looked on her brothers whom she’d miss. Bartel and Parlan were a handful, but they were such fun to adventure with. While Rory had been gone, Azara had spent most of her time with her brothers. She smiled and realized they would be just fine without her, and there would be no one to stop them from harassing Tarria endlessly. She almost laughed.

Azara climbed down the ladder steps. On the kitchen table was a plate with a few dry biscuits on it. Azara took these and slipped them into her bag. From the little shelf in the corner she took a slip of parchment and a piece of charcoal. Quickly she wrote a brief note to her mother. She loved her mother, but since her father died, Siran Starcatcher had more to worry about than paying attention to all of her children. She set the note onto the table next to the empty plate. From the store shelf, she took a few pieces of dried meat and fruit. As she was reaching to replace the jar of mummified apple pieces there was a loud rattle behind her.

She turned quickly to find Harrow had tossed a tool onto the kitchen table and was standing along the opposite side staring at her.

“What in Och have you done to your hair?” Harrow demanded.

Azara frown. “I cut it.”

He crossed to stand right next to her and yanked one of the short dreads. “I can see that. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wanted to cut it. I didn’t think I needed your permission,” Azara said angrily pulling her hair out if his hand.

“When mother sees that you’ll be lashed for it. I can’t believe you. You know damn well that you’re supposed to be making yourself presentable. You’re almost thirteen, Azara. This is ridiculous. It’s time you start acting your age.”

“Why? So you can marry me off in a few years? Send me away, like you’re going to send Nelli in the Spring?”

Harrow sighed in frustration. “You have responsibilities to this family, Azara. You can’t live on my farm forever.”

“It’s not yours yet.”

“Don’t be stupid Azara. You should want to get married. Nelli won’t be far away and her husband will be giving us two goats. Don’t you want to help your family?”

“Not if all I am to you is two damn goats.”

“Watch your tongue!”

“You don’t!”

“I’m the man of this house, Azara. You are treading very close to pissing me off.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care what you think. And I don’t care to be a bargaining tool to improve your farm. And I don’t want to be a farmer. Or marry a farmer!”

“Go to bed, Azara.”

“No.”

“I said go to bed!”

Azara grabbed her satchel and started for the door. Harrow grabbed her upper arm and hauled her in close to him. She could smell his hot breath.

“We are on hard times, Azara. Your duty is to your family. Your duty is to obey me and your mother.”

Azara gritted her teeth. “You. Are. Not. My. Father. Harrow. Let go of my arm!”

“What’s going on?” Nelli’s sleepy high voice came from the hall.

“Go back to sleep Nelli!”

Nelli shot Harrow a scowl and turned around, going back to her room.

Harrow threw her to the floor and ran a hand threw his scruffy hair. “Your foolishness stops tomorrow, Azara. When you wake up you will dress like a proper girl. You’ll stop running around with that Breezerunner boy, and you’ll start learning the duties of a woman from your sisters.”

“Fat chance. Tomorrow I won’t even be near this house!” Azara jumped to her feet and opened the door to the night.

Harrow laughed meanly. “Oh you won’t will you? Where will you be?” he said with mock interest.

“I’m running away.”

“Likely. You won’t even make it to the other side of the island before you turn around and come crawling back. All you do is play. Your head is in the clouds. You walk out that door and I’m shutting it and barring it. Maybe a night out in the cold will wake you out of this fantasy world you live in.”

“Good-bye Harrow. I don’t expect I will see you again.” Azara sniffed. “And I don’t care. I don’t care at all.”

Azara walked out of the farmhouse, shaking in anger.

***

Chapter 3: Spite and Malice

Rory awoke well before sunrise. He opened his eyes to the darkness of his very small room. It was actually no more than a storage cabinet wedged into the loft area above the main part of the apartment. Rory laid there for a few moments, taking in the smell of the cold night air. Along one of the walls was a small little window with no glass. With one hand Rory pulled back the piece of fabric that covered the hole. A burst of wind rolled threw, rustling his hair and shirt. He stayed still for a moment.

The air brought with it the scent of the sea. The Breezerunner’s shop was just across the street from the coast of the harbor. Rory loved had loved the smell of the sea for as long as he could remember. Every morning he had done the same thing, pull back his curtain or throw open the shutters and smell the sea. He smiled to himself, he couldn’t wait to get back onto the ship and sail off into the great and vast ocean.

His bag was already packed. Everything was neatly tucked away and folded. His clothes were clean and dry. His mother had mended the items that had been damaged and even replaced a few things with clothing from his older brothers. Things that would fit him better now. He rolled over off his little pallet and sat up. There was barely enough room for him to sit straight now. He leaned over and lit a stubby candle. By its light he dressed, pulling on a pair of long blue wool pants and a tan shirt. He buttoned it quickly and pulled over it a leather jerkin. The winds would be rough leaving today and he hoped he would be warm enough.

He crawled his way over to the fabric that covered the opening to his space. He pushed it aside and dragged his bag with him as he climbed out into the small hallway. There were two other small openings into similar crawl spaces. One of Rory’s older brothers and his younger sister occupied them. His parents had felt that the children should have spaces to call their own. Even though they had little room in the apartment, his father fashioned the small rooms for them to sleep in. When they were quite small they had been more than enough, but now that Rory was thirteen and his brother was fifteen, they hardly fit. But Rory still loved his little room, and he knew his brother wouldn’t leave his until he was folded over twice inside it. His sister was still quite small and could still stand on her knees inside her room without grazing her head.

Rory climbed down the little ladder into the kitchen of the apartment. His mother was already awake and fixing a meager breakfast for him. Rory stretched and smiled at her when she turned away from the stove.

“Good morning mother!”

“Ah, Rory, I wondered how quick you would be down today. Are you excited to leave us again?”

“Oh, mother. You know I don’t like having to leave you, but I’m a ship’s boy now. I’ve got to be responsible. It’s my job.”

“I know Rory, love. But it doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye to you. Oh, come here and give me a hug.”

Rory stepped across the room and dropped his bag at the table leg. He embraced his mother strongly. She smelled like freshly baked bread and nutmeg. She smiled down at him at and rustled his hair.

“Go sit Rory, have something to eat before you go.”

Rory turned and pulled out a chair quietly. His mother was just setting slices of warm bread down in front of him when his father came through the door. Rory’s father was a tall thin man of few words. He nodded to his son and walked over to his wife. He gave her a swift kiss and started to pour himself hot water from the kettle. Mrs. Breezerunner handed him a package of herbs to make tea with. Rory grinned as his father sat down across from him. He piled on butter and jam to the bread and began stuffing it into his mouth.

Minutes later, Rory’s eldest brother entered from the same hall as his father had. Liam Breezerunner was nineteen years old and worked in the shop with his parents. It was expected of him and any wife he took to take over for them eventually. However, Rory parents made it clear that any of their children could do whatever it was they liked best. Liam loved the shop and wanted nothing more than to stay a part of it. Patrick, the middle brother spent every afternoon down at the fishing wharfs, helping the fishermen to bring in their catch for the day, saving almost every penny he made. He hoped that someday he would have his own fishing boat. Rowan, was still too young to think about anything besides dolls and playing with the other girls in town.

Rory’s mother set down a plate of boiled eggs and set to making a cup of tea for herself. Rowan and Patrick climbed down from the attic and joined the family at the table. Liam took a slice of bread and helped Rowan to the eggs. The family ate in companionable silence, smiling at one another and enjoying the breakfast Mrs. Breezerunner had prepared.

When Rory was finished he stood up quietly and put his dishes into the sink. He walked back to the table and picked up his bag. His mother stood, as well as his father.

“Well, I better get to the docks now. Captain said to be there before sunup,” he said reaching out to shake his father’s hand.

“May the Spirits bless your voyage, son. Make us proud, boy.”

“Yes father, always.”

His mother embraced him again, tears running down her cheeks. “Be safe my child. I’ll burn incense at the temple for you every day that you’re away.”

“Thank you mother. I will be.”

Liam stood up and circled around the table. He held out his hand for his brother to take. “Work hard Rory. We’ll see you when you return.”

Patrick took his hand as well and simply nodded.

Rowan leapt into his arms and squeezed his neck. “Good-bye Rory. I love you!”

Rory grinned, “I love you too, little girl. Behave yourself now and listen to your brothers. They know best.”

Rowan smiled and let him go.

Rory nodded once more to all his family and headed for the staircase that led down into the shop. The shop was dark, but his father had followed with a candle. Rory unlocked the door and began to head out into the street. He turned back to look at his father who was about to shut and relock the door.

“Be careful lad. These are dangerous times. And Captain Swiftstream is a dangerous man.”

“I will father. See you soon, captain said we’d be back to port in a few months time.”

Rory’s father nodded and shut the door.

The streets were empty for the most part. He could see activity in a few of the buildings, folks preparing for the days work. Across the street was the leather smith, Seth Hideworker, but his shop was still quiet. The tavern next door to the Breezerunner’s shop was empty and looked as though its patrons had left not long ago. Next to the leather smith was the silver smith, Jerm Quicksilver. On his second floor, lights were lit in all of the windows. Most of the artisans of Sevens Port were old families that had been working that business since the islands were settled. Descendants from the homesteads and farmlands had moved to the few towns on the islands and started up other businesses. Sevens Port was easily the largest of the towns. Sevstown was on the north coast of the main island and attracted a good crowd as well, but their market place was much smaller than this one.

Rory passed by the Apothecary and one of the clothing shops. He spared a glance at the shoe cobbler and the candle shop before he bowed his head in passing the healer’s and the Temple of the Spirits on his left. He knew he should stop and receive a blessing, but he worried he might already be late. He hurried into the market square and headed toward the docks.

He hoped that Azara would already be here, but most of him believed that she would not come. The girl was completely fickle about these things. In all the years he’d known her, she never managed to keep her attention on any one thing. The longest occupation that Azara had settled on was joining the town guard. She followed a man named Gregory Gullkeeper for a whole week asking to teach her how to fight. But then, she was seized but the urge to learn how to become a seamstress and forgot all about it. It was a pity because the town could really use more guards.

Rory stopped in his tracks and stared at the huddled mass at the end of the main dock. From the top of it was a tuft of bright red hair. Rory smiled and ran down the dock straight at her.

“You’re here!” he called when he was within earshot.

He saw her look up and start to get to her feet. Rory sputtered to a halt and smiled at her. Then he frown quickly. She looked like a mess.

“Have you been here all night?”

“Yes.”

“Why?!”

“Where else was I supposed to go? Harrow caught me and I had to leave earlier. He thinks I’ll come running back in the morning. I’ll show him. I left. I really, really left. And I’m not going back neither,” she said quite firmly. Then, in a loud childish voice asked, “Aren’t your feet cold?”

Rory, who almost never wore shoes, was standing barefoot on the dock. His toes, sort of a bluish color. He wiggled them and grinned at Azara.

“Naw, I’m fine. You, however, look awful.”

Before they had time to talk more, a group of the ships sailors made their way up the dock. Not many of the crew was from the Sevens Port area, so quite a few of them had stayed on the ship overnight or had returned there when the taverns kicked them out. Walking ahead of the group was Captain Swiftstream, looking like he had a mean night. The pirate captain was dressed completely in black. He had a black cotton overcoat with tarnished silver buttons. Under that was a pair of black serpent skin pants tucked into leather boots that went to his knees. A detail that Azara had failed to notice the night before was the intricate tattoos weaving around the back of his neck and onto the top of his shaven head. He was smoking another cigar and biting it with his teeth as he walked.

The men behind him were in similar attire. Leathers, cotton tunics, dark shirts and coats. Some of them buried their faces in hats and kerchiefs.

“Well boys, I see you made it on time.” The captain gave Azara a calculating look before he shifted his gaze out to the harbor. “And it looks as if our escort will be here as scheduled.”

Out in the bay a small boarding boat was making its way across the water to the docks. There were two men inside rowing steadily.

“Lads, this is Azar. The new cabin boy,” said the captain sinisterly and turned to look at his crew with a smile that looked like they were sharing a joke the children were not privy too.

A few of them snickered and Azara was sure she heard one of them say something about serpent bait. She wanted to tell them it wasn’t funny, but decided it would be a bad idea considering the majority of them were heavily armed. The boarding boat had pulled up along side of the dock now and one of the crew on the dock was grabbing their rope and lashing it to the nearest post.

“Good mornin’ cap’n!” one of the rowers said brightly.

“Good morning, Kieran,” the captain replied somewhat stiffly to the man, who was wearing a yellow sash around his head.

Captain Swiftstream climbed into the boat and stood at the bow, stepping one leg onto the bench. The rest of the crew started to climb in as well. There were ten men total and once everyone was situated, they turned to look at the children. Rory jumped in and crouched on the floor of the boat, he looked up at Azara and motioned for her to follow suit. Azara took one last look into Sevens Port and in the direction of her farm before clambering down onto the boat’s floor with Rory.

The little boat cast off of the dock and the rowers started rowing, steering them toward the waiting ship. The captain looked out to the sea, watching the waves. Rory was staring at Azara, who was both excited and terribly nervous. He smiled sweetly at her and wiggled his toes. Azara grinned and repositioned herself so that she was facing him as she sat. The trip out to the ship didn’t take a very long time. Soon Azara found herself staring up at the broad haul of the Spite and Malice.

The Spite and Malice was a wall of hard wood in rich medium brown tones that Azara recognized to be Angelique. It certainly wasn’t a wood that grew anywhere on the Escape Islands. The ship was rising and falling lighting on the small waves that were rolling through the harbor. The ship itself was a square topsail schooner with two aft reaching masts. Azara leaned as far back as she could to look at the sails. Thousands of square feet of were in the process of being hauled up the lines. The jibs and the staysail wavered in the wind straining against the lines running out across the bowsprit. Looking almost as strained was the neatly carved figurehead. She was a gorgeous mermaid painted in reds and golds. Her arms reached back as though she were trying to hold the ship back from springing into the ocean before it was ready.

Azara was staring wide-eyed and jaw dropped before a sudden jolt knocked her backward onto her backside. She saw Rory laugh and cover it with his hand. The small boat was being pulled up the side of the haul, with it’s passengers still inside. The rest of the crew did not look shaken at all, they sat comfortably and looked up. Azara was holding onto the floor as best she could, afraid to look over the side or even go near it, least they all toppled over into the water. Rory shook his head and smiled.

There was a complicated set of pulleys hoisting them up and a few men on ropes. When the small boat was secured along the side of the rail, Captain Swiftstream stepped aboard his ship. He walked a few feet, looking at the crew who had assembled. Some were still working, hoisting sails and securing lines. The other men in the small boat started to board the ship as well. They jumped over the rails and landed with heavy thuds onto the planks of the deck. Rory pulled himself over the edge of the boat and into the ship. He turned to look at Azara, making a move to help her but she shook her head.

She was supposed to be a boy and a boy wouldn’t accept help over a measly rail. She took a hold of the ship’s railing firmly. Cautiously, she pulled one of her legs over the edge and flattened herself against it on her stomach. How she managed to fall over and roll down onto the deck, she wasn’t quite sure. But when she untangled herself from her satchel and start to get up she found that most of the crew assembled were staring at her. She stood up quickly.

The captain laughed.

“Men, that’s young Azar. He’ll be acting as cabin boy on this voyage. Replacin’ little Lumn… fool of a child.”

A few of the men gave her glares that would skin a cat. A few of them looked at her with mild annoyance. The captain started speaking again and everyone seemed to ignore her completely. As though she had been a rather large bug that had drawn their attention for the moment and was now nothing but a flutter at the edge of their vision.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Captain Swiftstream barked.

He turned to two men who were standing apart from most of the crew. One was in a brown leather long coat belted shut. The other was wearing a billowing white shirt that was haphazardly tucked into a pair of dark blue pants that pooled at his knees, overflowing onto black boots.

“Windglider! Boarkiller!”

“Aye captain!” they both yelled immediately.

“Are your men ready?”

“Aye sir!” both said together.

“Moongazer!”

“Aye sir!” a skinny little man replied, stepping out of the crowd.

“Report.”

“Weather looks good, sir. No rain in sight. Strong breeze due east, sir. Some whitecaps and a little spray. Sir.”

“Good. Good. Weigh anchor, men. Put up the colors. I’ll take the helm.”

The crew dispersed quickly, tending to their jobs. Suddenly she was awash in a flurry of moment. Men were scurrying into the rigging, dashing across the deck. Rope was being hauled, sails were everywhere.

“Oi, Rory! The colors!” the man called Boarkiller called.

Rory jumped and ran off to follow, tossing his bag into a corner. Azara was left standing alone, leaning against the railing next to the small boat. It seemed like everyone had forgotten her. And here she knew nothing about helping to take a ship out of a port. She started scanning the crew, looking for someone she could help. A rope she could pull. Something that needed to be tied. Anything. She just wanted to be a part of it.

“AZAR!” the captain yelled from the other side of the deck.

“AYE CAPTAIN!” Azara yelled at the top of her lungs and hurried to meet him.

“I told you, you were too small for the decks, boy. You’ve a job to do in the cabins anyhow,” the captain started walking briskly toward a steep set of stairs behind the main mast.

Instead of heading up them, he reached for a door that was wedged shut in the center of the wall. He pushed Azara inside and just before slamming the door shut again he said, “Start cleaning up in there and I’ll be back to talk to you about your duties,” and with that, he was gone.

Azara stood alone, inside what appeared to be a sort of dining room with her little satchel. It was a narrow rectangular room with a table down the center. The table was thin and surrounded by only three chairs. She looked around for a moment trying to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The ship started moving, Azara could feel it. She slid forward and grabbed onto the table for balance. The floor below here was rocking and small objects that she couldn’t see in the dark were beginning to roll around.

Chapter 4: Duties

“Spirits curse this!” she yelled without thinking.

Serving her right, she immediately tripped and fell into one of the chairs.

She grumbled under her breath and struggled to stand again. There had to be a candle somewhere in the room and Azara was going to find it. She started feeling around on the table and the sideboards until her fingers discovered a small lantern. She opened the glass and found there was still a small candle inside. She pulled from her bag a small set of firestones. They were two perfectly round rocks, one grey and one black. Azara stuck them together with the wick in between. The room was thrown into soft flickering light.

She picked up the lantern and started making her way around the room. The sideboards were in disarray. There were dishes and papers laying everywhere. Empty bottles of wine were discarded in the corners. Over the table was a sort of sticky film and the chairs were greasy. Azara made a disgusted face.

“Men!” she said bitterly.

Along the walls of the room were four doors. She decided it was best that she try them and learn her way around if she was going to be stuck in the cabins all of the time. She tried the first one, closest to the door on her right as she faced the back of the room. The door opened to a very small stateroom with one bed taking up the majority of the space. There were a few built in drawers below the bed and some shelves in the wall. A man’s things were scattered about and the bed was unkempt. Azara shut the door.

She tried the next that stood beside the stateroom door. This one led to what looked like a very small washroom. The room was as wide as the stateroom next door, but much longer. It stretched back past the rear wall of the dining room to the very rear of the ship. There was a cabinet with two clay bowls sitting on top. They looked to be set inside little holes that held them in place. Between them was an empty pitcher. Lashed to the beams above were two cruddy mirrors, a greasy film on them so thick that you could hardly see yourself. The only redeeming quality the room had, was the fact there was one window along the back wall that let in some of the early morning light. Azara stepped back out of that room and shut the door.

Across the way were two other doors. She walked over to the one across from the stateroom, only to find it was another stateroom, only slightly larger. It had room for a bed, and one chair. Built into the wall was a small desk under similar shelves as the other room. This room wasn’t as much of a mess, but it was still dank and dirty. The whole place needed a good scrub down as far as Azara could tell. She shut the door and went to the last.

This door led to what was obviously the captain’s cabin. It was in the shape of a large L, winding back behind the dining area and meeting up against what was the wall of the washroom. There were three windows along the back wall, letting in much more light. Azara set down the lantern on a small desk that was pushed up against the wall across from the door. It was covered in scattered papers, quills and an assortment of navigational equipment. A thick leather bound book lay open, on closer inspection Azara found that it was the ship’s log. There was a chair pushed into it, upholstered with dark brown leather. She walked past it and around the corner. Along the wall with the windows, that slanted back, there was a built in bed unit. It had a larger mattress than the others did, and seemingly better blankets. However, they were still a mess. Pulled every which way. There were drawers built in underneath, one of which was pulled half way out with clothing stuffed inside. Along the walls were various shelves filled with books and trinkets. And there was one painting hanging above the desk. It was a painting of the captain’s wife and a small child. His wife looked very young in the painting, Azara hardly recognized her if it weren’t for the mass of black hair.

She decided it would be best to start to work. She had to show the captain how competent she was if she was going to be allowed to work on the desk. So she smiled and set to work on the bedding. She tucked the corners in tight and crisp like her mother always did. Then she folded the extra blankets and set them at the foot of the bed. Next she set to taking all of the captain’s clothing and linens out of the drawer. She began refolding them so they would fit in the drawers and allow them to shut. When this was done she moved on to the shelves around the room. Setting books upright and putting the papers into neat stacks.

The ship continued to rock, but it was a lot less noticeable. Azara started to muse to herself as she was cleaning, just what Rory was doing. Was he getting to climb the rigging? Was he running about on the deck helping the hands to control the sails? Perhaps he was set as lookout, high up the foremast. She sighed and cursed being small and a girl. She set to work on the desk, which was easily the messiest thing in the room. She started sorting through the papers, trying to organize them the best she could. Azara could read and write, but not especially well. She closed the ships log and put all of the quills into the top drawer with the inkpots.

When this was done she was sure that was about all she could do in the captain’s cabin without real cleaning supplies. What she really needed were scrubbing brushes and a few rags. And some soapy water. She was just thinking about creating a list of things when she heard the door open from the main deck. She hurried out of the cabin and back into the dining area.

“Well runt, looks as though I get to ‘show you around,’” said the man in the billowing white shirt. The man named Windglider.

“I’m the second mate, in case you didn’t pick up on that,” he told her roughly.

She hadn’t, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She nodded and set the lantern onto the table for him to take if he wanted.

“You look in all the rooms then?”

“Aye, sir.”

“This one here,” he said, tapping the door to the smaller of the two staterooms, “is mine. That one there belongs the Mate, Boarkiller. And I’m sure you figured out the room you was just in was the captain’s. The last room’s so as we can clean up a bit. The room where in here, is the officer’s cabin. It’s where we eat. You’ll be getting our food for every meal, and whenever we ask for it. You’ll be serving it to us here. And you’ll be making sure you clean in all of these rooms, everyday. You’re also to be around in case any of the off duty officers needs to send a message to the one on duty. So you won’t be sleeping down with the rest of the crew.”

Windglider walked over to the back of the room and held the lantern up high so Azara could see what he was standing by. Along the back was a bit of a shelf, or alcove about waist height. It wasn’t very much room and there was a very shabby looking blanket shoved into it.

“This is your space then. If we need you, you better be here. Got any questions, runt?”

“Are there any cleaning supplies? Soap? Brushes?”

Windglider laughed. “Oh yeah, we got plenty of those. Talk to your friend Rory, he knows where they are.”

With that, he turned and set the lantern down on the table and walked back out of the officer’s cabin, leaving Azara alone again.

She watched the door for a moment longer and then went to inspect her little niche. She pulled the blanket out and shook it a few times. It smelled musty and damp. She folded it as tight as she could and pushed it back into the hole. She decided to try it out. She set her satchel on the ground and hoisted herself into onto the little shelf area. She leaned back into the cut hole against her blanket. It was fairly tight, but she fit. It was no worse really than the little room Rory had, half it’s size, but she didn’t need to roll around or anything. She shimmied her way back out and pulled her satchel off the floor and pushed it back until it was hidden by shadow.

She moved to the table and arranged the chairs better. After that, there really wasn’t much else she could do without cleaning supplies. If she had a rag she could wash the windows in the captain’s cabin and the washroom to let in more light. With a broom she could sweep up the dust and salt that were tracked all over the floorboards. If she had a bucket and a brush she could clean off the wood and the table. It would really cheer the place up, she reasoned. Perhaps if she could just go out and ask Rory where to find them, she’d be able to get to work.

Azara threw open the door to the main deck and instantly threw up her hands over her eyes. The brightness of newly risen sun was almost blinding. Azara’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the officers’ cabins and weren’t ready to face the day. She gave herself a moment before removing her hand and squinting out at the ship.

Rory was starboard coiling rope when he saw Azara emerge from the cabin, covering her face with a sleeve of her coat. He watched her gaze around the ship stupidly. He continued to coil the rope until she saw him and started running his direction. The rest of the crew were tending to the sails and were all but ignoring the children. Soon the captain and the other officers would split into shifts and the crew along with them. There would be a lot fewer men on the decks then, and everything would be far less chaotic. Azara was dodging men, and ropes and the fore boom that was swinging around them. He kept loosing sight of her behind the billowing canvas.

Then suddenly, she was standing right before him. Her red hair a blaze in the early morning sun. She was grinning like a mad man and her hazel eyes were bright and wide.

“This is amazing! Just look at the sails! Look how fast we’re going! Look at the water!” Azara started speaking entirely too quickly and hanging off over the edge of the rail.

“What are you doing out here Azar? Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yes… I mean, aye! I have work, but I need something to clean with. Windglider said you’d know where to find them.”

Rory sighed. He really ought to give her a tour of the ship so she knew where everything was, but he was on duty at the moment and needed to continue working. He set down the coil and stood with his hands on his waist.

“Alright then. I’ll show you where they are, and when I’m off of watch I’ll show you the rest of the ship. Does that suit you?”

“Aye! Perfectly.”

Rory flashed a crooked grin and whispered so Azara could just barely hear him, “Race?”

And he took off running down the deck toward the bow of the ship. Azara fought to repress a giggle that she was sure would sound very girl-like. She took off after him half bewildered. There was no way she could win if she didn’t know where they were going, but then, they hardly ever did. She dived under the fore boom and its vast sails.

Rory raced for the hatch just before the forecastle of the ship. He knew Azara was still several paces back so he had enough time to throw it open before she got there. He climbed down the little ladder nimbly, as he had done so many times before. Azara was much less graceful coming down. Her feet missed a rung here and there and she slipped down and landed heavily onto the below deck. They found themselves standing in the main cabin that served as sleeping quarters and saloon for the crew. Rory waited until he was sure Azara was ready before he took off again, tossing himself up into a small doorway in a bulkhead. Inside it was mostly dark, but there was enough light coming through the little windows high up on the ceiling breaking though the forecastle deck.

Azara jumped inside just in time to hear Rory say, “First!”

“Where are we?”

“The galley. Here look, see this cabinet here?” Rory pointed out a thick wood cupboard that was built into the wall on the larboard side of the galley.

“Aye.”

Rory unlatched and opened one of the doors revealing a set of buckets and grubby brushes. There were a few rags and a bar of thick of nasty smelling soap.

“Is that it?”

“It’s the best we’ve got. I’ve got to get back now. You can handle everything on your own, right?”

“Right. I can. Of course I can.”

Rory speedily departed. He took the steps of the ladder two at time and emerged back onto the deck. He looked out over the rail for a few moments. The ship was well beyond the harbor of Sevens Port now. He could see the Far Island, as well as Lower Island. They were headed south and would turn east as soon as they got past Far Island. Right now they were following the south coast of the main island. If Azara had been on the deck she would recognize the Moongazer’s farm out on the tip of the land.

Fortunately for the both of them, the Moongazer that was in the crew, Battle Moongazer, was of their Far Island kin. He wouldn’t recognize Azara as the girl next door. Most of the main island crew were from the western side or the Sevstown area. So Rory reasoned they were safe.

He set himself back to work. He could see that the mates were setting the watches. He was always on first watch so he knew he had another three hours of good work to do before he would be off. The captain had it set so that each watch was on duty for four hours and off for eight. That way you ended up with two watches during a twenty-four hour period and enough time to get rest. Rory would be on watch until ten this morning and then off until six in the evening. The watch was marked by ring of a bell up off of the main mast. The officer in charge of the watch would ring it once to signal that a new watch would be starting ten minutes before the hour. Two rings meant the changing of the watch. By then the new hands would already be in position and ready to take over.

Captain Swiftstream was the officer in charge of the first watch. He stood by the helm looking out over the water. He enjoyed steering his own ship and often stayed at that post during his watch. The next best helmsman was placed on the second watch. Of course, if the captain called all hands, then regardless of whether you were on duty or not, you had to come to the deck and pitch in. It was usually during times of departure or to put on or take down canvas. The ship typically ran quite smoothly.

However, Rory wasn’t sure how having Azara aboard would affect it.

Presently, she was emerging form the hatch with what looked like all of the cleaning equipment. She had a broom and a mop held together over one shoulder. Balancing on that were two buckets, each filled with rags and brushes. Along her waist she had tied a length of rope and lashed on another bucket. He rolled his eyes, watching her try to make her way across the waist of the ship back to the officers’ cabins. She had yet to gain any sort of sea legs. She teetered back and forth with the waves upsetting her steps. The buckets all knocked against one another and the rags began fluttering with the wind. Azara was ducking in and out of the crew, hitting most of them at least once with one of the items she was carrying.

Rory heard the crew yelling, calling her “Runt” and “Swab” as she passed under their feet. He remembered that when he had first come onto the ship the crew had called him swab too. Before he earned a nickname. The crew mostly called him Scudd for his tendency to climb up into the rigging and hang in the wind during his free time. Rory set the coil of rope down and went to look for something else that needed to be done.

***

Azara dropped the first bucket directly inside of the door to the officers’ cabins. The second fell before she made it to the table. After that, everything just sort of escaped from her arms. She scrunched her face in frustration and picked up one of the buckets. It was old, and slightly scummy. It had a tattered rope for a handle which she tugged a few times to make sure it was sound before heading back out onto the deck.

She needed to fill it full of water and she reasoned the only way to do that was to pitch it over the side of the ship and haul it up by hand. She spied the rope that Rory had been messing around with when she had first come out on the deck. She immediately uncoiled it and tied one end to the bucket’s rope handle. She let it slide down the side of the ship, holding tightly to the rope. It seemed like it took forever to reach the water. It bounced violently when it first it the surface of the ocean and then sunk under rapidly once it got some water into it. Azara braced herself and tried to remain steady as the cord jerked. She started to heave, pulling the rope up as slow as she could so as not to spill any of the water.

She finally got the bucket back up to the rail and pulled it over the side. She set it at her feet and undid the soggy rope. She carried the bucket back the officers’ cabin with great effort. It was heavy and sloshed everywhere. She set in just inside the door and grabbed one of the other buckets. She took that one back out to draw more water aboard. She left the rope and went back into the cabin.

She took the third bucket and emptied some of the water from each bucket into it. Evening out all three with a water line low enough that it wouldn’t overflow if she put the brushes into it. In one she dropped the bar of soap and took one of the brushes and started agitating the water and the soap, working up a decent lather.

First she set to cleaning the main officer’s cabin. She scrubbed the table and wiped it clean with one of the rags. She scrubbed each of the chairs down and began on the floor. By the time she was done with that, the water in the first bucket was filthy. She set down the brush and walked back out onto the deck, lugging the bucket with her. She brought it over to the rail where she found Rory coiling rope again.

“Didn’t you just do that?”

Rory gave her a dirty look. “Someone used it to haul water without coiling it again.”

“That’s too bad,” she said with a smile, dumping the dirty water overboard.

“Meet me here after watch,” he said to her as she was walking back to the cabin.

“Aye!” she called over her shoulder.

Rory rolled his eyes and continued coiling the rope.

Once back in the cabin, Azara set the empty bucket aside and took one of the clean ones with her into the captain’s cabin. He was on watch currently, so she would be able to clean his rooms without interruption. She was sure at least one of the mates was in their room, but didn’t want to disturb them. The first thing she did was go to scrub the windows clean so there would be more light. She took one of the dry rags and dunked it into the soapy water. She rung it out so it wouldn’t drip onto the captain’s bedding. She started with the window closest to the starboard side of the ship. It took quite a bit of effort to get the caked on crud off of the panes of glass, and when she had finished it wasn’t all that much lighter.

Most of the dirt and scum was on the outside of glass. Azara sat for a moment looking at the windows. She began to reason whether or not she could figure out a way to clean the outside of the windows. She couldn’t figure out if they opened or not. There didn’t seem to be any hinges or locks. She decided she would ask the captain if she could try to make some sort of contraption to hang off the stern and clean the windows. They couldn’t be too far down from the back rail up there. And they were well off the water so she should be safe. She could get a rope maybe, and make a swing. Or use a post and tie one of the brushes onto the end and lower it.

Azara heard the door open outside the room. She wondered if it were one of the mates leaving or coming in. She decided to stay put and not run out to check. She abanonded the idea of cleaning the outside of the windows, as there wasn’t a lot she could do about it now. She moved on to cleaning the rest of the surfaces in the captain’s cabin. At least she could get that done on this watch.

***

“Alright, are you ready?” Rory asked looking quite serious.

Azara took a deep breath. “Yes, ok. I’m ready.”

“Ok, we’re going to start at the bow, and you can’t forget anything. I’m going to make you come back over everything and tell me what it is.”

“Rory!”

“No, I’m sorry, but you have to know these things if you’re going to be a sailor,” Rory said holding his hand out to her objection.

“Pirate,” she said smartly.

“Pirate,” he relented.

Azara smiled.

“Here we go. We are standing on the forecastle deck,” Rory said as he gestured to the deck planks they stood on at the fore of the ship.

They were standing facing the bowsprit as it reached out over the water. Standing out there made Azara feel like she was flying. The sails above them were full and the ship was moving with great speed over the water, heading due east away from the Escape Islands. The water was turquoise and the sky was as blue as Rory’s eyes. Rory looked as thrilled to be standing on the forecastle in the midday as she.

“And that is the bowsprit,” he said, pointing at the large round timber jetting out over the water.

“I know that,” Azara replied impatiently.

“I know you know that, but we’re doing this methodically. The sails on the bowspirit are the staysail, the jib and the flying jib. See how the staysail has its own boom and attaches to the fore mast just before the topsail? And the jib is attached way out on the end of the bowspirit… actually it has an extension, sort of, that’s called the jib boom. And the flying jib is attached to it too but its rope goes all the way up to the fore topmast. The jibs and the staysail are all triangular.”

“Got it… Flying jib out on the tip, jib in the middle and staysail is the large one,” Azara said, counting them out on her fingers.

“Good! Ok ready to dissect the fore mast?”

Azara smiled hugely. “Do we get to climb it?”

“Of course!” Rory called as he turned and ran to the base of the mast as it stuck out of the forecastle deck.

Azara ran to catch up and stopped short, staring up at the slightly slanted post. It was incredibly thick, she didn’t think she would be able to wrap her arms around it.

“It’s made from fir trees. Same as the decking. Alright, you know this is the fore mast. And you know that’s the fore boom with the foresail attached. It’s not very complicated. Pretty much any word you can think of and add fore in front of it and it’ll be here,” Rory said with a grin.

He put his hands onto the rope lines that stretched up the mast that looked like a long and narrow rope ladder. He began climbing. Azara could tell he was going slowly, for her sake. She grabbed a hold of the rope and started pulling herself up after him.

He called down, “These are the ratlines. It’s sort of like a ladder for us to climb aloft. We can work on the sails here. Those ropes out there, the ones that connect down to the rails are called the shrouds. You can climb those too. They’ll take us up to the crow’s nest.”

“Oh! That’s so exciting! I’ve always wanted to sit up in the crow’s nest of a ship. Hey Rory, do you remember that time we were climbing that huge tree over near the Cropduster’s farm?”

“Yeah, sort of, why?”

“Well, we got nearly to the top and I started to get really dizzy and the tree was going back and forth in the wind quite a bit and then I lost my footing and then I slipped down like four or five limbs of the tree,” she babbled.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” Rory said with a laugh, “You were terrified.”

“You don’t think I’ll fall off of this do you? Because there were a lot of heavily leafed boughs that caught me last time, but there’s not really anything here to catch someone…”

“Oh Azara…I mean, Azar, you’ll be just fine. Remember what you told the captain? You can climb, you said.”

“I know what I said Rory, but really there should be some sort of safety harness… maybe tie a rope from the top around our waist or something and then if we did slip, you would just swing around until someone got you…”

“Swing right into the mast you mean? Swing right into the sails? Get caught in the ropes and probably hang yourself? I don’t think so Azara. Just keep your footing and hold tight, and there isn’t an incredibly strong wind today, so I don’t think you’ll have too much to worry about…see look were almost to there.”

Rory pulled himself onto the small wooden platform that was about three quarters of the way up the mast. Under it the staysail and the jib were attached. As well as something that looked like another boom. Azara grabbed a hold of the platform and tried to get herself on top. Rory grabbed a hold of her wrists and started to help pull her.

“I can do it! Don’t help,” she said somewhat angrily.

“Sorry,” he replied shortly.

“No, it’s just that, if you help me all of the time someone might figure out I’m a girl. You wouldn’t help another boy up would you?”

“Sure I would, why wouldn’t I? You’re part of the crew now. Wouldn’t want to loose a crewmember. If you fell, you’d either hit the deck and probably break most of the bones in your body or snap your neck pretty good, or you’d fall into the water and well, from this height, it might as well be solid ground. Probably knock yourself out and drown before anyone could get to you,” he said with a shrug.

“You’re wonderful at this confidence building thing,” Azara said, giving Rory a nasty look.

“Thanks,” Rory grinned again. “Seriously though, the rest of the crew helped me out for a while until I got used to things, so I wouldn’t worry so much. Worry about not falling. I don’t think anyone will start suspecting you’re a girl anyhow.”

“Whys that?”

“Well, look at you. Flat as any of the planks down there and you can swear better than I can.”

Azara cuffed him upside the head. “Thanks Rory. Thanks a lot.”

“What? It’s true,” he said, rubbing his temple. “You have a horrible mouth on you. My mother said you were a bad influence.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Both leaning against the mast, Rory facing the stern and Azara facing forward. She tucked her legs up against herself and stared out at the wide ocean around them. It would be a few days before the main continent would come into view. So for the time being, if felt like they were truly alone. One ship in all the world. And Rory and Azara, alone on top of it.

“I’m not a bad influence.”

“You talked me into lying and getting you aboard a ship posed as a boy,” he said simply.

“Yes, but, well that’s not all that bad is it?” she said slightly offended.

“Naw, I like the company. I only got to talk to the other cabin boy for a short time before he got himself eaten up.” She could hear the teasing in his voice.

“Are there a lot of serpents?”

“Not a lot, but all of them have a taste for cabin boys,” he said with a laugh.

“Good thing I’m a girl then,” she replied with a smile on her lips.

“Yeah, good thing.”

The wind was making her hair fly about her head, the little dreadlocks were smacking against the mast. Rory’s hair was flying forward around his face. He brushed his hands through in and tried to push some of it back, but the force of the wind kept it plastered there. He looked down and watched the second watch below on the deck. He knew that they would have to leave soon and return to the deck. Harlen Harehunter, the lookout for the second watch would need to come aloft to check for any ships on the horizon.

“Below your feet is the lower yard for the fore topsail. See it?” he asked.

“Yes. What about the one by you? Is that the upper yard for the foresail?”

“No, it’s called the fore gaff. But it does hold the top of the foresail up at an angle like it is. The sail is sort of a skewed rectangle-“

“Trapezoid.”

“What?” He turned to look at her.

“It’s called a trapezoid. A skewed rectangle,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Oh. Anyway the fore topsail is just above you and it’s attached to the topsail yard. And the very tip of the mast is called the fore topmast. Now, we’re not going to be able to go climb the main mast so come turn around and look here.”

Azara turned onto her knees and scooted up next to Rory near the edge of the platform. Rory pointed at the top of the mainmast.

“That’s the jack yard. See how the flag’s hanging off it?”

On the jack yard was a black flag with a large white snake coiled on it. It was wavering in the wind, giving the snake artificial life.

“Those are the ship’s colors. Right now we just have ours. But sometimes we’ll put up another country’s so we can get close to other ships. Just below that is that main topsail. It’s different because it’s triangular and attaches to the top of the main gaff and doesn’t have its own yard like this one. Also, the main topmast staysail sort of runs between the masts, see? It’s attached a few feet below the jack yard, and then goes right here, just above my head, see? And the other corner its down about halfway on the main mast. Under the main gaff is the—“

“Mainsail, attached to the main boom. Got it. Seems to be a bit of a pattern here,” Azara said a bit bored.

“Now you’re catching on like a real sailor. Let’s head down,” Rory grabbed a hold of the ledge and swing over it and disappeared.

Azara gasped and leaned over the edge, Rory was already half way down the ratlines. She pursed her lips and carefully lowered herself kicking her legs to feel for the ropes. Once she had good footing she slipped her body down and grasped the rope firmly. She clung there a moment with her eyes closed collecting herself before she started climbing down. Going up something was always so much easier. The going down part was far more difficult.

She finally reached the bottom and found an impatient looking Rory. “You’ll make a terrible ship’s boy if you don’t learn to do that faster.”

“It was my first time! And my foot got hooked round the rope funny.”

“I’m sure it did. Come on now. Can’t stay on the forecastle forever. We’ve got the rest of the ship to see.” He headed down the small set of steps onto the main deck and stood next to the hatch that they had gone down earlier. “Well do you want to go below decks first, or see the sterncastle?”

“Let’s go below.”

“Alright, down the hatch then.” Rory gestured for her to go first.

Azara struggled to lift the hatch door but eventually got it open. She climbed down the small ladder and waited for Rory at the bottom. He followed, closing the hatch after him. It immediately became much darker. But Azara could see that there were small lanterns at various places in the cabin and the glow of a fire on the wall toward the bow of the ship. It was a descent sized hearth with a small stack of wood next to it.

Rory was standing next to her and pulled her toward the galley. They stepped through the same door in the bulkhead next to the fireplace.

“Alright, you already know that this is the galley. Well this is the ship’s cook. Simon Sparrowsinger. His brother owns that restaurant down by the wharf. You’ve seen it. Hello Simon, what’s on the menu today?”

Simon, who was leaning next to what appeared to be the other side of the fireplace. The hearth extended through the wall, with access to the flames on either side. On the galley’s side there was and iron top allowing for Simon to cook over. Simon, who was dressed in baggy blue clothing and a dirty white apron, grunted. He had a thick black beard and a disgruntled disposition. Azara tried to smile at him, and held out her hand.

“Azar, sir. Pleasure to meet you.”

Simon grunted again and mumbled in their general direction, “Get me an onion.”

Azara found this to be a sort of strange greeting. But Rory instead took a hold of her arm and pulled her toward another hatch in the floor.

“This will be fun. We’re going down to the hold.”

Azara smiled mischievously as he opened the hatch door and hopped down. He moved aside enough for Azara to join him. They were both crouched on the wooden planks of the hold’s deck. It was nearly pitch black and completely claustrophobic.

“We can’t bring a light down here, too much of a chance to start a fire. So you have to memorize were everything is. This compartment holds all of the food. See the beams up here, you can count those as you go. The first beam, where we are has the grain bags and the crate of hardtack.” Rory started crawling forward. “And the second beam here has the potatoes…and the third beam has the onions! See, it’s pretty easy, once you know where everything is.”

Azara had crawled up next to him under the third beam, which was completely dark. She felt around and hit Rory’s hand before she found the burlap bag containing the onions.

“Get one out would you?” Rory asked.

Azara fished around for the opening and after a few moments pulled out what felt like a very large onion.

She heard Rory start to crawl back toward the hatch opening. She followed, holding tight to the onion. When they reemerged from the hatch into the galley, Simon was waiting with his hand out. Azara handed him the onion before she even climbed back out. Rory grabbed her hand and pulled her out and shut the hatch door. He stood on top of it and pointed to the bulkhead at the back of the galley.

“This separates the galley from the cable locker. If you open that little door there, you can get inside. It’s full of cords and ropes and spare anchors and the like. Then there’s little storage cabinets on either side. There’s a few tools and miscellaneous things there. Come on, let’s go back into the main cabin. Nice to see you again Simon. I certainly missed your cooking while I was ashore,” Rory said cheerfully, patting Simon on the back before he stepped out of the door.

Simon scowled.

Azara made an attempt at a smile and followed out of the galley. When she got to the other side, she found Rory had a lantern in his hand and was waiting for her.

“This way.”

He started to lead he through the main cabin. All around her men were sleeping or lounging about. A lot of them had hammocks made from bits of cloth or rope tied up into the support beams. A few men were leaned up against the haul, patching clothing or playing card games under low lantern light. Rory led her back past all of them, past the where the mast came through the ceiling and back to another bulkhead. There was another door there and Rory opened it.

He stepped inside and illuminated the small space at the very stern of the ship.

“It’s the weapons store. There are other tools back here too, and equipment.”

Along the walls were several swords and knives. There were clubs and large hammers. There were long chisel like hammers, pitch ladles and various iron tools Azara had never seen. There were also several sized axes hanging on the wall.

“Wow. One could do a lot of damage with all of this.”

“Some of it’s for repairs, though.”

“Yeah, some. But I warrant you can used almost all of them for violence.”

“Yeah, probably. Come on, let’s see the sterncastle now.”

“Alright. Lead the way, boy.”

Rory grinned and climbed out of the small cabin. He shut the door and walked back toward the ladder leading out of the main cabin. Azara could hear men moving around in restless sleep. Grumbling at the intrusion of the light. She followed Rory up the ladder and back onto the main deck. Nothing seemed to be a stir, the crew of the second watch were carrying about their duties without much trouble. Rory lead her back past the main mast to the steep steps on the other side of the door leading into the officers’ cabins. He climbed up them quickly and disappeard.

Azara climbed up after him and found herself on another deck.

“This is the quarterdeck. Tallest deck on this ship.”

Azara turned and looked down on the main deck and the forecastle deck below. You could see almost all of the activity on the ship from there. She reasoned that was way the first mate was standing nearby.

The mate, Rally Boarkiller, who came from one of the other ports of the Escape Islands, Upper Mirror, was standing a few feet from Rory, his attention on the decks below. He was still wearing the tattered leather long coat, belted tightly. At his side was a cutlass in a scabbard. The design looked well made and quite expensive, but it was very old. Perhaps passed down though the family. Rally had his hands clasped behind his back and a stern look on his face.

Azara had not had much interaction with the man yet. And preferred to keep it that way. She turned and looked toward the stern. There was another man there, at the helm. He was wearing a red kerchief on his head and had on a faded tan tunic.

“This is the helm over here. Usually it’s only the captain, Horserider here,” he indicated the man currently at the helm who nodded curtly, “or a man called Gragg. No one else really steers the ship. The mates all know how, of course,” Rory said offering a grin to the mate, who ignored it.

Azara walked past the helmsman to the rail at the stern. She leaned over and looked down at the wake of the ship and the huge rudder underneath them. Rory joined her, leaning on his elbows a few inches away from her. He was staring out back in the direction of their home. The stood for a good five minutes looking at the water and their departure from the Escape Islands.

“What you thinking about Rory?” Azara asked.

“Just that the Spirits blessed us with an excellent day to start our voyage. And the start of the voyage is the most important. Why, what are you thinking about?”

“That if we attach two ropes… one at each corner post… then I could make sort of a harness using two belts and perhaps some cloth or extra sail. Then I could hang of the stern here and really get those windows clean…”

Rory rolled his eyes and stood up straight. “Come on, let’s get some of Simon’s award winning salmagundi.” Then he added under his breath, “Hanging off of the stern to clean windows. You’re mad.”

“I could do it! You don’t believe me? I’m going to draw up some schematics and ask the captain. I bet he’ll believe me. I bet he wants his windows cleaned and he’ll praise me for my thankless efforts to improve the cleanliness of this ship.”

“In all of Och, Azar. Why? Why do I have you as my friend?”

“Because life would be dull without me.”

Rory sighed, “This is true. Dull and safe. Come on, that stew isn’t getting any more edible.”

Chapter 5: Lessons with the Captain

The children climbed down the steep steps to the main deck and walked over to the hatch. Rory climbed down first and went straight into the galley. Around the base of the hatch men were lounging around on a few built in benches along the ship’s walls eating out of little wooden bowls. Azara walked in after Rory and found him handing her a similar bowl full of a dark looking stew.

“What’s in it?” she asked.

“Food,” Simon responded gruffly, serving up another bowl for Rory.

“Excellent, thank you Simon. Smells wonderful!”

Simon made a growling noise and pointed to two mugs on one of the counter tops. Rory took one and handed it off to Azara and took the other for himself. Rory lead them out into the main cabin all the way back to the equipment room door. Azara wasn’t quite sure where he intended to go. All around them it was dark with a few lanterns back toward the galley and the fire in the hearth was very low.

“Rory?”

“Hmm?”

“Where we going?” Azara asked him as he was opening the door in the bulkhead.

“Don’t fret, you’ll see,” he said as he climbed into the weapons store.

She followed him and tried to watch him in the darkness as he opened the door to a small cabinet. It sounded like he was shifting a few things around and then he flat out disappeared.

“Rory?!”

“Shh! Come one now, you want all the crew to know we’re in here?”

“No…where’s here?” she asked as she crouched to follow Rory though the cabinet door.

It was like a small crawl space straight back to the stern. Azara could hear water rushing all around her. She felt rather than saw Rory’s legs disappear above in a black hole above her. Before she dared to move any farther there was a flash of light and a soft glow was coming from the hole Rory had gone up into. Azara repositioned the bowl of stew and the mug of water in the crook of her arm. She started to kneel and then stood up slowly into the space. She looked around and found there was a very small room. Through the center of it ran a large wooden post that was moving slightly back and forth. Rory had scooted back into the far corner and had a small candle lit. Azara could feel a bit of a breeze and the room’s air felt damp.

“That’s part of the rudder that is, goes out through the stern there,” he said with a mouthful of stew.

Azara climbed up and took a seat near the hole. She stretched her legs out so they ran along side of Rory’s, who also had them extended under the rudder bar. She started eating her little bowl of stew. It had already lost a lot of its warmth. It had chunks of salt pork, potatoes, onion and carrots in it and some sort of gravy. It wasn’t all that bad, but it could use some seasoning.

“How’d you find this?”

“The mate sent me down to check if there was a break in the timber here. Rudder hit some shallows. But there wasn’t any damage. I decided then that I was going to use it as my room. None of them can get back here. There’s a lot of little nooks like this here and there, most are used as storage, but us, we can get in ‘em so why not use it? Opens up more room in the cabin for the crew. And we get some privacy.”

“I have to stay up in the cabins you know. Incase they need me for something.”

“Yeah, you ought to head back up there soon. I suspect that they’ll be wanting you to set for dinner soon enough. It was already past midday when we were touring up there.”

Azara noticed that Rory’s small canvas bag was down here as well, and what looked like an old wool blanket. She drank down the rest of the water from her mug and set her bowl aside. Rory had finished his meal and started to lay back on the floor of the little room.

“You take my bowl with you?” he asked, shutting his eyes. “I’d like to get a little rest before my watch at sundown.”

“Yeah, alright,” she said, creeping across the space and taking his bowl and stacking it with hers.

She hopped back into the hole and took a moment to figure out how to crouch back out of the cabinet. She found herself back inside of the weapons store. She shut the little cabinet door and snuck back out of the room. All around her it was dark with the sounds of sleeping men. She crept slowly up the main cabin back to the galley. There were still a few men sitting by the hearth eating or playing a game with stones. She walked into the galley to find a very menacing Simon waiting to take her bowl.

He swiped them from her hands rather quickly and turned his back to her.

“Do you want the tankard as well, Simon?” she asked holding her out.

He grunted, and when he realized she wasn’t leaving, he turned back to her. “Keep it. On your belt,” he said with a deep throaty voice.

“Oh… alright. Thank you Simon. The stew was very good.”

He grunted again, and this time she left. She climbed the ladder and pushed open the hatch, taking her back out onto the main deck.

She walked slowly back to the officers cabins. Up on the quarterdeck Windglider was speaking to the mate. It looked like the third watch had already began some time ago. Azara ducked into the cabin to find the captain sitting at the table with several maps out before him, and the ship’s logbook.

He spared her a side-glance and she scurried around the table to the little nook that was her own. She pulled out her satchel and hopped up into the space. She pulled her body back and leaned against the wall. There was a little light shining into her space from the captain’s lantern. She sat curled up like that for several minutes trying to think of something to do, or how to make herself fall asleep.

Then she decided it was time to be a little adventurous. She called out toward the light. “Sir?”

“What is it, boy?”

“Sir… would I be able to use a few lengths of rope and possible some cloth or sail to make something tomorrow?”

“That depends on what you wish to make, Azar.”

“I want to make a harness so I can wash the outside of the windows at the stern,” she said it with almost a sour taste, knowing he probably thought her a fool.

“A harness to clean the windows. Hmph.”

Azara climbed out of her little niche and stood up near the end of the table.

“No sir, it will be brilliant! I have it all worked out in my head. I know just were to tie it and I won’t have to go down far because the windows aren’t very low. I just want to scrub them over once. It would let so much more light into your cabin and into the wash room,” she stammered quickly.

“What if I like the windows dirty?”

“Do…you?” Azara asked, realizing she probably shouldn’t have.

The captain laughed. “No, Azar. I do not. But that doesn’t mean I want my fool of a cabin boy to dangle himself off of the stern of my ship with a brush and a bar of soap.”

“Oh.”

“Might as well just label yourself as serpent bait. Spirits, for being eleven summers you’re not much brighter than the last lad.”

“Sorry sir. I just thought. I just thought that it would be a good idea.”

“Azar you’ll have to learn to separate the good ideas from the idiotic in your head before you speak to me on them.”

“Aye, captain,” she responded automatically and turned back to her nook.

“Wait.” Azara turned back to her captain.

He looked her over once with one of his thick brows raised.

“You cleaned up alright, boy. Did you see to the mates’ rooms as well?”

“Aye sir.”

“Good. Good. Tell me lad. Why did you want to join this crew?” the captain asked looking back down at the maps.

Azara chewed on her lip a moment before saying, “To get away, sir.”

“To get away… To get away from?”

“To get away from where I was supposed to be. Sir.”

“From where you were supposed to be,” he repeated slowly. It felt like he was inviting her to speak more. Azara never needed much in the way of encouragement.

“I was supposed to stay on the farm. I was supposed to be a farmer. That’s what my family said was my duty. I didn’t want to do that I wanted something more. And pirate ships… pirate ships go everywhere and see everything. You’re not held to the boundaries of the island. When you’re bored you just sail somewhere else. There’s just so much more freedom in it than there is on a homestead, sir.”

He chuckled to himself and looked up at her.

“Boy, you wanted to be a pirate to be free? Better than being on a homestead, you think? Give it a few weeks, boy, and tell me what you think then.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Do you know how I became a pirate? How all of this crew got to be this way? How any of the ships for the Escape Islands turned from trade to piracy?”

“No, sir. I just… I just thought that you were always pirates.” She realized how stupid this sounded as she said it and quickly looked down.

“Come, Azar. It’s time for a history lesson. Sit.”

“Sir?”

“I said to sit,” he said roughly, kicking out one of the chairs opposite him.

Azara hurried to his order and jumped into the chair, sitting stiffly and staring up at the captain. He looked much like he did the first night she had met him. Sitting back in the shadows of a dark room. He slung up one arm on the chair next to him.

“Ten years ago we were all just your average merchants. Bringing goods between the five islands of the Escape. Sailing to the continent. Trading with the ports in the south. Sometimes sailing all the way the east and getting some of the more rare goods in the city-states there. It was a good life. I was just a mate then, ‘course. See this map here,” he said, pointing down to a large scroll of leather before him.

Azara sat up on the chair and leaned over the map. It was a huge and full of land she hadn’t seen before. She recognized the outlines of the islands in the south west corner as her home. The words “Escape” written over them. Sevens Port and the other major towns of the islands were also marked. Azara’s eyes fell on the large landmass in the center. She knew little of the main continent, just what she heard in passing in the port shops and market place.

“Och is so large… I didn’t realize…” she said in awe, looking over the map. Her eyes darting to the islands in the northwest and another smaller continent mass far to the east of everything.

“We’re headed there,” the captain said pointing at a series of small islands and shallows marked in a trail just south of the continent. “We’re going there to lay in wait to prey on passing ships. What to know why?”

“Because… we’re pirates?” Azara ventured.

This made the captain smile. “Yes because we are pirates and that is how we earn our bread. But we weren’t always pirates and we didn’t always have to lay in wait depending on the unpreparedness of others. Here… this region here.” He pointed to a spot in the northwest of the main continent. “It used to be called the Kingdom of Izarough. That’s where we came from Azar. That’s where all our ancestors were born.”

“That’s the Kingdom?” All Azara had ever heard it referred to was the as “The Kingdom of Our Fathers” by any of the folk of the Escape Islands.

“Aye, boy. The Kingdom of Izarough. Its capitol is there, Castle Izarough. It’s a beautiful fortress. A beautiful city. Or it had been, at one time. Do you know why our ancestors left the Kingdom, Azar?”

“No sir.”

“The popularity of a false deity swept through the region. It took with it the King and Queen. Old temples were torn down. Those who maintained the worship of the Spirits were persecuted. Many were burned. Hung. Tortured. Those that managed to avoid this heard the calling of the Spirits to leave the lands of the Kingdom, for the king had lost his way. So they took their ships, their kin and anything they could fit aboard and headed in the direction the Spirits told us. From all over the Kingdom our ancestors left. Some met on the water, some only met when they reached this destination. All agreed that these were the lands the Spirits wished us to escape to. And so they were named.”

“I’ve heard some of that story sir, at the temple.”

“Of course you would. You’d hear it too, if you listened to the wind. Even now, I hear it telling me to come back to the islands.” The captain closed his eyes, reaching for something Azara could not understand.

“Families made new names for themselves. They shed the rule of the king of Izarough. They discovered the secrets of the Escape islands. Many years have passed since then. The world was in harmony once again. The worship in the north of the false deity went out of fashion. Some returned to the worship of the Spirits. Some did not. But we were not pursued. Trade was open to all. That is, until ten years ago. It’s no surprise you do not remember. The world has been as it is for almost all of your life. Things have gone amiss once again in the Kingdom of our Fathers. The King claims more than were given to him by the Spirits. He seeks too much. He is suffering from an insatiable greed. He has extended the borders of the Kingdom south and taken over the free traders to the south. He assaults his neighbors to the east, the Republic of Obsole. They may have already fallen. Only the mountains and desert here keep him from taking the entire continent. The city-states of the southeast are still free, but they look with fear to their borders. The country of Esme, here on the small continent are trying to amass an army for their protection. So far, they have left the Heart Islands here in the north alone. But then, no one ventures there. The King would be most unwise to try to take them. He has also left us on our own for the time being. The ocean is our only defense. But they control all of the ports in the south and up the west coast. We cannot trade. We cannot bring goods to any harbor under their rule. Our ships are seized. Our men our lost. Some of us manage to get through to the city-states where we are still welcome. But it is a difficult journey. However, now, the things the free-traders bought from us, they must import from the north. Those ships come to and from the south bays. And if we lay in wait here in these islands, we can take them. That is why we are pirates Azar. We are pirates because that is all that is left to us because the Kingdom has lost the Way of the Spirits.”

The captain gave her a meaningful look. Azara couldn’t help but be locked in his dead stare, her mouth agap.

The door to the cabin opened, letting in bright sunlight with it. The first mate came in, glared at Azara and sat down at the table with the captain.

“Get us our meal, boy,” the captain said gruffly, rolling up his maps. “And don’t you forget what we talked about today.”

“Aye sir,” she said quickly as she headed for the door.

***

Chapter 6:

Azara hauled up a bucket of seawater to do some washing. It was her fifth sunrise on the Spite and Malice and she had finally found her sea legs. The crew was getting used to having her running underfoot and her duties within the officers’ cabins were fairly low maintenance. Now that the initial cleaning had been taken care of, Azara simply had to pick up the small daily messes the officers made, see that there was dry foods available for all of them in the mornings and midday, and make sure they were served their warm meal in the evenings. It was always the captain and the first mate that ate together just before the first watch took over the ship again at sunset. Then the mate waited and sat with the second as he took his meal, discussing any important issues the captain had raised. There had been nothing terribly exciting of the past few days. Azara was starting to understand why the captain had laughed when she said sailing would be better than being on a homestead.

She took the water out to the bow of the ship where she had piled the officers’ bedding and clothing. It was the third bucket she had hauled up. She sat down with a washboard and a bar of soap and began to wash out the clothing and humming to herself.

Rory, meanwhile, was sitting nearby splicing rope together. The ship had been fairly quite now that they had reached the small uninhabitable islands to the south of the main continent. Their sails had been taken in, and the anchor was weighed. There were lookouts running around the clock watching for any signs of a passing ship.

Rory watched Azara work out of the corner of his eyes. She had on a light grey linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a pair of brown leather pants. Her hands looked almost blue from the chill of the air and the cold seawater she had them plunged into. Yet she looked to be enjoying the work. Azara was staring down into the pail, her hands full of suds and wet bedding. She was humming a song that Rory remembered his own mother singing on several occasions. He watched her ring out the washing and bring it over to one of the lines and drape it over. She had found some sort of wood pins to clip them on to the lines.

The wet clothing was wavering in the light breeze along with Azara’s hair. Rory set down the coils of rope he was working on and leaned back against the planks of the deck. The sky was gray and Rory reasoned that there would be a storm coming soon. He let his eyes wander up to the crow’s nest where two lookouts were sitting with open spyglasses, scanning the horizon.

Harlen Harehunter was a young man with sandy brown hair pulled back into a wispy tail. He wore mostly dark colors and black leather gloves. He had his back to the mast, looking north northeast. The other lookout, a man by the name of Jard Cloudbreather was scanning the sky opposite him and looking thoroughly bored.

Then suddenly Harlen sat straight up, his whole body stiff. He reached a hand around to Jard and grabbed his coat roughly. Jard whipped his head around and focused on the point Harlen was pointing toward. Rory shot to his feet as Jard started calling down to the deck.

“Masts! Masts on the horizon! With a Izarough flag!”

“Azar! The mates!” Rory yelled to her but she was already moving, the washing forgotten.

Azara leapt off of the forecastle deck and sprinted toward the sterncastle. Harlen was already half way down the ratlines speeding his way to report to the captain. The captain, who was on watch, had sprung up from his sitting position near the stern and was leaning over the rail, ready to take the spyglass from the lookout. Azara flew through the door into the cabins.

She slammed her fist on the first mate’s door yelling through the wood, “Sir masts on the horizon! There’s a ship! Sir!”

Her rousing was loud enough to waken the second mate who stumbled out of his state room just as Boarkiller opened his own door, half dressed.

“What? What’s going on, runt?”

“Sir, the lookout spied masts on the horizon,” Azara said out of breath.

The mate suddenly looked fully awake, he turned his back to Azara and with great haste he finished dressing. The second mate, who looked as though he had fallen asleep still in his clothes and boots, immediately ran out onto the deck. Seconds after that Azara was nearly knocked to the floor by the mate as he stormed out after to join the captain.

Azara stepped out after them to find the deck in a full state of activity. Men were in the rigging, sails were being set and the officers were at the stern examining the prey through the long spyglasses. She started scanning the ropes for Rory, she knew he’d be up there somewhere, perhaps there was something she could do to help. The captain had ordered the ship to pull around the nearest island for cover. It had several very tall trees that would mask their own masts.

“Boy!”

Azara whipped around at the sound of the mate’s voice.

“Grappling hooks from the weapons store, now!”

As she ran to the hatch she heard the captain yelling to his crew, “Look lively now! They’ll be on us by midday and I want this ship and this crew ready to take them!”

Azara fought the flood of crew coming out of the hatch in various states of readiness. She dived down the ladder, swung backwards on it’s opposite side to avoid the men climbing up and landed roughly on the planks of the below deck. She grabbed an already lit lantern off of the hearth mantle. And started running back to the stern. She yanked open the door to the weapons store and started scanning the hanging items for the large hooks the mate had requested.

High up on the pegs were four good-sized grabbling hooks. They were discolored with large flakes of rust coming off as she grabbed them from their fasteners. She struggled with carrying all four plus the lantern back to the hatch. Simon had come out of the galley and without saying anything he took the lantern out of her hand grabbed her round the knees and pushed her up through the hatch.

She stumbled out onto the deck with the hooks still in her hand half bewildered by the sudden toss above deck by the ship’s cook. She regained her balance and took off back to the stern. She nearly ran into Rory who had a handful of rope.

“Drop them over here Azar!” he called sharply, dropping his rope as well.

She let the grappling hooks slip from her hands onto the deck. Rory immediately started tying the ropes into the eyelets of the hooks and preparing them for use.

“Boy!”

Azara turned around again to find the second mate standing nearby.

“Start bringing up weapons, go!” he barked at her.

Azara cast Rory a quick look but the boy was wrapped up into his knots and didn’t see her. She took off back to the hatch and climbed down the ladder. Simon was nowhere in sight but the lantern was again sitting on the hearth mantle. She took it and headed back to the weapons store. She wasn’t all that sure what to grab but she figured she might have to bring it all up anyway. Only a handful of the crew were armed at all times. The captain had a cutlass strapped to his side, as did both mates. Some of the other crew who worked mostly on the decks carried weapons, but the men who worked in the rigging only carried knives and small pike looking tools called riggers for the ropes.

She took down several of the edged weapons from the wall. Her hands and arms were small enough that she could slip them though the handles of the blades and stack them up her arms. She left the lantern in the room and took off back for the deck, arms full of clanking steel. She climbed up the ladder, the swords sliding up to almost her shoulder. She pushed her way out of the hatch, nearly stabbing herself. The mate was across the other side of the ship, speaking with his watch. Azara caught his eye as she stood up on the deck.

“Runt, over here!” he called with a laugh.

Several of he watch turned to look at Azara with her strange method of sword carrying. She had six on each arm and she rushed over to the mate with her arms outstretched.

“You’ve your use after all swab,” one of the men said to her, taking a cutlass from her left wrist.

Azara smiled at him and offered the rest of the blades to the men assembled.

“Bring the rest up, and distribute them among the crew,” the mate said.

“And bring me an axe, boy,” a man with a thick black mustache said.

“Aye, sir!” Azara said quickly and headed back to the hatch.

***

“Quiet now, lads… She’s almost here. On my word, pull the anchor and we’ll come round the island on her. Boarkiller and his men are in the boarding boat waiting to come round her side while we distract her. They’ll be on her, as we are. Eagleflyer! Oxentamer! I want you on the grapples, stern and bow. She looks heavy in the water lads, let’s hope she’s carrying—“

But what the captain said was drown out by a clap of thunder in the distance. He stopped speaking and looked off toward the darkening clouds.

“Let’s use this storm to our advantage! We all know how to sail and how to fight in rain and waves. Don’t let me down, now! Scudd,” he turned his attention to Rory who was standing against the rail, “be ready with the colors.” Rory gave him a nod and headed off to climb the mainmast. “Azar!” the captain yelled in her direction. “To the cabins with you now. Don’t want you underfoot.”

Azara was about to argue, she had even slipped a long dagger into her belt, but the captain gave her a stern look and she simply nodded. Slowly, she walked to the officers’ cabins dragging her feet. Not only was she not allowed to fight, but she wouldn’t be able to watch either. She shot Rory one last look up in the rigging and walked inside.

Rory had himself wrapped up in the rigging holding the pirate flag of the Spite and Malice. He was watching the crew below, waiting for a signal to hoist the colors onto the jack mast. Men were pacing and looking impatient. All of them were now heavily armed and two men were waiting with the grappling hooks. Rory looked across to the other mast where Jard was watching as best he could through the trees as the ship approached.

Rory looked out into the sky and adjusted his weight, trying to mentally prepare himself for a battle. The sky was growing darker by the minute. The black clouds to their south were quickly spreading north. He felt the first drops of cold rain on his forehead. Hopefully the winds would not become too strong so that the crew wouldn’t be split between fighting and handling the ship. He could feel the waves increasing in size as he bobbed more roughly in the air.

Then his thoughts were wrenched back into the present as he saw the second mate wave his arms at the bow of the ship. In seconds the anchor was hauled up by a group of men and Rory was scampering further up the mast to hang the colors. The ship lurched into movement. The wind had picked up so much that as soon as they were free floating the sails pulled them out of the shelter of the island. Rory let the colors fly and the Spite and Malice was on the hunt.

The captain was at the helm, he craftily steered the ship around the rocky coast and out into open water. He turned them so they were running parallel with the Izarough merchant ship. It was a three master, but they had already began taking down canvas in preparation of the storm. The ship was also running low in the water, heavy with cargo and crew. The Spite and Malice that was carrying little more than the food they needed to sustain themselves, was running much more quickly. Rory held on tight as the ship leaned heavily to the starboard side as the ship pulled up alone side of the ship. Rory could see the crew on the Izarough ship frantically running around on the decks. They were yelling to one another and pointing to Spite and Malice.

Eagleflyer was ready with his hook, swinging it around to gain momentum. Rory watched him spit over the rail and glare across the small patched of water. The bows were almost level and Rory could actually hear the men screaming. The crew of the Spite and Malice were yelling as well, harsh course words and noises over the rails to intimidate the other ship. They were perhaps outnumbered, but Rory doubted that the merchant crew was very well armed.

They also didn’t realize that there was a small boarding ship coming up on their rear with ten men with swords in their hands. The Spite and Malice’s grappling hooks hit the rails and the crew roared. Five men took up ropes and pulled. The merchant ship was yanked toward them while their crew frantically tried to remove the grapples.

As soon as the hauls hit the crew of the Spite and Malice were jumping over the rails. Rory started to descend the ratlines. There were screams coming from the merchant ship and Rory knew that the attack was full on. By now the crew in the small boarding boat would be climbing up the stern and surrounding them from the back. Hopefully they would give up quickly and spare their lives before the crew was forced to wound them all.

Rory ran over to the rail of the Spite and Malice to find it banging sharply with the merchant ship. They wouldn’t be able to stay grappled together like this for very much longer. He jumped over the railing onto the foreign ship. Around him was chaos. Men were battling with anything they could find against the pirates. Rory spied one of the members of the crew slumped up against one of the masts. He pu