The doc rolled his large brown eyes.
“Morning Six, Ensign.” And he left the galley for the confines of the pit.
Smoke waited until he was gone and the crew had turned their attentions to their cups and their dice before pulling out a pipe and leaning into me like a plotter.
“Come upside and let’s see if I can’t sway you,” he said. “The helm’s a far portlier ketch than a dead man’s chest with a faun.”
I nodded but looked away before he could spot the stinging of my eyes. Smoke would probably cancel the offer if he sniffed outemotion, and I respected that about him.
Following him up to the main, I let the night consume my thoughts. The sky was dark but calm, and the moons were bright and laughing. I loved the sea at this hour. She shone back the starlight and made the horizon disappear. The music of the wind and the waves, the creak of the timbers and the flutter of the sails. And now, the hawk.
Shrill and sad, its mournful cries echoed across the water, and I remembered the visions as clear as day. An island of deep jungle and glittering rune, soaring through branches, diving in the bay.Kirianae ik thay’ell, Kier Gavriel sil.
It broke my heart, those sad winter cries. I felt like, somehow, I had caused them.
Smoke didn’t take his place at the wheel. It wasn’t his watch, and he was content to stand behind Thom, the quartermaster’s second, puffing his pipe and surveying the deck before him.
If I drew the stout dworgh with his expressive eyes and bushy brows, I’d use charcoal. Dark, layered, easily smudged.
“Have you laid hand on a sunswheel before, Blue?”
I grimaced, unsure if I wanted to touch the ship again so soon. Her voice was loud, her ropes deadly, her memories visceral and profound.
“I’ve not laid my hand on any wheel,” I answered.
“It’s amazing how the ship responds. Though I’ve a dream to sail with a moonswheel one day.”
“What’s a moonswheel?”
“Three wheels fused together, each controlling their own tiller and rudder. Bloody marvel of engineering and design. That’s m’dream.”
Dreams, I thought to myself. Magik was easy compared to dreams.
He drew a deep breath, let it out with a roll of smoke. I inhaled deeply. I loved the smell of pipes. I used to have one on Sky Spit.Carved it out myself, but finding good tobacco had been costly, so the shop owner, Mr. Teller, gave me old bogmallow leaf for free. It tasted terrible, but I’d taken it happily. It was one of the few good memories I had from Sky. Odd that I’d remember it now.
I gazed out over the ocean, vast and deep and dark and wylde.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He blinked sleepily but said nothing.
I pushed. “Fahr said that once I had a ring in my ear, there would be no more secrets.”
He puffed his pipe, and I breathed it in. “You like him.”
I shrugged. Not in the way he meant, but no one needed to know that but me.
“I like fogging, and he’s fetching.”
“Well, that’s honest,” he said. “And I like fogging, too. I’d be all over the map in that regard, but despite his moaning, milquetoast manner, Echo’s a jealous lover, and I’m lucky to have him. A good mate’s hard to find on the sea.”
He pulled his pipe and looked around at the skies.
“You hear that, clearseer? I’m faithful…”
I grinned. I’d been right about the rings.
“So?”
