Chapter VII (7)

  Captain Alina grunted at Mitsuko and then proceeded to ignore her while she prepared to set sail. One of the other sailors guided her down into the hull to a hidden, closet-sized room. The ship would be searched by the Sailor’s Guild before they departed the harbor and everything would go smoother if Mitsuko remained out of sight. It would prompt less questions.

  While she had passed by plenty of normal cargo while making their way through the hull, the secret room had more…suspicious goods stored inside. Nothing illegal, at least not in Hon. It was mostly crates of enchanted weapons, potions, and alcohol. But, like herself, she could see why The Terror might rather not have them on display. They would also prompt questions.

  With nothing else to occupy her, she rummaged through one of the crates of weapons, looking for anything interesting. It was all labeled, likely to help whoever bought it identify which gear did what. Unfortunately, most of what she saw were single use enchantments. Things like a ball that would explode into a grasping vines on contact or a gauntlet that reinforced the bones and created a piercing impact. That one was likely designed to be used by novice enhancers to let them strengthen their muscles without simultaneously enhancing their bones. As she picked through the enchanted gear, Mitsuko frowned in disappointment. Most of the objects were just crutches for mages who lacked skill and finesse. The most useful item she found was a disk of metal designed to heat up like a stove for cooking. Not exactly the most exciting bit of magic.

  And the potions were equally disappointing. She could make half of what she saw, and she was genuinely terrible at the craft. Mitsuko knew master brewers. They would likely rather dispose of these in a volcano rather than be seen in public with them. The healing potions were chunky and Mitsuko suspected they’d create cysts on whatever they healed. The water breathing potions looked expired and rancid. The sleeping potions looked nearly gelatinous and more likely to make the person groggy than fall asleep.

  At the bottom of the potion crate she found a small lockbox labeled “Danger. Unstable.” Normally, that would be incredibly suspicious. In fact, it still was. But with how terrible the rest of the potions were surrounding it, there was a very real chance that whatever was inside was locked up for its instability. And Mitsuko wasn’t about to risk her life to satiate her curiosity.

  After she finished rummaging through all the smuggled goods, she sat back until the ship lurched forward underneath her. Without natural wind to catch the sails, the ship would be reliant on either oarsmen on the sides or mages creating a gale. She cautiously exited the cramped smuggler room and peeked her head above deck. It seemed the captain had chosen to go with the latter option.

  Weather mages weren’t too uncommon. They were useful in many facets of life so many governments trained them. And, of course, those mages trained other mages. From what Mitsuko understood, it wasn’t a particularly difficult branch, as a lot of it was a matter of coaxing preexisting conditions rather than creating the effects outright.

  The mages in question swung their arms in a circle, as if gaining momentum, then shoved them forward at the sail, creating a coordinated gust. If she squinted, it looked a bit like a silly dance. Especially so with them synchronized. But it certainly made for a smooth trip across the placid sea. Mitsuko recalled Holly puking up everything she ate for the first few days of every trip until she regained her sea legs. Even she might be fine on such a still stretch of water. With the dome blocking the winds and tide, the sea felt more like a calm lake.

  “What are you doing out?”

  Mitsuko turned her head to see Captain Alina grinding her teeth and glaring at her. Mitsuko just gave a noncommittal shrug.

  “Do you have any idea how much trouble would fall on my head if one of the patrol ships spotted you?” Captain Alina continued.

  “I doubt they know your crew well enough to identify them each from afar,” Mitsuko pointed out. “I think you’re safe unless they take me in for questioning and start breaking knuckles.” Even then, it would likely take more than knuckles to get her to talk. It depended on how spiteful she was feeling.

  The captain was not impressed. For a second, Mitsuko thought she might be considering kicking her head in, but the woman just barked an order at her to get back below deck and not show her face then she wheeled and started shouting at an unlucky ship’s boy for tying knots too slowly.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Mitsuko obeyed, not wanting to bother with the surly captain. She slipped back below and started wandering around cramped passages. A curious grunting noise followed by squawks came from a nearby room. She poked her head in.

  A burly, one-armed man was doing push-ups on the kitchen floor with a colorful parrot perched on his hairy shoulder.

  She took a second to appreciate the sight before she stepped into the kitchen and alerted him. He glanced to the side before returning to his workout.

  “One. Moment,” the man said through gritted teeth.

  The kitchen had everything locked down and behind cupboards to keep the ingredients and tools from rolling about. The only cooking tool out was a wooden cutting board with a knife stabbed through it to keep it pinned to the countertop. A fishbowl welded down on an open shelf caught her attention and she wandered over for a better look. Black leeches drifted as the water sloshed slightly with the ship’s movements.

  “You looking for a snack?” the man said, standing up and wiping away sweat with his hand.

  “Snack!” the bird repeated. It waved its red wings, plumage ruffling.

  “Quiet, Flint.”

  The reprimanded bird squawked again and then took flight to hop from his shoulder over to the top of a nearby cabinet.

  “No,” Mitsuko said. “Just looking around and finding my bearings. You’re the cook?”

  “Guilty. Name’s Sett. I make all the ship’s grub. If you have complaints though, you know where to send them.”

  He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder at the fishbowl. Now that she was closer, Mitsuko noticed a small decorative mailbox covered in the bowl’s leech residents. She made out the word ‘complaints’ written in the Universal Script. She couldn’t help it as a chuckle escaped her.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Do you eat them?”

  “Eh? No. Those are my pets. Tastes nasty anyways. Good source of protein if you’re really desperate. But sailors need fruits in their diets, not more protein.”

  “Pets?” She stepped closer, eyeing the creatures. “I think I prefer dogs.”

  “Too high maintenance. And cats are too finicky for my taste. Used to collect colorful fish, even picked up some piranhas while stopped near the Hon Basin, but crew kept cooking them when my back was turned. Had these leeches for nearly a year now and nobody’s touched them.”

  “Ravenous crew. How’s Flint survived?”

  “That rat with wings? Belongs to Captain Alina so nobody dares mess with him. He’s a devious little shit so I doubt anyone on board could catch him even if they tried, spells or not.”

  To Mitsuko’s dismay, Sett grabbed a ragged shirt nearby and threw it on. The sleeve of his missing arm hung limp, but otherwise the shirt clung to his body, slightly too tight.

  “Lost it at sea,” Sett said, flashing her a grin. “Ghost ship full of undead pulled up in the dead of night. Big fight. We won, but still lost a couple things. Like my arm. This fucking crazed bugger with barnacles and an unhinged jaw mangled my bicep. Barely anything left after my captain pulled it off.”

  “That’s terrible.” Her mind flashed back to a few of her own bad encounters with undead. “But aren’t ghost ships extremely rare?”

  “Aye. The stretches of sea where the dead rise are well documented anomalies. And the ships rarely leave those areas. But the navigator convinced my captain it was worth the risk.”

  “Captain Alina?”

  “Ha! Nah, that was years ago. And I left that filthy pile of driftwood at the next port.”

  “What’s The Terror average route? Anything interesting?” Mitsuko knew the ship must be meant for smuggling, though she didn’t know for whom or what. She wasn’t going to prod the subject, but a few vague questions wouldn’t be too amiss. And Sett had been talkative this far.

  “We rarely leave the archipelago.” He shrugged, the gesture awkward with half of one shoulder missing. “Cargo changes. Lots of food and shit to the other races. Sounds like we’re headed to Ashen based off the info you gave the captain. Probably grab a shipment of wood from the lumberjacks there. Don’t usually go to that island, so it ought to be a nice change in scenery.”

  “Why don’t you go there?”

  “Not too much of note there. And rocks hidden under the waves. Your pal wouldn’t have a problem in a tiny skiff. But The Terror has to chart a careful course or she risks breaking a hole in the hull.” Then his grin widened at his words. “Hole in her hull. Ha! I should sell that line to a bard.”

  Mitsuko laughed. It was easy to imagine the burly cook’s preferred music. And it probably wasn’t anything she’d hear in a concert hall.

  They continued chatting as the hours went by. Sett told stories about sea monsters he’d slain and cooked while Mitsuko helped chop up ingredients for the crew’s dinner.

  The rest of the day passed. And the next.

  Then the monster attacked.