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18th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year
3But before the beginning, there was light, and there was a cold wind called Nüm. 4The cold wind blew and formed the three Saints; Delód, Wōde, and Ründ. But first among them was Delód. 5The Saints grew tired of the endless light, and so they spake, creating darkness and separating it from light. 6But when the cold wind blew through the darkness, it formed a fourth Saint called, Vésh. 7And so it was that the three Saints came to regret their first creation and so sought to create something good. 8Delód, foremost of the Saints, spake thus:
“We regret what our words hath wrought. Let us now make a new thing, one which will be good.”
9And so they created Yath, and it was empty, lacking all life, and void. 10The Saints were proud, but they were not yet filled with joy. 11They worked tirelessly, filling Yath with life. 12In their toil, the sweat of the Saints rendered the oceans salty. 13They spake their words and formed the Deepfoot, ancient of beasts, that they might traverse the ground and press it flat. 14Then the Saints spake again, filling Yath with all manner of living things, 15but none of their creations brought them joy. 16Delód spake thus once more;
“Let us now make a new thing, one in our own image, that they may bring us joy.”
From “Book of Creation”, Chapter 1 verses 3-16, Church of the Deep, Written by Saint Delód in the Unreckoned Years
The King’s Fist rocks gently a few hundred towers off of the Mass. It is positioned sideways, with 50 small black holes pointed toward the Mass, and 50 pointed away. Mavis holds the Captain’s expensive eyeglass and watches the hull of the galleon with its dozens of bobbing dark eyes. The rest of the blue sail vessels are spaced evenly around the port of the Mass. He speaks while keeping one eye trained on the King’s Fist. “She’s got her gunports open, Chapel.”
“I see them…”
“Seems they want a dance. Is the Lady willing?”
“Indeed. Let’s loose the sheets and make a dash for it, the wind is as good as we’ll get.”
Mavis carefully collapses the ornate eyeglass and shouts out orders in the powerful voice of a lifelong First Mate. “Hands make sail! Keep ‘em taut!”
Chapel laughs at the sudden oomph of a strong gust in their sails. “Hah! Well, let’s see if we can’t slip between these dancers and leave the party early.”
Mavis yells out. “Aye, aye, Captain. Hold the Lady steady, crew, else we be forced to court with one of these fine young gents!”
Petsune stands at the helm watching the ships in the distance and listening to the orders being called out. His only job is to loosen or tighten the topsail ropes to give an extra boost in speed. He can’t help but feel that this is more like what he pictured of ship life: orders being barked out and sails being manipulated by deft and calloused hands. As they move noticeably away from the port, the closest King’s Hand vessel appears to swing about to pursue. Mavis shouts to Chapel at the shipwheel. “Don’t think we’ll be sneaking out of this ballroom, Captain. King’s Hand, starboard bow. She’s taken notice.”
“I see her. Well, let’s take her for a spin then.”
Petsune watches Chapel as he pulls a wooden dowel rod out of the ship wheel, and he places it into the inner circle. Suddenly, the inner portion of the ship wheel that was not spinning begins to move slightly alongside it, pinned by the rod.
As they approach the line of navy ships, the King’s Hand that marked their movement begins to aim to intercept them. Petsune isn’t sure if their intentions are hostile yet, or if they are simply trying to stop them from leaving. Once they realize that the Lady plans on deserting, all depths will break loose. While Petsune is thinking this, there is the distant boom of a cannon which lands loudly in the water next to the ship. Chapel calls backward for Petsune to loose the topsail, and he does. The Lady picks up speed and is now being pursued by the King’s Hand. There are two stern breaker guns mounted in the bow of the King’s Hand, and as Petsune stares backward at the encroaching ship, he can see two cannons being pushed out of the gun ports. Petsune turns and shouts to Chapel. “They have forward facing guns, they’re about to shoot!”
Mavis calls out. “Steady as she goes!” and Pet watches the Captain. There is a moment of tense silence until Chapel calls out, “Hold fast!” He grabs a hold of the ship wheel and turns, moving the inner wheel rapidly along with it. Instead of turning off sideways, the Lady moves laterally without pointing her bow that direction. Petsune stumbles sideways at the same time as cannon fire explodes behind them. Two splashes bloom from the surface of the sea, a mere ship's length off the starboard side. Chapel laughs like a madman as the distance lengthens between the stern and the King’s Hand. The chase seems to end as quickly as it started, with the navy deeming them not worth pursuing. Petsune has found his feet again and approaches Chapel. “Saints, Chapel! What in the depths was that?”
Chapel laughs. “Yeah, I bet they’re scratching their heads still.” Chapel waves jokingly at the quickly diminishing ship. “The Lady is fitted with a bow rudder that can be used for emergency maneuvers. It’ll drop your speed but it’s good for getting out of a tight spot.”
Petsune stares at the ship wheel and then at Chapel. “Any other secrets this ship has?”
“Oh, I’m sure, but I don’t know them. Yet.” He winks.
“So, how does it work? How do you use the bow rudder?”
You just pull this peg out of the shipwheel and push it into any of these slots. This smaller wheel won’t move unless it’s linked to the main ship wheel with the peg. That links the two rudders, meaning the bow of the ship turns the same direction as the stern.”
Petsune contemplates the bizarre concept. “So… could you move the wheels in opposite directions? Make the ship turn a tight circle?”
“Well, you could, but the wind would hardly ever allow it. It’s more for slight movements.”
Petsune marvels at the craftsmanship and ingenuity of the Coldors, feeling closer to them than ever.
Far back behind the stern of the Lady, Misty Shoals Mass shrinks along with the blue sails of the navy ships. Chapel calls out to Mavis. “Make us a heading, Mavis. We’re heading for the Floating Forests of Gar Hedron, about a 5-day sail south-west of here.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Plottin’ a course. If we follow the Misty Shoals borderline, it should lead us right to it.”
“Alright. Wheel’s all yours, Mavis.”
Chapel steps away from the ship wheel and Petsune fastens the rope to the topsail, leaving it open to catch the breeze. Chapel and Petsune walk off the quarter deck and down into the captain’s quarters below. In all of the excitement, Petsune forgot about The General.
Chapel and Petsune walk to the back of the room where Tarlatan lay snoring on the bed. Bor enters behind them and gives Chapel a small cup of something rancid. Petsune gives Chapel a questioning look. Chapel responds, “It’s fickwill. Ya know, fickle willow? Helps you sober up.”
“Ah, I’ve never heard of that application. It’s used in the Order as ink instead of the more expensive storm squid ink.” Petsune helps Chapel pour the foul liquid down The General’s throat. “So, why the Floating Forest?”
Chapel wipes a bit of dribble off Tarlatan’s chin like a doting mother. “The Lady’ll blend in better with floating trees than regular ships. Plus, there’s a small Mass just south of the Forest, called Garwon Mass.”
“I suppose that makes sense…” Petsune looks at The General with concern, “will he ever be rid of this… habit?”
“It’ll be a battle he fights for the rest of his life, I fear. But with our help, he may be able to kick the drinking. We just need to be patient when he slips.”
“I feel like I failed.”
“Not at all. In fact, I’m impressed with how well he did, considering we were sailing toward his home Mass. Don’t leave off talking with him. Whatever you said made a difference, so keep at it. It’s a process.”
Chapel moves over to a desk area that has his captain's logbook folded open to a page half-filled with scrawls. Petsune follows and points to the logbook. “Is that the book you were speaking of? With the Vánüm language?”
Chapel appears occupied, looking for something in various compartments. “Hmm? Oh yeah, that’s it.” Petsune takes hold of it gently and thumbs through the pages. There are dozens of entries of Vánüm words with definitions and uses, some in collections that spell out familiar places. The first to catch his eye is an entry on the nearby Floating Forest, it reads:
‘Gár Hē-Drō-N’ - Steadily Growing Green
Gár or Gar, definition : steady, slow, subtle.
Hē or He, definition: to increase, more, grow.
Drō or Droh, definition: green.
N - must be our language?
Petsune speaks to a rummaging Chapel without looking up. “You wrote here that Gar means steady or slow. I wonder if that’s where the garpus gets its name?”
Chapel answers distractedly, “Yeah, probably. Tussle is really slow.”
Petsune continues to look through the entries until a loud crash startles him into looking up. When he does, Chapel is underneath a shelf that appears to have collapsed onto him. Petsune hastily sets the logbook down and goes to help the Captain. “What happened? Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t realize that the shelf wasn’t actually mounted…”
“What in the depths were you doing?”
“I was trying to make a hole in the ceiling there.”
“Why, by all the Saints, were you trying to put a hole in the ship? Isn’t that the last thing you should try to do?”
“Well, I thought Sprig’s little trick with the sharksbane was actually very clever. Thought maybe I could rig a similar thing from the ship wheel to here. Ya know, for communication.”
“I see…”
Petsune helps Chapel out from under the collapsed shelf with its trinkets and devices. The Captain sets about restoring everything to its proper place, meanwhile Petsune finds himself looking at the map on the wall again. Chapel places things back on the shelf and notices Pet staring. “You look at the map a lot.”
“Oh? Do I? Perhaps… I’ve just realized how much of the world I haven’t seen. So many places I’ve never been and stories I’ve never heard.”
“Well,” Chapel says, replacing the last item, “we’re heading for the Floating Forest, so you can check that off your list.”
Petsune nods, then gestures obliquely at the map. “So, what is our route to Dintish Mass?”
“Well, we’ll need to head south to get around this.” Chapel taps a small swirl labeled ‘The Flower’.
“Why do they call it The Flower?” Petsune asks.
“I think it was named by an exploratory vessel that nearly sunk in it a long time ago. During King Boltigaw’s reign, if I remember my history. It was a ship called the Reachmast. Thecaptain coined the term when they wrote about it in their logbook. When you see the massive whirlpool from a distance, it does sort of look like a flower. It’s because the warmer Green Sea meets the water of the Cold Sea there, or something like that.”
Petsune notes the things Chapel lists on the map. “So, we obviously don’t want to sail through that.”
“Right,” Chapel continues saying, “and I would prefer to avoid the Dead Ships too, so from the Forest we’ll go straight south for a day then cut west to the Royal Mass.”
“The Dead Ships?”
“Sorry, sailors name for the Shipwreck Straits.”
There is some kind of commotion on the deck outside. Suddenly Sprig bursts into the cabin, chasing a squawking prattlebeak. The bird is evidently distressed, squawking and flapping like mad, desperately trying to escape the nimble boy. Chapel shouts over the din. “Sprig! What the depths are you doing?”
Petsune attempts to corral the bird and guide it out of the cabin, but it lands on the ceiling truss and refuses to budge. Sprig yells at the prattlebeak. “C’mon, ya drownin’ bird! Get outta here!”
It calls out in Sprig’s own voice. “Get outta here!” then it flaps its wings.
Sprig looks at the Captain and at Petsune. “Pickett and I been trainin’ it to be a messenger beak, but I’ve about given up on it.”
Petsune speaks first, “it? Doesn’t it have a name?”
“I suppose it does, but it ain’t told me, so’s I call it Bird.” Sprig fixes the bird with a murderous scowl. Petsune scoops a fallen feather off the ground and chuckles, twisting it between two fingers. Behind them, The General snorts softly but doesn’t wake.
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