Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1)

by Starla Huchton

  When she entered the pilothouse, Iris was waiting for her. The first mate said nothing, but the vexed look on her face indicated she was still brooding about the conversation with Jiao earlier in the morning.

  “Tell me something,” Rachel said as she eased the ship away from the dock.

  “Hmm?” Iris followed her lead.

  “Why does it bother you that Jiao will be studying under your teacher?”

  At the question, Iris paused, as if thrown for a moment. “I suppose I should not judge, but she doesn’t strike me as the type of student Jamyang Rinpoche would normally take on.”

  “You refer to her admitted unscrupulous behavior?”

  Iris nodded.

  Rachel sighed and shrugged. “From what I know of you mystical types, you always have your reasons for your actions, whether or not you express them outwardly.”

  “You are correct, but—” she began, only to be interrupted again.

  “You do things that baffle me completely, yet give no explanation for your actions when asked. What makes you think that your teacher would do any differently? Did you expect him to send you a letter asking for your permission?”

  “No, but—”

  “And did you expect him to never take on another student ever again?”

  “No, but—”

  “Were you so perfect as a child that only someone exactly like you could become his student?”

  “No, but—”

  “Ah ha. So, I suspect this is merely jealousy on your part, then?”

  Iris said nothing, preferring to pout silently instead. Rachel was not accustomed to calling Iris out for childish behavior. Her friend knew she was being unreasonable. There was no cause to judge Jiao so harshly when she only recently met her.

  Rachel noted the victory mentally, but dropped the subject. She checked the course heading one last time before putting the engines into reverse and pulling away from the Singapore dock.

  He cursed under his breath as the ship grew smaller and smaller in the distance. His mustache twitched as the corner of his mouth drew up in a half sneer. Minutes. He missed her by minutes. That damned female somehow managed to get in and out of port before he could locate her.

  Getting to Singapore hadn’t been easy. That fool, Yong Wu, created such a mess of the trade routes he was an entire day behind schedule. Still muttering foul words about the woman that eluded him yet again, Mr. Mustache turned on his heel and stalked off the pier.

  Leaving the bustling docks, he headed back towards his lodgings. There was talk of the embargo lifting, and he could plan his next move better with the information passed through the safe house. But as he passed a darkened alleyway next to a butcher’s shop, a smooth voice quietly called out to him.

  “Always chasing the girl, aren’t you, Mortimer?”

  He spun towards the voice, his temper flaring. “How dare—” As he saw who addressed him, the words vanished from his tongue. He coughed nervously. “Brother Matthias, I wasn’t told you’d be in Singapore.”

  The low hood of the man’s cloak barely revealed his smirk. “And that fact surprises you? You’re not told half of the information you think you are.”

  The muscles below his eye twitched in silent annoyance. “Indeed it seems that way. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Will Brother Isaiah be joining us?”

  The covered head wobbled back and forth a bit in a vague “no.” “Not this time. He has… other business to attend to at the moment. I’ve come to deliver a message to you.”

  “And that would be, what, exactly?”

  “Your transportation to Zhuqing monastery departs in an hour.” He extended his arm, the end of which offered a small envelope. “Additional instructions are contained herein.”

  “That’s all then?”

  Matthias’s head bobbed briefly. “For the moment. I don’t doubt that we’ll be seeing you again very soon, Brother Mortimer.” His words spoke of a mutual respect that his tone did not match.

  “Then I’ll be off.” He tucked the envelope inside his jacket and whirled around, leaving the cloaked figure standing alone, smiling eerily.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Flight North

  What started out as a clear day soon turned into overcast skies, and within hours, the first drops fell, causing Eddie to jump in surprise when the rain splattered against his goggles. The Antigone’s Wrath was airborne now, and he was busy tying down barrels, per the instructions the first mate gave him. He did as he was told, but all he really wanted was to be back down in the workshop with Mr. Jensen and the fascinating machine he was building. A few crewmen unbolted the harpooner from the deck shortly before Captain Sterling returned, and the new gun was rapidly approaching completion.

  As much as he loved being aboard ship, Eddie grew nervous as the clouds above and around them darkened. By the time the rain began, his hands were shaking so badly he could barely tie a knot.

  “Easy there, young man.” Jacob Masters grabbed one end of the line as it slipped from Eddie’s grasp. “A little weather is all it is. Not to worry. I’ve seen much worse than this little bluster.” His Irish accent lent his voice the sound of laughter, and it was difficult not to cheer up at the sound of it.

  Eddie did his best to relax. He struck up a friendship with Mr. Masters the day before they arrived in Singapore and learned much from him in that short time. The stories the man told were full of adventure and danger, about raiders and attacks from the Air Transport Authority and Royal Navy. He didn’t know how much of what Mr. Masters said was true, but he liked him nevertheless. He also didn’t seem to mind having him around, which Eddie found very refreshing. He wasn’t trying to get in the way; he was simply curious and wanted to learn as much about this amazing ship as he could.

  “Are these knots all right?” Eddie had to nearly shout now, as the wind kicked up.

  Mr. Masters peered down, inspecting the lashings. “Aye,” he nodded approvingly, “you’ve done a fair job of it. Tighten that last clove hitch and it’ll be done.”

  Eddie smiled, proud of his small achievement. He tightened the knot as instructed and stood up. “That’s the last of them, then. Is there anything else you’d have me do?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Nothing else for the moment. Thanks for your help, lad. I think you’d best get back to helping your master.”

  Eddie gave a little salute and bounded off for the workshop. He had to slow his pace topside, as there was always the danger a sudden gust of wind would take him overboard, but he took the ladderwell steps two and three at a time as soon as he was below. He knew how to maneuver in the interior now, as he’d taken one too many boots to his hind quarters from sailors he inadvertently bumped into while running carelessly through the passageways. He didn’t want to be a nuisance; he was simply in a hurry all the time. There was far too much to see and do to be slow and leisurely about things.

  He came to an abrupt halt in front of the door to Silas’s makeshift workshop. Eddie knew better than to burst through the door; he didn’t want to risk bumping Mr. Jensen or the invention-in-progress. He rapped quickly and waited. After a few seconds passed, there was a scraping sound, like something metal dragging across the floor, then soft footfalls, and lastly, the handle on the door turning. A pair of bleary eyes peeked out into the hall, blinking at Eddie as though not recognizing him. The spark of recollection flared behind his glassy retinas and Silas admitted him.

  “You didn’t sleep, did you?” Eddie frowned at Silas as he closed the door. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t rest for a while, Mr. Jensen.”

  Silas gave a tired sigh and waved him off. “I’m fine. I need to finish this. The captain won’t tolerate this weapon being out of service for long. With luck, I think we can finish it in a few hours.”

  “How can I help?” Eddie, unsure of how to convince him otherwise, decided to let it go. If Mr. Jensen wouldn’t listen to his advice, he would assist in the building. Captai
n Sterling didn’t strike him as a patient woman, but he also doubted she’d want Silas endangering himself over one little harpoon gun.

  Mr. Jensen wasn’t interested in what Eddie thought, however, as he was back to work already. “Hand me the blowtorch,” Silas said as he flipped down the welding mask.

  The sparks flew as metal bonded to metal. Holes were bored into panels and the sounds of hammering and drilling filled the room. Eddie was astonished by the progress Mr. Jensen had made in the last few hours. While Eddie was topside, most of the wiring and structural components had been placed. The majority of the work still to do was the shielding and superficial details to give it a clean, finished look. It would be ready for testing soon, just as he said.

  “Say, Mr. Jensen,” Eddie popped his head over the top of the former harpooner, “how are we going to test this, anyway?”

  “Won’t be able to until it’s all done.” Silas didn’t look up from where he was adjusting some of the interior conductors. “Not ideal, I know, but it’s either wait or blow a hole in the side of the ship. I could be wrong, but I think Captain Sterling would prefer we not destroy the hull.”

  Eddie smiled. “I imagine you’re right.” He gave a screw one last twist to ensure it was tightened, then stood. “I’ll go get some chow for us. If I wait much longer, Monsieur DuSalle might close the mess deck.”

  “Is it that late already?” Silas blinked in surprise, looked at the clock on the wall, then rubbed his bleary eyes. “Hmm. Perhaps we should break for a bit, then. I’m not positive, but I may have missed lunch today.”

  Eddie shook his head. “If you don’t take care of yourself, Mr. Jensen, you won’t be able to finish this at all. And what about sleep? Aren’t you worried that some of your calculations could be off?”

  Silas looked at Eddie. Irritation lined his face, but it softened and he smiled. “You’re right, my boy. I apologize for being short with you.” He relented, tossing his mask to the workbench. He unfastened his tool belt and set it aside as well. “Let’s get some dinner and get to bed early.”

  Relief poured out of Eddie as his shoulders dropped. “Sounds great to me.” He slid the screwdriver into its holster on the wall.

  “After you.” Silas motioned him out, and they left, carefully closing and locking the door behind them.

  The mess deck was nearly empty when they arrived, the only other occupants being Danton and another sailor hauling a box of dirty dishes to the scullery. This did not bode well. Eddie grimaced. Danton already harbored ill will towards Silas; showing up late to dinner would not endear them to the man any more. The look Danton gave them as they approached did nothing to argue otherwise. He remained seated, a large ledger open in front of him.

  “Good evening, Monsieur DuSalle.” Silas gave a short bow to the master-at-arms. “Is there any chance it isn’t too late to get a bite to eat this evening?”

  “Monsieur Maclaren.” Danton began, addressing Eddie, but not taking his eyes from Silas. “You’ll find some bread and a bit of meat in the kitchen. Please take what you and your master require. I am afraid this evening’s meal has concluded and cold sandwiches are the best I can offer in the way of provisions.”

  “Yes, sir.” Eddie jerked to attention, then sped away into the kitchen.

  “Monsieur Jensen.” Danton narrowed his eyes. “It is no secret that I do not like you.”

  Silas nodded. “You’ve made as much clear.”

  “Then I don’t have to tell you to watch yourself. If I see any proof you are anything but what you say you are, I will not hesitate to eliminate you.” His cold stare caused Silas to shiver.

  Silas shook his head. “You’ve made yourself completely clear, Monsieur DuSalle, but I do hope you’ll change your mind. I’m nothing more than what I’ve told you. I’d no sooner bring harm to you or any aboard this ship than I would to my apprentice, or even my own mother, if she still walked this world.”

  “So you say…” Danton trailed off.

  Silas threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine. Continue to suspect me. As nothing I can say or do will appease you, do as you will.”

  Eddie’s reentry into the room ended the tense conversation.

  “Good evening, Monsieur DuSalle. Have a pleasant night.” Silas called over his shoulder as he and Eddie departed. He ignored the scoffing sound that followed.

  After the quick meal, Silas and Eddie slept. It was difficult for Silas to shut off the endless stream of thoughts about the particle cannon, but before too long he was sound asleep. Even in his dreams, equations wove through his mind, interlaced between the visions of steam and gears. The smoke cleared for a moment, and there she was, dancing, the clatter of steel on steel creating the music of her movement. Her dark hair flowed gracefully behind her, a cape of silky chocolate brown. He moved towards her, entranced. A smile played at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes flashed with desire when they met his. His arms reached for her, but as he moved to pull her in, she disappeared in a swirl of fog, her echoing laughter the only proof that she had been there at all.

  He jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed. His heart pounded in his chest. At first disoriented, it took him a moment to remember where he was. Eddie snored softly in the cot next to his. The darkness outside the small porthole told him it was still night. He lay back down, but sleep eluded him. After a good thirty minutes of trying to get comfortable again, Silas gave up, got dressed, and left their cabin.

  Instead of returning to the workshop, he decided a bit of fresh air would clear the remaining haze from his mind. He headed upwards through the ship, only half paying attention as he mulled over the dream of Rachel. He must be mad to even consider she’d look at him that way again. Hopelessness settled around him as he slunk up the stairs. Why this bothered him so much now, he wasn’t sure. Rachel never once gave him the impression she was looking for anything more than a bit of entertainment, a pleasant distraction. It wasn’t a surprise. Yet now it seemed so much more final, and it hurt. The dream stirred up feelings he managed to ignore until now. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to know why she distanced herself; her lifestyle was clearly ill-suited to monogamy. It was more an irritation at being discarded so easily, especially since now he was a passenger on the Antigone’s Wrath. So deep was he engrossed in his brooding, he completely missed Rachel leaning against the bulkhead as he exited onto the open deck.

  The weather finally cleared as her watch ended, and Rachel was enjoying the newly visible stars. She opened her mouth to remark on Silas’s presence, but quietly shut it when she realized he didn’t see her. He appeared to be entrenched in thought, and she didn’t want to interrupt anything important, in case it was about the missing harpooner. While she wasn’t pleased about its absence, she knew that in the case of an attack, it wasn’t a crucial weapon. In fact, the last time it was used was during crew down time a few months back. There was a rather large fish that gave the men some trouble. She gritted her teeth when they asked to use it, but the resulting feast that evening was well worth the small bit of fish entrails that lodged itself into the spear’s nooks and crannies. To be fair, she probably shouldn’t have given Silas such a hard time about it, but after going so long showing only animosity towards him, she found it difficult to do otherwise. While she didn’t want to show weakness in front of her crew, there was no cause for her to be outright mean to the poor man. The situation was not of his making. She started forward, meaning to talk to him, maybe to apologize for her behavior, but Silas mumbled something that stopped her cold.

  “Rachel, is it so impossible for you to love?” he whispered as he gazed out across the tops of the clouds.

  The remark knocked her back and she stifled her gasp. Rachel ducked into the ship’s interior, her hand pressed against her lips, eyes closed. She did not want love, and never asked him for it, so why did he sound so sad? Even more worrisome, why did his comment, spoken when no one should have heard it, make her feel so vulnerable and alone?

  She shook her
self, breaking the spell of introspection. Without confronting him, she turned and started off down the hall, back towards her quarters. It was nearing two in the morning, and tomorrow they would arrive at the monastery. She needed her sleep and couldn’t afford to get caught up in sentimentality tonight.

  His comment haunted her, however, and her dreams were filled with memories of romances past. She awoke at the morning call to chow, still tired, but unwilling to relive another round of ghost lovers. She took her time brushing out her hair, and pulled on a pair of brown suede trousers and a cream colored tunic before lacing up her boots and heading out for breakfast.

  Before she got very far, Eddie intercepted her. “Captain, you must come quickly!” He took huge, gasping breaths, evidence that he’d been running.

  “What is it?” A moment of panic seized her. Was someone hurt?

  “The new weapon.” He took another deep breath. “We’re ready to test it, ma’am.”

  She blinked, confused. This wasn’t what she expected. “Wait, the weapon? No one’s been wounded, have they?”

  Eddie tilted his head to one side, looking confused. “Er, no, ma’am. None hurt. I only thought you’d like to see the first firing for yourself.”

  She sighed tiredly. “Is that all? Can’t it wait until after breakfast?”

  Eddie’s face flushed. “Sorry, Captain, but I’m afraid not.” He ducked his head, embarrassed. “Mr. Jensen said he didn’t want to risk testing it any nearer our destination, what with us being so close. He didn’t think he’d have another opportunity today.”

  “Very well then.” She grimaced. Breakfast would have to wait. Danton would set aside a meal for her, she was fairly certain.