Zypheria's Call (A Tanyth Fairport Adventure)

by Nathan Lowell

  Maybe there was a way in, she sniffed around the bottom of the sharp edge and found a hole. Then another hole. And another. Too small to enter, but the smell came from the holes. Perhaps she could make the holes bigger. Big enough to enter.

  The sharp edge clicked again, but she barely stopped to notice. Whatever it was, it clicked. It didn’t move. Just clicked. There were no others, although the smell was there. The hard smell. The sharp smell.

  She used her teeth on the edge of the hole and the wood gave a bit. She bit some more and chewed the splintery edge. Yes, she could make the hole bigger. Maybe big enough to get in. Her nose fit in the hole and part of her head, but not enough to see. She smelled and heard it click again. With her nose in the hole she felt warm, even warmer than her nest. Maybe she could make a new nest where it was warmer. She pulled her nose out of the hole and peered in to see if perhaps others hid inside, waiting for her to make the hole bigger. All she saw was a soft light, barely enough to see in the dimness of the Big Place.

  She chewed and worried a bit but would have to come back. The babies would waken soon and she’d need to feed them. They would tickle her and she would groom them. She scampered back into the narrow place and pattered into the nest. Only the tip of her tail touched the smelly water and she groomed it clean before curling up with her babies.

  The dinging of the ship’s bell lifted Tanyth out of sleep and she lay there on the bedroll thinking about the life of a rat living in the bilges. She sighed. The unhurried life of a rat with her naked babies between the ribs of the ship left her feeling sleepy again. She rolled over, pulling the top of her bed roll onto her so she could be warm and cozy in her own nest.

  “Rats,” she muttered. “Rats and ravens. What’s next? Fish in the sea?”

  <

  Chapter Twenty-Four:

  A Bit Of A Blow

  On the fourth night out of Kleesport, Tanyth awoke to find herself tumbled in a corner of her bunk in the dark. The ship’s even, rocking-horse movement had turned into a thrashing corkscrew that found her holding on to the edge of her bunk, legs splayed to keep from rolling while the strength of her arm was all that kept her from sliding out to land in a heap on the deck. The ship continued to rock up and down, but the up seemed to go on almost forever. When it came down, it came down hard and shuddered. She heard shouts and the shuffling of booted feet above her head, but she didn’t dare move.

  “You all right, mum?” Rebecca’s voice sounded small and scared in the darkness and the noise.

  “Just hangin’ on, my dear. I’m glad you’re not out in it.”

  “I was, mum, then when it started to get too rough on deck, Mr. Groves sent most of the crew below. There’s just a small scrap of sail up there now so we’ll get called back when it’s time to raise more sails.”

  “And in the meantime?” Tanyth asked.

  “Hang on, I guess, mum.”

  Tanyth laughed and they settled down to ride out the storm.

  Through it all, every so often she’d hear the ding-ding of the bell. She heard two bells but in the darkness had no idea what time it might really be. Her chest pounded and she closed her eyes to the possibility that the ship might sink, taking them all down. When she did, the memory of a dream long past surfaced behind her eyes. She saw a vision where she stood in the bow of a northbound vessel, the sun shining in a gorgeous morning and the smudge of land in the distance.

  “Mother, what are you doin’?” she muttered.

  “What’s that, mum?” Rebecca asked in the darkness.

  “Just mutterin’, my dear. Nothin’ important.”

  After an impossibly long time she heard four bells but didn’t remember hearing three. Either the sound of the storm drowned it out, or the pounding of fear in her ears blocked the sound.

  Her arm grew tired of holding and she used the corkscrew motion of the ship to twist around and brace her legs against the lip, pressing her back against the solid wall of her bunk. She no sooner congratulated herself on the achievement than the ship crashed down hard again and she felt the it shudder through the very bones of her spine.

  “This is much better, I’n’t it, you old fool,” she muttered.

  “I wish you’d speak up, mum.”

  “Nothin’ of any account to say, my dear. Just an old woman mutterin’.”

  “Mutter louder, please?”

  She listened and decided that the storm was not nearly as loud or raucous as she thought.

  The corkscrew seemed to abate some and the long rides up didn’t end in such a jarring crash on the way down. She dared not hope that the end of the storm might be getting closer, but then, why wouldn’t it. Storms on land seldom blew with violence for very long. Certainly slow rains and long drizzles occasionally plagued a spot, but heavy winds and strong rains tended to blow themselves out fairly quickly ashore.

  She heard the ship’s bell ring five times and by the time it rang six, she was certain the worst was over. The hammering of her heart had likewise subsided. She was surprised to find herself quite calm, even resigned. It was as if her terror burned through her and left her weak and shaken, but otherwise, simply waiting for whatever might come.

  After a time, the worst of the movement calmed. The ship still climbed too high and smashed down too far, but the terrible shuddering only happened once in a while and the corkscrew motion faded to a shadow of its original force. She found she could stretch out on her bunk and hardly slide around at all on her bed roll.

  By the time she heard seven bells, she was nearly calm enough to fall asleep again. The occasional shudders and crashes jarred her, but only as a loud conversation might, and not with the soul shearing terror of the full storm. At length she heard the companionway door slam with a bang and then boots in the passage outside her door.

  “Mum?” Mr. Groves’ voice came to her through the panel. “Mum? Are you all right?”

  She wrapped herself in her bedroll and called, “Come in, Mr. Groves.”

  The door opened and Mr. Groves stuck his head in. He wore no hat and his dark hair lay plastered to his skull. His torso seemed wrapped in some bright, glossy poncho and his face split in a jubilant smile, bright teeth flashing in the dimness.

  “We had a bit of fun, mum, but we’re fine.”

  Tanyth barked a laugh. “You call that a bit of fun?”

  Groves shrugged a shoulder. “It blew up suddenly, but it was only a small squall. Nothing to be concerned about. Call’s a sound ship and we’ve sailed through many much worse. Sorry, we didn’t get to warn you, mum. Are you quite all right?”

  “Scared the stuffing out of us, but other than that, we’re fine, Mr. Groves.”

  “Did you get tossed out of your bunk?”

  “No, Mr. Groves. I got a good hold and wouldn’t let go.”

  “Good for you, mum. We’ll have heavy seas for a bit yet, but it should calm down in a few bells. The glass is already rising and we’re out of the worst of it.”

  “I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Groves.”

  He laughed. “Sorry, mum. Just hold on a bit longer. You can probably go back to sleep if you like.”

  “What time is it, Mr. Groves? Does Cook need a hand in the deckhouse?”

  “Nearly noon, mum, but the galley’s secured for now. It’s too wet and wooly out there to do more than curl up and stay warm and dry. Cook is in his hammock, I wager. We’ll have a hot meal for dinner, but we can get you some cold beans and biscuits if you’re hungry, mum. Can we bring you something?”

  At the thought, her stomach threatened to do a somersault without her. She found herself suddenly awash in sweat. “I think I’ll just lie here and try to sleep, Mr. Groves. Thank you.”

  “Rebecca? You’re wanted on deck,” Groves said.

  Rebecca held up a hand, pale in the dim light. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Report to the bosun when you get up there.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  He gave Tanyth another broad smile. “Ho
ld on for a little while longer. This one’s almost over. You can see it’s already getting lighter. The sun will be out in another bell.”

  As soon as he mentioned it, the light from the small port brightened almost perceptibly and Tanyth found she could see him quite a bit more clearly than when he’d first opened her door.

  “Thank you, again, Mr. Groves.”

  He waved and closed the door with a careful slam to set the latch.

  Rebecca levered herself out of her bunk and into her trousers, putting on a couple of cotton shirts and her jersey over it all. She took a moment to take a dab of liniment and rub it around on her hands before heading for the deck. “See you in a bit, mum,” she called and closed the door behind her.

  Tanyth stretched her neck out to get a glimpse out the port and immediately wished she hadn’t. Ugly black clouds stretched to the horizon and every so often the view out the window itself was obscured by foaming, rushing, gray water.

  “All-Mother, preserve us,” she grumbled. “A bit of fun, he calls it. A bit of fun.” She sighed and shook her head, but her eyes closed. She found that, yes, she could go back to sleep.

  Tanyth’s stomach woke her, insisting that it was time for a little something to go in it. She felt muzzy and a bit sore. Wrestling with the ship for a few hours had left her muscles feeling hard used. “You’re getting’ soft,” she muttered and crawled out of the cozy bunk.

  Rebecca’s bunk was empty, but her coat and boots were missing. Tanyth figured to find her on deck.

  She pulled on a pair of trousers and added an extra pullover before shrugging into her blue coat and making her way into the open air. The ship bobbed a bit more forcefully than she was used to, but a bit of extra care with flexed knees seemed to work just fine and she pushed into the cookhouse without incident.

  Cook looked up with a nod. “You weathered the blow all right, mum?”

  “Not somethin’ I wanna wake up to every day, Cook, but I seem to be alive.”

  Cook’s eyes twinkled and he nodded. “Wait’ll we get a big blow, mum.”

  She shook her head and propped herself in the corner. “Anythin’ I can do to help?”

  He shrugged. “At the moment, I’m just trying to get the stove hot enough to cook with. Everybody’s cold, tired, and hungry. They’ll be looking for something filling and hot for their dinners. Stove’ll be hot enough in another bell. I’m thinkin’ a nice stew with a spicy broth. Should be just enough time to cook if you care to peel me some roots.”

  She slipped out of the coat and hung it on her customary peg. “Sounds fine, Cook, and I’d take a mug of tea if you had it.”

  He placed his hand on the side of the teakettle. “Next one still warmin’ up, mum, but shouldn’t be too long now.” He leaned down and opened the fire door to peer in. He grunted and closed the door again. “It’ll be hot enough when it gets there, but it takes a while to get a good bed of coals laid down.”

  “All right then,” Tanyth said and rolled up her sleeves, pulling open the folding worktable as she did so. She fetched a bucket and put a couple of inches of water in the bottom. “Bring on the vegetables, Cook,” she said, pulling a paring knife from the block. “I’m ready for ’em.”

  He grinned and wrestled half a bag of potatoes from the ready pantry. “A couple dozen of these, if you please, mum. I’ll find you some carrots to do after that.”

  Tanyth dug into the potatoes and lost herself in the mundane exercise. Cook poured her tea when it was ready and a steady parade of sailors came to the door to take a cup of tea, or a biscuit, or both. When she shifted over to carrots, Cook took a pot of fresh tea and grabbed a fistful of mugs through their sturdy handles.

  “I’ll be right back, mum. I need to go visit the bridge and see if the captain needs some tea.”

  She saluted with the paring knife and kept on peeling. Three sailors came to the door while Cook was gone and accepted mugs from her with grateful smiles. All of them looked wet, cold, and tired, but every one smiled and offered a word of thanks.

  Cook returned with the pot and no mugs after a bit. “All quiet, mum?”

  “I handed out some tea and I’ve got these carrots almost done.” She paused to survey the pile of unpeeled carrots. “Another few minutes. You got anything else after that?”

  Cooks head swiveled in a methodical survey of the galley. Tanyth could practically see him checking off things in his mind. “I need to get the stew on and then make some biscuits, mum. A hot broth and a bit of bread will get this lot through the night. Tomorrow I can give ’em some sweetened oatmeal for breakfast and baked beans for dinner.”

  “I can make biscuits. If that’ll help you any.”

  “Well, mum, that’s probably—” Two bells rang and Cooks eyebrows shot up. “Thank you, mum. If you don’t mind? I can get this stew simmerin’ if you can make me a sheet of biscuits to go into the oven. It’s probably hot enough by now.” He leaned down and checked the firebox, throwing in another stick for good measure. He stood, dusting his hands together. “Aye, mum, that’d be right helpful.”

  He set her up on his sideboard with a huge bowl, a half barrel of flour and the rest of the fixings for biscuits. While she mixed and measured, he started browning some meat in the bottom of a caldron-sized soup kettle. They worked together, sometimes bumping hips in the confined galley, both so engrossed in their individual tasks they barely noticed.

  “Tight space,” Cook muttered once. “Sorry, mum.”

  She bumped his hip on purpose. “I’ve worked in tighter spaces, Cook. We got sailors to feed.” She offered him a friendly grin and he laughed and set about throwing spices and redolent herbs into the stew pot.

  By the time she had the large sheet pan filled with biscuit rounds, he had a pot of stew bubbling on the back of the stove. Just the aroma coming off the meat-and-vegetable rich broth warmed Tanyth as she stood there. Cook grabbed a towel and pulled open the oven door so Tanyth could slide the large tray in. He slammed it shut and checked the firebox one more time.

  Three bells rang out across the ship.

  Cook grinned. “Perfect timing, mum. The stew should be ready and the biscuits fresh from the over at the next bell.” He cocked his head and asked, “You’ll be dining with the skipper again, mum?”

  “Plenty of time to put on a ball gown and get there, Cook.” Her mouth twisted into a wry grin.

  He barked a couple of sharp laughs. “True. Not like you’ve a long way to go.”

  “And I’ve got a limited number of frills in my closet just now,” she added.

  “Well, thank you for the help, mum. That woulda been tight to do on my own.”

  “Thank you for keepin’ me entertained for an hour or two, Cook.” She pulled her coat down off the peg and slipped it on. “I best get back and get ready for dinner.” She took another deep breath of the wholesome aromas filling the cookhouse. “Hope I can wait that long. My stomach feels like it hasn’t been fed this week.”

  “Take a cuppa tea with you, mum. It’ll keep your belly busy ’til reinforcements arrive.”

  She took one of the crockery mugs and he poured her a careful measure from the big pot at the back of the stove. The hot tea warmed the china and she held it up to her chin, letting the warm, moist air drift across her nose and face. A small sip felt good going down and she took another before offering Cook a small toast. She made her way back to her cabin without spilling the tea and found a place to rest the cup while she stripped off the heavy coat and hung it on its peg.

  She found Rebecca carefully paging through the bundle of papers. The young woman smiled up as Tanyth turned to her.

  “What ya findin’?” Tanyth asked.

  “Lots of notes about herbs and such. A few leaves so far.”

  “Borin’?”

  Rebecca considered the pile and took so long to answer that Tanyth laughed.

  Rebecca colored. “Not borin’, mum. Just—I never read anything like this. Notes about this or that. Some of these herbs
I never heard of.”

  Tanyth shrugged. “That’s why I been collectin’ ’em.”

  The cabin felt cool to her, after the overheated cookhouse, so Tanyth dug into her pack and pulled out a heavy sweater. She tugged it down to her hips and felt the extra warmth almost immediately.

  “Well, you’re no basket of fruit, old heart, but at least you’re warm,” she muttered.

  “Beg pardon, mum?” Rebecca asked.

  Tanyth shook her head. “I’m just mumblin’ to myself again, my dear. Pay me no mind. If I’m talkin’ to ya, you’ll know.”

  Rebecca grinned and held up a page. “Who’s Mabel Elderberry?”

  Tanyth tilted her head to look at the page. “That’s the last woman I stayed with before I came to Ravenwood. Spent all that winter workin’ with her on ointments and salves. You can prob’ly still smell the beeswax.” Tanyth held the paper up to her nose, catching just the faintest whiff of sweetness from the page. She held it out for Rebecca to sniff.

  Grinning Rebecca closed her eyes and took a long breath through her nose. “Just barely,” she said.

  Tanyth read the page, recognizing a recipe for the wintergreen salve that Mother Elderberry sold at market.

  “What’s that for, then?” Rebecca asked, nodding at the page.

  Tanyth smiled. “Mostly whatever ails ya. Mother Elderberry sold a lot of it and some of the elders said it helped their arthritis a bit, others claimed it healed blisters.”

  “And did it, mum?”

  Tanyth gazed at the page and pictured the round, smiling face of Mabel Elderberry, skin flushed from stirring a boiling pot and her gold-green eyes dancing in the morning light of her tiny cottage. Tanyth gave a shrug. “Prob’ly didn’t hurt, but mostly, it smelled good.”

  Rebecca laughed just as somebody rapped on their door.

  “Miss? Bosun says you’re wanted on deck.”