He blew out a breath and stretched his eyes heavenward. Out here, swaying rhythmically to forces far larger than himself, life seemed so much simpler. Shale, indigo, onyx…lapping and overlapping as far as his mortal eyes could attempt to grasp, shattered only by the impossible sieve of sky, peppering the dome overhead with small pinpricks of light. The depths of sea and stars were vastly more formidable than his insignificant will that one was simply left to render themselves to the mercy of Mother Nature and her infinity. Often, in his actual life, he felt the same way. He would much rather submit to the will of the Sea than the will of those far craftier, nebulous forces who governed Arcanton. Even in Mother Nature’s cruelty there was logic…justice even. This was not so for the world manufactured by man, more often than not.
He was not an overly religious man, although the battlefield tended to make even the least pious into believers. He might be tempted to dust off some of that Episcopalian inspiration in the next few days. He would need some Divine intervention of some kind…angels or saints or whatever it was those priest-types prescribed. The task at hand seemed insurmountable. Hundreds of years of precedent and a cruel world were formidable enemies.
Letting his hands fall from the railing, and taking one more swig of briny sea air, he decided he would simply have to tackle the situation one day at a time. Having no reference point really to how Deliverance would feel about sleeping on a ship full of men, he’d offered to sleep near the door if it gave her a sense of security. After he made the offer, he’d kicked himself. Of course, he was yet another strange man to her. What he knew of her life on the island, which was probably more than most, was that the girl had lived alone with her mother her entire life. But Deliverance seemed grateful for his offer, hesitating slightly as her situation on the ship reeled across her face like a picture show. She was not accustomed to hiding her thoughts, this one, Jack thought. He often frequented circles where everything was a game of nuance and subterfuge. The girl’s innocent candor was refreshing. She’d accepted his offer to sleep by the door. That much seemed to be an indication she at least trusted him a modicum more than the rest of the strange men on the boat. That was something at least.
She was asleep by the time Jack ferreted a spare hammock from the berth below, the washcloth hanging like a shroud from the knob of the great cabin. He slung his hammock in the corner nearest the door as quietly as he could, but it became apparent the girl was in a deep sleep already. Elephants would not wake the poor thing…elephants. What on earth would she make of them? As far as he knew the largest creatures on the island were the stocky ponies they bred for farm work and carting.
He flicked off the overhead lights, then hesitated. Allowing a small illuminating flame to bloom at his fingertips, he crept over and studied the girl. He did so as stealthily as he could. It would not do for her to stir and find her “pirate” lurking near her bunk. So he kept the light low and studied her from as close as he dared to venture.
She was beautiful. Not beautiful in the way the society ladies of Arcanton were beautiful—all ruffled and painted and girdled and plucked. She was as natural as the tides, her dark hair billowing out in waves like volcanic glass. This was a woman who had never seen a beautician’s parlor, the powdery machinations rampant in Arcanton’s capital Lontown. And yet her skin, despite her harsh lifestyle of sowing and reaping on the island of Nar, was as alabaster as fresh cream. Her mother, Cat, was known to be a beauty as well, famous for her luminous green eyes. Her daughter must have inherited well from her mother.
A small snore escaped from her parted lips and Jack snapped himself out of his reverie. He too would need sleep to navigate the difficult task set before him. It was Providence that he happened to be out scouting in the area when her unique distress beacon showed on the ship’s radar. He shuddered in his hammock as he thrust the thought of what would have happened to Deliverance had someone else picked up her signal and found her first firmly from his mind. Within minutes, he too had entered into a deep sleep.
***
Deliverance
There had been three once upon a time…but only the vaguest of memories could touch the third. Then it was two. Always two. But somehow a nagging sensation made Deliverance want to remember three again. But that was never how it was. It was always grandmother, mother, daughter then mother, daughter. Grandmother did not arise from the grave…and yet the sensation of a third could not be quelled. It was brief, only for a short time. But the idea of a third, nebulous and obscured, could not be shaken from the back reaches of her subconscious. But this could not be. There was never a third until there was a babe, but this third felt nothing like an infant. She did not have an infant. Who was this third trapped in the vestiges of her memory?
Deliverance awoke with a start. Jack the Pirate was still snoring softly in the hammock he must have hung after she fell asleep last eve. Her mouth was full of cotton but luckily the pitcher still had some water left and she rinsed the film from her teeth. There was a tube of something set beside the pitcher. “Toothpaste,” Deliverance read quietly, frowning. Why on earth would anyone want to paste their teeth? Perhaps Jack thought she had dentures? That was an odd assumption. She maintained her dental hygiene well with mint, alcohol, and twig brushing. Maybe they had no concept of dental cleanliness in the Outside and had to paste their teeth back into place?
She set the odd-shaped tube aside and regarded the slumbering pirate. In his sleep, he appeared younger, more peaceful. Awake, his fire current was almost visible in his quick, energetic mannerisms, in his eyes. Lashes fluttered over the dark, intelligent eyes Deliverance knew to be resting underneath. He was older than her, she decided, although perhaps not by much. If they aged so terribly in the Outside that they required teeth pasting, he could be perhaps close to her own age of three and twenty. If he were Narisi, she would guess him closer to thirty.
He must have sensed her watching him because he startled awake. He stared at her a beat before regaining his wits. Then he swung his legs over the side of the hammock and rubbed the sleep from his visage.
“Good morrow,” Deliverance said tentatively. It seemed Jack the Pirate was not a spry awakener.
He grunted and shuffled around murmuring, “Coffee.” Good, at least they had coffee, Deliverance thought, aching for the hot, black liquid. She and her mother farmed and gathered the beans that grew at the very top of the island mountains. The roasted smell wafting in Deliverance’s direction gave her a pang of homesickness. She wondered what had become of her mother and Effie and what they might be filling their day with today. Hopefully menial farm tasks and not the dreaded work of miners.
“Here you go, love. This is coffee,” Jack said after several minutes of fidgeting with a contraption that looked like a kettle.
“Thank you. I know what coffee is. We drink it often at home,” Deliverance responded, gratefully accepting the smoothly potted mug. A master maker must have thrown this mug, as it had little by way of lumps or abnormalities. She marveled at its smooth texture.
“Ah that’s right. I forgot how diverse your agriculture is on that little island. Quite a wonder,” Jack said, pouring and mixing a mug for himself. After a beat he said, “Sorry it’s instant. Not the best stuff but it will get us by for now.”
Instant? Deliverance understood this adjective for the coffee because it had been prepared instantly. She w
ondered if Jack heated the kettle with his fire gift. She sipped the steaming liquid. It was bitter and slightly off-putting, but after a couple drags, not bad.
“Cream or sugar?” Jack asked her. He must have been half asleep because the creamer he offered was not even liquid…it looked like he had mixed up flour with creamer.
“Black is fine, thanks,” she responded, not wanting to draw attention to his sleepy error. He poured some for himself, inhaling the steam as if to steel himself for the day ahead. After a few sips he walked out of the cabin brusquely, then returned within a few minutes.
“They’ll have breakfast brought up,” Jack said by way of explanation, then plopped with ease into the window bay seat on the far side of the cabin. He regarded her in an assessing manner. Gesturing to the open portion of the cushion beside him caused the heat to rise in Deliverance’s cheeks. She had never spent so much time in close vicinity to a man. His speech and reactions were entirely foreign to her. He seemed…conciliatory? Not domineering and abrupt, the way Narisi men were with the village women.
“It’s alright. I don’t usually bite,” Jack joked, noting her hesitation. Deliverance squared her shoulders and then ascended into the seat as well, although backing up to put as much space between them as she could. “Perhaps you could help enlighten me better by telling the tale of how you came to be adrift in the sea once more?”
As she retold the tale, this time in as much detail as she could recall, she picked at the pale blue threads of the bench cushion. It reminded her of the morning glories that used to snake their way across their pasture fences, the buttons in place of their centers.
When she got to the part about Effie’s proclivities, she reddened further, but stared at Jack in a defiant way, warning with her eyes.
“Though she be…different, she is still my fast friend. I would defend her to the last,” Deliverance declared, daring Jack to counter her.
Jack’s response was unexpected. “Damn shame how utterly backward that island has remained. Being tried for being a lesbian? It’s unconscionable! But then again, loads of things are unconscionable on Nar…” He looked up at her and added, “From what I understand, at least.”
“How is it you know so much about our island?” Deliverance inquired, suspicion creeping into her tone.
Jack shrugged nonchalantly. He seemed to know he was treading in awkward territory. “I have made it my business to study it and learn what I can about it.”
How odd, Deliverance thought, that a pirate with no business on Nar would choose to inform himself thus. Perhaps he meant to raid it in the future. That was a terrifying thought. They had never had visitors other than the messenger birds in their entire history…at least not that she knew of, anyway. A raid would be disastrous. The village was wholly unprepared for an assault by sea. Perhaps she’d better not give him more information than she needed to get him to deliver her safely to Lord Asher.
Jack seemed to read her thoughts. “I pose no threat to Nar, Deliverance. Of that, I can give you my word.”
Deliverance let this promise sift in her mind, before accepting its truth. However untrustworthy pirates were, her instincts told her this one was good to his word. And she had well-developed instincts to be wary of men.
Another thought struck her. “In the Outside, women…preferring women is not a crime?”
Jack snorted, but seeing she was serious, explained, “Good Lord, no. Well, I can’t speak for all the countries in the Outside. There are a few who remain…backward. But in Arcanton it isn’t an issue. Even some of our elected officials are of that persuasion. Men preferring men, women preferring women…some preferring both or none or whatever. It is not something we care about much.”
Deliverance thought of the Abbot and his abuse of the poor orphan boy Tobin…was that?
Jack, again seeming to read her thoughts, added, “Of age, of course. Consensually.”
“Oh,” Deliverance replied, relieved. “And that age is…?”
“18. In Arcanton at least. Consent applies even within a marriage as well,” he added.
“How interesting! On Nar, well, once a woman is wed, the husband dictates when such activities occur. Some men, from what I understand from Effie, are gentler than others, more considerate. She often plies her trade to give some of the wives a break from those duties,” Deliverance related, eagerly at first, but then blushed when she realized she was discussing such a subject matter with a complete stranger. Another question popped into her mind. “Are you…? Do you prefer men? Is that why you can do magic?”
Jack, startlingly, broke out into a deep laugh. He guffawed for a time before wiping his eyes and realizing he owed Deliverance an answer. “No, I most definitely prefer women. Like I said before, magic is not limited to one sex, or sexual persuasion if you will, in the Outside. Everyone comes into their gift on their own in childhood. That reminds me…” He stood and strode to the armoire in the room. He rummaged through its contents for a while before producing a pair of black leather gloves.
“Where we are going, it is best, for now, that most people do not recognize you for a Narisi,” he said, handing her the soft, kidskin gloves. They were beautifully tooled, thin, and they stretched over her hands as she donned them. Deliverance wondered why Jack would have a fine set of ladies’ gloves in his cabin, but decided she had no right to ask.
“I had picked these up for my kid sister as gift, but her hands are yet too small, I believe,” said Jack. It was slightly annoying how he could deduce her thoughts. Perhaps that was one reason Cat had kept themselves secluded on their side of the isle. No, Deliverance decided, this man was entirely different from the ones she knew on Nar.
“It should stop any unplanned for fires, at any rate,” Jack continued.
Ah yes, this was clever. Although Deliverance did wonder how it might feel to absorb other gifts. Would it be immediate like her encounter with Jack? Was it through her hands or all of her skin?
“It is something I would like to study a bit though, if you don’t mind,” Jack said, eyeing her gloved hands. “There is not much known about the Narisi female’s curse or how it manifests. We thought perhaps it would have died out over the generations, although your little performance the other night would indicate otherwise.”
He sounded rather scientific for a pirate, but Deliverance was curious herself.
“Do you mind?” he asked, extending his hand toward hers. She nodded and allowed him to gently pull the glove from her right hand. Thinking better of it, he pulled the second one off as well. “It would not do to have the ends singed off. Would defeat the purpose of the disguise.”
He gracefully perched next to her and said, “I am going to touch your hands again. This time, remain calm. Slow your thoughts. Believe inherently you have control.”
Deliverance stilled her mind, breathing the way her mother taught her for meditation rituals, slowly, evenly. Like before she took a shot, in the woods of her home, before felling game.
He placed his larger palms on top of her outstretched ones, carefully. They were warm over hers, and at first she felt nothing but the physical sensation of touch. Then slowly, like grains of sand sifting, green light began to trickle from his palms to hers. No flames leapt out, however. Just the tickling sensation
of the magic sinking through the layers of skin upon her work-worn palms.
“Ok now carefully, take your left hand away and try to light a flame…a small one. Barely a candle’s size. Keep calm as you do so. If it goes out of control, I will douse it. There is nothing to fear,” Jack instructed, his dark eyes locked on her green ones. In their reflection, Deliverance could see her eyes were glowing as she absorbed his magical gift.
She followed his instructions, slowly lifting her left palm, then turning her hand over. At first the flame flared when she thought of fire, but quickly she was able to mentally wrangle the flame into a small, barely illuminating ball of light. She broke her gaze with him to marvel at the orb floating just above her palm. How utterly transfixing!
“Now I am going to take away my other hand, and we will see if the gift remains with you,” Jack said evenly, calmly. Slowly, he lifted his other hand, but the orb did not dim or snuff out. “Now let’s see if I still have the capability to use my gift or if it transferred entirely to you.”
They both looked down at his hands. Palms still up, a twin light orb blossomed first in his right hand, then danced to his left, a juggling act.
“Fascinating,” he breathed. “I feel like my gift is still full strength. It’s like it’s been copied or mimicked by your magic.”
“This is…amazing,” Deliverance exclaimed, breathless with the magic coursing through her system.
“Your eyes have stopping glowing as well, but the fire remains strongly lit in your hand. I wonder how long you will retain this copy of my gift?” Jack mused, absorbed in his scientific observation.
“I’m not sure. I suppose we will have to test it at several intervals to see if it is still present,” said Deliverance.
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