by Rebecca Diem
“Yes?”
“Have you heard any word of a shipment of gunpowder gone missing?”
Tims frowned, “Captain, what have you been into now?”
“What do you know?” The Captain Duke set down his cup.
“Nothing really. Only whispers. Something’s afoot, but few will speak of it openly, even to speculate. I think—I think the Tradists are up to something. More than the usual. Something worse.”
The Captain considered the news before continuing, “What would you say if I told you we happened across a grain transport laden to the brim with gunpowder. Off the books. Even the airship’s captain knew nothing of his patron.”
Tims wiped his brow and sat back, “This does not bode well, Captain.”
“No. Indeed it does not. This discovery, combined with our encounter with the soldiers–it cannot be mere coincidence. I know not the origins of the gunpowder, but I do suspect I have a traitor on my crew.”
“If there is anything we can do for you…” Tims continued.
“Say the word, I know. In truth, I have come to give notice that we may need to adjust expectations for this year’s haul. We will need to be more cautious after this incident.”
“Yes, of course. I will tell the council to prepare for a leaner year. Have you been in touch with the Widow lately? She may have better information.”
“She’s a difficult one to get a hold of, but if my sources are correct she’s expected back from the Americas soon.”
“Good. We’ll keep this small, only the closest of the alliance for now until we can determine the source.”
The two men drank in silence, contemplating the turn of events. The ‘liberated’ goods were laundered through shopkeepers like Master Tims and sold below the posted price for the local farmers and villagers. Over the past decade he and Trick had developed a loyal network for the black market trades. Tims and the merchants were an essential part of his enterprise; they used the ill-gotten goods to supplement the overpriced stock provided by the Tradists. Without them, the stores could hardly turn a profit, and many of the essentials would be priced out of range for the common people. The Captain Duke had seen the effects of famine, and swore inwardly that he would do everything in his power to prevent such despondence.
Chapter 5: In which our heroine stops running
Clara looked over her purchases with pride. She had ordered two new gowns for wear about the town and a smart grey outfit with brass buckles that would work perfectly for navigating the port towns as part of their ruse. Mrs. Cottingham said she could find the perfect hat from the milliners down the street to complement the outfit as well. The dressmaker had a stock of clothes that were already fit to wear and only needed slight adjustments. Three new silk shirts and a set of fine black trousers were folded on the counter, along with heavy woolen stockings and a packet of underclothes wrapped discreetly in brown paper. But her favourite was an overskirt of deep purple that had struck her fancy. It was intended to be worn over a longer skirt, but she liked the way it was cut and draped to sit higher in front above the knees before angling lower in the back to cover one’s derriere. It permitted some modesty while allowing her the ease of movement she had become accustomed to. Thankfully, Mrs. Cottingham was an advocate for the rational dress movement and greeted her transgressions with enthusiasm. The overskirt was a compromise between her past and present.
Mrs. Cottingham eagerly shared her latest book of patterns, including many of her own design that were geared towards practicality, in particular for the ladies who chose to cycle about town. Clara couldn’t remember the last time she was actually excited about clothing, but it was the first time she truly had a say in the matter. She and Cat were enjoying a cup of tea with their new friend when the men returned.
“I trust you two have been well taken care of?” asked the Captain Duke. He looked concerned. Clara wondered at his business about town, but decided it best to leave the matter for now.
“Pickpocket,” she stated instead, giving him an arch look over her tea.
The Captain let out a burst of laughter before reaching into his pocket to return her purse to her.
“An old trick. One I should probably teach you,” he said. His smile had returned, along with its intriguing dimples. “Come, we will meet the others at the docks.”
They took their leave of the dressmaker and hailed a mechanical cab to take them to the port. Clara helped to bundle Cat and Mouse into the carriage with their many packages, accepting the Captain’s hand as he moved to assist her, in a comical, overstated performance of gentlemanly manners. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze and winked when she met his eyes. She laughed at his antics and jovial mood, thinking nothing in the world could possibly spoil her happy mood. But then, catching a glimpse of the street behind him from the corner of her eye, she felt the blood drain from her face.
“Miss Clara? Miss Clara!”
Across the busy street, a man was straining to see them through the traffic. He gave a tentative wave. Clara’s heart went cold as she feigned ignorance and ducked into the carriage as quickly as she could manage.
“Captain, hurry please. We must go.”
At the urgency in her voice, the Captain Duke nodded and gave a quick order to the driver before joining them in the carriage. Anderssen swung up to sit on the back of the cab to watch for followers. Clara could feel their curious stares. She fixed her gaze on her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. They rode in silence for some time before she felt brave enough to see the Captain’s reaction. He was still watching her. She looked down, cheeks burning.
“Clara?”
“I did not mean to spoil our outing.”
“Who was that man?” he asked.
She was reluctant to reveal more, but she had put their venture at risk.
“An old acquaintance, the son of a family friend.”
The Captain Duke considered this for a moment, “Did he get a clear view?”
“I can’t be sure. Only for a moment I think,” she said, wringing her hands together. Her chest was tight, and she felt a bubble of panic rising.
“He may doubt his perception. You said you were thought to be traveling the continent, did you not? When we found you?” He reached across the carriage to take her hand, “Do not torment yourself so. The Haven is safe. There are none here who would willingly reveal its location to a stranger. We take care of this town and it is in their interest to guard our secrets. Whatever the matter, you will be safe here.”
Clara did her best to calm herself as they made their way back to the airship. The cooks were late in returning, and every additional moment spent at the docks caused her untold anxiety. When they were finally ready to depart, she sought her own company at the bow of the airship and was silent for the rest of the journey.
By the time they reached the Haven, Clara was determined not to allow her fear to discourage her. The life she thought she had left behind was catching up to her much sooner than she anticipated. Clara unpacked her purchases, then sat at the window of her room as she mulled over whether to share her secrets.
Clara was reasonably certain that her story would be safe with her new friends. Nessa would understand. She would never fault her for the choices she had made. She was far less sure about the judgement of the Captain Duke. He had ensured her safety without knowing her story in its entirety. What if he decided she was a liability to his crew and made her leave the Haven? Where would she go?
Clara sat for a long while, knees pressed to her chest as she stared through the glass at the forest below, until she heard a soft knock at the door that joined her room with Nessa’s. Nessa entered, and at the sight of her friend, Clara’s mind was made. She had to tell her.
“Nessa, you should be resting.”
“I’m feeling much better. In fact, I hope you’re feeling rested. We’re beginning your training this afternoon.”
“What? Nessa, I—”
“No complaints. Captain’s orders. I’m
not well enough to fight, and I do not enjoy the precariousness of our current situation. I need you to be able to defend yourself. Cat and Mouse will assist us. Are you ready?”
“Nessa, I need to tell you–” Clara said, before pausing.
“Yes?”
“Well…” Clara froze, she could not get the words unstuck.
Nessa leaned back against the wall.
“Cat said you had a bit of a fright this morning.”
“I, well, it’s not as though we were in danger, I just didn’t expect to see…anyone.”
“Clara, the world is much smaller than you would think. Believe me, I have seen a great deal of it. Whatever you are running from, it is inevitable that one day you will need to turn and face it. Face your fears, your past, whatever is holding you back. I’ve seen what happens to those who try to run forever, and it never ends well.” Nessa walked over and placed her hands on Clara’s shoulders with a look of determination, “Meanwhile, let me give you the tools you need to put up a good fight.”
Clara hugged her friend, her own chest tight with emotion.
“Thank you.”
Nessa smiled in return, “Good. Now, I sent Cat and Mouse ahead to the clearing; we’ll meet them there.”
They made their way down to the weapons room, where Nessa handed Clara a large bundle of padding. She nearly sank under the burden but soon found a better grip on the leather fastenings.
“We’ll need to build your strength as well,” Nessa said, laughing. They exited the room and Nessa led her into the surrounding forest.
Clara followed Nessa down a well-travelled path, only struggling slightly to carry her burden. Nessa’s colour had greatly improved, although she did reach out to the trees for balance now and then. It was slow going, but their destination was not far. Clara could hear the sounds of wooden clacking nearly as soon as they entered the treeline. At first she assumed it to be some sort of bird or animal making the noise, but as they approached the clearing she could see that the noise came from Cat and Mouse, already sparring with wooden swords.
Nessa halted their progress and they watched as the two siblings parried and thrust like expert fencers. Cat had the advantage of height, but Mouse was untouchable as he tumbled and rolled beyond her reach, springing up behind her to launch a new offensive. Cat retreated until she neared the edge of the clearing, and Clara was certain that Mouse was about to win their match. Then, Cat changed direction, running towards a tree and using it to flip over her brother’s head. She landed on both feet, holding her wooden sword at his neck. He pushed it away.
“Again,” he said, assuming a fighting stance. He jumped at the sound of Nessa’s applause.
“How on earth—“ Clara began, but Nessa was already entering the clearing. “Well done,” she called out. “But you need to stop falling for that trick, Mouse.”
Cat beamed at the praise.
“Don’t get cocky, he almost had you that time, Cat.”
“Did not!”
“You need to learn to evade the attacks, like Mouse. You won’t be taller than him forever and you cannot rely on your height for advantage in a real fight.”
Mouse smiled and flipped Cat’s sword out of her relaxed grip, tossing it towards them. Nessa caught it, but handed it to Clara instead.
“You’ll be sparring with Clara today. Let’s start with the basics.”
Clara’s concern over sparring with the two youths quickly vanished as she realized how thoroughly outmatched she was. They began with some simple stretches and exercises designed to increase one’s energy. Cat and Mouse taught her how to move first, with Nessa offering her own corrections on form and posture from her position, seated and resting in the shade of a tree. Clara learned to roll without losing her sword and how to spin without becoming dizzy. She went through the drill again and again until her muscles were pained. Draw, roll, jump, spin, aim. Draw, roll, jump, spin, aim. Once her form was deemed satisfactory, she was ordered to repeat the feat a dozen times more. Finally, when she was certain she could do no more, they took a break to quench their thirst. Clara had never tasted water so fine and cool in all her life.
Then the real work began.
Clara picked up the sword and learned the proper grip after having it knocked from her hand a dozen times by little Mouse. At Nessa’s instruction, the two children took turns teaching her thrusts and parries. They ran through the sequences slowly at first, until Clara could anticipate each move. Next, Cat and Mouse positioned themselves on opposite sides of Clara and she parried against the both of them, first blocking one attack, then turning to counter the other. Clara did not manage to win any of the matches, but Nessa said she was pleased with her progress regardless. They trained until a bell rang in the distance to summon them for the evening meal.
Clara dropped to the ground and lay flat on her back. “Finally! Can we eat now?”
“Do you surrender?” asked Mouse as he put his wooden sword to her throat.
Clara put a hand to her brow in mock submission, then grabbed the weapon and pulled the boy to the ground to tickle him.
“Stop! Stop! Noooo!” he squealed. Cat joined in to rescue her brother. After a few moments the three of them lay giggling on the grass with Nessa standing over them, hands on her hips.
“Well, if you have enough energy to play, you must have the strength to carry the equipment back. Come on you three. Time to sup.”
Clara was bone-tired but thrilled with her progress. Her young instructors ran ahead while she and Nessa returned the sparring pads to the weapon room. She practically crawled up the stairs to wash and change, splashing water on her face and body. She took a deep breath and caught her reflection in the looking glass. Brown hair tangled in a messy braid, posture impeccable. But there was a light in her eyes that was not there before. Already she felt taller, stronger than before she joined the Captain Duke and his crew. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of how she would improve the next day in training, new moves to try, routines to memorize. As she hurried down the staircase to join the others, a figure stepped out at the landing, giving her a momentary fright.
“Oh, hello Miss Clara,” said Robbie. He paused to wait for her to finish descending the staircase. She held her position, then, feeling rude, continued down to stand at his level.
“Hello, Robbie.”
“May I accompany you to the hall?”
She ducked her head in the briefest curtsey. Her smile was more of a grimace, but the etiquette lessons of her instructor, Miss Ellington, were rather difficult to forget.
Robbie easily matched her pace with long strides. She stared straight ahead, barely acknowledging his presence though he prattled on about the Haven and its many features and amenities. As they turned down a corridor, he put out a hand to stop her. Clara recoiled from his touch, jumping back and raising her arm instinctively to block him.
“I beg your pardon, I did not mean to frighten you, Clara.”
And with that, her etiquette lessons were forgotten.
“Frighten me? The very thought is offensive. Your familiarity is unwelcome.”
Anger flashed in his eyes before he could arrange his features into a neutral expression. She saw the merest glimmer of the man behind the mask. She was well-acquainted with the many guises worn by those with less than noble intentions, the ways in which they used social graces to the advantage of their own nefarious purpose. He was a talented one. Resuming his act, Robbie stepped back and bowed.
“My apologies. I only wished to alert you to the location of a rather fine old portrait gallery in the next room.” He paused before continuing, observing her defensive stance, “Clara, I am no traitor. I hope you will allow me to prove myself to you one day, or at least that you will hear my side of the issue with an open mind. I feel that we may have followed similar paths to this life, and I wish for you to know that you may find a friend and ally in me.”
With that, he turned and continued down the hall. Clara narrowed her eyes. She
did not trust him, but rudeness would not help the matter. She let out a breath of exasperation once he was out of sight and leaned against the wall. Despite her ravenous hunger, she was reluctant to continue to the dining hall. Unbidden, the thought popped into her mind that if she were home she could have the staff bring her meal to her rooms. She groaned and put a hand to her head. These memories were not useful.
“Clara? Are you unwell?”
She turned to find the Captain Duke staring at her from the end of the hall.
“What? Oh no, fine. I’m fine. Thank you.”
He walked toward her, his concern showing itself in the line of his brow. He said nothing, but took her hand in his. Too tired to protest, she met his gaze and felt as though he could perceive her every worry.
“Tired, hungry, a bit homesick,” she offered after a moment.
“Well, we can certainly rectify at least one of those. Shall we?”
The Captain tucked her hand into his arm and escorted her to the hall. His manners as a gentleman were impressive. Clara could see they were not the airs put on by some young men, but came from a place of genuine courtesy. They were a mark of his respect for others instead of an attempt to prove himself. Her curiosity about his background grew with every day she spent in his company.
Cat greeted Clara with a grin as she and the Captain entered together. She refused to blush, resolving to enjoy this moment of comfort and companionship as he led her to the head table to sit with Nessa and Trick. From the corner of her eye, she caught Robbie glaring at the two of them. She filled her plate with the fresh bread, roasted meat and thick, hearty stew. Still, there was something that unnerved her about that man. Clara hoped that whatever the Captain was planning could be acted upon soon. She put the matter from her head, as her appetite required immediate care. Soon, she thought, as she tucked into her meal, she would be ready to fight too.
Chapter 6: In which our hero makes no allies
“It’s not like that at all. She’s a nice lass. She saved us. You should have seen it, I was certain we were done for. And then up she came, dressed all lady-like and had them all—”