Privateer

by Margaret Weis

  By the time he and Phillip returned to the Rose, Kate fed them what food she could spare, then put them to work. They finished with the balloons, then she sent them back to the stream with empty water barrels and instructions on how to operate the pump.

  While they were gone, Kate made a final inspection of the Rose and was satisfied.

  “We can set sail,” she told them when they returned.

  Phillip finished inflating the balloons, filling it not to capacity, but just enough to provide stability. Thomas released the ropes that tethered the Rose to the shore and jumped on board.

  Kate put her hands on the helm.

  “This is the critical moment,” she told them. “If the magic doesn’t work…”

  They waited tensely, as Kate sent the magic flowing to the lift tanks and the airscrews. When the lift tanks started to glow a faint blue and the airscrews whirred to life, Phillip cheered and Kate breathed a sigh of relief. She carefully steered the Barwich Rose along the shoreline to where they had left the water barrels and loaded them onto the ship. From there they sailed into the channel. When the rigging and masts were clear of the trees, Thomas helped Phillip raise the sails and they returned to the cove, near where Victorie had gone down.

  “I am going to reduce the flow of magic to the lift tanks and stop the airscrews,” Kate told them. “Pip, I need you to keep watch on the port side. Tom, take the starboard. The mists will grow thicker as we start to descend, and that will make it difficult to see. Search for any sign of a shipwreck and watch for floating chunks of rock.”

  Phillip handed around the peacoats. They didn’t need them now—the heat was stifling—but they kept them nearby. He took his place on the port side and Thomas went to the starboard. They both stood at the rail, peering intently into the murky depths of the Breath, and each held a boat hook to fend off rocks.

  Kate carefully moved her hand over the magical constructs on the helm until the bright blue glow on the lift tanks began to dim. She stopped the flow of magic to the airscrews and they quit turning.

  The Rose floated on the orange-tinged mists of the Breath, then slowly began to sink. The mists closed in, shimmering with sunlight at first and then darkening as the ship sank beneath them.

  The air grew chill and dank as the mists closed around the ship. Phillip and Thomas were ghostly figures in the fog and then Kate lost sight of them altogether. She seemed alone on the boat. The sail above her hung limp, damp with mist. In the eerie silence, she could hear water dripping from the yardarms with dull, plopping regularity.

  Kate watched the blue glow on the lift tank slowly fade. She had to be careful not to reduce the flow of magic too much or they would sink too fast and end up below the Breath, where “not even God can breathe,” as the sailors said. If that happened, the Rose wouldn’t have enough lift gas to return to the surface.

  She was concentrating so intently on her work that she didn’t notice she was cold until she felt someone drape her peacoat over her shoulders.

  “You’re shivering,” Thomas said.

  “I am enjoying the ‘cool, refreshing’ air,” Kate said caustically. “Aren’t you?”

  Thomas laughed, remembering his words from yesterday, and then vanished into the mist, returning to his post.

  Kate thrust her arms into the peacoat, keeping one hand on the helm. They were now through the thickest part of the Breath, and the mists began to part, changing from woolly blankets to wispy scarves.

  Suddenly the mists around them started to swirl. The ship rocked, forcing Kate to grab hold of the helm to keep from falling. Phillip lost his balance and fell flat. Thomas grabbed hold of the rigging.

  “Damnation! We’ve hit a riptide!” Kate shouted. “Hang on!”

  “A bit late with the warning!” Phillip grumbled, picking himself up.

  “You’ve sailed the Deep Breath before,” Kate told him.

  “Yes, but I had forgotten the joys of being caught in a riptide,” Phillip returned.

  “What do you mean by a riptide?” Thomas asked. “I have been caught in those when swimming in an inland ocean, but we’re not in an ocean.”

  “You remember when Captain Galvez told us about the phenomenon of magical ‘tides’ in the Aligoes, where the magic ebbs and flows,” said Phillip.

  “I was enjoying the captain’s very fine port at the time, but I do seem to remember that he called these tides a ‘quirk of the Aligoes,’” said Thomas. “They cause wizard storms and blow ships onto the rocks.”

  “And sometimes these same magical ‘quirks’ create turbulent waves known as riptides, particularly when the ship is in proximity to one of the Six Old Men,” Phillip explained.

  “Charming place, the Aligoes,” said Thomas dryly, transferring his hold from the rigging to the gunwale as the ship rocked again. “I assume we are close to one of these terrible old men?”

  “Most people think Freeport was built on an island, but it’s actually located on the side of Mount Invicto, one of the Six Old Men,” said Kate, clinging to the helm. “The mountain has its base at the bottom of the world. I thought Victorie might have crashed on a true island, but if the ship landed on the side of Mount Invicto, that would be better. The survivors can find streams and caves.”

  “And we could end up joining them,” Phillip said grimly.

  The Rose rolled and pitched, the boom swung wildly, the airscrews rattled, and the wooden hull creaked and groaned.

  “These riptides come and go,” Kate said. “We should be through the worst in a moment.”

  The shaking continued longer than she had ever known, however. Just as she was thinking the ship might start to come apart, the buffeting stopped. The Rose righted herself. Dim sunlight filtered down through the mists of the Breath. Looking down, they could see that the ship was floating above a vast expanse of gray rock marked by crevices, cracks, jagged hills, and shadowed valleys.

  “Any sign of the wreck?” Kate called.

  She longed to look for herself, but she had to keep her attention on the helm.

  “Nothing on the port side,” Phillip reported, peering over the rail.

  “Nothing on the starboard,” Thomas said.

  Kate told herself not to start worrying yet, and reduced the magic to next to nothing, until the lift tanks barely glowed. She took time to button the peacoat and turn up the collar. She found a knit cap stuffed in the pocket and she pulled that over her shorn head.

  “So this is the Deep Breath,” said Thomas. “I read Captain Stephano de Guichen’s account of descending to the land of the Bottom Dwellers. According to him, the farther he went the thicker the Breath. Here the air is relatively clear. I assume this is yet another quirk of the Aligoes?”

  “Or just a quirk of the Breath,” said Kate. “In Braffa, the Breath is so cold it congeals.”

  Seeing Thomas flash her a grin and a knowing look, Kate flushed and wished she had never brought up Braffa.

  The Rose drifted above the mountainside, still slowly descending.

  “Kate, I think I see something!” Thomas shouted. “Almost directly below us. Phillip, come look!”

  “It does appear to be the wreckage of a ship,” Phillip reported, hurrying over to join his friend. He added somberly “Or what is left of one.”

  “Pip, take the helm,” Kate said. “I need to see for myself.”

  She went to the rail and leaned over to look.

  The Victorie was down there—a charred and burned-out hulk.

  When Kate had salvaged her she was already an old ship, built during the days when shipbuilders had constructed heavy vessels meant to survive wizard storms and broadsides. She had the distinctive broad sterncastle that was now out of fashion and a lower and wider forecastle.

  The ship had survived the impact, but not the fire, which had left much of the hull blackened and charred. The flames had made cinders of the masts, rigging, and balloons. The fire had been so intense it had burned a wide swath of ground around the ship.

>   Phillip and Thomas exchanged grim glances, and Kate knew what they were thinking.

  “My crew could have survived,” she said defiantly. “Crafters always put magical constructs on the wooden planks to guard against fire. The magic would have slowed the flames and given the crew a chance to escape.”

  “Kate…” Thomas began gently.

  “There!” Kate cried. “Look! Those spars over there on that flat rock. They form an X! Someone did that deliberately. It’s a signal.”

  “I don’t see anyone around,” said Phillip.

  “Sail closer,” said Kate.

  The ship lurched and the deck canted, almost sending Kate overboard. Thomas caught hold of her, grabbing the collar of her peacoat with one hand and hanging on to the rail with the other. Phillip adjusted the trim by using the airscrews, but the ship was caught in another riptide, and continued to rock and shudder.

  “The Rose can’t take much more of this, Kate,” Phillip shouted. “We need to gain altitude, go back to where the air is calmer!”

  Kate knew he was right, and she had to fight down her disappointment.

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” said Thomas.

  “I’m not giving up,” said Kate. “Now that I know where the wreck is, you and Phillip can lower me down there in the bosun’s chair.”

  Thomas stared at her. “The bosun’s chair! You can’t be serious!”

  Kate shrugged. “I’m used to it. When I made my living as a wrecker, I would dock the Rose on the surface of the Breath, and the crew would lower me down onto the wreck.”

  “But you could be caught in one of those riptides,” Thomas protested. “The ropes could snap. You could fall out of the chair…”

  “Or we could get hit by that chunk of rock coming toward us off the port bow,” Phillip shouted. “You two need to stop arguing, and pay attention.”

  “He’s right,” said Kate, walking off.

  “This isn’t over,” Thomas called after her, grabbing the boat hook. “I’m not letting you go down there.”

  “You don’t have a say!” Kate returned. “I’m the captain.”

  She could see a small island floating in the mists above. They could tic off the ship up there. She took over the helm from Phillip.

  “Can either of you throw a grappling hook?” she called, shifting the direction of the airscrews and increasing the flow of magic to the lift tank. “We’re going to need to tether the ship to that island.”

  “I was in the army and therefore trained to throw grappling hooks over fortress walls, not onto floating chunks of rock,” Thomas said. “But I will do my best.”

  “Good,” said Kate. “Pip, let me know when we’re close.”

  Phillip nodded and went to stand on the bow beside Thomas. They peered upward, both of them rubbing their hands and stamping their feet to keep warm.

  “I would not term it an island so much as a glorified boulder,” Phillip remarked. “It is adrift, but doesn’t appear to be in any great hurry. I think we should be able to anchor the ship to it.”

  Kate steered the Rose as Phillip shouted directions and motioned with his hand. Thomas stood by, swinging the grappling hook.

  “Stop!” Phillip yelled.

  Kate cut the magic to the airscrews. Momentum continued to slowly carry the Rose toward the island, but the ship now moved at a crawl.

  “See that spear of jagged rock?” Kate called, pointing. “Don’t throw the grapple onto the rock. Toss the grapple so that the line will catch on the rock and cause the hook to swing around the rock before it catches.”

  Thomas hurled the grapple and missed. He reeled the grappling hook back in.

  “I have my aim now,” he said, seeing Kate frown.

  He tried again and this time the grappling hook performed as planned, whipping around the rock formation and catching with a ringing clang.

  Kate reduced the magic in the lift tanks, using just enough to keep them afloat. They were about thirty feet above the island. She could see the wreckage clearly. No one was down there, no one moving about. The only sign of life was that X.

  The cold was insidious, creeping through the peacoats, chilling to the bone.

  Even if the crew had found shelter and Akiel was still able use his spirit magic, their odds of surviving such brutal conditions were not good.

  Kate had refused to let herself think that Olaf and the others might be dead. Now, gazing down at the charred and broken bones of her ship, she had to face the hard facts.

  Thomas looked grave. He started to say something.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Kate interrupted him. “I know it looks hopeless. But I can’t leave without trying.”

  “What I was about to say was that we could fire our pistols,” said Thomas. “If your crew is sheltering in a cave, they might not have seen us.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Kate, giving him a grateful glance.

  “You don’t have to sound so startled. I do have them occasionally. I still don’t like the thought of you going down there,” Thomas added.

  “I still didn’t ask you,” Kate retorted.

  She went to ready the bosun’s chair, which hung from a block and tackle suspended from the yardarm. She tugged on the rope to make certain it was secure, remembering, as she did so, all the times the crew had lowered her to the site of a wreck, how she had crawled amid wreckage, searching for kegs of nails, barrel hoops, scraps of lumber—anything she could sell at auction.

  Wrecking was a dirty and thankless job; the small amount of money Kate had earned had barely paid to keep the Rose afloat. She had often cursed that life, but now she blessed it. Her experience gave her a chance to save Olaf and her friends.

  She was absorbed in her work with the chair, and the pistol shot startled her. The sound seemed unusually loud in the stillness, reverberating off the side of the mountain, echoing among the rocks.

  “Do you see anyone?” Kate asked eagerly.

  Thomas and Phillip stared over the rail, waiting.

  Time passed, but no one answered.

  Thomas looked back at Kate. “Now what do we do?”

  “You and Phillip are going to lower me to the surface. The bosun’s chair is over here.”

  Thomas glanced around the ship. “Where?”

  “Right here,” said Kate. She patted a wooden plank attached to two ropes.

  Thomas stared in disbelief. “That’s not a bosun’s chair! That’s a tree swing!”

  Phillip grinned. “You’re a child of luxury. You’re thinking of the bosun’s chairs carried by rich Estaran merchants: wooden seats with high backs, armrests, and comfortable cushions.”

  “This chair serves the same purpose,” said Kate. “It’s just not as fancy.”

  Thomas was still frowning.

  “Trust me,” said Kate. “I’ve used a chair like this hundreds of times. So has Pip.”

  “Then let Pip go. Or I will go,” said Thomas.

  “And how many times have you ridden in a bosun’s chair that wasn’t lined with velvet, Your Highness?” Kate asked.

  Thomas flushed. “That’s beside the point—”

  “No, it isn’t,” Kate said. “I know what I am doing. Pip, you work the ropes. Thomas, come over here. I need your help.”

  Phillip inspected the block and tackle and gave the rope a couple of tugs. He appeared satisfied. “Ready when you are, Captain.”

  Kate grabbed the ropes.

  “Hold the chair for me so that it doesn’t start swinging,” she ordered Thomas.

  He held the chair steady. Kate took her seat on the plank, adjusting her weight so that she didn’t tip and fall off.

  “I wish you would reconsider, Kate,” Thomas said earnestly. “Let me go search for your friends. I’m not talking about the danger. I’m thinking about what you might find…”

  Kate knew what he meant but didn’t want to say. He was thinking she might find them dead. He was truly concerned for her. She had to make him understand.

/>   “They are my crew, Thomas,” Kate said. “I am their captain. I am responsible for their welfare. My duty is to them. I cannot shirk it.”

  Thomas regarded her intently, his expression thoughtful. She expected him to continue to press his arguments.

  He rested his hand over hers. His hand was cold and so was hers, but the touching of the two hands warmed them both.

  “Good luck, Kate,” he said.

  Letting go, he stepped back.

  “Ready?” Phillip called.

  “Ready!” said Kate.

  She was a little breathless, and not from fear. Phillip hoisted the chair with Kate in it off the deck and swung it out over the rail. He then began to slowly pay out the rope, lowering the chair down toward the island. Kate looked back up to see Thomas leaning over the rail, watching her descend. He gave her a reassuring smile and Kate looked away.

  She didn’t want him to smile at her like that. She didn’t want him to make her feel fluttery and confused. She had told him not to kiss her, and yet, when he had been standing close to her with his hand touching hers, she found herself wishing he would kiss her.

  “Look out, Kate!” Phillip called. “Riptide! Hold on!”

  Kate had been thinking about Thomas and not watching what she was doing. The ripple in the mists flowed toward her and hit her chair, whipping her about, twisting the ropes, swinging her sideways. Kate clutched the ropes, her knuckles white. Once she almost slid off the plank and only a freak gust of wind saved her, pressing her back.

  The riptide passed quickly.

  She sighed in relief and hooked one arm around the ropes to give Phillip a reassuring wave, let him know he could start lowering the chair again.

  “Let that be a lesson to you, Katherine Gascoyne-Fitzmaurice,” Kate scolded herself as the chair resumed its descent. “Men are nothing but trouble, as your mother often told you!”

  TEN

  Kate kept careful watch on the mists from then on, searching for any sign of disturbance in the magic.

  The Breath relented. For a moment the mists dissipated and the air grew calm. She heard the silence of the Deep Breath. Those who have never been there could not understand how one could hear silence, but Kate knew. What people termed “silence” in the world above was actually filled with the sounds of life if you listened closely enough. The silence in the Deep Breath was utter.