Page 8 of Virelai's Hoard
That didn’t fool her, of course. He’d known better than to protest the nature of her little challenge openly, since it was her punishment for skirting his duties, so he’d found the next best way to get back at her instead. She supposed this was what she got when dealing with a grownchild.
“Get back to work, quartermaster. And leave the woman alone. She won fair and square.”
After that, Calla strode toward the quarterdeck, taking silent inventory as her boots clicked sharply against the freshly swept deck. She noticed the dried salt in the cracks of the wood, the lack of debris, and nodded to herself in approval. It seemed not everyone had stood by idly while she’d been busy rectifying what was supposed to be a simple job.
A handful of new hires. That was what she’d asked for. She wasn’t sure how that got misinterpreted as nearly two dozen,but she made a mental note to specify the exact number for next time.
If there was going to be a next time.
Calla distracted herself from that moody thought by assessing the deckhands, who made such a show of carefully securing the ropes as she passed by that they tightened one up too much. It would snap in the wind. But Calla didn’t have to say anything, as Gadrielle’s eagle eyes caught the mistake from across the railing and in the next breath she was already descending upon them, shouting.
The masts of the ship creaked as Calla passed them, catching the wind. The tension in the sails was good, and Kit was doing a thorough job double-checking the cargo nets. If anything was frayed or loose, she’d have heard it by now. The hum of the surrounding voices was quiet, but charged. No one was slacking. Her crew moved with confidence and efficiency, just as she expected of them.
Even while docked, Calla sensed the shift in the tide below them as she stepped up on the quarterdeck. It was a small shift, but she felt it in her bones. Distractedly, she nodded to her first mate at the helm and made for the aft companionway. The second stair creaked under her boot as she went down, the familiarity of it settling her unease. Calla knew her crew well, but she knew her ship best. Every sound, every tilt, every stretch of canvas in the wind. If something was off, the Moonshadow would tell her before the crew did. And right now, it told her everything was as good as it could be. The hard set to her shoulders gave no sign of releasing, though.
The door to the chart room stood wide open, an odor of salt, aged paper and wax wafting into the narrow corridor.
“Merrow,” Calla said unceremoniously as she stepped through the door. “A status report, if you please. We’re readying for departure.”
The rhythmic tap of a hammer and faint shouts could still be made from above deck, distant and comforting as the flow of water.
Her aging navigator sat at a large wooden table. The fogged porthole and the lanterns hung low on the walls shone light on the clutter covering every flat surface of the small room. Nautical charts, star maps, compasses, sextants, and ink-stained tools. Calla was used to it by now, and her fingers itched only a little to make sense of the mess.
Merrow’s pen scratched a few more scattered notes on his paper before he turned to peer at her beneath white brows. “The skies promise smooth sailing to the Drowning Vortex. We’re leaving somewhat early, but I suppose you want the extra days on water to get your new recruits up to snuff. Eryx tells me the spectacle was quite rousing this time,” the man said with an amused little smile, smoothing some of the thin wrinkles around his mouth. “This old man can’t convince you to reconsider, can he? You haven’t taken a night off since we dropped anchor.”
A small genuine smile flitted across Calla’s lips. “No, though your concern is noted and appreciated.” She would have all the time to rest once this was over. “I’ll expect you on deck at the next bell.” She turned to leave.
“Captain,” Merrow called after her, and she halted her steps, bracing herself. “Are you sure this is worth it?” he asked. His eyes flitted to the locked compartment of his desk, where the stone tablet was stored, with its inscribed warnings. “The Drowning Vortex… You’ve heard the stories. You know the dangers of it better than I do, I reckon. But that’s just the beginning. Surely there’s a dozen other treasures for us to chase without tempting fate.”
Calla squared her shoulders. “Who’s to say the dozen other treasures aren’t more dangerous? At least this one is upfront about it.” She sighed, wishing she could tell him why it had tobethistreasure. Instead, she said, “I know you won’t steer us wrong.”
“I…” A hesitant look flashed on Merrow’s face, come and gone before she could inquire about it. “Yes. I will not let you down, captain.”
After a moment of uncertainty, Calla said, “I appreciate that, Merrow. As always.”
On the way out of the chart room and past her own chambers, her steps faltered, fingers settling on the iron key at her hip. She gripped it firmly and set her jaw, finally forcing her feet to keep moving. She didn’t need to check on it every few moments to know it was still there.
***
“Is this really necessary?” Sable asked as they made their way to make the introductions. “I’m sure we all have better things to do with our time. I knowIdo. Gadrielle can handle this by herself.”
Thorian, now changed into dry clothes, grunted–whether in assent or annoyance was anyone’s guess.
Gadrielle rolled her eyes. “I’m sure we’re all very busy, but this shouldn’t take that long.”
Calla just sighed. Did they really need to have this talk every time? “Respect goes both ways, Sable. A skilled deckhand can make or break a ship during a storm, and we’re going to make sure they allwantto try their damndest to keep us all afloat. Competence builds respect, and respect nurtures loyalty.Fear,” she gave her first mate a pointed look, “only breeds resentment. So we will all introduce ourselves, learn their names and treat them fairly. Then you’ll be free to go handle thosemost pressingtasks you were talking about.”
“I still don’t see how this is necessary,” Sable retorted stubbornly. “We’ll all have plenty of time to get to know each other while out at sea.”
“Then you’ll just do it because I’m telling you to,” Calla said tightly.
Sable knew better than to push it any further, and Calla contented herself with that. She knew it was all for show, anyway. Sable was obstinate, but noble in her own right.
The recruits had been crammed into the berthing deck, a low-ceilinged space lined with hammocks and storage crates, stinking of salt, sweat, and the stale remnants of last night’s rum. The lantern light threw flickering shadows across the rough wooden beams. Not the worst place to wait, but it wasn’t meant to be comfortable.
Calla lingered on the threshold, observing. Her new recruits looked more bored than nervous, leaning or sitting wherever they found the space. Someone cracked their knuckles. Another fidgeted with the seam of his coat. The ship rocked just enough to unsettle those who weren’t used to it. A quick headcount came up one short, and her eyebrows twitched as she briefly scanned the hammocks. Then she did a double take.
Sable scoffed behind her. “That guy sure won’t need to be told to sleep whenever and wherever he can. He’s already showing particular skill in that area.”
