Seaborn

I’d thought when I climbed aboard the Carpathia’s decks that nothing could faze me after the horrors of the last few months. Captain Graves’ ploy to manipulate me had indeed rolled right off me like an oil-slick eel from a new fisherman’s hands. His offer to take me on as a ship mage – after having pulled me from the water and heard my own testimony against myself – didn’t leave me as nonplussed.

“Tell me,” I said, trying to understand things. “What do you mean by being the ship’s second mage?”

“Standard complement aboard a warship these days is two mages; either to fight, fuel the ship’s flood control, or communicate with other mages. We’re down one of ours. Would you consider taking up the vacant spot?”

“I might …” I said slowly.

“Good! Come meet Frederick, our mage in charge.” The Captain moved around his desk and led me down below, giving orders to Lieutenant Siebert on the way. Polis kept his sullen glare aimed at me, but didn’t say a word as he followed the Captain and me.

“So Domenic, does your air magic include any long-range communication spells?”

Ah, I saw why the man was so optimistic about taking me on. He’d lost one of his two mages: the one who could communicate with the rest of the fleet, no doubt. He was hoping that with me filling in the position, he could maintain communications with the other Captains without relying on simple visual signals.

“I’m afraid my air magic has been rather neglected. My spells in it are primarily movement buffs and utilizing the wind to fill sails.”

Graves was disappointed, but also curious about my gust spell so I didn’t lose all of his interest. He led me to the bilge, where a wizened man was holding the purple plane of a flood control spell at an angle, allowing crew to quickly move salvageable supplies to the next deck.

I could see the damage behind the flood barrier better than others, and I wasn’t impressed. The water could have been stopped earlier with wooden plugs, oakum, and a handful of people who knew what they were doing. I’d found that the navy didn’t go in for such simple measures, however, and instead used the flood barrier if they decided they needed to do anything. It had let me win fights easier – which I appreciated – but the professional sailor in me couldn’t help but be disgruntled at the amateur-ness of the practice.

“Frederick!” Graves called. “I have a mana user here!”

The wizened man turned, showing the sharp, caricatured features of a child’s sketched wizard. “Does he have practice maintaining a non-horizontal field?”

Graves turned to me. I shook my head, having never sailed on board a ship with my mana accessible before, except for the Death’s Consort which didn’t count because flooding was controlled by me. When it had previously been the slave ship Consort, Burdette didn’t have any such ship spell.

Frederick cursed when he saw my denial, and my opinion of the man went up at his ability to swear like a sailor. “Captain, I’m nearly tapped on mana. If you want me to maintain this field until help can get here, I’m going to have to shift it horizontal – no matter who or what is down here!”

“Hold it like that for five more minutes, man!” Graves said. “They’ve nearly got the last foodstuffs out!”

“This isn’t a workout where I just need to milk out my last points of stamina!” Frederick snapped. “When my mana’s gone it’s gone! No matter what we both want.”

As Graves prepared to say something else, I wordlessly reached into my bag and pulled out a mana potion, handing it to Frederick. His eyes lit up and he nodded to me in appreciation before popping the top off and chugging it.

“Ah,” he said with satisfaction. “Now we’ve got some time. Thanks, friend. Where’d you come from?”

“Dom here was fished from the waters,” Graves interjected for me. “He was a mercenary and we’re discussing his future.”

“That ought to be short. A mercenary for the snakes?”

“Yes,” Graves said, his tone clipped. “And our best shot of making it back to port, unless the fleet can spare a lot more mana potions. So be civil with him!”

Frederick looked me over and shrugged. “You’ve got a decent mana pool, I’ll give you that, lad. Air and water?”

“Yes, with a focus on water.”

“I’m light, fire, and air. Focus is on light.”

“Hang on,” I turned to Graves. “I thought you needed an air mage for communication?”

Frederick coughed. “I never learned the communication aspect of air magic, just the destructive parts.”

Destructive parts … like lightning. I hadn’t experimented with it any more since that night with the storm dragon, but I still wanted it!

“I would help you keep the flood barrier maintained if you teach me.”

“Teach you?” he scoffed. “I indebted myself for decades to learn what I know. Teach a mercenary who fought for the snakes? Ha!” he tossed the vial that had my mana potion back to me. “Thanks for the pick-me-up. I’m sure the Captain will reimburse you.”

Graves murmured something like ‘what did I say about civil?’ and ‘bloody mage conscripts’ as he grabbed my elbow and steered me away. He needn’t have feared me losing my temper at Frederick like I had at him, I wanted what Frederick knew too much and completely understood his reasoning. Why would he teach arcane secrets to someone who might be fighting with the enemy later?

I would find a way around his reticence, though.

Graves led me topside, where Siebert was giving orders on the sail configurations. The Carpathia was making its way to rejoin the rest of the fleet, making steady progress for all that her bilge was nearly half-filled with water. Once on the quarterdeck overlooking the wreckage we’d left behind, Graves motioned to Polis to give us some space and set to business with me.

“I showed you my hand when we went down there: I want you because Frederick can’t keep the flood barrier maintained by himself. When we meet up with the rest of the fleet we might be able to rotate mages out between us. If not, the most important ships will be prioritized. I know the Carpathia well, and she’s a good ship but not the strongest left – not as battered as she is now. It’s only because of the state’s investments in her that she’s doing as well as she is.

“Now, the admiral won’t care if my ship is sacrificed and my men redistributed to the other ships, but it would be a political black mark against me during the peak of this war. I don’t want to risk that. So, I’ve got a deal for you. You can agree to use your seamanship skills in exchange for a pardon – if you were on land you’d already be considered a mercenary prisoner anyway. But if you agree to fill my second mage position and keep the Carpathia afloat, I’ll give you a wage from my own pocket!”

I looked out at the sun setting on the horizon, pretending to consider it. I already knew what I wanted. “I’ve not much use for your gold, I’ll be frank with you.” My domain caught his twitch that indicated he’d been thinking silvers instead of gold. “But if you can convince Frederick to tutor me in air magic, I’ll do the work of mage and seaman both and not take a copper from you for it.” And no doubt come out far ahead financially even so, I’d paid even Marcus a hefty sum to tutor me, and the man had become a friend.

Captain Graves took his own time considering, but his reply was also a foregone conclusion. He had much more power over Frederick than me, and while I didn’t think he could legally force his mage to train anyone, I’m sure he had means of pressuring the man. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I expect you to be open with a full list of your current spells. That is non-negotiable.”

“Give me a pen and paper,” I said in response. Graves directed Polis to give me the supplies I needed for the list and to treat me as the 2nd ship’s mage in the interim.

“I’m a little rusty on naval ranks these days,” I said when Graves mentioned that part. “What exactly does 2nd ship’s mage mean?”

“It means we’re peers,” Polis growled. “But the mages don’t give or take orders on ship unless a war mage during battle, so don’t go thinking you can push me or anyone else around.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said. It was nice that Polis’ misallocated racism wouldn’t be so problematic given that structure.

I made a list of my air spells on one side of the sheet of paper I was given, and the water spells on the other. At the bottom, I swore that those were all of those spells that I knew. The layout and wording was such that I felt comfortable swearing an enforceable oath on that without being caught with my deeper magics.

I felt like my plan was going along just fine; I’d secured passage on a ship that was heading back to port for repairs, no one was the wiser on my identity, and I even had a lead on progressing my air magic! I hadn’t felt this satisfied and hopeful since before Jones had punished me for letting the Essential go.

Fate is a funny thing. I was pinged from one end of the ocean to the other in a single day, picked up aboard a random naval ship – a human naval ship, at that – and was now recalling my time with the Essential. Naturally, fate decided to screw with me by dropping something I didn’t expect.

“Dom? Dom it is you! What in the world are you doing here?”

I recognized the flanging tones of the voice before I identified the speaker, and my heart skipped a beat. If I wasn’t naturally pale, I’m sure the loss of color in my cheeks would have been noticeable.

There was Cook, or rather Gerald, the mild-mannered Tarish that had worked for Captain Coe aboard the Essential on our last voyage. The Tarish man seemed happy and surprised to see me, which made me frantically run through timelines and lies in my head.

It was public knowledge that ‘Domenic Seaborn’ was Davy Jones’ lieutenant. It was also known – though not as widely – that I had gotten my curse after the ill-fated sinking of the Wind Runner. However, while I’d been on the Essential my name had only been Domenic, not ‘Seaborn’ and Gerald had left the Essential prior to learning about my embarking on the Wind Runner. Gerald had recognized me and called me ‘Dom’ which I’d often gone by, but that didn’t mean he had any idea I was Jones’ lieutenant.

Thank the stars I’d kept ‘Dom’ as my first name!

“Gerald!” I greeted him enthusiastically, if belatedly. That could be passed off as needing to analyze him to match his name to his face. “What in the world are you doing here, in the navy? Last I saw of you was in Pristav, after …” I trailed off, not saying in front of Polis how he’d nearly been mobbed as a presumed spy.

Gerald shook my hand firmly, the three fingers and a thumb characteristic of his race had made for an oddly pressured grip. “After the ugliness in Pristav, I saw the need to show I wasn’t involved in racial politics somehow. I figured what better way than signing up for the navy?”

“And they accepted you?”

“Captain Coe’s recommendation went a long way, and they weren’t being too picky at the time. Apparently, not many cooks like the thought of going out to sea for basic seaman’s wages. I’ve done fine for myself ever since.”

“It’s good to hear,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve got to meet with the Captain now, but let’s catch up later. It’s good to see a friendly face!” I was laying it on a bit thick.

“Indeed,” he said, returning my performance with genuine enthusiasm. “A friendly face is always welcome here.”

He didn’t look at Polis when he said that, but he clearly avoided taking his hawk-like gaze from mine until after he’d turned to go. A glance at the army sergeant showed that he still had his default expression, if perhaps a bit more calculation than before.

Hoping that Gerald wouldn’t say anything that could connect the dots for anyone with more insider knowledge, I motioned Polis to lead us onward.

Graves had apparently just finished having a discussion with Frederick that I imagined wasn’t pleasant for either of them. Still, Graves made an effort at a smile when we approached.

“Ah, good. Dom, Frederick has agreed to …”

“What foundations do you have in air magic?” Frederick interrupted. “I’ll teach you some simple spells, but I won’t be giving out my best knowledge. No matter what!” the last shot was sent with a glare towards Graves.

I held out my list of known spells. “Not to worry, I’m as green as they come. I doubt I could learn your high-level spells if I made a career of working under you in the navy.”

Frederick looked over his list and cooled down a bit. “Not much here, but enough to show that you know how to learn. All to the better! Very well Captain, I can agree to your demands.”

“Good. Now Dom, I want you to swear to me upon your stake as an adventurer that this list is true.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about adventuring these days, but I’ll swear on my life or attributes.”

There was surprise, as swearing on something like that was usually only required in even harsher circumstances, and was typically frowned up. My role as adventurer would have been enough for me to swear a binding oath by, had I truly been an adventurer. I didn’t want to risk it seeing as how it was an alias.

Graves agreed to let me swear by my attributes that the list was true, and a moment later he was reading a prompt saying that I had made my oath. Since I didn’t suddenly lose my attributes, they knew I was telling the truth. Since I had lawyered my way around swearing about my deeper magics, I got away with a half-truth.

Before we could celebrate coming to a mutually agreeable arrangement, Polis spoke up.

“He knows the Tarish. They were friends from before.”

“Really?” Graves said, turning to me with an arced brow.

“The Tarish said they’d even served on the same ship together!” Polis added helpfully. At least he didn’t say the name of the ship; thank my 19 points in luck.

I shrugged. “It’s true. It was …” I did some mental gymnastics. “Somewhere around a year ago now? He enlisted in the Navy to prove he wasn’t disloyal.”

Captain Graves exchanged looks with Frederick and Polis both. “I see. Sergeant Polis, we’re already pardoning Mr. Dom here for fighting as a mercenary on behalf of the enemy. Being old friends with one of the other races isn’t exactly cause for alarm.”

“They could be spies!”

“Mr. Polis,” Graves said with a weary sigh. “The cook, Gerald, was born in Antarus and has served with distinction aboard three different naval vessels. Mr. Dom here has only just been fished from the sea by chance. I highly doubt conspiracy, but we’re not entrusting them with sensitive information and Dom just proved he doesn’t even have a magical means of reaching the enemies’ ears, now does he?”

Polis just gave me another sullen glare. I was curious to know how much of his attitude was a natural disposition, his racism, or my imbalanced charisma irking him. I’d already seemed to move past the initial block with Graves and Frederick, but that probably had something to do with having something those men needed.

“It’s settled,” Graves said. “Dom Harter, you are hereby enrolled in the His Majesty’s royal navy, serving in the position of second mate aboard the Carpathia. I’ll have the proper documents drawn up later – we have other things to attend to.”

Are you sure you wish to enter the service of Captain Graves?

Note: you have ongoing hostilities with this faction.

The prompt was hardly needed. I accepted and no one was the wiser. There could be repercussions from playing games like this, but it was a much better game to be playing than the last one I’d been stuck in.

“Mr. Harter,” Graves paused as we started up the ladder. “Since you agreed to pull double duty, you naturally have a unique position on board. Your position as second mage under Frederick has some autonomy, but as an untested mercenary seaman you will be placed with my third class petty officers. I’m sure you understand.” He gave a winning smile and climbed out of sight.

I was sure he’d pulled one over on me, but all I could think of was what the devil was a third class petty officer, and why in the world did the navy have to go pinning stupid ranks on everything.

It turns out the third class petty officers were barely-qualified seamen. They were called ‘seamen’ until they actually gained the seamanship skill, then they automatically became petty officers and embroiled themselves in the hierarchical structure that encompassed every soul on board.

I knew that merchant ships had borrowed the ‘petty officer’ position from the navy to clarify roles and authority, but here they had everyone be classified as different ranks of petty officers. Third up to first, then after that they had a chief petty officer.

The chief I was working for had a seamanship skill of 10; 5 levels less than my alias and nearly half of my real proficiency.

The chiefs apparently had their own ranking structure too, but on the Carpathia the chief reported directly to the boatswain’s mate. This ‘bosun only had a skill level of 14, and he was the most proficient sailor on the ship. Either military regulations weren’t pushing leveling or the navy was just stretched thin these days.

I wasn’t pushy since I wasn’t here to improve things. I was thrown into the rotation, working past sunset and into the dark. I did what I was told efficiently, and when it became clear I was head and shoulders above the others, the chief quietly asked me to shepherd some of the petty officers. A good man, doing that for his crew. Out of respect for him I did tutor some of the others. I didn’t even mind when an uppity second class petty officer went off on me for ‘breaking the chain of command’ with my assistance.

Ok, that’s a lie. That really irked me and I had to remind myself that this wasn’t my ship and he wasn’t my sailor. Once I did that, I took it in silence and didn’t make any waves.

We pulled up adjacent to the admiral’s flagship, where Captain Graves transferred over to discuss fleet business. Lieutenant Siebert ran things in his absence, and I finally got the opportunity for some shut-eye after a very, very long day.

My dreams were filled with a sea of blood. The crew of my ship turned into the corpses of the men and women I’d killed – the crew and passengers of the Mockingbird prominent among them. They surrounded and mutinied against me. Suffering with contradictory dream-logic, I both personally executed them all and was unable to bring myself to do anything to them, surrendering myself to their painful retributions.

I was shaken awake by the chief. “Son, the first mage needs you to replace him for the next shift on the flood barrier.”

I nod blearily. I’ve long gotten used to hard work and long hours, but I’d been running on fumes and whatever time I’d just managed to snatch wasn’t refreshing.

“And son,” the chief says, resting his hand on my shoulder as I pull on my boots. I notice the wide, watching eyes of the other men in their hammocks. “I don’t mean to be insensitive to whatever’s haunting you, but I can’t have you keeping everyone else up with cries like that.”

I nod. “Thanks for the hammock – I’ll sleep elsewhere though.”

He pats my shoulder in what was probably supposed to be assurance, but which felt demeaning. I went and met Frederick, who walked me through maintaining the flood barrier. It was a simple thing to pick up, the hardest thing about maintaining it was finding people who knew how to manifest their mana. The cost of maintaining the spell differed based on area covered and the structural integrity of the rest of the ship, but for the Carpathia the cost was minimal and my mana regeneration was high enough that my pool would last a full day.

I took over feeding and controlling the purple flood barrier while Frederick went to get his own rest. I didn’t begrudge him it. Exhausted or not, bone-tired or not, weary of heart and spirit or not … I had no desire to return to the realm of dreams.