Queen of the Sky Frontier - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Azrael tried to sleep, but here on the other side of the world midnight was like noon to her. The steady throb of the ship should have been soothing, but instead the unfamiliar surroundings made everything menacing. Crossing the ocean she'd managed to maintain her equanimity, but everything about this ship put her back up. The crew was a mass of scarfaced ruffians, the Captain was obviously hiding something, and his first mate was a monster.

She'd slept most of the day, and now as they cruised West under cover of night she found herself wide awake in her small cabin. The wind outside clawed at the port, singing against the hull like the echo of a distant moan. She sat up in the narrow bed and held still for a moment, angry with herself for being awake, then she cast off the covers and got out of bed.

There was just a small lamp, and she lit it, looked around at the small room. Not how she imagined her homecoming at all. She hadn't seen her mother in almost two years, but she'd always supposed she would see her again soon, now she was finished with school. Years of preparing for a life of civility, and now here she was in the company of pirates.

Azrael could move with complete quiet when she wanted to, and she dressed in silence, pulling on her riding breeches and jacket. Her hair was loose and she efficiently twisted it into a tight knot at the back of her head. There was so little in her bag, and it made her sad and afraid at once. I could vanish tonight, and no one would know, she thought. There is so little of me in the world.

Under her coat was the small folded frame that held her only picture of her mother. She opened it and studied the tintype as she had so many times. Captain Dire stood with shoulders back, a sword in her hand and her other hand grasping the blade, flexing it like a horseman bending a crop. Her captain's coat was thick with braid and her head was turned to one side, her hair a snakelike coil over her shoulder. Only one horn showed, a dark curl on the image. Azrael wished her mother had faced the camera, she wished she could see the look in her eyes.

She put the picture away and stood up, crossed to the door. Stepping on the toes of her boots so there would be no sound, she eased the door open and stepped into the companionway. The walls were age-sheened wood bolted in place with gleaming copper rivets, small lamps glowing every six feet near the floor. She wondered why they were so low on this ship, so unlike the liner she'd recently left.

Azrael never got lost, and she remembered the way to Black's cabin easily. Without thinking about it she crossed the lower deck, climbed a short ladder and then followed the passageway back to his door. She touched the wood, hesitated. She was reluctant to knock, did not know if he slept or even where he was. He would ask what she wanted, and she did not know what she would say except that she was alone, and he was the only person she knew, which was foolish.

She heard a voice within and started, heard footsteps cross the floor inside, and then the northerner - Rane - spoke plainly enough for her to make out his words.

"You're giving the girl too much credit, she'll be amenable. What choice does she have?" His footsteps moved away and she could not make out what Black said in reply. They were talking about her, and she wanted to know what they said.

So. She had not spent years in a girl's school without learning to eavesdrop. She tried the latch and found the door unlocked, eased the catch until it clicked loose. She waited to see if the small sound was detected, but there was no sign. Slowly, she swung the door open a sliver, testing it for creaks, then wider so she could peer through.

There was a corner of the heavy table where they'd eaten dinner earlier, the platters cleared away. She heard Black say something quietly, then laugh. She peeked and saw the two of them were off to the side in the little sitting area. Rane stood leaning against the wall while Black slouched in a chair, cleaning a sword.

"You're going to tell her that's Dire's sword?" Rane said, taking a sip of his drink. "It doesn't look anything like it."

"What would you know?" Black said. "You were sitting in an office in New York when Dire died. You wouldn't know her sword from an ass-pimple, neither does she."

"And where were you?" Rane snorted. "Hiding from that stripling Kane and her pet Experimental?"

Black snarled. "I was in fucking Matamoros waiting for guns that came too late. Now I have the damned guns but I can't trust any of the captains who are left with them." He sighted down the blade. "I need something to inspire them, bind them together. Dire fired their imaginations with dreams of an empire in the west. I can't match that, so all the dreamers keep slipping away to Hood."

"You don't believe in Dire and Hood's dream?" Rane said, taking another drink.

"They aren't the same dream," Black said. "Dire wanted to seize half the damned country and make herself an empress. It would never have worked. The Union is too damned big, too damned powerful, and too damned rich. Whatever they decide they want, they'll take."

"And Hood?" Rane said.

"Hood just wants revenge for the war. You know how some men are, they can't accept the Confederacy lost. That it's over." He held up the sword and squinted at it. "The corsairs follow him because he promises action and plunder. What else do they want? They can't see past the end of it."

"You sound bitter, Black," Rane said. "You should feel proud of yourself. You're smarter than the rest of the pirate scum. You know what side to be on."

"It won't matter what side I'm on if I can't get rid of Kane. She's the leader of the Brethren now, and I can't do anything until I get rid of her." He flicked the blade and it rang. "Once I'm leader of the pirates I can control them, make the whole thing into a profitable enterprise, retire a rich man. After that, who gives a damn what happens to them? I don't."

"The girl will help you," Rane said.

"You keep saying that, are you trying to convince me, or yourself? I was hoping, but look at her. . . she's like a little bird." Black wiped the blade clean and sheathed it.

"You need a symbol, you said it yourself." Rane finished his drink. "Hood promises them plunder and revenge, Dire promised them greatness. The trick is to make them believe you can give them both while you use them to make a fortune. The girl can help you do that."

"There is every possibility that someone will just kill her. Even if not Kane, one of the others might run her through to weaken my position," Black said.

Rane shrugged. "We can use that too, if it happens. Sometimes a dead martyr is more useful than a live hero. Living people, after all, can fail. A dead symbol can always be perfect." He gestured with his glass and Black smacked it from his hand with the sheathed sword.

"You're as cold-blooded as any corsair, but you drink like a woman," Black said. "I think it's why I don't like you."

Rane snorted, fetched up the glass and saw it was chipped, frowned. "Don't make it personal, Black," he said dispassionately. "None of this is personal. It's all just business."

He turned back toward the drink cabinet and Azrael drew back from the door quickly, afraid to be seen. Quick and quiet she slipped back through the ship toward her own cabin, her mind chewing busily at everything she'd heard. Liars. They were both liars intent on using her for some purpose. They didn't care about her mother, or her, or anything.

When she reached her cabin she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing hard. No matter how she clung to the solid wood, she felt as if she were falling endlessly through the dark, and the cold.

---

She slept late, after lying awake for a long time, staring into the dark. When she woke, she didn't even remember falling asleep. There was daylight coming in from the small port, but it was cold, wintry light with no warmth to it.

There was a rap on her door and she realized a prior knock had awakened her. She sat up, wishing for a weapon against all sense. "Yes?"

"Captain invites you to lunch in his cabin, miss," said a rough voice.

"Thank you. Tell him I'll be there presently," she said. She waited a moment to see if the man intended to open the door, but she heard nothing further. She was suddenly quite aware of being the only woman aboard a ship of criminals.

She dithered over what to wear, finally put on her most elegant dress, though it was plain and of dark fabric, like all the clothes permitted at school. She didn't even own a ring or a pendant to wear. She took time to unpin her hair, brushed it out, then gathered it carefully into a bun once again. She disliked having it loose, and she was long accustomed to wearing it pinned tightly.

Finally she put on her gloves and opened the door, half-expecting to find the man lingering, but there was no one. She looked around, sniffed, and followed her memory to Captain Black's door.

Rather than knock, she opened it unasked, stood for a moment in the doorway. Food was laid on the table again, and Black turned from his map case with a pleased look. "Ah, Miss Dire. I am glad you accept my invitation. Please, sit."

She crossed the room, stiff-backed, and seated herself. She left the door deliberately open, and watched him as he crossed behind her to close it, an annoyed look flickering over his face as he thought he passed out of her sight.

He came back around the table and sat across from her. "Sleep well?"

"With some difficulty," she admitted. "I am far around the globe from the Van Lierop Academy."

"Oh yes, the private school," he snorted. "Like being in a convent I imagine."

"I would not know, I have never been in a convent." Azrael lay the napkin over her lap and selected a fork, dismayed to see that all the silver was laid out in the wrong places. Saying nothing, she helped herself to some roasted chicken and several biscuits, since Black seemed unlikely to serve her himself.

He laughed, shook his head. "You are a surprise, I'll grant that."

"How so?" she ate delicately, determined to keep her composure.

He, by contrast, forked food off his plate and stuffed it in his mouth, and then to complete the horror he spoke while chewing. "You are not much like your mother, is all."

Azrael paused, took another bite and chewed deliberately. It stung her that this rogue knew more than she about her mother. "My mother was. . . unique."

He laughed. "She was that, sure enough." He watched her for a while as she ate, saying nothing, attacking his own food distractedly. "You're prettier than she was."

Azrael stopped cold, picked up the napkin and wiped at her mouth. "Captain, where are you from?"

"Originally? Illinois, why do you ask?" He seemed amused.

"Perhaps it is considered good manners in Illinois to speak of the dead in such a manner, but I do not consider it fit conversation." Her heart pounded and she could scarcely look at him, remembering last night when he'd casually discussed the possibility of her death.

He blinked, then laughed out loud, slammed his hand down on the table so hard it almost made her jump. "Well, you're a pistol, aren't you?"

Azrael swallowed and folded her napkin, placed it on the table. "I believe I am quite finished," she said. She stood up and so did he.

"Oh, well then. I was going to offer you a bath," he said, stepping around to meet her.

"I - pardon?" she said, taken aback.

"Well sure, I can't have you travel all the way across the ocean and then the country and not let you clean up. Nice thing about airships instead of the old water kind - plenty of clean hot water for bathing." He put his hands on her shoulders and she held her breath, not liking the contact.

"Well have to find you something else to wear anyway," he said, looking down at her. "Can't have Asmodel Dire's daughter turn up looking like a schoolmarm." He plucked at her sleeve. "You'll need something flashy, something befitting your heritage, and -" he turned away and plucked the sword from hooks above the chair, held it out to her. "You'll need your mother's sword."

Azrael looked at it, considering. She reached her hand up, put two fingers on the hilt and pushed it away. "Please, Captain, let us not dissemble. I know that is not my mother's sword, and so do you. I remember it quite well."

He snorted. "Well then, you'll need a sword at some point, better this one than none at all." He set it on the table, slipped his arm around her shoulders and she was suddenly acutely aware of his maleness, his size and the fact that they were completely alone together. He was Captain of this ship, and no one here would refuse him anything.

"Come," he said, leaning close. "Let's get you out of this dowdy rag and clean you up. I'll wrap some jewels around that pretty neck of yours and teach you what it means to be a pirate lady."

Azrael slipped his grasp and stepped away from him, the sword on the table almost between them, though neither of them looked directly at it. "My mother, Captain Black, was a great woman. She was many things, but I do not number either 'pirate' nor 'doxy' among them." She lifted her chin and stared him down. "I shall thank you to attempt no liberties with me that you would not take upon her, were she here to remind you of your place."

He chewed his tongue for a moment, looking her over, and she half-expected him to seize her and have his way. Instead he chuckled, sketched a half-bow. "As you would have it, Miss Dire. Yet you should remember that I know far more about what is coming than you do. You might do well to listen to me."

"Thank you for luncheon, Captain," Azrael said, as if he had not spoken. "I believe I shall retire now. I expect you will call me for dinner." She gave the sword a last look and then left the cabin with all the dignity she could muster, his attention crawling down her back like a serpent inside her collar until the door closed behind her.

Continued in Chapter 5

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