Secret Santa Fic Exchange Gift for Abe
Dec 23, 2015 8:20:37 GMT -5
Post by Dryope * on Dec 23, 2015 8:20:37 GMT -5
Glossary:
Jakhs = a mysterious people who washed up on the shores of Gujarat in the 8th century. They were said to be tall and fair-skinned and defended the oppressed people of Punvaranogadh
Jakh Botera no Melo = a festival commemorating the Jakhs
Bhadrapad = roughly corresponding to the month of September
Bhuj = a city of Gujarat
Babuji = father. A form of address for an older man
Pindari = Mercenary forces who acted as agents for the Marathi chiefs
Pendha = an alcoholic beverage made by the Pindari
Mankari = A form of address for a Marathi chieftain
Maratha = A warrior caste
Kurta = A loose shirt whose hem is roughly around the knees
Dhotiyu = A rectangular piece of unstitched cloth wrapped around the waist and the legs
Ustad = An honorific used for well-regarded teachers
Kaka = Uncle. A form of address for a man
Babo = Diminutive for younger men/male children
Kem Cho = a Gujarati greeting
Panha = a traditional mango drink
Kirman = a city in Iran
Panha = a Gujarati mango drink
The foothills of Kakkadbhit were festooned with tents and bright glowing lights as the townspeople prepared for Jakh Botera no Melo. There was a sense of palpable excitement that swept through the town every Bhadrapad, when it came town to commemorate the mysterious Jakhs who had once upon a time stood up to the oppression of local tyrant Punvar.
That had been long, long ago, so long ago that only fragments of myths and legends still existed.
But the people still celebrated.
“Step right up, step right up!”
An older man in a top hat and the funny waistcoats of the Western Europeans leaned on an intricately carved cane, vying for the attention of any who passed by. He stood outside a large red and white striped tent with lights strung all along the outside.
His plea was hardly necessary; townspeople stopped to gawk at the tent, whispering among themselves before hurrying to purchase tickets for the performances later in the evening; it wasn’t every festival that a circus from Europe put into port!
Sunar had seen their ship dock down at the Port of Jakhau; it was impossible to miss, all brass propellers and wispy flags and enormous oars that had stroked the winds as her crew guided her from the sky to rest in the sea.
The crew themselves were as fair as the legendary Jakhs themselves, and there were whispers that their arrival was a sign of blessing.
The nearest railway station was in Bhuj, which meant the entire caravan had to make its laborious way to the mountains in rickety carts. It had halted traffic for much of the day after their arrival; Sunar hadn’t arrived at the festival until well after nightfall.
He had slept beside the enormous circus tent, hoping that if something interesting appeared he would wake up to see it. He awoke in the morning to the shouting of the man in the top hat; he had slept soundly through the whole night.
“Step! Right! UP!” The man shouted. An elderly couple tottered over to him and asked about ticket prices. He winked at the lady, causing her to titter into her braid.
Sunar pushed himself to his feet and rubbed sleep from his eyes, blinking as the bright lights of the festival assaulted his eyes.
“Ahhhh, are you here for the circus, young man?” Top Hat asked, pressing both hands into his cane as he peered at Sunar.
Sunar tugged at his kurta and gave the man a wide smile. “Sure, Babuji! I’d love that. How much are the tickets…?”
The circus was, in a word, amazing. There was a magician who performed card tricks, and identical twins who flipped and spun and dazzled with their feats of daring and agility. There was a man with what seemed to Sunar (and the rest of the crowd) to be inhuman strength, and a young girl who threw knives with astonishing accuracy. A boy with hair in dreadlocks like a holy man awed the crowd by turning into an owl and flying all around the tent.
Sunar clapped and whistled with the rest of the crowd, impressed by the performance. When the show was over he allowed himself to be propelled out of the tent by the surge of people. The rest of the day went by in a blur of dancing and singing and feasting. By nightfall he was exhausted, but still so excited that he couldn’t sleep. He slipped into a tent set up by the Pindari, making his way to one of the opulent cushions.
The man in the Top Hat stumbled in not long after, and most of the Pindari eyed him with open suspicion until one of them (a Maratha chieftain, judging by the curved back of the helmet in her lap) gave a nod of recognition.
“Ustad Stefan, how nice of you to join us.”
“How could I keep away from your beauty, Mankari Gitali?” Stefan batted his eyelashes at the chieftain, and the Pindari around her grumbled, hands reaching towards their weapons.
Gitali snorted and gestured towards the bottle of Pendha in the center of the table. “I know what you’re truly here for, Kaka.”
“I’m wounded, Mankari!” Stefan pressed a hand to his heart and groaned theatrically, but he did pour the alcohol into an empty cup thrust at him by one of the Pindari.
“And you, Babo?” Gitali leaned across the table, nails clicking against the enamel as she peered at Sunar. “Why are you here?”
Sunar jumped, eyes wide at the unexpected attention, and he pressed his hands together. “Kem cho, Mankari!”
The Marathi woman rolled her eyes at him. “I asked why you’re here, Babo. Did you come to enlist with the Pindari? You don’t look like much of a warrior.”
Sunar shook his head vehemently. “No, Mankari, I was only searching for a place that served food and drink.”
“Can’t deny a thirsty man now, can we!” Stefan shoved the Pendha at Sunar with his left hand, eliciting more murmuring from those gathered.
“I…I was thinking more along the lines of Panha, Babuji,” Sunar eyed the alcohol with concern. He was not especially good at holding his liquor, even if the foreigner hadn’t stuck his left hand all over the bottle. But he was a foreigner, so he probably didn’t know better (even if his Gujarati was more than fluent.)
“I think that bottle is yours now, Kaka,” Gitali murmured sourly, and the smile that lit up Stefan’s face put the lie to Sunar’s assumptions. He definitely had known what he was doing.
“Panha!” Gitali snorted, tapping the helmet in her lap in derision. “You’re in the wrong tent, Babo.”
Stefan tipped the contents of the bottle into the flask attached to his belt before piping up, “I’ll take you to get some Panha. My acrobats love that stuff!”
He held out his right hand. Sunar hesitated only a moment, then beamed. “Thank you, Babuji.”
They wound through tents, Stefan leaning heavily on his cane and occasionally dropping Sunar’s hand in order to tip his hat at attractive people of all genders. That was a point in his favor, as far as Sunar was concerned.
“Have you ever been on an airship before, lad?” Stefan asked, and Sunar shook his head. “Well, it’s a wonder to behold! A thing of beauty, and you’re a beauty, too,” He added to a tall man with a crooked nose. The man ignored them, and Stefan continued to lead Sunar away from the crowds. “I know the Bishops brought some Panha aboard the ship. Ask them to show you around!”
Sunar peered over his shoulder briefly, watching the festival fade into the distance as they made their way to the enormous vessel anchored at the port. The sounds of laughter and music soon gave way to the waves lapping up against the docks and slapping the side of the airship, and the call of gulls and kittiwakes.
Stefan swept his cane towards the ship with a grin. “Welcome to the A.S. Abe.”
The inside of the ship was just as opulent as the outside, and Sunar found himself constantly stopping to stare, and then scurrying to keep up with the limping old man. They descended a staircase made of polished oak carved with delicate grape and floral designs and wrought iron shaped into elegant curves. As he descended the staircase he only had to look up to see a dome, panels made of stained glass with a grape motif to match the carvings on the newel. The refracted light danced across the tiled floor in a dazzling display of greens and purples.
The staircase opened up onto what looked to be a lounge of some sort; low-backed chairs made of Sheesham wood and carved with the same grape motif dotted the room. Beneath them was a handsome rug with an intricate design of vine scrolls and palmettes.
Stefan noticed Sunar’s eyes on the rug and a smile lit up his face. “Won that in Kirman, I did. A reward for helping out a beautiful man.”
“Wooooow,” Sunar breathed as he took in the whole of the ship. “It’s gorgeous.”
Stefan beamed at that. “It is that, isn’t it! Ah, and here are the Bishops!” He waved to two figures seated on the far side of the lounge. “JJ! Do either of you have any Panha left? This lad here would like to join you for some!”
He gestured towards Sunar, who smiled and waved.
The Bishops waved in turn. “Not a problem! We have some!” They said in unison. They pushed themselves to their feet and gestured down the hallway. “Come with us!”
Sunar dashed down the hallway after them. “This place is so big,” He breathed in awe. They passed a nook with a marble bust inside, and he stopped to admire the realism of the curls and the outline of muscles.
“That’s Dionysus,” The twins told him. “Patron of the A.S. Abe.”
“He paid for your ship?” Sunar asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.
The twins shook their heads, mirroring one another with an uncanny precision. “Not that kind of patron,” They corrected. “He’s the god that looks after us. Hence all the grapes.” They waved their hand vaguely to indicate the trails of carved grapes bordering the walls.
“Oooh.” Sunar was not especially up on all the Western gods, so he didn’t quite understand why grapes should make this obvious, but he smiled and nodded anyway.
They made their way down the hallway, and then down a less ornate staircase than the one that had lead to the lounge. This staircase lead to a rather non-descript pair of doors, which the twins flung open triumphantly. “Here we are!” They announced, waving Sunar into an enormous kitchen.
A short-haired woman with bubbles floating all about her was tending a pot on the stove. She waved to the twins, but otherwise ignored them.
“Rain! Rain, Rain, Rain!” They called out, and another young woman poked her head out from around the corner.
“Yes?” She asked cheerfully.
The twins waved frantically at her, and then pointed to Sunar. “This is uhhh...a friend! And we wanted to have some Panha with hm!”
Sunar held out his right hand to her. “I’m Sunar. You’re...Rain?”
“It’s Baran, actually,” She corrected, shaking his hand quickly, “But everyone seems to think that’s so hard to remember. It means rain in my mother tongue, so that’s what they call me here.”
She whisked away, only to reappear balancing three tall thin glasses and a pitcher of Panha. “Here you go. Don’t break anything! I don’t want to have to tell AJ to put more glasses into the budget. Again.”
“We won’t!” The twins assured her, giving her a peck on the cheek before divesting her of the pitcher and glasses. “Come on!” They told Sunar, and he followed them out again.
“Bet you can’t balance the pitcher on your head the whole way to the lounge,” One of the twins said. This was the first time they had spoken without being in tandem; Sunar was surprised. He had almost wondered if they could.
“Bet I can!” The other twin retorted, sticking the pitcher on his head and holding both arms out for balance.
“May I fill up my glass before you do that?” Sunar asked, and the twins stared at him.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure,” They said. The twin with the pitcher took it off his head, pouring juice into a glass and handing it to their guest. Then he promptly returned the pitcher to the top of his head.
“Raaaaaaaaace you!” Said the twin without pitcher, doing cartwheels down the hallway.
“No fair!” Shouted the other twin, walking as fast as he could after his brother.
Sunar did not hurry to catch up; instead he lazily sipped his juice, taking in the artistry of the ship’s interior. He wondered if he could ever learn to make something so awe-inspiring and majestic.
When he made his way to the lounge again the magician was in the hallway, mopping up a spill, and the twins were pressed against the wall. Although their heads were hung in shame they wore identical grins that suggested they didn’t feel all that badly about spilling the Panha juice.
“Sorry, Zeb,” They murmured.
Zeb shook his head with a frown. “The two of you need to be more careful,” He chided. “There’s glass everywhere! Someone might get cut.”
Sunar was glad that he had asked them for his juice already; clearly they were not to be trusted with anything more than fun.
“Can I get around?” He asked, nodding towards the chairs.
Zeb took a step back. “Careful,” He warned, “There’s glass.”
Sunar did his best to step over the spill and the shattered glass, and then made his way to the chairs. The Owl-boy was sitting in one, now, and so he went to join him.
“Are you a holy man?” He asked, eyes round. He had wondered that since he had first seen the Owl-boys hair.
The Owl-boy looked up in alarm and shook his head.
“I’m Sunar, by the way!” Sunar placed his glass between his feet so that he could extend his hand to the other boy.
The Owl-boy looked at the hand in trepidation, and only reluctantly reached his own hand out. “Grady,” He mumbled in an almost inaudible voice.
“I saw you turn into an owl at the circus! That was super amazing!” Sunar enthused.
Grady slouched over his lap, looking like he wanted to escape.
Fortunately for him, Stefan interrupted them by rapping his cane against the tiled floor. “Grady! Ricio spotted the H.M.S. Patriot.on the horizon.”
The crew went silent. Zeb stopped mopping. The grins fell from the twins’ faces. Grady shrank back into his seat.
“The H.M.S. Patriot? Here?” He whispered in dread.
Stefan nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so. I need you to go alert the rest of the crew. We need to head out as quickly as possible.”
Grady swallowed as he asked, “Who’s missing? I thought everyone had come back aboard.”
“Trevor and Nick went off for some alone time, and Harmony hasn’t been back yet. Make sure they get back here, pronto!”
Grady nodded and then there was a flurry of wings as he shifted into an owl and flew up up up towards the dome over the grand staircase.
As soon as Grady had gone, Stefan began shouting orders to the remainder of the crew. “To the deck, come on! We need to be ready to leave as soon as everyone’s aboard!”
Sunar followed the others to the deck, peering over the railings towards the crashing sea below. “What’s the H.M.S. Patriot?” He asked the twins, but they clambered up the the riggings without answering.
He scurried over to Zeb, who was looking at a tiny compass. “What’s the H.M.S. Patriot?”
Zeb jumped, dropping the compass. He dropped to both knees, catching it just before it hit the deck. “Haven’t you heard of Captain Kells?”
Sunar shook his head. “Nope!”
The older man leaned his head towards Sunar as he whispered, “Captain Kells is a man without mercy. Had his own daughter hanged as a traitor!”
Sunar’s eyes widened at that. Anyone who would hang their own child was surely a monster.
“His First Mate is no better. Justin Wright has no concept of mercy. If they catch us….”
Sunar had no idea what the crew of the A..S. Abe had done that these dreadful people were after them. Or perhaps….
“Are they pirates?” He whispered, half-excited at the prospect of adventure and half-fearful.
Zeb barked out a laugh. “Pirates? No! The H.M.S. Patriot is under the Queen’s command!”
“Then why are you afraid of them?” Sunar asked, puzzled. Since Zeb hadn’t specified what Queen they worked for, he had to assume she was Queen of the A.S. Abe’s crew, as well.
“Because, lad. We’re the pirates.”
Any response Sunar might have formulated to that was interrupted by the thud of boots on the deck as Trevor and Nick arrived. The two men hurried over to turn the capstan, muscles bulging as the anchor slowly lifted from the water.
Beside the men a young girl appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
Zeb pocketed his compass and inclined his head towards her. “Harmony. Grady on the way?”
She waved one hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get goin’. He’ll catch up.”
Zeb ran towards the helm at that, and the girl vanished into thin air again.
Sunar blinked at this sudden spurt of action, and ran towards the port, intending to make his way back to the wharf, but the ship was already beginning to pull away.
He slumped over the railings, putting his head in his hands. He was stuck! This wasn’t at all what he had expected when he had agreed to accompany Stefan for Panha. All he had wanted was a drink; he should have tried to find some back at the festival.
An owl settled onto the railing beside him, and then transformed into Grady, waving his legs over the side of the ship as she lifted off into the air.
“Are you coming with us?”
Sunar sighed as he thought about his sister and his cousin and his parents. “I guess so,” He agreed, and then smiled. No use being sad! He would have a grand adventure to tell them when he got back.
The next several days were a whirlwind as Sunar helped out in the kitchens with Julia, or kept watch with AJ and Michael and Grady. Occasionally he studied the beautiful paintings that lined the walls, memorizing brushstrokes and lighting and perspective.
He knew that they were being hunted, but it was difficult to feel any sense of urgency about this fact when he was with a crowd full of interesting people.
And anyway, they had yet to spot the H.M.S. Patriot.
Weeks passed, and then one day Grady flew down from the crow’s nest and landed on the deck with an alarmed, “They’re here!”
Nobody had to ask what he meant; the crew scrambled to their positions, trying to urge the A.S. Abe to a faster pace. But before Zeke had even touched the wheel grappling hooks swung through the air to land across the railings.
“Cut them! Cut them!” Stefan shouted, limping across the deck and waving a dagger with the hand not holding his cane.
Harmony transported from grappling hook to grappling hook, deftly cutting through the thick ropes with her myriad knives.
“Harmony! Give me one!” Sunar shouted, and she flicked one in his direction. It landed between his feet, blade buried in the wood of the deck. He tugged it out, and ran to help.
Harmony must have been stronger than she looked, because cutting through these ropes was no easy task; Sunar struggled to force the blade through the twine, arms shaking.
The blade hadn’t gone even halfway through when a large hand propelled him backwards. He hit the deck with a loud oof, and looked up.
and up.
and up.
A square-jawed, brown-haired man of early middle age stared down at him with a flinty gaze. He wore a grey wool overcoat with brass buttons that glinted in the sun, and a matching grey side cap with the RAF badge pinned on one side, and a small badge that denoted his rank on the other.
He held a percussion pistol in one hand, which he aimed at Sunar with a casualness that made the teen’s blood run cold. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was a click, and then he was being shoved out of the way and there was shouting and something large and warm was on top of him.
He opened one eye and gasped. “Harmony!”
“Don’t thank me,” She grunted. Sunar could see blood trickling down from her arm.
“You saved me!” He whispered.
“It’s not over yet. Go hide.”
With that, she disappeared. Sunar scrambled to his feet, looking for a place that would be safe.
Their attacker looked remarkably calm despite the fact that the entire crew had weapons trained on him.
“Captain Stefan.” He greeted the pirate captain with a sneer. “You’ve eluded justice for too long.”
Stefan’s ordinarily good-natured face took on an expression of distaste. “You have no idea what justice is, Wright.”
“Justice is seeing traitors to the crown hung,” Justin answered simply. “You know I’m a faster draw than you, so you’re better off coming with me.”
Stefan’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he limped towards the RAF officer. The rest of the crew was still, expressions guarded. A smile spread across Wright’s face as the pirate captain approached.
“I’m sorry, my old friend,” Stefan whispered, wrapping both arms around the first mate and burying his dagger into the other man’s back. Wright’s mouth opened in silent surprise as a dark patch stained his coat.
“Come on, quick. Cut the rest of the ropes so we can get out of here. Captain Kells won’t be so easily defeated!” Stefan shouted, but just as he said this the H.M.S. Patriot began to shake apart. There were no screams of any crew, and no bodies fell as the panels and frame of the airship plunged through the clouds below.
Stefan stepped away quickly, dropping Wright’s corpse to the ground. Before it even hit the deck it turned to dust and was blown away.
“A gollum,” Stefan whispered. “Or something else?”
Sunar shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms.
“No matter. Come on, crew! Let’s celebrate that we lived to see another day!”
[Fin]
Jakhs = a mysterious people who washed up on the shores of Gujarat in the 8th century. They were said to be tall and fair-skinned and defended the oppressed people of Punvaranogadh
Jakh Botera no Melo = a festival commemorating the Jakhs
Bhadrapad = roughly corresponding to the month of September
Bhuj = a city of Gujarat
Babuji = father. A form of address for an older man
Pindari = Mercenary forces who acted as agents for the Marathi chiefs
Pendha = an alcoholic beverage made by the Pindari
Mankari = A form of address for a Marathi chieftain
Maratha = A warrior caste
Kurta = A loose shirt whose hem is roughly around the knees
Dhotiyu = A rectangular piece of unstitched cloth wrapped around the waist and the legs
Ustad = An honorific used for well-regarded teachers
Kaka = Uncle. A form of address for a man
Babo = Diminutive for younger men/male children
Kem Cho = a Gujarati greeting
Panha = a traditional mango drink
Kirman = a city in Iran
Panha = a Gujarati mango drink
The foothills of Kakkadbhit were festooned with tents and bright glowing lights as the townspeople prepared for Jakh Botera no Melo. There was a sense of palpable excitement that swept through the town every Bhadrapad, when it came town to commemorate the mysterious Jakhs who had once upon a time stood up to the oppression of local tyrant Punvar.
That had been long, long ago, so long ago that only fragments of myths and legends still existed.
But the people still celebrated.
“Step right up, step right up!”
An older man in a top hat and the funny waistcoats of the Western Europeans leaned on an intricately carved cane, vying for the attention of any who passed by. He stood outside a large red and white striped tent with lights strung all along the outside.
His plea was hardly necessary; townspeople stopped to gawk at the tent, whispering among themselves before hurrying to purchase tickets for the performances later in the evening; it wasn’t every festival that a circus from Europe put into port!
Sunar had seen their ship dock down at the Port of Jakhau; it was impossible to miss, all brass propellers and wispy flags and enormous oars that had stroked the winds as her crew guided her from the sky to rest in the sea.
The crew themselves were as fair as the legendary Jakhs themselves, and there were whispers that their arrival was a sign of blessing.
The nearest railway station was in Bhuj, which meant the entire caravan had to make its laborious way to the mountains in rickety carts. It had halted traffic for much of the day after their arrival; Sunar hadn’t arrived at the festival until well after nightfall.
He had slept beside the enormous circus tent, hoping that if something interesting appeared he would wake up to see it. He awoke in the morning to the shouting of the man in the top hat; he had slept soundly through the whole night.
“Step! Right! UP!” The man shouted. An elderly couple tottered over to him and asked about ticket prices. He winked at the lady, causing her to titter into her braid.
Sunar pushed himself to his feet and rubbed sleep from his eyes, blinking as the bright lights of the festival assaulted his eyes.
“Ahhhh, are you here for the circus, young man?” Top Hat asked, pressing both hands into his cane as he peered at Sunar.
Sunar tugged at his kurta and gave the man a wide smile. “Sure, Babuji! I’d love that. How much are the tickets…?”
The circus was, in a word, amazing. There was a magician who performed card tricks, and identical twins who flipped and spun and dazzled with their feats of daring and agility. There was a man with what seemed to Sunar (and the rest of the crowd) to be inhuman strength, and a young girl who threw knives with astonishing accuracy. A boy with hair in dreadlocks like a holy man awed the crowd by turning into an owl and flying all around the tent.
Sunar clapped and whistled with the rest of the crowd, impressed by the performance. When the show was over he allowed himself to be propelled out of the tent by the surge of people. The rest of the day went by in a blur of dancing and singing and feasting. By nightfall he was exhausted, but still so excited that he couldn’t sleep. He slipped into a tent set up by the Pindari, making his way to one of the opulent cushions.
The man in the Top Hat stumbled in not long after, and most of the Pindari eyed him with open suspicion until one of them (a Maratha chieftain, judging by the curved back of the helmet in her lap) gave a nod of recognition.
“Ustad Stefan, how nice of you to join us.”
“How could I keep away from your beauty, Mankari Gitali?” Stefan batted his eyelashes at the chieftain, and the Pindari around her grumbled, hands reaching towards their weapons.
Gitali snorted and gestured towards the bottle of Pendha in the center of the table. “I know what you’re truly here for, Kaka.”
“I’m wounded, Mankari!” Stefan pressed a hand to his heart and groaned theatrically, but he did pour the alcohol into an empty cup thrust at him by one of the Pindari.
“And you, Babo?” Gitali leaned across the table, nails clicking against the enamel as she peered at Sunar. “Why are you here?”
Sunar jumped, eyes wide at the unexpected attention, and he pressed his hands together. “Kem cho, Mankari!”
The Marathi woman rolled her eyes at him. “I asked why you’re here, Babo. Did you come to enlist with the Pindari? You don’t look like much of a warrior.”
Sunar shook his head vehemently. “No, Mankari, I was only searching for a place that served food and drink.”
“Can’t deny a thirsty man now, can we!” Stefan shoved the Pendha at Sunar with his left hand, eliciting more murmuring from those gathered.
“I…I was thinking more along the lines of Panha, Babuji,” Sunar eyed the alcohol with concern. He was not especially good at holding his liquor, even if the foreigner hadn’t stuck his left hand all over the bottle. But he was a foreigner, so he probably didn’t know better (even if his Gujarati was more than fluent.)
“I think that bottle is yours now, Kaka,” Gitali murmured sourly, and the smile that lit up Stefan’s face put the lie to Sunar’s assumptions. He definitely had known what he was doing.
“Panha!” Gitali snorted, tapping the helmet in her lap in derision. “You’re in the wrong tent, Babo.”
Stefan tipped the contents of the bottle into the flask attached to his belt before piping up, “I’ll take you to get some Panha. My acrobats love that stuff!”
He held out his right hand. Sunar hesitated only a moment, then beamed. “Thank you, Babuji.”
They wound through tents, Stefan leaning heavily on his cane and occasionally dropping Sunar’s hand in order to tip his hat at attractive people of all genders. That was a point in his favor, as far as Sunar was concerned.
“Have you ever been on an airship before, lad?” Stefan asked, and Sunar shook his head. “Well, it’s a wonder to behold! A thing of beauty, and you’re a beauty, too,” He added to a tall man with a crooked nose. The man ignored them, and Stefan continued to lead Sunar away from the crowds. “I know the Bishops brought some Panha aboard the ship. Ask them to show you around!”
Sunar peered over his shoulder briefly, watching the festival fade into the distance as they made their way to the enormous vessel anchored at the port. The sounds of laughter and music soon gave way to the waves lapping up against the docks and slapping the side of the airship, and the call of gulls and kittiwakes.
Stefan swept his cane towards the ship with a grin. “Welcome to the A.S. Abe.”
The inside of the ship was just as opulent as the outside, and Sunar found himself constantly stopping to stare, and then scurrying to keep up with the limping old man. They descended a staircase made of polished oak carved with delicate grape and floral designs and wrought iron shaped into elegant curves. As he descended the staircase he only had to look up to see a dome, panels made of stained glass with a grape motif to match the carvings on the newel. The refracted light danced across the tiled floor in a dazzling display of greens and purples.
The staircase opened up onto what looked to be a lounge of some sort; low-backed chairs made of Sheesham wood and carved with the same grape motif dotted the room. Beneath them was a handsome rug with an intricate design of vine scrolls and palmettes.
Stefan noticed Sunar’s eyes on the rug and a smile lit up his face. “Won that in Kirman, I did. A reward for helping out a beautiful man.”
“Wooooow,” Sunar breathed as he took in the whole of the ship. “It’s gorgeous.”
Stefan beamed at that. “It is that, isn’t it! Ah, and here are the Bishops!” He waved to two figures seated on the far side of the lounge. “JJ! Do either of you have any Panha left? This lad here would like to join you for some!”
He gestured towards Sunar, who smiled and waved.
The Bishops waved in turn. “Not a problem! We have some!” They said in unison. They pushed themselves to their feet and gestured down the hallway. “Come with us!”
Sunar dashed down the hallway after them. “This place is so big,” He breathed in awe. They passed a nook with a marble bust inside, and he stopped to admire the realism of the curls and the outline of muscles.
“That’s Dionysus,” The twins told him. “Patron of the A.S. Abe.”
“He paid for your ship?” Sunar asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.
The twins shook their heads, mirroring one another with an uncanny precision. “Not that kind of patron,” They corrected. “He’s the god that looks after us. Hence all the grapes.” They waved their hand vaguely to indicate the trails of carved grapes bordering the walls.
“Oooh.” Sunar was not especially up on all the Western gods, so he didn’t quite understand why grapes should make this obvious, but he smiled and nodded anyway.
They made their way down the hallway, and then down a less ornate staircase than the one that had lead to the lounge. This staircase lead to a rather non-descript pair of doors, which the twins flung open triumphantly. “Here we are!” They announced, waving Sunar into an enormous kitchen.
A short-haired woman with bubbles floating all about her was tending a pot on the stove. She waved to the twins, but otherwise ignored them.
“Rain! Rain, Rain, Rain!” They called out, and another young woman poked her head out from around the corner.
“Yes?” She asked cheerfully.
The twins waved frantically at her, and then pointed to Sunar. “This is uhhh...a friend! And we wanted to have some Panha with hm!”
Sunar held out his right hand to her. “I’m Sunar. You’re...Rain?”
“It’s Baran, actually,” She corrected, shaking his hand quickly, “But everyone seems to think that’s so hard to remember. It means rain in my mother tongue, so that’s what they call me here.”
She whisked away, only to reappear balancing three tall thin glasses and a pitcher of Panha. “Here you go. Don’t break anything! I don’t want to have to tell AJ to put more glasses into the budget. Again.”
“We won’t!” The twins assured her, giving her a peck on the cheek before divesting her of the pitcher and glasses. “Come on!” They told Sunar, and he followed them out again.
“Bet you can’t balance the pitcher on your head the whole way to the lounge,” One of the twins said. This was the first time they had spoken without being in tandem; Sunar was surprised. He had almost wondered if they could.
“Bet I can!” The other twin retorted, sticking the pitcher on his head and holding both arms out for balance.
“May I fill up my glass before you do that?” Sunar asked, and the twins stared at him.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure,” They said. The twin with the pitcher took it off his head, pouring juice into a glass and handing it to their guest. Then he promptly returned the pitcher to the top of his head.
“Raaaaaaaaace you!” Said the twin without pitcher, doing cartwheels down the hallway.
“No fair!” Shouted the other twin, walking as fast as he could after his brother.
Sunar did not hurry to catch up; instead he lazily sipped his juice, taking in the artistry of the ship’s interior. He wondered if he could ever learn to make something so awe-inspiring and majestic.
When he made his way to the lounge again the magician was in the hallway, mopping up a spill, and the twins were pressed against the wall. Although their heads were hung in shame they wore identical grins that suggested they didn’t feel all that badly about spilling the Panha juice.
“Sorry, Zeb,” They murmured.
Zeb shook his head with a frown. “The two of you need to be more careful,” He chided. “There’s glass everywhere! Someone might get cut.”
Sunar was glad that he had asked them for his juice already; clearly they were not to be trusted with anything more than fun.
“Can I get around?” He asked, nodding towards the chairs.
Zeb took a step back. “Careful,” He warned, “There’s glass.”
Sunar did his best to step over the spill and the shattered glass, and then made his way to the chairs. The Owl-boy was sitting in one, now, and so he went to join him.
“Are you a holy man?” He asked, eyes round. He had wondered that since he had first seen the Owl-boys hair.
The Owl-boy looked up in alarm and shook his head.
“I’m Sunar, by the way!” Sunar placed his glass between his feet so that he could extend his hand to the other boy.
The Owl-boy looked at the hand in trepidation, and only reluctantly reached his own hand out. “Grady,” He mumbled in an almost inaudible voice.
“I saw you turn into an owl at the circus! That was super amazing!” Sunar enthused.
Grady slouched over his lap, looking like he wanted to escape.
Fortunately for him, Stefan interrupted them by rapping his cane against the tiled floor. “Grady! Ricio spotted the H.M.S. Patriot.on the horizon.”
The crew went silent. Zeb stopped mopping. The grins fell from the twins’ faces. Grady shrank back into his seat.
“The H.M.S. Patriot? Here?” He whispered in dread.
Stefan nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so. I need you to go alert the rest of the crew. We need to head out as quickly as possible.”
Grady swallowed as he asked, “Who’s missing? I thought everyone had come back aboard.”
“Trevor and Nick went off for some alone time, and Harmony hasn’t been back yet. Make sure they get back here, pronto!”
Grady nodded and then there was a flurry of wings as he shifted into an owl and flew up up up towards the dome over the grand staircase.
As soon as Grady had gone, Stefan began shouting orders to the remainder of the crew. “To the deck, come on! We need to be ready to leave as soon as everyone’s aboard!”
Sunar followed the others to the deck, peering over the railings towards the crashing sea below. “What’s the H.M.S. Patriot?” He asked the twins, but they clambered up the the riggings without answering.
He scurried over to Zeb, who was looking at a tiny compass. “What’s the H.M.S. Patriot?”
Zeb jumped, dropping the compass. He dropped to both knees, catching it just before it hit the deck. “Haven’t you heard of Captain Kells?”
Sunar shook his head. “Nope!”
The older man leaned his head towards Sunar as he whispered, “Captain Kells is a man without mercy. Had his own daughter hanged as a traitor!”
Sunar’s eyes widened at that. Anyone who would hang their own child was surely a monster.
“His First Mate is no better. Justin Wright has no concept of mercy. If they catch us….”
Sunar had no idea what the crew of the A..S. Abe had done that these dreadful people were after them. Or perhaps….
“Are they pirates?” He whispered, half-excited at the prospect of adventure and half-fearful.
Zeb barked out a laugh. “Pirates? No! The H.M.S. Patriot is under the Queen’s command!”
“Then why are you afraid of them?” Sunar asked, puzzled. Since Zeb hadn’t specified what Queen they worked for, he had to assume she was Queen of the A.S. Abe’s crew, as well.
“Because, lad. We’re the pirates.”
Any response Sunar might have formulated to that was interrupted by the thud of boots on the deck as Trevor and Nick arrived. The two men hurried over to turn the capstan, muscles bulging as the anchor slowly lifted from the water.
Beside the men a young girl appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
Zeb pocketed his compass and inclined his head towards her. “Harmony. Grady on the way?”
She waved one hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get goin’. He’ll catch up.”
Zeb ran towards the helm at that, and the girl vanished into thin air again.
Sunar blinked at this sudden spurt of action, and ran towards the port, intending to make his way back to the wharf, but the ship was already beginning to pull away.
He slumped over the railings, putting his head in his hands. He was stuck! This wasn’t at all what he had expected when he had agreed to accompany Stefan for Panha. All he had wanted was a drink; he should have tried to find some back at the festival.
An owl settled onto the railing beside him, and then transformed into Grady, waving his legs over the side of the ship as she lifted off into the air.
“Are you coming with us?”
Sunar sighed as he thought about his sister and his cousin and his parents. “I guess so,” He agreed, and then smiled. No use being sad! He would have a grand adventure to tell them when he got back.
The next several days were a whirlwind as Sunar helped out in the kitchens with Julia, or kept watch with AJ and Michael and Grady. Occasionally he studied the beautiful paintings that lined the walls, memorizing brushstrokes and lighting and perspective.
He knew that they were being hunted, but it was difficult to feel any sense of urgency about this fact when he was with a crowd full of interesting people.
And anyway, they had yet to spot the H.M.S. Patriot.
Weeks passed, and then one day Grady flew down from the crow’s nest and landed on the deck with an alarmed, “They’re here!”
Nobody had to ask what he meant; the crew scrambled to their positions, trying to urge the A.S. Abe to a faster pace. But before Zeke had even touched the wheel grappling hooks swung through the air to land across the railings.
“Cut them! Cut them!” Stefan shouted, limping across the deck and waving a dagger with the hand not holding his cane.
Harmony transported from grappling hook to grappling hook, deftly cutting through the thick ropes with her myriad knives.
“Harmony! Give me one!” Sunar shouted, and she flicked one in his direction. It landed between his feet, blade buried in the wood of the deck. He tugged it out, and ran to help.
Harmony must have been stronger than she looked, because cutting through these ropes was no easy task; Sunar struggled to force the blade through the twine, arms shaking.
The blade hadn’t gone even halfway through when a large hand propelled him backwards. He hit the deck with a loud oof, and looked up.
and up.
and up.
A square-jawed, brown-haired man of early middle age stared down at him with a flinty gaze. He wore a grey wool overcoat with brass buttons that glinted in the sun, and a matching grey side cap with the RAF badge pinned on one side, and a small badge that denoted his rank on the other.
He held a percussion pistol in one hand, which he aimed at Sunar with a casualness that made the teen’s blood run cold. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was a click, and then he was being shoved out of the way and there was shouting and something large and warm was on top of him.
He opened one eye and gasped. “Harmony!”
“Don’t thank me,” She grunted. Sunar could see blood trickling down from her arm.
“You saved me!” He whispered.
“It’s not over yet. Go hide.”
With that, she disappeared. Sunar scrambled to his feet, looking for a place that would be safe.
Their attacker looked remarkably calm despite the fact that the entire crew had weapons trained on him.
“Captain Stefan.” He greeted the pirate captain with a sneer. “You’ve eluded justice for too long.”
Stefan’s ordinarily good-natured face took on an expression of distaste. “You have no idea what justice is, Wright.”
“Justice is seeing traitors to the crown hung,” Justin answered simply. “You know I’m a faster draw than you, so you’re better off coming with me.”
Stefan’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he limped towards the RAF officer. The rest of the crew was still, expressions guarded. A smile spread across Wright’s face as the pirate captain approached.
“I’m sorry, my old friend,” Stefan whispered, wrapping both arms around the first mate and burying his dagger into the other man’s back. Wright’s mouth opened in silent surprise as a dark patch stained his coat.
“Come on, quick. Cut the rest of the ropes so we can get out of here. Captain Kells won’t be so easily defeated!” Stefan shouted, but just as he said this the H.M.S. Patriot began to shake apart. There were no screams of any crew, and no bodies fell as the panels and frame of the airship plunged through the clouds below.
Stefan stepped away quickly, dropping Wright’s corpse to the ground. Before it even hit the deck it turned to dust and was blown away.
“A gollum,” Stefan whispered. “Or something else?”
Sunar shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms.
“No matter. Come on, crew! Let’s celebrate that we lived to see another day!”
[Fin]
