Where the Winds Don't Blow

We must seem especially small from up there, Dowlin thought as he watched their ship’s aerial scout circle through the dusky sky. It wasn’t an inaccurate assessment--the Kingfisher was an elegant vessel, but not a large one, a caravel built for speed and maneuverability, with sharply-angled lateen sails that, in Dowlin’s opinion, gave the illusion of even greater velocity. From their cha’ari’s scout’s lofty position, though, the Kingfisher would be juxtaposed against the unending golden swell of the Aurrus Sais, tiny and solitary.
Well. Hopefully solitary, Dowlin thought. Though the Kingfisher was ostensibly a research vessel, research didn’t always pay the bills. Every now and then the small crew was obliged to take on work of a different sort, and this was one of those times.
“Something on your mind?” A familiar voice drew him from his thoughts, and Dowlin turned to look at the speaker. She was seated by the rail, tall and elegant as ever, her haloed head turned towards him.
Dowlin grinned. “When is something not, Rieme?” He wandered over to lean on the rail next to where she was sitting. He, too, looked somewhat small compared to Rieme, but then again, didn’t everyone look short compared to a Thora? Still, he was a compact, sturdy human, even by his own kind’s standards. That wasn’t the only way they contrasted one another; where he was olive-skinned, she was a shade of pale ash-blue. They, at least, had similarly dark eyes, and similarly scholarly interests.
“Fair enough,” she replied, blinking slowly in amusement, “and this time it would happen to be…?”
Dowlin took a deep breath as he sorted his thoughts. “Mostly just thinking about… all this.” He gestured to the sea around them. “Not another ship in sight. Been a while since we left the coasts. Not used to seeing so much nothin’ on the horizon.”
“Too long, if you ask me,” Rieme looked away, back to the water. Dowlin followed her gaze and nearly jumped out of his skin. Gliding along beneath the water, keeping stately pace with the Kingfisher, was the unmistakable mottled-brown form of a cennas. “There’s a small pod,” Rieme went on, evident fondness in her voice, “we’ve already fed them, don’t worry.”
“You sure that’s gonna be enough to keep ‘em off us?” Dowlin asked, squinting. Sure enough, he could make out the form of a few other large silhouettes moving through the water. He looked back to Rieme, who had her gaze trained on the cennas. He was unable to resist a small smile at the softness in her dark eyes.
“If past behavior is anything to judge by, yes.” Rieme said, shifting in her seat as she continued to watch the pod, “I think they’re a good deal smarter than most researchers give them credit for.” Dowlin did not answer her, merely smiled and looked back at his crewmate. Like most of the rest of the crew, Dowlin was a researcher himself (a botanist, to be precise), but he never tired of hearing his fellows go on about the subjects they loved the most. Especially not when it was Rieme.
When she looked back to him, he realized he’d been staring, and blinked, looking back up to the sky with a rush of mortification. “Oh, looks like he’s landing.” He stood, watching as their gray-feathered scout landed on the opposite rail. “All clear, Ollie?”
“All clear,” the cha’ari chirped back, hopping down to the deck and trotting off to make his report to the captain.
Dowlin settled back down, confident he’d quashed his moment of embarrassment, only to feel it fluttering inside again when he looked to see that Rieme was smiling at him. Smiling back, he said, “Not as much for me to research out on the deep, though. Not unless we head to the Tangle.”
“Well, there are some very interesting theories about the cennas and the Tangle,” she replied, shrugging, “maybe we can convince the Captain to swing by when we’ve finished this job.”
“Maybe,” he replied, shrugging right back. The smile on his face faded as he turned to look back to the hatch in the center of the ship that led belowdecks. Rieme followed his gaze. “I know we need the money,” he went on, more quietly, “but it’s… not like the captain not to haul cargo and make a point of not tellin’ us what it is.”
“If she did, I can only assume it was because she thought it was in our best interests,” Rieme murmured. “I can’t imagine it’s anything… unpleasant. Besides, we know everything else there is to know about the job.”
Dowlin nodded absently, looking back out over the water. He couldn’t deny that was true. This delivery was on behalf of one of the branches of the Vivali shipping conglomerate, but he couldn’t decide if that made him feel like it was a more legitimate enterprise or a less legitimate one. They were part of a team escorting a larger shipment, though they were traveling separately.
Their liaison had told them that, on paper, they were simply taking a small portion of the cargo on an alternate, faster, unofficial route to Cherrut Das, while the primary merchant vessel–a much larger and more ponderous affair, with two attendant guard ships–would be taking the planned route. Reading between the lines, however, made it clear that whatever it was their nimble little vessel was carrying, it was important.
Dowlin couldn’t deny that it was a valid strategy. Their route was unconventional, sparsely-traveled, and with their scout making regular trips to the sky, they’d surely see trouble coming long before trouble saw them. The main shipping contingent was a much more attractive target for pirates and brigands than a vessel that was at least somewhat known for its scholarly pursuits–who would ever guess they had anything valuable on board?
“Dowlin?”
“Hmm?” He snapped his attention back to Rieme, realizing he’d fallen silent. “Oh, sorry. Just. Turnin’ it all over in my head, I guess.”
Again, she smiled, and this time she reached out to pat his shoulder. “Well, you’d better get it out of your system soon. We’ll only be at this for a few more days, after all.”
Her warm pragmatism began to lift Downlin’s spirits–not that such was a difficult task for Rieme. Wordlessly, he reached up to pat the hand that was on his shoulder. “Yep. And then it’s back to the real hard work.”
Rieme nodded solemnly and withdrew her hand, looking back over the water. A faint sound echoed out over the water, sudden yet soft, and she went still, frowning.
“Rieme?” Dowlin asked, concerned.
“Something’s…” Rieme stood abruptly. Dowlin followed her gaze out over the water. The dark shapes in the water were suddenly adjusting course, speeding up. “Something’s not right.”
Dowlin stood as well, exchanging a glance with Rieme that was equal parts concern and alarm. The disturbed cennas were breaking formation rapidly. One of them briefly breached the water before diving, and all around the eerie, hollow echoes of their muffled song vibrated beneath the waves.
“What’s got them–are they huntin’?” Dowlin asked, looking at Reime again.
Her eyes were wide and fixed on the water. “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Slow, Reime tore her attention away from the disappearing shapes to look back at Dowlin. “They’re fleeing.”
On the heels of her statement, the water off the starboard bow began to bubble and seethe, a mere instant’s warning before the enormous axelike prow of a vessel breached the surface; for a moment the ocean seemed to hold the sleek sides of the massive gunmetal-gray ship in a sheath of water before it broke into wild plumes of spray. The vessel’s axe-blade prow and a good portion of its length completely cleared the water, cutting perpendicular to the Kingfisher’s path, and before gravity brought the entire monstrosity down to the waves again, Dowlin got a clear view of the single word etched in bold black letters along the vessel’s side.
Guillotine.
Then it crashed like a tree falling across a path, sending two wide arcs of seaspray out to either side of it. The Kingfisher’s Captain began to immediately bark orders from the stern. The angle of the submerged vessel’s approach forced them to veer hard to port to avoid a collision, but before they could even think of re-orienting to flee, the crew saw the Guillotine turning in concert like a dancer matching its partner to neatly pull up alongside them, effortlessly joining them in the maneuver they’d been forced into by its sudden appearance.
Already the long, streamlined vessel’s exterior was changing before Dowlin’s astonished eyes. Water was pouring out of pumps and cascading in sheets down armor plates that were beginning to unseal, unlock, and separate, borne apart by powerful, inelegant machinery. What had been an almost bullet-shaped ship with an axe-like head began to resemble a more conventionally-shaped ship, until the last of the upper shell had re-folded itself down below the waterline, having re-formed itself into a keel.
Though the Guillotine hung lower in the water than many vessels its size, it was still a good deal taller than the Kingfisher, so Dowlin could only partially see those of the crew that had gathered on the rail of the newly-revealed deck.
Front and center was a human woman–young, somewhere in her early thirties, if he was to guess–dressed in layers and layers of dark clothing, in the style favored by pirates. The ensemble was topped by an impressive hat with a long plume, under which a pale face was regarding them with an enigmatic half-smile. One foot was planted firmly on the rail, and the woman was doing nothing to contain the long, wild lengths of dark hair that were blowing in the wind. A small falcon with a streamlined build was clutching restlessly on her right shoulder.
To her left was another feathered creature, though this one was much, much larger than any mere animal. The man to the woman’s left was a striking figure, to say the least: tall, avian, with scintillating golden feathers that glittered like pirate’s gold in the dim light. At first, Dowlin thought he was looking at a particularly impressive cha’ari, before he noticed, with astonishment, that the hawk-like man was holding a rifle at the ready. With… hands. Actual hands, in addition to his wings.
He wasn’t the only shiny fellow in the Guillotine’s repertoire, either. Another equally-striking figure was peering down at them: a gold reptilian head, with eyes the same color, peering down at them from where the golden reptile clutched the rail. Dowlin caught only a glimpse of the reptilian face before it ducked away and was gone. The naturalist in Dowlin was widely curious as to what these two creatures were, and why they had such similar, strange coloration.
The rest of him, though, was terrified.
The Guillotine’s captain spoke. “Good…” She made a grand gesture of glancing up at the perpetually dusky sky. “Evening, crew of the Kingfisher. I’ve come to have a word with Captain Luwehi.”
The crew aboard the Kingfisher had frozen after they’d scrambled to turn the ship, and now they turned. Their captain descended from where she’d been standing by the tiller and made her way across the deck. Her crew parted before her. Captain Luwehi might have only stood about four feet tall, like most mehune, but she still commanded the rapt attention of her crew.
“I’ve seen a many good things sailing with this scholarly lot,” Captain Luwehi called back. She spoke with the clarity and volume of someone used to shouting over gales and the crash of waves. “And heard many legends besides. I didn’t put much stock in the tales I’d heard of late regardin’ yourself.”
“Oh?” The Guillotine’s captain leaned forward further, resting her elbow on one knee. “I’d be mighty curious as to what folks back on shore are saying about me.”
“They be callin ye the Sea Witch.” Captain Luwehi’s gaze flickered over the improbable composition of the Guillotine with the practiced eye of someone who knew more about the mechanical workings of such a bizarre hybrid vessel than most. “And I can see why.”
The Sea Witch’s half-smile grew to a grin. “Not sure that’s meant to be a compliment,” she called back, “but I’ll take it as one. Nevertheless, Captain, I’m here to invite you to come aboard for a chat. Bring a guard if you like. I’ve got a pot of fine Ombro brewing, and we can discuss the pretty little trinket I’ll be taking off your hands.”
Captain Luwehi’s expression remained stony. “And if I’m not inclined to accept your generous invitation?”
The Guillotine’s captain tilted her head, her smile not waving. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.”
The mehune’s eyes narrowed very slightly, and she stood in silence for a long moment before she finally said, “Very well.”

---

Dowlin was not among the guards that went with Captain Luwehi onto the Guillotine. He remained on the Kingfisher with the majority of the crew. The Sea Witch had sent down guards of her own to watch over the Kingfisher–a xyel-ya and that startlingly golden bird-man. Dowlin felt a bit insulted that the Witch seemed to assume there was any chance of the crew running off without their captain.
He hadn’t moved from where he was standing by Rieme. What had started as a place to stand for a casual chat had now become something slightly more protective. If he were being honest, he was no more qualified to fight than she was, but if it came to blows…
“You can relax.” The harsh ratcheting croak of a voice immediately drew his attention. The hawk-man had tilted his head to regard Dowlin sidelong. His Low Atlantean was oddly accented, and somewhat halting. “We’re not here for a battle.”
“Just a theft?” Dowlin asked, irritable despite himself.
The golden hawk-man’s eye squinted in an approximation of a smile and he clacked his beak once. “What were you expecting? We’re pirates.”
“How did you even find us?” Rieme asked quietly. Where Dowlin had reacted to the intrusion with anger, she seemed much more nervous and wary. It cooled his temper somewhat, and he turned back towards her, catching her eye and giving her a reassuring nod. The tension in her shoulders eased just a bit, and he felt disproportionately grateful for it.
He looked back to the hawk-man, who was watching them with even more clear amusement. Dolwin tried to will the blood not to rush to his face. It was bad enough being cornered and boarded by pirates during what was supposed to be a quick and simple mission; was it so much to ask that he didn’t die of embarrassment during it?
“Trade secret,” was the hawk’s simple reply. After a moment, he added, “But Captain Vantega’s word is good–for better or worse.”
“Vantega? Is that her name?” Rieme asked.
The hawk-man nodded. “Yes. Do… people really just call her ‘the Sea Witch?’” When both Dowlin and Rieme nodded, he gave a low, croaking laugh and shook his head. “She’s going to get a kick out of that.”
Everyone fell silent again as the minutes ticked by. Dowlin watched as hands moved back and forth over the deck of the Guillotine, and though the height difference made it difficult for him to see exactly what was going on, he could tell that the crew was finishing whatever conversion the machinery had started. Panels had been slid back and engine components had been lowered into the water; he saw strut-like beams being set up in advance of sails.
“You sail as well?” he asked, curious despite himself.
“Among other things.” The hawk-man seemed inclined to humor him. Under the harshness of his voice, which Dowlin gathered was just its natural tone, there was a sort of rakish cordiality. “The Guillotine travels with the wind, and against the current. Goes where other ships can’t tread, and sails down where the winds don’t blow. I’m sure you’ll hear about them sooner or later, if we’ve already found our way into rumor and myth. Though how much of that is true…” He trailed off, a glint in one golden eye.
Dowlin rolled his eyes. “Got it.”
Again, the crew settled into an indeterminable wait. After what seemed like an eternity, but could only have been an hour, Dowlin sensed the crew around him turning to look. He followed their gaze until he saw Captain Luwehi up at the rail on the Guillotine, swinging over and making her descent down a rope ladder while the Sea Witch watched. Apparently, negotiations were done.
The xyel-ya and hawk-man stood by as Captain Luwehi led her guards to the hatch, and instructed them on where to find their cargo. She remained above deck. Everyone was silent, hushed in curious expectation.
He watched as a single chest–no larger than a traveler’s trunk–was brought up from belowdecks and handed off. Dowlin could scarcely believe it. All of that trouble for one chest? He held his tongue, though. For all the drama and fanfare of the Guillotine’s arrival, the moment of plunder was almost laughably mundane and simple. There were no crossed swords, no shouts or heroic last-ditch efforts to escape.
There was only the bewildered crew of the Kingfisher and their grim Captain Luwehi watching as the crate was ferried up a rope ladder to the deck. Dowlin leaned back. He could see the Sea Witch–or, well, Captain Vantega–crouch down to open the chest. She looked off to the side.
Again, he caught a glimpse of the second golden creature, the reptilian one–but it was once more only a glimpse, as the figure nodded briefly. Captain Vantega stood and turned back to the rail, while her crew shut the trunk and spirited away somewhere below deck.
“Thank you ever so kindly for your cooperation and hospitality,” the Sea Witch called. The Guillotine was beginning to tremble, and Dowlin saw a dull glow beginning to swell in what he’d guessed were the engine components as they warmed up. “Follow us if you like, though I wouldn’t recommend it. Different destinations, and all.” Dowlin still couldn’t see much of her face, but he did see the broad grin breaking under the shadow of her large hat. “Fair winds to you and your crew.”
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The rope ladder was rolled up and Captain Vantega turned to begin shouting orders to her crew. In the time the negotiations had taken, the transformation was complete; the axe-prowed ship had gone from some strange streamlined stalker of the deep sea to another ship entirely, it seemed. It still cut through the water with that viciously-bladed prow, though, and still bore the same name in those grim dark letters along the side.
The crew of the Kingfisher didn’t immediately rush to action. They remained silent, somber, stunned by what had happened. It was Dowlin who broke the silence at last.
“What was in it?”
Captain Luwehi turned to look at him, pausing for a moment. Though Dowlin had been the one to ask the question, he could see the rest of the crew watching her keenly, raptly awaiting an answer. She took a deep breath, and only considered the matter for a moment before answering. “An artifact. Just one.”
“Was it… valuable?” One of the other crewmembers asked.
“Someone seemed to think so, but I couldn’t tell you one way or another,” she said, “aside from what it was made from, it didn’t seem to be worth particularly much. It wasn’t any different than how the Sea Witch described it–a pretty trinket.”
“What was it made of?” Rieme asked, stepping up next to Dowlin.
Captain Luwehi turned to look at her directly. “Orichalcum.”
They left the site of the raid–if it could be called anything as grand as that–with no more answers than that. Dowlin watched as the Guillotine’s shape faded gradually into the horizon, propelled along by whatever strange engines and wind power it was presently using. The crew finally shook off their silent fugue and got to work, preparing the ship to resume course. Gradually, chatter began to return to the deck, though it was a little heavier and less bright than before.
Dowlin, having nothing to do as far as sailing preparations went, stayed where he was, helping by simply being out of the way. He looked to Rieme, who also hadn’t moved from the rail. “You okay?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. No more or less rattled than anyone else, I suppose,” she said with a sigh. After a moment, she smiled. “Thank you, though.”
“Oh! You’re welcome.” He paused. “For, uh, what exactly?”
“For sticking nearby. I mean, I know you were already standing there but…” She reached over and patted his hand. “I really do mean it.”
Again, Dowlin tried to will himself not to flush. “Well.” Unfortunately, it apparently took all of his brainpower to do that, because he could think of nothing else to say. “Well, of course.”
There would be complications when they arrived back in Cherut Das, of course. Their Captain would likely bear the brunt of their client’s displeasure, and they’d ultimately be off worse than before, having spent the time and supplies for this trip with nothing to show for it–and still without the funding they needed to continue their research work.
But Dowlin was grateful that it hadn’t been worse. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at least they’d escaped unharmed. The tiny ship wouldn’t have stood much of a chance in a pitched fight, to say nothing of the fact that the crew wasn’t exactly combat-ready…still, despite everything, what bothered him the most about it all wasn’t that they’d been stalked and robbed.
It was that he didn’t know why it had happened, or what the Sea Witch wanted with whatever she’d taken. To a curious man like Dowlin, such an unanswered question was downright maddening. Rieme’s voice, ringing out in quiet delight, shook him out of his thoughts.
“Oh, look! They’re back.” Rieme leaned over the railing slightly, and he followed her gaze. He could barely make out the mottled brown skin of a cennas below the water. It was very slowly edging closer, in a strangely tentative fashion.
“It might be my imagination,” he said, “but it looks almost sheepish to me.”
Rieme laughed. “It could very well be so. Like I said–they’re smarter than we give them credit for. Perhaps more emotional, too.” She turned her dark eyes back to Dowlin. “Their calls have meaning, you know. A sort of simple language. If you listen long enough, you can learn to hear what it is they’re saying.”
“Oh?” Dowlin leaned more heavily on the rail, looking out at the sea. “And what sorts of things do they have to say?”
Rieme regarded him for a moment and, once she had confirmed that he was genuinely interested, and not just humoring her, she smiled and began to tell him. Despite the chaos of the day, and the troubles that lay ahead, they soon settled into the peace the rest of the journey promised them. Dowlin sat, and listened as Rieme told him about the songs of the cennas, as the sky over them gradually darkened with the distance to night.