the big guns freed of their moorings, and he watched with great interest.
Sethus and Cobiah dropped down to the lower deck and moved to help the gunners, pushing pallets of cannonballs and small burlap bags of powder into place beside each cannon at its porthole. Although the work was hard, Cobiah couldn’t help being pleased that he was helping with the gunnery while Tosh was saddled with the everyday task of gaffing ropes.
“Ho, there!” The voice was crisp, the vowels rounded, and the tone one of immutable authority. Aubrey Chernock leaned over to peer down through the hatch opening. The Indomitable ’s first mate cut a fine figure, brown ponytail dancing against her shoulders, fists on her hips, golden coat flaring in the wind. “The captain left his astrolabe in the chart room.” She pointed at Cobiah, hand striking out like a shark. “You there. Run back and retrieve it. Ask Pilot Damran—he’ll know what I mean.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Cobiah leapt up from the pallet he’d been loading and clambered back to the top deck, giving her a fumbling salute. He rushed toward the rear of the ship without a second thought, pausing only when he’d reached the mainsail. Damran? That was the pilot’s name. Chart room? Astral what ? Neither of those terms made any sense to him. Cobiah considered asking, butthe first mate of the Indomitable had already turned and headed back to the captain’s side on the forecastle. Oh, well, he thought. I’ll just have to figure it out on my own. Cobiah ducked to avoid hanging shrouds of net as he jogged under the main boom. The captain’s cabin was at the rear of the ship beneath the quarterdeck. That seemed like the best place to start looking for the pilot, and the captain’s astral . . . laboratory . . . thing.
He climbed the stairs to the heavy oak doors of the captain’s cabin, hesitantly pushing them open. “Hello?” Cobiah’s voice wavered uncertainly. He slipped inside, hoping to be in and out before anyone noticed him there.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light inside the cabin. The room inside felt as far away from the deck of the ship as Lion’s Arch was from Cantha, and for a moment, Cobiah thought he’d been transported to the king’s palace. Huge glass windows covered the rear wall, surrounded by velvet curtains the color of ripe tomatoes, spread wide to let in the sun. Gilding twinkled from the window frames, the ceiling, and even the chairs arrayed around a long oak table. The table itself was sturdily fastened to the floor with bolts through the clawed brass feet. On one side of the cabin, a soft down mattress was piled high with fluffy pillows in the same deep-red tone, each decorated with fine golden embroidery.
The wooden walls had been polished to a high shine. Small unlit candles hung in delicate ornate sconces every few feet. A rug in shades of blue and purple lay across the floor’s open area, worth far more than the house Cobiah grew up in back at Lion’s Arch. “Anyone here?” The sentence died on his lips as he noticed an old man sitting in a chair by the bay window, reading a thick leather-bound book. “Oh. You must be . . .” He struggled to remember the pilot’s name. “Dargan . . . um . . . Darran?”
“Damran. Pilot Damran. And you are, boy?” Shifting his wire-rimmed spectacles down his thin nose, the old man stared at Cobiah with a disapproving smirk.
“Cobiah. Sir. I mean, I’m Cobiah, sir. I’m here because the mate—First Mate Chernock. She sent me.”
The two men stared at one another for a long awkward moment before Damran finally snapped, “And?”
“Oh!” Cobiah blinked. “She wanted me to bring the captain his astro thing?”
Damran shut the book in his lap, blinking owlishly. “His what?”
“I’m not sure, sir.” Cobiah faltered. “She only said it once, and she was talking really fast, but Chernock said the captain’d left something in his chart room, and I was to bring it to
Sethus and Cobiah dropped down to the lower deck and moved to help the gunners, pushing pallets of cannonballs and small burlap bags of powder into place beside each cannon at its porthole. Although the work was hard, Cobiah couldn’t help being pleased that he was helping with the gunnery while Tosh was saddled with the everyday task of gaffing ropes.
“Ho, there!” The voice was crisp, the vowels rounded, and the tone one of immutable authority. Aubrey Chernock leaned over to peer down through the hatch opening. The Indomitable ’s first mate cut a fine figure, brown ponytail dancing against her shoulders, fists on her hips, golden coat flaring in the wind. “The captain left his astrolabe in the chart room.” She pointed at Cobiah, hand striking out like a shark. “You there. Run back and retrieve it. Ask Pilot Damran—he’ll know what I mean.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Cobiah leapt up from the pallet he’d been loading and clambered back to the top deck, giving her a fumbling salute. He rushed toward the rear of the ship without a second thought, pausing only when he’d reached the mainsail. Damran? That was the pilot’s name. Chart room? Astral what ? Neither of those terms made any sense to him. Cobiah considered asking, butthe first mate of the Indomitable had already turned and headed back to the captain’s side on the forecastle. Oh, well, he thought. I’ll just have to figure it out on my own. Cobiah ducked to avoid hanging shrouds of net as he jogged under the main boom. The captain’s cabin was at the rear of the ship beneath the quarterdeck. That seemed like the best place to start looking for the pilot, and the captain’s astral . . . laboratory . . . thing.
He climbed the stairs to the heavy oak doors of the captain’s cabin, hesitantly pushing them open. “Hello?” Cobiah’s voice wavered uncertainly. He slipped inside, hoping to be in and out before anyone noticed him there.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light inside the cabin. The room inside felt as far away from the deck of the ship as Lion’s Arch was from Cantha, and for a moment, Cobiah thought he’d been transported to the king’s palace. Huge glass windows covered the rear wall, surrounded by velvet curtains the color of ripe tomatoes, spread wide to let in the sun. Gilding twinkled from the window frames, the ceiling, and even the chairs arrayed around a long oak table. The table itself was sturdily fastened to the floor with bolts through the clawed brass feet. On one side of the cabin, a soft down mattress was piled high with fluffy pillows in the same deep-red tone, each decorated with fine golden embroidery.
The wooden walls had been polished to a high shine. Small unlit candles hung in delicate ornate sconces every few feet. A rug in shades of blue and purple lay across the floor’s open area, worth far more than the house Cobiah grew up in back at Lion’s Arch. “Anyone here?” The sentence died on his lips as he noticed an old man sitting in a chair by the bay window, reading a thick leather-bound book. “Oh. You must be . . .” He struggled to remember the pilot’s name. “Dargan . . . um . . . Darran?”
“Damran. Pilot Damran. And you are, boy?” Shifting his wire-rimmed spectacles down his thin nose, the old man stared at Cobiah with a disapproving smirk.
“Cobiah. Sir. I mean, I’m Cobiah, sir. I’m here because the mate—First Mate Chernock. She sent me.”
The two men stared at one another for a long awkward moment before Damran finally snapped, “And?”
“Oh!” Cobiah blinked. “She wanted me to bring the captain his astro thing?”
Damran shut the book in his lap, blinking owlishly. “His what?”
“I’m not sure, sir.” Cobiah faltered. “She only said it once, and she was talking really fast, but Chernock said the captain’d left something in his chart room, and I was to bring it to
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