quick to turn a deaf ear toward Mug!
We survived, in no small part due to my bravery, which I insisted be noted in the Intrepid’s official logbook. Mistress still maintains she has no idea how she came to wield Amorp’s horn, which concerns us both, albeit for very different reasons.
Last night we tested the theory that the creatures were attracted to our airship’s unusually large shadow. After dark, we set ourselves a mere fifty feet above the waves and took on water for six hours while I kept watch over the face of the Sea. I’m happy to report that the monsters remained tucked snug in their beds (which are no doubt formed of cracked human bones and great tufts of ravaged ornamental shrubbery), and that the Intrepid’s reserves of potable water and lifting gas are now back up to snuff.
Tower darkened the glass well after poor Mistress was finally asleep. She complained of a headache all evening. I’ve seldom seen her in such pain, so I hushed Tower’s voice and told him to call back in the morning. We can go peeking into warded boxes at a decent hour if indeed there’s any point in peeking at all.
My secret, which I haven’t mentioned because it is after all a secret, is still safe. I imagine there will be a great outcry when all is revealed, but that is a trouble for another day. This day has seen enough worry.
Thirty-one days aboard this great flying wardrobe remain. The skies remain calm. I won an additional four dollars tonight playing poker with two cooks, a mechanic, and a young woman named Bessie who insists on being called Beastie. Such is life on the perilous high seas.
I remain, at least until a thousand-foot-tall kraken emerges from the Sea, Mugglesworth Ovis.
Chapter 7
Meralda woke to the knocking at her door, and the sound of Kervis’s voice.
“Mage Ovis?” he asked. “I have coffee.”
“And donuts,” added Tervis, his words muffled.
“Well, what few Tervis here hasn’t eaten,” added Kervis.
Meralda rose.
The deck seemed to sway. The sunlight that poured through the porthole in a bright golden shaft sent piercing waves of pain through her head. She shielded her eyes with her hand and fumbled with the shade.
“Wait a moment, please.” She scrambled on the floor for her dressing gown. “Just one moment. Mug? Where are you?”
“Mr. Mug left earlier,” replied Kervis. “It’s nearly two o’clock.”
“What?” Meralda whirled, looking for her clock, remembering too late she wasn’t at home, wasn’t in Tirlin at all. “Two o’clock?”
“Mr. Mug said to let you sleep,” said Tervis. “These are really good donuts.”
Meralda sped about her cabin, selecting and rejecting garments, finally wrapping a scarf about her hair and donning her new ceremonial Mage’s robes from a bag in the closet. She opened the door, blinking at the light in the hall, and waved the Bellringers inside.
“The coffee smells wonderful.” Her stomach growled, and she reached for one of the three donuts left on the silver tray Tervis handed her.
“They’re as good as the ones back home.” Tervis grinned.
Kervis busied himself pouring Meralda a cup of coffee from a silver pot. He held it up to her, his wide face touched with concern.
“Mage Ovis? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She swapped her half-eaten donut for the steaming hot cup of black coffee. “A touch of airsickness, perhaps.”
“The galley has peppermint tea,” said Tervis. “They say it helps.”
Meralda sipped her coffee and closed her eyes. The hot liquid tasted just as it did when brewed by the Palace kitchen, and she smiled at the familiar flavor.
“Thank you both.” She opened her eyes. “You say Mug left earlier?”
The Bellringers nodded, their movements and expressions identical. “He said something about a game of cards,” Kervis said.
Meralda groaned. She had a disturbing vision of a scandal involving Mug, gambling, and disgruntled crew members. She found her chair and sank into it.
We survived, in no small part due to my bravery, which I insisted be noted in the Intrepid’s official logbook. Mistress still maintains she has no idea how she came to wield Amorp’s horn, which concerns us both, albeit for very different reasons.
Last night we tested the theory that the creatures were attracted to our airship’s unusually large shadow. After dark, we set ourselves a mere fifty feet above the waves and took on water for six hours while I kept watch over the face of the Sea. I’m happy to report that the monsters remained tucked snug in their beds (which are no doubt formed of cracked human bones and great tufts of ravaged ornamental shrubbery), and that the Intrepid’s reserves of potable water and lifting gas are now back up to snuff.
Tower darkened the glass well after poor Mistress was finally asleep. She complained of a headache all evening. I’ve seldom seen her in such pain, so I hushed Tower’s voice and told him to call back in the morning. We can go peeking into warded boxes at a decent hour if indeed there’s any point in peeking at all.
My secret, which I haven’t mentioned because it is after all a secret, is still safe. I imagine there will be a great outcry when all is revealed, but that is a trouble for another day. This day has seen enough worry.
Thirty-one days aboard this great flying wardrobe remain. The skies remain calm. I won an additional four dollars tonight playing poker with two cooks, a mechanic, and a young woman named Bessie who insists on being called Beastie. Such is life on the perilous high seas.
I remain, at least until a thousand-foot-tall kraken emerges from the Sea, Mugglesworth Ovis.
Chapter 7
Meralda woke to the knocking at her door, and the sound of Kervis’s voice.
“Mage Ovis?” he asked. “I have coffee.”
“And donuts,” added Tervis, his words muffled.
“Well, what few Tervis here hasn’t eaten,” added Kervis.
Meralda rose.
The deck seemed to sway. The sunlight that poured through the porthole in a bright golden shaft sent piercing waves of pain through her head. She shielded her eyes with her hand and fumbled with the shade.
“Wait a moment, please.” She scrambled on the floor for her dressing gown. “Just one moment. Mug? Where are you?”
“Mr. Mug left earlier,” replied Kervis. “It’s nearly two o’clock.”
“What?” Meralda whirled, looking for her clock, remembering too late she wasn’t at home, wasn’t in Tirlin at all. “Two o’clock?”
“Mr. Mug said to let you sleep,” said Tervis. “These are really good donuts.”
Meralda sped about her cabin, selecting and rejecting garments, finally wrapping a scarf about her hair and donning her new ceremonial Mage’s robes from a bag in the closet. She opened the door, blinking at the light in the hall, and waved the Bellringers inside.
“The coffee smells wonderful.” Her stomach growled, and she reached for one of the three donuts left on the silver tray Tervis handed her.
“They’re as good as the ones back home.” Tervis grinned.
Kervis busied himself pouring Meralda a cup of coffee from a silver pot. He held it up to her, his wide face touched with concern.
“Mage Ovis? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She swapped her half-eaten donut for the steaming hot cup of black coffee. “A touch of airsickness, perhaps.”
“The galley has peppermint tea,” said Tervis. “They say it helps.”
Meralda sipped her coffee and closed her eyes. The hot liquid tasted just as it did when brewed by the Palace kitchen, and she smiled at the familiar flavor.
“Thank you both.” She opened her eyes. “You say Mug left earlier?”
The Bellringers nodded, their movements and expressions identical. “He said something about a game of cards,” Kervis said.
Meralda groaned. She had a disturbing vision of a scandal involving Mug, gambling, and disgruntled crew members. She found her chair and sank into it.
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