Imperial Slave

By M.A. Harris

A story of adventure and self awakening, and a little romance, in a world where steam and magic of a sort live in uneasy coexistence. In the unimaginable past the Fae flew to the stars and created great wonders, but that was before the wars that shattered their civilization and the very world they lived on. Now mankind fights with sword and bow, musket and cannon, sailing seas that will eat iron plates in hours and dealing with monsters as intelligent as men and much more able to spin the Magic called the Skill.
Into this world Tina a girl on the edge of womanhood finds herself cast adrift as accident and bravery push her into the workings of a plot to save and utterly change the empire that rules most of the world. Finding herself an Imperial Slave, a Women's Guard sworn to protect the emperor, his family and the empire she knows has to change, she struggles to find herself and her role while also trying to stay true to her heart, her soul and her friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.A. Harris
• Release date: Dec 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311244178

M.A. Harris

Born in England in the mid years of the socialist experiment I moved to the US with my parents (economic refugees of a sort with three boys in a country where 1+ was more the norm) I have lived in the US ever since. I am a third generation engineer, a mechanical engineer who has worked for the government, myself, a tech start up and a foreign owned defense middle weight. I have experience in manufacturing, detail design, concept design, product development, and research in both government and corporate environments (in other words I've lived in Dilbert’s world). I usually love my job, (when its not driving me nuts) and have had the luck to work on a broad range of programs, developing concepts and proposals for systems from electromagnetic guns to nuclear electric space probes and remote monitoring systems for long term hospitalized children.Reading came late for a child who had some issues with a form of Dyslexia, but when I got the hang of it I went from having a hard time with Dick and Jane to reading Zane Grey, G.Heyer, Heinlein and Clark with the book hidden in my desk during class in less than six months. As soon as I learnt the wonders of reading and the wonders of the inner mind I wanted to write.In high school and college Arthur C. Clark was my muse (I still re read Rendezvous with Rama every few years) along with L.L’amour, J.Pournelle and L.Niven plus dozens of authors writing on the history of weapons and warfare like Ian Hogg and Keegan. Favorite contemporary authors are, Clancy, Weber, Francis, Ringo, Flint, Correia, etc.I started writing in high school, I was one of the few guys to take typing, convinced that it was a skill I would need for both computers and writing (though my early computer projects were on punch cards or tape.) In several advanced English courses in High School I wrote short stories that got me through on pure bravado if not technical skill.Then life and a career got in the way, I continued to see computers as the wave of the future for writing, and was almost always tinkering with something but time passed and all I did was tinker. Then a bit more than a decade ago I decided that I wanted to write professionally and took the advice of J.Pournelle and S.King on writing, both advising that in the end its about work and some luck, but mostly its about writing lots of words getting lots of critiques and doing more edits. But timing has never been my best skill and I got to the point of actually trying to sell my work just as the old publishing model began to implode.After more than five years of frustration (and having several full length novels at the point of at least being ready for a professional scrub) I discovered Smashwords. I bought my wife a Nook and then we began to acquire and read free and low cost eBooks, many of which were published by this strangely named company, Smashwords.And that’s how we come to meet....I hope you like the stuff I write, I actually enjoy writing it though like all jobs it has its down side (edits and critques) and it bad days (I really need to grow up and stop dreaming.) As I get into this I hope to be able to get to know more of you and get your opinions on the job I’m doing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

And don’t expect me to rescue you from the Women’s House when they finally clap you in it you little tramp. Suke Parchell punctuated her hissed words with the slam of the heavy door in her step daughter’s face.

Tiamanama Parchell, Tina to those close to her, stood in the small paved front court of her family home and stared at the door, trying to school her emotions and expression. At last she drew in a deep breath and pulled the veil across her face tucking it into her head scarf before pulling up the hood of her woolen coat.

She went out the heavy wooden door onto the lane and walked towards Main Street. A few minutes later she stepped onto Shop Row which faced the Mustering Green, with Main Street beyond the green.

The imperial town of Fortbridge was defined by the River Marrikam on its northern edge and the royal post road that intersected the river and crossed it on the ancient stone structure that gave the town its name. The town spread east and west of the royal post road, called Main Street locally, but with the docks downstream of the bridge and its narrow drawbridge the majority of the town had grown east towards the coast, fifty river miles away.

Instead of walking Shop Row as she normally did Tina strode over the green with its laughing children and watchful mothers to take the pedestrian walk that defined the Main Street edge of the green. Here there was less protection from the cold wind but at least it blew the smell of wood and coal smoke, horse manure and worse away, letting her feel cleaner after the anger and misery of home.

Unlike the few other girls her age she could call friends Tina rarely let her emotions get the better of her, she had been the woman of the Parchell house for four years after her mother died, before Sukana Alender had become Sukana San Parchell. While her father’s status and pay gave the Parchells a reasonably easy life she had still had to raise her brother Dorin, a babe in arms after their mother died in child birth.

At first Tina had tried to love and respect Suke, then to live with her in peace for her father and brother’s sakes But Suke wanted Tina gone, the sooner the better. Her elder step sister Gwen had as much as admitted that Suke was talking to the matchmakers about a match for Tina, and not necessarily as a first or even a full wife!

Suke knew that Tina was not interested in that life yet, if ever. But Suke was making Tina’s life so miserable she would do anything to escape. Thus the constant extra work and scathing rebukes for minor or nonexistent trespasses.

Despite the early training as a mother substitute Tina had a temper and her father had let her ‘go feral’ even when her mother had been alive, so she had experience fighting back. So Tina had been fighting back, last night Gwen had kept Tina up fixing the hem ruff of a dress Gwen accused Tina of damaging when it was obvious that Gwen had stepped on the hem and damaged it. This morning had started with Gwen’s outraged shriek on finding that her half week bath water was almost cold because Tina had ‘forgotten’ to fill the warming tank over the kitchen stove last evening.

Naturally things had gone downhill from there, to the point where Suke had taken the paddle to Tina’s behind for a few good ones. She might have given more if Tina’s father hadn’t intervened. He’d put a stop to the beating but he’d not won the resulting argument, he never won any argument, not really, even when his wife appeared to acquiesce. Then her father had left before first prayer bell for his office at the semaphore tower. And Suke and Gwen had made sure that Tina understood who really ruled the Parchell household.

Now Tina was late to start the walk to her work at the Fort Bridge Inn where the post roads forked, which had been Suke Parchell’s intent. She hated that Tina had a job on the women’s’ side of the Inn and made enough coppers to subscribe to the lending library, take the weekly Newport Ladies’ Journal, and worse gave Tina’s father reason to let Tina buy her own dress patterns and materials since she helped pay for them.

The crash and grind of colliding wood combined with the screams of panicked horses and curses of enraged men made her spin around. Which may have saved her life as she threw herself out of the way of an out of control horse. A dark painted enclosed carriage had locked wheels with a farmers cart coming the other way. The locked wheels were shattered and the vehicles were leaning against each other, blocking the road, rapidly drawing a crowd.

Tina gathered up her skirts, turned and ran, the crowd was all male, many of them rough country wagon drivers and they were always ready to make advances on unescorted women.

After a few moments she slowed to a long legged walk, and in a few more moments she crossed Farmers Street, the end of the town proper with its narrow brick and hedge lined lanes. A few larger homes stood in the farmland but mostly it was narrow strip fields where local families, like hers, farmed to keep the larder full and to make a few coppers and silvers by selling in the market.

The cold breeze was even stronger here but Tina could ignore it now she was warmed up from the walk. Letting the wind blow past she focused on the landscape, not on her own troubles. The fields rising away up to the bluff top were low brown stubble, the harvesters had taken in the last crops months ago followed by the horse drawn rakes that gathered the dried stalks for the haystacks that dotted the landscape. The only other features in the smoothly rising croplands were the fall browned orchards, vineyards and houses built by more wealthy families.

An omnibus drawn by four stout horses passed her at a trot, the men in the front section chatting and reading the local broadsheet while the women sat in the smaller rear section. Several women sat with big shopping bags, heading home after an early morning at the market. It would be a relief for Tina to ride up the bluff but the ha’penny fare would come out of her meager earnings.

Outside of town proper Main Street was more obviously the Western North-South Royal Post Road. As one would expect of a royal post road it was cobbled, two carts wide and ran ruler straight from the banks of the Marrikam to the Northern East-West Post Road at the top of the bluffs a league south of town. Like all post roads in the Empire it had well-kept verges and ditches and a narrow cobbled walk to one side. Tina had seen a Legion march past once, and its soldiers and cavalry had filled the main road bed from side to side with grim martial might. She and all the other traffic had watched from the verge walk, just as intended.

Tina’s mouth twisted as her eyes passed over a lonely and oddly out of place structure built in an orchard. The house had a flat roof suitable for the hot dry weather of distant Cholon, not the damp, cool, snowy weather of Greenhills. It was the property of Gunther, the local Guardian of Virtue. Supposedly a simple priest he, like many of his ilk, made a lot of money from the Women’s House, where vagrants and sluts were sent to work and to keep them away from the virtuous citizens.

Ahead and to her left on the corner of Main and Half League, was the big blacksmith shop of Joel Widely, it sat off the road behind a circular drive of crushed stone, almost hidden by the tall bronze leaved oaks filling the circle. The current Widely was a little old man called Joelleed, it had been his great grandmother Joellanna who had started the smithy in the last days of the Duchy.

In that day women had been allowed to possess more than their bodies and some, particularly farmers, had supposedly even worn leggings when full grown. A sermon she vaguely remembered had mentioned it as a barbaric practice imported from the Horse Clans beyond the western mountains, a sign that the old Duchy had been rotting until the Empire had taken a hand.

After crossing Half League Street Tina stopped. To the right, south, was a row of small homes protected by stands of trees, each surrounded by hedges and walls. To the left the blacksmithy and then the militia armory surrounded by training fields. Beyond that a series of farming strips and then earthen berms shielding the local Imperial Gunpowder mill.

She dawdled at the corner, paying attention to the rather thin traffic, carts and wagons mixed with horseback riders. A courier came trotting north down the road towards the town. She wondered if his destination was in the town or further.

Her eyes followed the skinny courier on his big horse as he rode past the town and vanished among the trees that hid the ancient fortified bridge that gave the town its name.

Tina! A feminine voice called her back to the cold crossroads.

Turning Tina replied, Anna, you’re late.

I’m here now, grrr, what a day, daddy said to take the Omni but I told him I was saving my pennies for Shortest Day festival! Anna caught Tina’s arm and hurried up the walk towards the top of the bluff, chattering about her family in her familiar light hearted way.

Tina’s stomach had sunk at the mention of the shortest day festival. One of the four important calendar festivals. And the one where she would be presented to the town as a newly marriageable maiden.

At sixteen the old diehards said she was still a girl, older Greenhills custom had been to hold off on marriage till the man and woman had money to set up an independent house. But the Imperial custom was for early marriage and the wife to become a junior member of the husband’s family. Often little more than a drudge until she bore a son for the family and the husband was able to put together the wherewithal to set up house on his own.

Until her sixteenth birthday Tina had been beneath the notice of society. And much to Suke Parchells rage her father had let her do as she wanted as long as she carried out her chores and stayed out of trouble, that is stayed out of eyeshot of the Guardians, the Constables and the old biddies who ruled the town by the terror of gossip and innuendo.

Because Tina had been the eldest and never very feminine her father had treated her as much like a son as a daughter from the beginning. So like many young children she ran, played, fished and hunted, and even fought with the near feral packs who ranged the alleys, wood thickets and lost places in and around Fortbridge. Tina’s father still grieved for her mother and saw in Tina a reflection of the girl he had loved. So, long after other middle class children were reined in Tina had continued to run wild. Even after Suke had appeared Tina had continued to slip out with her companions. Tall, skinny, quick and strong, she had often spent part days with her old companions well away from the civilized heart of Fortbridge town up until the last days of her girlhood.

Oh she’d dressed up to go to church on church day and festival days, done a half day of school from her eighth year till all girls finished at twelve, and she’d even been working at the post road tavern for the past three years, having to wear a dress and veil for part of the day most days a week. But she’d always felt like she could strip those things away in an instant and vanish into the alleys and woods.

That had been a child’s folly as Suke had made sure she understood on her sixteenth birthday, burning all the ‘boy’s clothes in the kitchen stove. As of that day if she were caught wearing leggings and carrying her little poniard blade she’d be sent to the Woman’s House. And it was obvious to Tina that Gwen or Suke would inform on her the moment they could. And while her father would certainly post bond for her behavior, buy her freedom, Tina would be at risk of being taken to the Women’s’ House for good after a second and certainly after a third or more infraction of law or custom that the Guardians of Virtue could make stick.

So as much as she might rage Tina knew that life as she had known it was over. Now every day that passed just drove that fact deeper and deeper into her heart.

-o-

It was full night, almost nine o’clock, well past final prayer by the church tower bell.

Tina stood at the crumbling parapet of the old fortified bridge on the Marrikam and listened to the gurgle of water passing below. The day had ended warm letting the ground get a bit soggy and then with night had come the cold. Thick fog lay low over land and water, with the bright light of a full, moon illuminating it like a vast fairy light in the sky. She could see things nearby quite clearly but the world faded to silvery gray a few dozen paces in every direction.

With a sigh she turned to walk along the parapet, listening to the lap and gurgle of the river flowing below her. She wasn’t concerned about its age, the bridge was solid stone except for the drawbridge at the deep north side channel. Long ago the bridge hadn’t quite reached the shore on either end. Tower keeps at the ends had held drawbridges over muddy shallows. Now the keeps were hollow shells and earthen roadbeds reached the structure from the shore.

Her father had told her stories about the time when the Fort Bridge had been only few hundred years old, rebuilt by the Duchess Roberta to hold against sea Rievers while her fleet was at sea crushing the Norge pirate cities in the far north. He’d also told her stories that his father had told him about the tumultuous weeks when the Dukes still came to rule from Royalton during high summer, in the days before the Empire.

She swatted those memories and the thoughts they sparked aside. For a little time she tried to exist without thinking, drawing the cold damp air into her lungs, listening to the lap of the water on the pilings below, looking into the silver gray blank through the slot where a 42 pounder cannon had once yawned.

Nine o’ the clock and all is whe’ell. Watchman Capp’s musical call floated across the water from the town carried on a breath of cold air that thinned the fog. Tina could see his watch light bobbing along the waterfront as well as the lights in some windows. There wasn’t any other sign of movement, the bustle of harvest was a memory now, the land and people were getting set for winter.

Tina turned and started to walk further away from the village, as she stepped out she half tripped on the heavy long skirt. She gritted her teeth against an unladylike curse as she caught herself. Drawing in a deep breath she started again, carefully kicking out so the heavy dress and underskirt moved out of her way.

She felt constricted and vulnerable in the dress. She had steadfastly refused to wear dresses when she didn’t have to, and she had worn the mid-calf dress and leggings of a girl child up until the last day she could. Of course when she was ‘wild’ away from home she’d changed to leggings and shirts with jackets like the boys and younger girls she ran with in the woods and thickets around the town.

The new rector of the church was a handsome man and a bachelor, most of the girls near Tina’s age were infatuated with him. He had been trained in an Imperial seminary. His sermons were a mixture of admonishment and high poetry, but his admonishments tended to emphasize the different roles of man and woman and the importance of men ‘protecting’ women, especially their virtue. The few girls Tina had once called friends had started to look down on her and she’d been angry with them, refused to see what was coming along with her sixteenth birthday.

She touched the fabric of her veil and her head scarf, hanging around her neck where she had left them after pulling them off as she walked out onto the bridge. She was supposed to wear it any time she was in public. Even walking alone, unaccompanied by a male relative was improper for her now. If a guardian found her out here she and her family would be in trouble and at the very least they’d be shamed in church. Then Suke would redouble her effort to rid herself of her troublesome step daughter.

But she was pretty safe tonight, Gunther, the town’s Guardian was at Della this week, the rector didn’t get out much at in the colder weather and Capp, the night watchman, was far too old and fat to catch anyone who could run for more than a few paces.

Distracted with these muddled thoughts Tina was almost at the drawbridge across the shipping channel before she knew it.

Ware there! Who goes? A deep voice called with soft urgency from the other side of the drawbridge.

She jerked to a stop, realizing that she had been stupid to let her attention wander so far from the here and now. Her soft soled boots and virtuously dark hooded coat made her a shadow among shadows.

Now she could see other shadows moving around the drawbridge mechanism. Someone was working on the drawbridge mechanism getting it ready to lift, she realized. No legal traffic moved at night, these must be smugglers. They wouldn't want a witness, not a live one at least. She spun, her hand reaching down to grab her skirts to pull them out of the way so she could run.

Tina was only a couple of steps into her run when something hit her between the shoulder blades. For a moment the world was consumed by an agony that seemed to stretch from her core to every finger and toe. Swift spreading numbness followed the pain as she staggered, tripped, fell. She didn’t even feel her body hit the cobbles.

<~>

Chapter 2

Tina woke to darkness and her first thought was for her tiny fairy light. Her questing fingers hit wood almost immediately, and when she tried to sit up her head bounced on a hard ceiling a few hands above her head.

She wasn’t on her pallet in the attic at home.

With that realization her memory of walking on the bridge at night and seeing something wrong came back. She felt the aches and pains of bruises and a scrape on her hand. By touch she found that she was wearing her dress but her coat, scarf and veil were gone, as were her boots.

Settling back she tried to make out where she was. Exploring hands found that she was in a narrow box with a thin sleeping pad with a sheet, blanket and pillow. The walls were smooth finished wood with what she thought was thinly padded leather covering most of the surfaces.

Her nose confirmed she was on a boat, the distinctive mixture of wood and damp, oakum and tar with a thin underlay of coal smoke and human. The smell brought back memories of being sea sick and very excited. The trips to see her Uncle Sylvester in Dalla.

She’d been in a similar ‘bed’ then, though those ship’s bunks had a thick woolen curtain tied to rails top and bottom to keep you in as the ship rolled, not a locked wooden hatch.

Lying back and listening she realized that she could hear a watery hiss coming from her right accompanies by the creaks, thumps and bumps of a ship in motion.

Opening her eyes again and looking around carefully she realized there was a faint red glow coming from down low on her left. Rolling over she found that the light came from under the lip of what had to be a door, a careful exploration told her there was some kind of latch on the inside but it was locked or jammed.

She lay back again, trying not to panic, she must be on the smugglers boat. She felt a bit sore in several spots but nothing bad, and despite whatever had hit her in the back her back wasn’t one of the sore spots.

What had hit her? Not a bullet or even an arrow, then she sighed. A shock dart, she’d heard of them in stories but never known anyone who’d ever even seen one. But the blow and the agonizing pain just before you passed out where just what were described. But shock darts were used by Guardian’s in Cholon. And by slavers in the middle sea!

Slavers!?

With that thought still in her head the knock on the panel made her squeak. Now she heard motion outside the door and the metallic click of the latch before the panel flipped up filling the bunk nook with the dim red light. A bulky black shape leaned down to look in at her, dark shape outlined in blood red light. Yelping again she pushed herself as far back into the bunk nook as she could go.

The lass is awake captain. A deep, kindly voice grumbled from the enigmatic figure.

So I had noted Tilsit, move would you? You’re blocking the light, you’re probably just a big hulking ogre to her, scaring the devil out of her. The second voice was a shock, he sounded like some Imperial Grandee like she’d heard at the Inn.

The shape stretched up and must have latched the door up before moving away, the underworldly light now revealing a short, broad sailor, or at least he dressed and sounded like a sailor.

She also saw the other man, apparently quite tall since he was stooped under the ceiling beams, while the sailor hardly had to bend his head. The light might be fooling her but she thought he was blond and blue eyed, which seemed at odds with his voice, most imperials were dark haired and dark eyed. He might be a Greenhills or even a Norgeman.

He came closer and settled down onto his heels. He reached out to touch the edge of the bed nook she was lying in. How do you feel my lady?

Maybe he was a gentleman, maybe this wasn’t a smuggler or slaver. But though he sounded like an Imperial Grandee he hadn’t turned his back on the unveiled face of an unknown woman.

Tina didn’t know what to say, or what to do.

The shock dart may have addled her wits m’lord, does such to some, she may be a simpleton, might a’ bin before, wimmen ain’t s’posed to be wandrin’ around in the middle o’ the night. Not ‘ere, not now. The sailor, Tilsit, said kindly.

I’m not simple and I’m not addled! Tina snapped.

But he does have a point m’lady. As poor a time as it is to mention it. The ‘captain’ said quietly. Tilsit, go get our guest something to drink, perhaps a cracker and some cheese, if she is in need of sustenance? Even in the dim red light she thought that the questioning lift of his eyebrow was elegant. The sailor turned and left without another word.

I’m not a lady, as you well know m’lord, She clamped her jaw shut around her unruly tongue.

He frowned, Why should I know any such thing? You sound like a woman of Greenhills, and unlike the older Imperial domains the aristocracy here always spoke the common tongue and never developed a peculiar dialect.

Well, yes, I suppose. He was right, the Squire spoke much like any townsman and even the Count and Countess, the few times she’d heard them speak, hadn’t sounded like Imperial Grandee’s. She had looked away in her confusion, now she looked him in the eye. Fine, but I’m not a lady, I’m Tiamanama Parchell of Fortbridge, and you’ve kidnapped me! She clamped her mouth down on her unruly tongue again.

He grimaced and shrugged, I’m sorry about that, as sorry as I am about the shock dart. I know it hurt like the blazes, and you fell heavily. I couldn’t see any damage beyond some bruises and scrapes on your cheek and hand, which I’ve taken care of, do you hurt anywhere else?

She ached all over and her arm throbbed, but she wasn’t comfortable with saying so, No, who are you, what are you doing here? What are you going to do with me?

The lass is a mite demanding m’lord. Tilsit’s voice grumbled from the doorway he’d vanished through. He carried a tray with what looked like a crystal jug and goblet. He set it down next to her and she saw what looked like a crystal plate. Crystal on a ship? She’d only seen crystal a few times in her life, when her family had visited her rich merchant Uncle Sylvester in Della.

The Captain shrugged, She has a right Tilsit. We have upset her life rather badly, whatever happens from now on.

Stupid Imperials, was Tilsit’s reply. It made Tina uncomfortable, those were dangerous words in Greenhills these days.

The captain ignored the comment, he picked up the goblet and held it out. Have a drink, its lemonized water.

She’d had lemonized water before, had drunk it at Uncle Sylvester’s dinner table, it was carried on ships because it never went bad. It was a luxury for rich merchants and aristocrats, they often took casks of it with them on long sea voyages. Supposedly lemonized water mixed with ordinary water would keep you from getting sick however unhealthy the mixing water.

There were novels about disgraced aristocrats taking up with smugglers or the like, she wondered if the captain was one of those, though her mother had always dismissed such stories as tripe and make believe.

Tina took the goblet he was holding out, it was oddly warm, and it was a lot lighter than she’d have expected for its size. She stopped with it at her lips.

Who are you m’lord? this time her question was pleading, not demanding.

"My name is Quiksit Forest, Tina. Captain of the Swift Wing, a hundred days out of Imperial Cholon."

She almost dropped the goblet. He had come here from the fabled heart of the Empire.

Drink Tina, don’t look so surprised. It’s not like it’s that unusual a starting point is it? Most traders touch there at least once in their career. Drink. This last was an order that followed without thinking.

She found herself looking at the goblet, she’d held glass before, and crystal was just special glass. This looked like glass but it wasn’t. And though she couldn’t ever remember handling it’s like there was something vaguely familiar about it, perhaps its feel?

It’s acrylic, it’s a lot more practical than glass, or even pewter, strong as oak, light as fir, clear as glass, and it keeps things in it cool or hot longer than either glass or pewter.

She looked up at him, I’ve never heard of it before m’lord.

It’s rare, comes from the far south, one day when a trade route is established, it will be common. He was staring at the goblet fixedly with a frown.

There was a thump from behind the Captain, Nearing first light zur a dark shadow ground out. Tina frowned, the voice wasn’t Tilsit’s, but the man was built very much like the other sailor.

Very well Ginder, I’ll be right up. The captain glanced at Tina. "I’m sorry but I’m going to have to fasten the shutter again. I’ll be back to let you out in a little while.

Tina was still confused, a little muddled, or that was what she decided later, otherwise she would have demanded to be let out now, would have told him she needed to use the toilet. But instead she just docilely nodded as he unlatched the shutter and dropped it into place, she heard the latches snick closed.

Who or what was Captain Quiksit Forest? Was he a slaver, a simple smuggler, or maybe a spy? But why would any of those be sailing his ship up the Marrikam? He was already rich, the lemonized water and the exotic tableware seemed to show that.

If he had sailed here directly from the imperial capital as he claimed then the only guess that made sense was spy, but why here? Or maybe he was a spy catcher. Then this might make sense. He might be the grandee he sounded or not. But imperial or not, grandee or not, spies and their hunters’ morals were notoriously loose. That thought made her shiver with only half fearful excitement.

<~>

Chapter 3

Tina realized that she’d fallen asleep again only when she woke up. The smells that had been so strong at her first arousal had abated, and she could feel a cool breeze on her cheek. She opened her eyes and was astonished to see that her shutter was open and the room outside was lit from outside. Light and a breeze seemed to fill the cabin, from a skylight and portholes high on the opposite wall.

There was no one in the room, no one to stop her getting up, running to the porthole and screaming for help. In which case she had to assume that the action would be pointless, and until she knew it wouldn’t be she was going to keep that as a last resort.

Now she could see the cabin she realized how cramped it was. It still seemed to span the entire width of the ship. She decided this must be some kind of general use cabin, possibly the officers’ cabin, there was a small table attached on hinges on the opposite wall, under the portholes. Over it she could see what she thought was the folded frames of a couple of cots. Maybe the bunk she was in was an officer’s, maybe the first mate’s? Toward what she decided was the bow there was a hatch that came about halfway down the wall, with a couple of steps below that. Towards the stern was the door through which Tilsit had vanished twice. Maybe a kitchen?

Satisfied she was alone, Tina rolled out of the sleeping nook, finding she was very stiff, and that she needed to use a commode right away. She got ready to stand up and was shocked to realize that she couldn’t. Her memory flickered back to Tilsit, bending his head but otherwise standing upright. He couldn’t be more than a span and a half, a good head shorter than Tina!

Hello there, the captain’s voice cheerfully called from the forward hatch.

Tina yelped and banged her head on a beam, and in the next moment she found herself being held against the captain’s broad muscular chest, Tina, are you all right?

She shook herself, Sorry, sorry, yes I’m fine, as she pulled away her heartbeat suddenly very fast.

But in the next instant she wasn’t really fine, Uhm, captain, I’m sorry but I really need a commode, she said, her face heating even more with shame and embarrassment at having to mention such a private matter to a man, an almost stranger.

He looked at her carefully but stepped back and waved aft, Fair enough, you can use the head in my cabin, follow me, carefully. He led her to the door she had thought might lead to the kitchen. This way.

The door was ridiculously low, she felt like she was crouching double as she went through. On the other side was an even tinier cabin, one that was recognizably a bed sitting room and the stern cabin, a row of small windows high up let light in, and there were two, small, almost toy like cannons pointing astern.

Here His voice was calm, untroubled. The tiny closet he pointed to was recognizably a lavatory. She nodded silently, not knowing what to say or do. He smiled at her, turned and went back out, closing the door behind him.

When she was done she looked around. The fittings were plain, the furniture small and somewhat lightly, though strongly, built. There were bookcases set over egg sized cannon balls lined up in a rack on the wall.

She looked out of the stern windows. The ship had been pulled up a tributary, into the cover of the surrounding forest. Trees surrounded them, though at this time of year, with the leaves gone or going, it took a lot of trees to provide much cover. She could see hints of what she assumed to be the river though the tree trunks and brush.

A knock sounded on the door and she turned. Yes?

The door opened and the captain stuck his head around, Would you like to get some air Tina?

She nodded, Yes.

Come then.

She stepped out onto the main deck with a sense of release that caught her by surprise. Her hiss of pleasure drew a laugh. Yes, the cabin’s a bit tight.

She glanced at the Captain, I’m sorry to tell you this but your whole ship’s a bit tight captain. Though I must admit that it makes me appreciate the hardships of a sailor’s life, the thought of being cooped up like this for a hundred days is frightening.

He grinned and shrugged, I suppose it must seem that way, but she’s a weatherly vessel, as quick as her name and doesn't need a large crew to sail her.

Looking around she saw that they’d lowered the masts onto braces to get the vessel into the cover of the forest. The deck was very neat and clean, more so than any merchantman, packet steamer or barge she’d seen at Fortbridge’s docks. Another pointer to the puzzle of what was going on were the four tiny cannon, like the pair in the captain’s cabin, lining the railings on either side. They hardly looked like they’d be worthwhile weapons of war but even tiny cannons were dangerous in the right circumstances and no normal merchantman had even this kind of armament. All sorts of special permits from the Imperial bureaucracy were required to carry a pocket pistol for protection on the highways, something she knew well from her father’s experiences and some of Uncle Sylvester’s bitter complaints.

She saw a remarkably short but broad figure striding along the deck, she was fairly sure it was Tilsit, a guess he confirmed, Ya looks a mite better lass, how be ya feelin?

This was the first time she had been able to get a good look at his face and it was a bit of a shock, it seemed to have been shaped by a rather poor sculptor and it was out of proportion to his height, though perhaps not to his breadth. His nose was a blob and his eyebrows were like wiry black bushes, but the sparkling blue eyes were kindly and that forgave much.

Much better Tilsit, thank you. She found herself smiling at the kind blue eyes.

Good, good. You be hungry, I have some cold meat, cheese and a vegetable jelly ready in the galley.

That made Tina realize she was hungry, I could do with something, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.

The wide mouth smiled, revealing several missing and a couple of golden teeth, something she’d heard about but not seen before. The almost dwarf spun, Food it is then, soon it’s here.

The breeze kicked up and she shivered, suddenly realizing that the warmth below decks had bled away. Do you need to go below? The captain asked.

Tina shook her head, I’ll be fine, I was overly warm below, thank you.

There was a long silence as she looked around at the bleak late fall forest, up at the gray sky. She frowned at something that was very wrong, peered intently into the forest, her eyes squinting. Something was wrong, what? There, a hundred feet away, the trees, why did they blur like that? Push her eyes to look away? She looked astern, focusing again, the river was, there? But it hurt to focus. As her mind caught on it but how could her mind feel something at a distance? Then she felt as if she were spinning, down, and down, and down, the world was fading. Once more strong hands were holding her, her face was being pushed into a muscular shoulder. She could hear his voice, his voice ordering, ordering something. Now she thought she felt his mind pushing, at something that felt like threads winding around her mind. Then the feeling was gone and her knees were buckling.

Blast it? How was I to know she was sensitive? The captain asked the air around them.

Tilsit’s voice came from nearby, Girls it’s more common in, you know this m’lord. Was why things were the way they were, and are not now, with the skill suppressed.

Yes, yes I suppose I should have at least taken precautions. He sounded exasperated with himself. The next words were whispered into her ear, Tina, I’m going to pick you up, it’ll be easier.

She nodded foggily. Even with the warning it was a bit of shock to be swept off her feet like a child. He didn’t look that big, that strong, but then sailors led a strenuous life. He set her down in a well padded chair, she woke up enough to look around, the chair was one of the exotic light weight cane chairs she’d seen when she’d toured the Duke’s house in Della.

Though she never really lost consciousness this time it was her sense of smell that brought her back to full awareness. The exotic smell of coffee, another memory from her visit to Uncle Sylvester’s house and the ducal palace, where she’d been served a tiny cup of the stuff. She’d loved the smell, hated the taste then, but somehow now she really wanted a sip.

She opened her eyes to see the semi-familiar coffee set in the center of the table, along with several other covered dishes. She also saw Captain Quiksit Forest seated opposite her, a frown on his brow, his eyes focused on the cup, of what she supposed was coffee, in his hand.

Ever since the episode in the cabin she’d been seeing him without really ‘seeing’ him. He’d matched her half formed image of him from last night, so her mind had gone on to try and absorb other things. Now she could look at him, if he’d walked into Fortbridge on a market day, dressed in regular clothes no one would give him a second look. While most Greenhills had brown hair and often had brown eyes, like Tina, there were a lot of blue-eyed blonds as well. He was perhaps a bit blonder and his eyes a bit bluer than most but not remarkably so. His face was rather long, with a square chin, firm if full lipped mouth and a slightly bent nose, but his most remarkable features were rather reddish eyebrows that seemed to arc up at the ends.

He looked up at last, and his mouth curved into a pleased smile, Back with us Miss Parchell?

I suppose so, uhm, what happened, and uh, could I have a cup of coffee?

His remarkable eyebrows flew up but so did the corners of his mouth, Of course you may, cream and sugar? He stood up as he spoke.

Uh, I don’t know, I don’t drink it much, only once really, during a tour.

Ahh, that explains it, I like mine with cream and sugar, try it that way, you can try it other ways some other time.

He deftly poured and ladled from various urns and pots and soon she had the smoothly swirling dark brown beverage in her hands. It smelt divine, she just hoped it tasted better than last time. She took the first sip and wondered what this divine drink had in common with the warming if bitter beverage she’d been given at the Duke’s palace. She closed her eyes as she sipped and sniffed her way through the first cup. The warmth of it seemed to seep through her flesh and bones.

Have some of Tilsit’s vegetable compote, he’s justly proud of it and it has a lot of goodness in it as well. The Captain had stood again, he was ladling a gently steaming soup of some kind into what she took to be an acrylic bowl. The smell was strong and attractive, especially mingled with the coffee.

She picked up the soup spoon provided and took a sip and found it delightful. She also ate some of the cheese and cold meat presented. She and the captain spoke but only about the food and the coffee. Somehow she found herself living in a genteel world at some separation from the normal one she inhabited. She even found herself grateful to her stepmother and step sister, they’d always insisted on ‘aping the manners of their betters’ as some snide people said. But now Tina found it almost easy to sit, eat and talk with someone she was almost certain was an Imperial Grandee of some kind.

At last she leaned back and looked around, remembering what had happened the last time she’d done that she pulled her eyes away from the forest and focused on the captain. He smiled, Good girl, though I’ve changed my glamour so it shouldn’t be so easy for you to be caught by it now. I find myself in the sad situation of having to apologize to you almost every time we speak. As Tilsit pointed out I should have thought ahead and realized that there was a potential problem. But as he often says, I don’t always think the simple things through as well as I should.

She looked at him, her mind working, What is happening? What did you do, who are you? She was surprised at how steady her voice was, how mature, inquiring, strong.

Captain Quiksit gave her a long and considering look, I don’t know that telling you everything is a good idea Miss Parchell, I will be dropping you off at your village on the way back down river and I think I’ve likely done you enough damage already.

She opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand, I will tell you a little, hopefully enough to convince you that you will be better off not saying anything more than you have to.

Tina felt her anger building, Not say anything? You’ve kidnapped me and you expect me to stay quiet?

He grimaced, Perhaps, perhaps not, it will be your decision. After a pause he looked into her eyes, What were you doing on the bridge Tina? You were dressed for travel but you had no luggage or companions. Were you running away?

Of course not! Tina snapped back hotly, then bit her lip and looked down, Not that it hasn’t crossed my mind.

The transition from childhood to adult is hard. The captain said, he smiled faintly, I ran away for the first time when I was fifteen?

I’m sixteen, this Lastday, she flicked her dress, I’ve only been in my long skirts for three weeks.

He nodded, his eyes hooded, I see, you aren’t used to the restrictions put on young women yet?

She almost snarled something nasty at this folly, but clamped her mouth down on her unruly tongue. The Captain’s mouth quirked at one corner and he shrugged slightly, I understand your feelings mistress, at least as well as any man can. I would apologize for our society but it would do little good would it?

Tina’s found herself staring at him, he agreed? M’lord, that slipped out without her really thinking, You sound like an Imperial, aren’t you?

He shrugged, I am and I am not m’lady. Let’s just say that I am a simple sailor and trader these days. At her disbelieving look and unladylike snort he grinned boyishly, I was born in Cholon outside the courts of power and of trade. My parents were academics, a respected but powerless calling in a world of warriors, clerics and merchants.

She noted that he didn’t deny the m’lord, and none of what he said made her guess any more unlikely.

What is going on out there? She waved her hand at the forest, What did you do to my head, what happened when I looked out into the forest earlier?

He grimaced looking away then back, Have you had any formal schooling Tina?

I learnt to read, do my numbers and letters, a little about history and the world. There is talk of stopping teaching girls beyond the third year, to save gold, there are complaints about the waste of money on girls, at least some do. She looked down at her hands biting her lip, she’d said too much, too bitterly. At least if her mother and father had been sitting across from her.

The council of elders met at the inn every third week. Working into the evenings at the Inn she had often been able to listen to their talk from behind the required shutters and curtains. The men who came to meet, eat and talk seemed to forget that they might be overheard.

After a pause the captain spoke quietly, his voice dusty dry, I see.

Tina didn’t know what to say to that so there was another long silence.

At last he spoke again, Have you ever read anything about how the world is put together, why steam engines work, how cannon balls move?

Mrs. Galwat took a few of us girls aside for some special tutoring. She spoke about steam, about the heat boiling the water, steam in a vessel becomes pressurized and a steam engine letting the steam expand and cool, extracting the heat as energy for work. We learnt about parabolas and friction. Her voice faded as the pain in her chest built.

She had loved the tutoring sessions, had lied that she was having trouble with her writing and arithmetic to keep them secret from her father and step mother who would have stopped them. She’d never had the chance to go further, to go on and teach future classes of girls like her friends Meredith and Emmalin.

She looked up when she realized he hadn’t gone on, his eyes were fixed on her, his face grim. He looked away, I see, your Mrs. Galwat seems a good teacher. You have a basic education.

Closing his eyes for a moment he started again, You must understand that much of the world we experience is in some ways a simplified image of an underlying reality that is more complex and much less commonsensical than we can even imagine. What is steam, what is air? He paused rhetorically with those questions.

He was obviously surprised when she answered. Molecules, molecules that float in an aether, some molecules are packed together and make up things like rocks and trees, and us. Some molecules don’t pack as densely, they move and flow, that’s liquid, water, and other molecules fly off into the aether, as steam, and air.

Quiksit smiled widely, Very good, very good and true, at least in our commonsensical world. But what are molecules and what is aether, what is heat, what is light? His voice snapped out questions like the clatter of a water-powered weaving machine’s frame.

She shook her head, I don’t know, I don’t know and what does it matter? She was suddenly angry, ashamed at her ignorance.

His voice was soft, It doesn’t matter that you don’t know, how could you? But knowing that you don’t know and could is amazing really. He hesitated, Molecules are made up of smaller particles, and the almost infinite number of different ways those infinitesimal particles combine controls how molecules interact with each other. Aether, in the sense that many philosophers see it, does not exist, an even more amazing thing exists, the vacuum, emptiness, the vacuum that defines space, distance. Light and all energy flows across the vacuum, interacts with the vacuum and each other. All this, the knowledge of this, is called the Phyzyk, and some people can see into the underworld of the Phyzyk, and some can control it. That ability we call the skill. It is an innate ability our ancestors developed, developed very long ago, and in some of our ancestors it was very, very strong. The people, the civilizations we call the fae, used this ability, they learnt how to manipulate the world at its underpinnings. They were very powerful, but also very ignorant, nothing I have ever found shows that the fae civilizations ever learnt to read or write, to do math, they never had the need.

Tina shook her head fiercely, The fae are legends, the Rector says it’s all superstition. The barbarians of the past had vast armies of slaves who built their great palaces and cities. Slaves dug down into the bowels of the World to unearth the fae lights and other things we call fae.

The Captain’s eyebrow flicked up, he reached over and picked up the acrylic goblet she’d been drinking out of, Look at this Tina? You were puzzled by it, almost recognized it, didn't you? His voice was a bit harsh, and those words were followed by others, harsh flat words as he stared intently at the artifact and quite suddenly it started to glow, glow with a fierce white inner light, a fae Light.

With that prompt, finally, she realized what had been niggling at her mind about the goblet, or at least the material it was made out of. It was the same stuff as the hundreds, thousands of fae lights she had seen in her life. Then she realized what he had done, and what he had to be.

You, you’re one of the fae?

He snorted, No more than you Tina! There are no fae in the sense of the legends. That’s what I just said. We are, were, the fae. The civilization, civilizations really, that we call fae existed. Existed and then destroyed themselves, but they weren’t some race of demigods, they were our ancestors, ancestors who had learnt to use the skill, and understand the Phyzyk, at least in a practical way. All the people alive today are their descendants, descendants of the few wretches who survived wars of obliteration. Almost everyone has some aptitude for the skill, some more than others, and women in general are more likely to have a useful level of ability.

She stared at him in shock, then remembered something, You s, uh, when I saw the strangeness in the forest, you said I had the skill. Her mind was almost numb with all that she’d experienced and heard in the last few minutes.

The Captain leaned back, You have the skill, at least enough to detect a fairly crude but powerful weaving as the one I cast around us to shield us from searchers.

This made her certain of what he was doing here, You’re a spy!

He snorted in an ungentlemanly manner, First I’m a kidnapper, then a fae, now I’m a spy, I must appear a hard bitten rascal with an exotic past. But he smiled as he said it.

You come from the Throne City in the dark of the night to this unimportant corner of the empire. What else could you be? And this, this Phyzyk thing, it would be a wonderful thing for a spy.

He shook his head a little, That last is not really true it can be a disadvantage. Like you found, the skill can be a weakness and traps are often set to reveal the skilled. We are a potentially dangerous minority that some hunt like dangerous vermin. And though I am indeed sneaking around I am not a spy nor is this an unimportant corner of the Empire.

Tina stiffened her spine. What are you doing here? Are you an enemy of the Empire? But what would she do if he said yes? She was a loyal subject, wasn’t she? If he was an enemy she would have to try and do something about it, even if she was a woman. Greenhills women still had honor and an honor was to defend their kingdom, but whom would she be defending, the empire that was swiftly turning her into little better than a chattel slave?

I’m not your enemy Tina, or of Greenhills, not even of the Empire, though there is much about it I would have change and some would call me such. Far from it. I am an enemy of the current Grand Vizier and the Council of Imperial Staff. Though they wouldn’t recognize me - or understand my complaints if I could reach the great court and stand in front of them to state my case.

What are you doing here then? She demanded.

He glanced up, Looking for something, something at The Jewel Palace. If what I was told many years ago is true, it should provide me with a lever to help you and the hundreds of thousands like you. People of all types, but particularly women, who are sinking into slavery under the perverted power of the Imperial Bureaucracy.

She sat up, interested hope fluttering in her breast, How, what are you looking for?

The captain shook his head, I can’t tell you. I probably shouldn’t have told you what I have.

She leaned back, wild hope fading but not vanishing, he had shown her miracles already, maybe he really was looking for a key to her future. That thought brought a more immediate one, What are you going to do with me after you’ve found what you are looking for?

I don’t know, leave you at the Fort Bridge? I could leave you at The Jewel Palace or Royalton if you wish, but you know that any Guardian who suspected that you were without a male relative would quickly take you and you’d end in a woman’s house.

She grimaced at that. The woman’s houses were workshops and shelters for women, maintained by the Guardians of Virtue. The church and the duchy supported them. They were supposed to be places where women with no male guardians - or broken reputations - could find shelter. But everyone knew the reality, they were houses of horror and often iniquity that mothers used to frighten their misbehaving daughters.

Tina felt hopelessness well up, she’d started an adventure and now to be turned back to her hopeless mundane world.

The Captains voice was almost pleading, Tina, I’m sorry but it’s for the best, you are but a girl and I am on a journey with many dangers. I know that I have done you a great harm but I didn’t know what else to do. If I had left you at the Fort Bridge my presence would have been revealed. And I’m no Norseman, I couldn’t slit your throat, tie a stone around your feet and drop you into the river. She jerked at that. She looked at him in horror, she saw terrible bleakness on his face, realized that he had at least had the thought, little as he liked himself for having had it.

Back in the mid cabin a few minutes later Tina sat slumped in one of the chairs staring at the smooth finished wood of the table. If it weren’t for bad luck she wouldn’t have any luck at all. A few minutes either way and she would never have realized that the Swift Wing was passing. A more ruthless spy would have simply killed her and put her out of her misery, a less sensitive one might let her go with him.

<~>

Chapter 4

Tina discovered that the dim red light in the cabin was given off by three small fae lights behind red glass panels. It was a bit unnerving to sit there alone in the blood tinted gloom. Around her she could hear the Swift Wing coming to life as it slipped into the river’s main stream. The captain had sent her below as the light drained from the sky and the little ship had started to move before full dark.

Through the skylight-vent she could hear voices and under her she felt the fabric of the tiny ship responding to the flow of the river. She had easily picked out Quiksit Forest’s calling out soft commands in his grandee tones as the ship bumped and scraped its way out of its hiding spot and she was fairly sure she could pick out Tilsit, and Gilder’s growly voices but there were others and she wasn’t sure how many. She hadn’t seen any others but maybe they’d been in the forest, watching.

Now the ship was in the river and there was another mystery, because with hardly a pause, the Swift Wing got underway, and small as she was the ship was too large to move by oar against the flow of the Jewel, and there had been no time to step the mast and there was no smell or sound to indicate a steam engine. And yet they were in motion, and if her senses were right they were moving quite quickly. But then the Captain had the secrets of the fae at his command and legend had it that the fae had been able to fly. Simply moving a ship against a swift current with no apparent means of locomotion might be a trivial trick to him.

She went and lay in her bunk nook, listening to the voices floating down through the skylight. Time passed and the voices quieted. Sometime later she came awake to hear the captain’s voice from above. The Palace is beyond that bend in the river. We need to snug her up against the trees at the crook of the turn. Should be a few minutes walk through the woods, at least that’s what the map shows. Get the men ready Gilder.

An indistinct rumble replied to this and footsteps retreated.

She felt and heard the ship being brought against the bank, then sensed something that made her bowels shiver, she realized that the Captain was ‘weaving’ again.

Squeezing her eyes shut Tina focused inwards, on her fingers and toes, purposefully not thinking about what was happening all around her. All around the world was being twisted ever so slightly but she refused to ‘look’ that way and it flowed around her so she could focus on counting her fingers and toes.

A heavy thump came from somewhere forward jerking her mind out of her reverie. She shook her head and tried to not laugh at the string of barked curses being heaped on