Flying Eye Goddess

By James Robert Paige

Catt’s big brother takes care of her, but when it seems like trouble is brewing in the port city where they live, he puts her in a temple school and runs away to sea.

Catt runs away from the creepy school and tries to follow her brother, but she accidentally stows away on the wrong ship!

Adventure awaits Catt, along with piracy, shipwreck, magic scrolls, thievery, a mermaid who wants a bargain, a man who stole her brother’s name, and a murderous sea-captain who is most certainly not her mother.

Will the courage and experience that Catt finds along the way be enough for her to save her brother from the cryptic trap he has fallen into?

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Robert Paige
• Release date: Apr 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781777125684

James Robert Paige

Proud father of smart pumpkins, husband of a wonderful woman who writes even better books than I do, born and raised in California, now living and writing in Ontario Canada.

Book preview

Flying Eye Goddess

By James Robert Paige

©2023 James Robert Paige

By the Ear

Catt Zago’s ear seared with pain.

Catt was moving her feet as fast as she could to keep up with Ms Vry’s rapid stride. Catt clung to Ms Vry’s wrist with both hands in an attempt to protect her ear from actually being pulled off as they barreled through the narrow lanes of the bazaar towards Srappa’s harbor.

It was late in the afternoon, and of the few shoppers who were still browsing, most got out of the way. Now and then they would collide with a person, and Catt felt as if Ms Vry was using her as a battering ram to move them aside. Some people shouted or exclaimed with alarm, but nobody stopped them, and nobody helped Catt. Ms Vry was formidable– frightening even, and that was to adults. To a child like Catt, Ms Vry’s wrath felt like the thunder of a vengeful storm-god.

After bashing past a farmer who was taking up most of the lane loading unsold fruit into a goat cart, they burst out onto the cobblestones of Temple Row. There ahead was the forest of masts and sails that marked the harbor, and between them and the shore was the creaking hempen bulk of the docks.

Tears were streaming from Catt’s  eyes, but that was just the pain. She was not crying, she was not screaming, she was clenching her teeth in defiant determination that she would not break down and sob or plead.

Up the wooden ramp and onto the docks. A pair of grey -bearded mariners stepped aside to make room for them. One tipped his tricorn hat, Good afternoon, Ms Vry! he called cheerily, and they both chuckled.

Then they were in the shadow of a huge ship, where Catt’s brother and some other burly dockhands were unloading heavy wooden crates.

Brieg! Brieg Zago! You will secure this lawless child this instant! Ms Vry barked forcefully.

The iron grip on her ear did not loosen even though they had stopped.

Catt could hear the groan escape Brieg’s lips. She didn’t look at him. Instead she glared at the dark water between the ship and the segment of dock they were standing on. She imagined jumping into the harbor, and dragging Ms Vry to the bottom. Of course she wouldn’t let go. Catt imagined being the bigger, stronger one. Catt imagined the cold waves closing above, deeper and deeper, towing Vry downward like an anchor into the abyss.

Of course she didn’t really try it. The clear water was shallow here, with a bright gravel bottom. Catt didn’t have the strength to budge Ms Vry even one step.

Brieg was standing in front of them, somehow looking meek and small even though he was a full head taller than Ms Vry.

"–I’ll not stand for her defiant behavior any longer, and I’ll sure   as sunrise   not have  her corrupting the other children!" Ms Vry was roaring.

But– Brieg tried to interrupt.

"She was teaching the others to steal! "  Ms Vry emphasized the last word, letting it hang from her teeth like a curse.

One of the other dockhands coughed uncomfortably from the deck of the ship.

Look, set her loose, said Brieg, keeping his voice low as if he was trying to quiet down for the both of them. I can’t talk now, I have to keep working, but tonight I’ll have a talk with her. I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.

Oh, it most certainly won’t be happening again, because you won’t be bringing her back! Ms Vry spat, If I so much as lay eyes on her devilish little head again I’ll be turning her over to the constabulary, not to you!

But– Brieg protested, I’ve already payed to the end of the week!

Ms Vry abruptly let go of Catt’s  ear, wrenching her wrist away from Catt’s grasp, and as if she had anticipated Brieg’s words, her hand darted into her dress and she produced a small handful of coins which she dashed against Brieg’s chest. They bounced off and scattered on the dock.

Catt felt dizzy as the blood rushed back into her ear. One hand went automatically to the side of her head. She watched one of the coins roll and disappear down a crack in the dock. She felt a little sick to her stomach.

She didn’t pay attention to the final exchange of words, but a moment later Catt realized that Ms Vry had already stormed away, and Brieg was picking up the other coins.

Catt! Brieg hissed through clenched teeth.

I’m sorry! Catt said automatically. It was a lie. She wasn’t sorry at all for what she had done, but it was true that she felt sorry for causing trouble for her brother.

Just… I can’t even… Brieg straightened up and gestured to the sky.

Zago! shouted a harsh voice from further down the dock, If you’re not working, I’m not paying you!

Brieg glanced desperately over his shoulder. Look, Catt, just stay out of trouble for the rest of the day, can you do that?

Catt nodded uncertainly , avoiding eye contact and staring shoreward.

Go fetch my fishing box. You can stay close, and try to catch something for supper.

Zago! the voice yelled again.

Coming! Sorry! And then Brieg was hurrying back to the crates, shoulders hunched, again looking smaller than he really was.

Tacklebox

Catt made her way off the docks, and towards the By-The-Day Dry Boarding House.

She touched her ear again. She already knew there was no blood, but it still stung with a wetness that kept drawing her hand back to it. She was sure it must be purple with bruises.

She was also conscious that she had lost her headscarf somewhere in the rampage through the bazaar. She had nothing to hide the two little horns that protruded from her mop of crimson hair. She felt like everyone was staring at her horns, though really, probably nobody was paying attention to a kid running through the street.

She hated Ms Vry . She was glad that she would never have to go back to the Daymarket  Daycare again. She was aware how upset her brother was, but why did she need to be watched anyway? She was big enough to take care of herself while he was working, wasn’t she?

She wouldn’t miss the other children either. Most of them were the children of the small merchants, or the children of customers in from  the country-side. Most of them had at least one parent to go home to, and most of them would laugh at Catt and call her nasty names behind her back. The only thing that stopped them from calling her names to her face was the fact that they had learned she would hit them.

The only time the other children seemed to halfway respect her was when she invented new games for them to play. Catt felt the bite of irony that this was also what had gotten her kicked out. She hadn’t been trying to teach them how to steal, she just wanted to play something more interesting than Peg-Leg Tag , or Zombies and Priests , both of which usually just degenerated into everybody running around, screaming and giggling, and pushing each other over. The game she had invented today was a simple game of stealth and distraction, with the stealth teams working in tandem with the distraction teams, and everyone sharing in the pilfered sweets. It had worked so well on the sweets, that then they had started to try it on other targets; apples from the fruit stall, smoked sausages from one of the butchers, pretty feathers from the fletcher, corks from the barrelwright , spoons from the silversmith, the whole cashbox from the leather tanner.

Catt found herself at the doorstep of the By-The-Day. She listened, and peered inside. There were two loud drunks arguing by the hearth in the common room. The boarding house was Dry , which just meant the residents couldn’t drink there, and were required to get drunk somewhere else before they came back for supper.

Catt tiptoed in, trying not to be noticed, and headed for the stairs. She saw Old Grandle in the kitchen, and they made eye contact for a moment. Grandle scowled suspiciously, and shook her head disapprovingly, but then turned back to the stove and ignored Catt.

At the top of the stairs, Catt listened, making sure nobody was in the hall before darting to the fifth room on the left. Here she took a deep breath, coiled her body, ready to run if necessary, and flung the door open. Nobody was waiting inside in ambush, but it paid to be wary. It had happened once before, and the first time she had been lucky that Brieg had been two steps behind her at the time.

Satisfied that their room was clear, she shut the door and propped the wedging stick under the inside handle. Only then did she breathe a little bit easier.

The room had two narrow cots, each with a makeshift curtain over it. There were two locked chests, Brieg’s iron-bound oak chest, and her little pine chest held together with nails and glue.

She found the little rusty key in her pocket and unlocked the little rusty lock. She knew if she ever lost the key, it would only take a few kicks to remove the lock completely, but it still made her feel grown up that she took good care of the key, and always knew where it was.

Catt only had one scarf left. She took it out of the chest and tied it around her head. She felt better.

After re-locking her chest and stowing away her key, Catt found Brieg’s fishing tackle box under his cot. There was no fishing pole anymore, it had been lost to a sea-monster months ago, or so Catt was certain. Brieg didn’t believe her, but she knew only a sea monster could have pulled that hard. It didn’t matter though, after losing the pole, she had spent weeks proving to Brieg that she could still catch things with just the line, sinkers, floats, and hooks.

She hefted the box, removed the wedging stick, checked that the hallway was clear, and she was on her way.

Fishing

The western sky was a riot of reds and pinks and yellows, sharply truncated by the tree-lined hills on that side of the Srappa harbor.

The eastern sky was smooth purple over the mountains, still bright in the setting sun.

The wind was coming in from the sea to the north. Catt could feel that it was the sort of wind that the old sailors would mutter fearfully about. Catt didn’t know much about wind, or the significance of its directions, but she had listened to enough muttering old sailors to know that all the directions were bad, and that the only thing worse than the wind blowing in a direction was when it didn’t blow at all.

From where Catt was fishing, she could sometimes see Brieg. He and the other dockhands had finished unloading the big ship, and now they were carting the crates to one of the warehouses at the wrong end of Temple Row. She would watch for him each time he approached, but she would pretend to be focused on the water when he passed by.

She had one smallish mudsupper on her stringer. The rest of the fish weren’t biting. She could see others under the surface, down around the dock pilings, but maybe they had seen what had happened to the mudsupper , and weren’t interested in snapping at shiny things anymore.

Catt kept trying, and the fish kept ignoring her hook. After a while, she saw Brieg coming. He walked differently now that he was done with work. He was obviously tired, but he was swinging his arms in a way he never did when he was working.

Catt pulled in the line, packed up the tacklebox, and had the stringer in her hand by the time Brieg reached her.

Let’s go, he said.

Catt trotted along beside her brother, waiting for him to say something about the Daymarket  Daycare.

Normally there would be a delay, then a deep sigh, and then a pleading lecture about her behavior, filled with questions about why she would think it was okay to do such a thing, and whether or not she realized the consequences.

Catt had been mentally preparing explanations. She had found that the better she told her side of the story, the more likely Brieg was to accept her excuses– especially if she could keep her voice steady and not whine.

But the deep sigh never came. They made it all the way back to the By-The-Day without Brieg breathing a word to her. That made Catt feel uncomfortable, as if a bigger storm was brewing.

Mudsupper

Catt carried the limp mudsupper to the kitchen and offered it to Old Grandle.

Grandle inspected the fish with the same air of disgust that she usually reserved for Catt herself. Finally she said, Right then. Fifty-penny off your board. She dropped the fish on the counter, materialized a cleaver from somewhere, and began cleaning it with swift rough slices and scrapes.

Catt knew fifty-penny wasn’t much, but she also knew not to try and barter for more. Backtalk to Old Grandle would earn her nothing but a swat.

Back in the common room, Catt looked for Brieg at their usual spot at the long table near the stairs, but he wasn’t there. Instead he had taken a seat much closer to the fireplace.

Catt approached apprehensively. The tables by the fireplace were the loudest and rowdiest part of the room. She didn’t know why Brieg wanted to sit there. She knew it meant he wouldn’t be scolding her now, he would not do that in front of everyone, but it also meant she wouldn’t be able to say anything either. In their usual corner by the stairs, it was okay for her to whisper to him, but the fireplace was a place for grown-up conversation, and she would be getting them both in trouble if she tried to speak up.

Catt  sat on the bench next to her brother, positioning him between herself and the fireplace, and tried to make herself look small and inconspicuous.

The meal had not yet started. There was just bread on the table, and the talk around the fire was not loud yet.

For a while, Catt  nibbled on a piece of saltbread , and watched Brieg. He was drumming his fingers on the table. His hands were so much bigger than hers. She looked at her own hands. They looked so much different than his. His hands looked like unclenched hammers. He was a big dark mountain with a friendly soft face, and she was a little red sprout trying to grow in shadow, waiting to jump out into the sun.

More people were coming into the common room. There were a few familiar faces, but most of the customers at the By-The-Day were here for a night or two, and then gone forever.

The kitchen hands began bringing out the food. Brieg helped Catt get a plateful of kelp greens and a bowl of fish stew.

Catt stirred the hot soup with her spoon, occasionally dipping out spindly fish bones, and wondering whether or not a piece of her mudsupper was in there. Catt was good at recognizing different kinds of fish when they were alive and whole, but chopped up in a stew, most of them looked more or less the same to her.

Some raucous sea-hunters came in, smelling of brine and blood. They took up the remaining benches nearest the fire, calling for food. They were bragging about the day’s kill, flayer squids and a tusked shark. Catt watched Brieg as he watched them. He had a serious look on his face, and Catt wondered if he was scared of the monsters that the sea-hunters were describing. One of the hunters was standing up on the bench with one big boot on the table, pantomiming how she had freed her spear for the death-strike.

 Catt tried to imagine what a flayer squid would look like alive in the water. She had only ever seen them strung up to dry in the sun, and she had no idea how they moved, or even which end of them was the front and which was the back. She chewed a chunk of fish. The soup was good.

After a while, the talk turned to the King. Catt already knew that the King had died a week ago, at some place people called the frontier and she stopped paying attention. It had been the main topic of conversation for days, and she was tired of it. She focused on cutting the stringy parts of her sea greens into the smallest pieces possible. She didn’t like them, but she knew she should eat them. Reducing them to a minced mush made it easier to swallow them quickly without a lot of chewing and tasting.

The only time the conversation caught her attention is when everyone would laugh at something they thought was funny.

Most of the table roared at the suggestion that the King’s trousers had never been found, though she had missed hearing what that was supposed to mean. Catt glanced at Brieg’s face to see if he was laughing. He was smiling a little, but still seemed serious… or sad, Catt wasn’t sure.

It was against the law to insult the King, so pirates tried to insult him as much as possible, even though as far as Catt could tell, everybody had liked the King pretty well, especially the pirates.

Catt finished mangling her greens, heaped them carefully, and then wolfed them all down quick , and followed them with more bread and water to wash away the flavor.

With her plate and bowl empty, and her stomach full, Catt had nothing left to distract her. She rested her chin on her hands and listened.

You’re wrong, nothing will change! insisted a person with a picture of a skull tattooed on their forehead. She’s not going to break The Truce, it’s what makes Srappa prosper.

That’s an oversimplification, and you’re the one who is wrong, said one of the regulars, an elderly person Catt recognized, who usually arrived to the  dining hall slightly drunk, and slowly sobered up over dinner.

Longbeard will call the shots anyway, once she’s Queen. She went to their temple school.

That doesn’t mean anything, you imbecile! Captains and merchants and knights come out of the temple schools, doesn’t mean the god directs the ship, or reaps the profits, or swings the sword!

"Come on, the god of pirates , and you don’t think she’ll uphold The Truce?"

"I didn’t say she would break it, I said it would change! Besides, If she really were to put the force of the crown under Longbeard  that would be even worse! The Truce works because Srappa is neutral ground!"

My mum went to the Unnesche Temple School, cut in one of the kitchen hands. She never favored the Drowned, not that I ever saw.

That’s my point! When she’s Queen, Longbeard won’t hold any sway. The temple school just means she’ll have learned a thing or two.

That’s not what you said before! You said it would all change!

No I didn’t–

How do temple schools work? Brieg suddenly interrupted.

The debaters stared at him. Catt stared too. She was surprised to hear him speak up.

"I thought only noble’s kids  could go to those? Brieg continued, and addressing the kitchen hand he added, I’ve met your mum, she’s no princess."

Ha! You take that back, Zago! cried the kitchen hand, slapping Brieg on the shoulder, but showing a face that Catt thought looked pleased instead of angry.

They take all kinds, said the older debater. They do lotteries and scholarships. That way a noble can learn alongside a commoner, and they both gain greater experience.

Oh, and you really think just because she might have learned reading and writing alongside some farmer’s boy she’ll wreck everything?

I didn’t say that!

"Longbeard will have the ear of the crown, and that crown has power , and that is good for pirates, and what’s good for pirates is good for all of us."

Is the crown that powerful though? asked the sea-hunter with the big boots. It didn’t help save the King from that Jenn arrow!

That’s ‘cause he left the crown with his trousers! said someone else. Some people laughed.

Catt had only followed a bit of what the grown-ups were talking about. She liked watching people’s faces while they talked, but it was more or less the same kind of stuff they always argued or laughed about. It had been a long day, and Catt felt tired. She was afraid that the voices were going to lull her to sleep, and that she wouldn’t get a chance to talk to Brieg about the trouble she had gotten into.

Catt grabbed a piece of soft brown bread and began to pinch off bits and squish them down into balls with her fingers. She needed something to do with her hands to keep herself awake. She knew they wouldn’t be going upstairs until Brieg was tired of listening. He was asking more questions too, which was odd, but she ignored that strangeness. She would make a pile of bread-pearls, and pretend her plate was an oyster.

Whispers

As tired as Catt had felt while she was at dinner, now that she was in bed she found that she couldn’t sleep.

She could hear Brieg snoring softly in his own cot beyond her curtain, but that wasn’t what was disturbing her.

The walls between the rooms were not particularly thick, and it was normal to hear lots of odd noises in the night, but right now she could hear whispers coming from the other side of the wall. She couldn’t make out the words, just the tone of them. The whispers sounded like people arguing. She didn’t think they were arguing at each  other, it seemed like they were arguing about something. Their voices sounded very worried, and it set Catt on edge. She was smart enough to know that grown-ups didn’t have all the answers. Most of them just made things up as they went along, and the ones who acted like they knew all the answers rarely ever