The Sail Weaver (10 page)

“Sir?” Riggan asked.

“Dismissed, Riggan, thank you.” Tristan waited until the man left before
giving Fenfyr a gentle pat
and heading towards the small room that served as his bed chamber.

He had no sooner put his head
down, than he was fast asleep.

X

Tristan was awake before four bells in the morning watch. It was his usual time, and that was one of the nice things about the entire Navy being on Guild Mean Time—his schedule didn’t have to change. He stretched and rolled his neck before doing several rounds of yoga. He knew the ship had a gym, and he would take advantage of that at some point, but right now exercise in the safety of his cabin seemed wiser. When he was finished, he showered and put on his uniform, still surprised by the reflection of the dark blue in the mirror. Making sure his hair was clubbed correctly and his ribbons were on straight, he stepped into the main cabin. Fenfyr was gone. Tristan wondered where the dragon was off to; Fenfyr was security as well as a “scout”, and Tristan suspected the dragon was exploring the darker parts of the massive ship. His kind had a hyper-acute sense of smell—if they chose—when in an atmosphere, and Fenfyr might be “sniffing out trouble”, as he liked to say.

Tristan hadn’t been in the room for more than five minutes when there was a scratching on the door and Riggan entered with a tray with a coffee service on it. He set it on Tristan’s desk in the office area and smiled. “How do you take your coffee, sir?”

“Milk and cream, Riggan, thank you.” Tristan strode across the room to his desk. “And how are you today?”

“Fine, sir! I was down in the crews’ quarters earlier, giving a
listen.” Riggan grinned—as the Weaver’s servant he had a cabin next to Tristan’s and didn’t bunk with the rest of the crew.

“Oh?” Tristan sipped his coffee.

“Yes, sir. There’s a lot of speculation about what happened yesterday. Some of the crew want off the ship. There is a rumor that she’s haunted by those that have already died.”

“How many is that?”

“Well, not counting t
he one
yesterday, about seventeen since they began working on her.” Riggan paused. “There’s some that say there is a weird smell that comes from the lowest deck—no one is allowed in and the only portal is soldered shut. They told the crew it’s because there is no air down there and there is no need to be there yet, but there’s talk, sir, you know?”

“I do. What do you think, Riggan?”

“Me? Well, sir, I don’t believe in ghosts, but there is something odd about the
Victory,
I wish I could tell you what it was, but I can’t, it’s just a feeling in my bones and I’ve served the Navy since I was fifteen, thirty years now, sir.” The man refilled Tristan’s cup. “The crew like Mr. Barrett and Mr. Aubrey, Captain Stemmer is a different story. He’s a flogging captain and Navy-loyal, and not much liked. Most of the crew support Guild and Dragon, there are a few pressed men who don’t, although that always amazes me, it wasn’t the Guild that pressed them into service, it was the Navy.”

“It’s true, in fact, we’ve put several motions before the Worlds Council to end the practice.” Tristan sighed, he’d been called to witness against the practice. When he’d been in his teens he’d actually seen the Navy pressgang come in town and take men right off the street, one or two had been shot before his eyes. It was something he would never forget. He’d known that the war was serious, and they needed crews for the ships he would be Weaving sails for, but even then he saw no reason for the brutality.

“I know, sir, I was there for the testimony! I saw you! I never thought I’d get to meet you!” Riggan said enthusiastically.

“I wish we could have done more,” Tristan said sadly. Despite their weeks of testimony, the Council had decided that there were not enough volunteers to fill the Navy and the forced draft was needed. The Weavers had argued that the other branches of service didn’t rely on pressed men, but the Navy’s rebuttal that they didn’t see the same
amount of service was, unfortunately, true.

“You tried, and the men know. It’s why we are loyal to Guild and Dragon.” Riggan refilled his cup again. “So, how much coffee do you require in the morning, sir?”

Tristan laughed. “No more than two pots, if I am to function at all. I prefer spiced tea in the afternoon. I think it’s uploaded in my personal information?” Riggan nodded. “Good,” Tristan continued. “Don’t let me have too much coffee, it makes me jittery. I also prefer a light breakfast in my office.”

“Will you dine alone regularly, sir? Or invite the officers?”

“I think we will play that one by ear. I will be having the officers and Air Weavers to dinner some evening, but for the most part, I think I will dine alone and wait for invitations.”

“A very good plan, sir,” Riggan said, smiling at him. “I have laid in a few extra grapefruits for
Lokey
Fenfyr
.”

“He’ll appreciate that,” Tristan replied. “I have several appointments today. Sullivan Aether and the other Air Weavers will be here at two bells in the forenoon. This afternoon I will be going to the Guild office on the station.”

“Ah, yes, very good, sir.” Riggan saluted. “I’ll have your second pot of coffee ready for the meeting with the Air Weavers, then?”

“Thank you, Riggan, that will be fine.”

The Air Weavers were prompt, Riggan ushered them into the office as the second bell chimed. Tristan smiled at them. “Sit down, Riggan is getting coffee.”

“Thank you, Master Tristan,” Sullivan said. “May I present Sheea and West Aether.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tristan said, looking at them. Sheea was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall with white hair and blue eyes so light they looked like glacial ice. West was her opposite in almost every way, tall and dark, he had a comforting presence about him that exuded a sense of security. Tristan had experienced it before, it was a function, at least partially, of the healing magic the Air Weavers drew on to create an atmosphere.

Riggan brought the tray in and served them. He already knew the Air Weavers’ preferences and set the cups before them, then
walked out of the room. Tristan watched him. There was a definite change in the man already. He was actually walking upright, not creeping as before. His head was still down a little, but he was no longer hunched as if waiting for a blow.

“How is Theresa?” Tristan asked.

“Much better,” Sullivan answered. “Dr. Webber said she can be moved to our cabin tonight. We’re partners.” He added the last a little hesitantly, some members of the Guild Council frowned on couples serving together. Tristan saw no reason to keep them apart, particularly on the larger, deep-space sailing vessels.

“Very good, and I am glad she’s doing better.” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about the
Winged Victory.
”

“Where do you want us to start, Master Tristan?” West asked with a laugh. “The hauntings? The deaths? The gossip?”

“West, please,” Sheea hissed. “He’s sorry, Master Tristan. This is a trying ship for us to serve on. It is so huge and we are required whenever they are working on the lower decks, even though with the dome, the ship should never be exposed to space.”

“Right, except it was,” Sullivan said quietly.

“What?” Tristan sat up.

“It was shortly after we arrived. Theresa and Sheea were serving on Deck Three and something went wrong, we’re still not sure what,
but not only did the deck blow
the dome did as well. If they hadn’t been down there more than five people would have died.”

“We were caught off-guard, no one should have died,” Sheea said angrily. “We just never expected it to happen. Our presence is usually more of a formality, as you know, Master Tristan. I have never had to actually Weave the Air before launch in any ship I’ve served on, and
Victory
is the tenth ship.”

“Since then, we make sure there are always two Masters and two journeymen at every major repair,” Sullivan said. “And we have started serving regular watches early. We might as well get used to them before launch, but we have started them now, in dock, just in case someone decides to blow the dome.”

“Good idea. Make sure I have a schedule of the watches,” Tristan said. “What else?”

“The rest? It’s mostly the mutterings of the crew. There aren’t
as many pressed hands as usual on this ship, so they aren’t as terrified of us as usual, but there is a lot of muttering. The ship is haunted, the ship is doomed and then there is that hatch.”

“The one that’s closed?” Tristan asked. “Riggan told me.”

“Yes,” West said. “There is something there, I am not sure what. It smells wrong. I think
Lokey
Fenfyr
was down there sniffing this morning. I have the morning watch, and he asked about the door.”

“The officers ever say anything about it?” Tristan watched as they all shook their head
s
.

“The only ones we’ve ever seen down there are Stemmer and Fuhrman. They might know. Don’t expect them to talk. Stemmer is a bastard and Fuhrman is his weasel,” Sullivan said.

“We’ll learn more. Did the Guild tell you we sail in two days?” Tristan said.

“Two… No! But that’s good, the sooner we are out of the dome the better. I don’t like being in an
atmo
I can’t control,” West said earnestly.

“Most people tend to feel the other way, West,” Sheea said.

“They’re idiots,” he retorted with a laugh.

“Please keep me up to date on Theresa’s condition and anything you hear from the crew. I am always available. And please, plan on dinner tomorrow night at my table.”

“Thank you!” the three chorused, understanding the dismissal. They stood and with a final salute left the room.

“Riggan?”

“Sir?” Riggan appeared, seemingly from nowhere.

“Can you see if it’s convenient for Mr. Barrett to speak with me? I made an appointment for this afternoon, but I might want to head over to the Guild office a little early.”

“Of course, sir,” he said and walked quickly out of the cabin.

Tristan jotted down some notes based on what the Air Weavers had told him, and compared it to the information Riggan had given him earlier. He didn’t think Riggan had been lying, but everything he’d said had been confirmed by the Air Weavers. The fact that Fenfyr was out sniffing around was both comforting and a little worrying. All ships had problems before launch, and all had a death or two. Tristan cringed, no matter how many safety precautions were
in place, there were always deaths. In the early days, before ships were built in domes, they lost many more.

There was a tap on the door and Riggan stuck his head in. “Mr. Barrett, sir.”

“Thank you, Riggan.” Tristan stood. “Good morning,” he said as the officer walked into the room. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”

Barrett smiled. “No problem, sir, I have the morning watch, so I was taking a quick break.”

“The morning watch?” Tristan couldn’t stop the surprise in his voice, that watch was generally reserved for midshipmen and junior officers.

“Yes, sir.”

“Riggan swept the cabin.”

“I guessed he might,” Barrett said with an easy smile, almost boyish in glee.

“Tell me about the ship.”

Barrett’s demeanor changed, the aura of authority that sat on his shoulders like a comfortable cape settled on him. He was used to command, and it showed in the way he sat and the confident way he met Tristan’s gaze. “Where do you want me to begin?”

“I’ve spoken with Riggan and the Air Weavers, so I know a little about the feelings of the crew and the usual gossip.”

“Very good, sir.” Barrett met his eyes and held them for a long time. “What do you want from me?”

“Your insight?”

“I know there are rumors of the ship being haunted, and cursed.” The man laughed bitterly. “Sometimes I wonder, we’ve had more accidents than most large ships do during building.”

“Can I ask why she is so close to complete? The Guild knew nothing of her until the day you and Davis walked into my office.”

“What?!? That’s a breach of every protocol…” Barrett took a deep breath. “I didn’t know, sir. I’ve been working on her for a long time. It never occurred to me that the Guild didn’t know… Why wouldn’t you know? We need sails, so you would have to know.” He was talking more to himself than Tristan. “Then what was…”

“Mr. Barrett?”

“Sorry, sir, I never realized you didn’t know. I assumed that day
we came to the office that it had been arranged, I honestly thought we had an appointment, so you can imagine my surprise when security was called!”

Tristan nodded to indicate he was listening, but didn’t want to interrupt.

“We started building her more than a year ago, the Air Weavers must have informed the Guild?”

“We were told there were two frigates being built. We haven’t had a communication from them, and none of us have spoken to them until my conference with them this morning.”

“Isn’t that odd?” Barrett asked.

“No, usually Air Weavers are assigned and generally work independently until the ship is due to launch.” Tristan frowned. He should have looked into that, they should have seen this coming, but not even the dragons had been suspicious until recently.