Our Little Gods 0.1: ATACHEREL, the Other Side of the Coin.

CHAPTER VI

She was sitting on the cool marble steps that lead from her husband's fish & shell shop to the more private parts of their house. The message box had arrived as he was cleaning up before closing for the day, the fresh water tanks had already been covered and the salt water one was being emptied loudly through its plughole. Otanache's hands being soiled and him having immediately noticed the admiralty seal on the box the message girl was holding to him he had called for Merorae.

She could still hear him whistling in the courtyard of the house feeding the dog with the innards of the day's trade. It was a summon: two hours after day rise on the morrow to present herself to the admiralty advancement board committee, copper bands were to replace the leather of the second and her commission would be presented to her. Yesterday had been her fifty-second birthday, they had been back from Evening island almost a year now, and what a year it had been! Atacherel's log with the sober tale of their crossing and the description of the state of the island culminating with the sinking of the ghost ship and the salvaging of the body of one of its crew they had preserved in brine and brought back to the Sillaribes had made them more famous than actors. Merorae had long expected something of the kind, captain of her own ship. Fancy that! And after leaving the service for ten years to have and raise her children. Her first impulse was to go and tell Atacherel but he lived on the other side of the island in Vulga-Nara and by now he had most likely been commissioned again. There were several of her former shipmates that had been waiting for such a thing to sail again, she was already making the list in her head, the second was a sure thing, boatswain, first mate and she knew a score of sailors some of whom weren't sailing at this moment, some she had seen this very morning at her husband's shop and some whose children were eager for their first chance aboard a ship. She stood up and said to the empty room, "I need to get my hair cut." The disincarnate voice of her husband floated back in reply through the open door, "Well, that took you longer than usual, captain Merorae!"

"Not until tomorrow!" she shouted back a little too loudly, "will you tell the children?" she asked as he entered the shop still holding the broom he had been using. "Of course, I'll send the boy next door running to Leveron and Tinonae is coming to lunch with her kids anyway, shall I ask Mileterel to deliver some honeyed beer or will the captain wish for white Madran, I hear last year is particularly fine." His eyes were shining and his repressed smile made her want to kiss him but she said in a theatrically casual tone, "get the sparkling one from the year of Gueauda, nothing else would do."

Otanache raised his eyebrow as high as he could and placed the broom against the wall.

"Does the captaincy pay that much?"

"Twice the secondcy, my sweet." They were both smiling now, "and if they made me wait that long after the stunt we pulled with the Scarlet, it means they have a commission, it may be a long one." He looked at her beaming as she was and said, "well, let's hope it is to Triads Lands, my stocks of salt from the mines of Gepe is almost out and Detechel back in Vulgate has priced it up three times this season already." She took him in her arms and murmured "you fishmonger you." He kissed her answering, "yes captain."

The Behem was birthed alone on one of the most recently built quays, its masts were folded together, one sail had been stretched horizontally above the deck as an awning under which Merorae had set up a little table and a few chairs, where she was interviewing the members of her crew one after the other. It had been a specific request from the commodore in charge of the group of four ships she was to be part of. It was one of the larger fast-ships its hull painted black with the railing red had belonged to an older captain who had sailed it as transport to and from Triads Lands and in a way this was still it destination. The commodore, his shining new silver bands on his wrists had been at the admiralty when she was commissioned; upon his first words she understood that he was mostly responsible for her promotion.