Bloomer

4. A Powerful Disguise

I drag my wasted body across the deck to the galley.

With Bastian pouting in his cabin and Rake occupied at the helm, I welcome the warm stench that greets me below. I stand at the base of the stairs and wait for my eyes to adjust, listening to a gravely snore. Whiskers must be asleep somewhere in the dark.

A flashlight clicks on and the old woman's face appears in the yellow light. She's sitting at the table staring at me from the recesses of her hood, her florescent blue eyes twinkling like cheap rhinestones. She was less than useless when Rake came skeeving around, but what did I expect from someone who is older than dirt? I spy Whiskers sleeping on a bunk against the wall. His chest rattles in time with the gurgles of the boiler. Neither of the old timers are in any condition to help anybody, not even themselves.

The woman pulls her hood back and gestures to the chair next to her. "You're doing well, so far. A scavenger's airship is no place for a young girl. I'm still trying to work out how you managed to get rid of Rake. He didn't seem like himself when he came to talk to me."

Oops.

I sit down and look at my hands, announcing my guilt. Clearly, I let my magic have its way with Rake. "We started talking about grandmothers and the subject got changed to you. I hope he didn't offend you."

She stares at me long enough to convince me he had. "It wasn't too unpleasant. He seemed intent on telling me stories about his childhood. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were blessed with a unique gift of speech. Words can be powerful weapons. Be careful who you use them on." She smiles like a child with a secret then she scoops up my hand, lacing her bony fingers between mine. "I'll tell you something if you promise to keep it to yourself." When I nod, she leans close, her warm breath smelling of mollusks. "I know what it feels like to fend off the advances of scavengers. I ran into this crew while I was working as a beer maid."

My eyes widen before I can stop them, which I'm sure comes across as rude, but I can't picture the old woman serving beer to a bar full of scavengers. And what did she mean by 'advances'?

"You worked as a beer maid before you came on board the airship? That's a rough job. It must have been hard for you to carry around those heavy mugs all day."

She doesn't answer or even look at me. Have I offended her? Is she regretting starting the conversation? When the awkwardness reaches its peak, she glances at Whiskers wheezing in the corner and leans into my ear. "The work wasn't that hard. I was much stronger before I drank the potion that turned me into a hag."

Did she say potion?

My arm stiffens, like the blood in my veins has coagulated, and I untangle my fingers from her sweaty grip. "I'm not sure I understand. You drank a potion to make you look old? So, you're really..."

"A young, beautiful woman." She strokes the strands of her silver hair and winks at me. It's creepy.

The ruts and crevices creasing her face make it impossible to see the beauty she's talking about. If she's telling the truth, the potion was a powerful one. Only her eyes give her away. "How did you get your hands on a potion? Did you make it yourself?"

"That's not important. I just needed to get off that godforsaken rock and hitch a ride to a bigger port. I drank the potion to fool these scavengers. The rotten part is, I'm not sure how long it will last or if it will kill me. I was hoping you could help."

I glance at my lap, searching my brain for something to say. Is she a spell caster? Does she suspect I am? Either way, she's gotten herself into a sticky situation and I'm in no position to get her out. "That is a dilemma. But I don't see how I can help."

Her mouth spreads into a wide grin, but it doesn't look grandmotherly. "Oh, I think you can. You see, I happened to notice something when you were convincing Rake to keep his paws to himself. There was something in the way you held your hands that made me wonder if you might possess more than a mere gift of speech." She cocks her head and waits for me to give myself away, locking me in the beam of her icy, blue eyes.

I will my eyelids not to flutter and my lips not to tremble, but my heart is pounding like waves against the rocks. The woman must know the ways of magic or she never would have recognized Grandma Louise's casting technique. If she has the gift, why can't she figure things out on her own? She sure isn't getting anything out of me. "It's hard to believe, Miss...I'm sorry. You never told me your name."

She hesitates, then whispers, "Call me Ruth."

"It's hard to believe, Ruth, that you drank such a powerful potion without thinking of the side effects. What if you're never beautiful again?"

"I wasn't thinking straight!" Ruth's eyes flash like kindling in a fire and I have no trouble believing her. "I needed to disappear quickly. When I heard Bastian talking about the outpost, I saw my chance." She lowers her eyes and slouches against the table like she's realizing how stupid she is.

Sympathy creeps in, forcing me to rattle on. "From what I've heard, aging potions are tricky to make. If they're not done right, they can have nasty results. The only advice I can give you is to wait and see what happens. How long ago did you drink it?"

"Two days ago."

I cringe but she doesn't seem to notice. Most of the potions I know of only last a day, depending on the size of the drinker and the amount of potion. But I don't think that information will be helpful. I've said too much already.

"I'm doomed aren't I? I can tell by your silence." Ruth lifts her hands to her face and the sobs start rolling out.

I don't know whether to feel sorry for her or get as far away from her as possible. The odds of meeting up with another caster on an airship headed for who-knows-where have to be a million to one, especially when so many people are dead or close to it. Ruth's stupid idea to drink an aging position to keep the scavengers out of her cloak doesn't give her much credibility, but she's probably the best ally I have, whether or not she's a caster.

"Falling apart will only make you feel worse," I say, because it's the best I can come up with. "I'll help you if things take a bad turn."

Ruth and I huddle at the table, napping on and off beside the boiler's heat until everyone is roused by the bellow of Bastian's voice.

"All hands on deck!"

Frigid air smacks me in the face as Ruth and I climb the stairs into the glare of morning. I fold my arms across my boobs and search for Rake. I find him leaning against the crates with his hand clapped over his forehead, obviously suffering from a post-enchantment headache. Serves him right. The bumwipe.

Bastian stands at the helm and we all wait for Whiskers to drag his feeble body out of the galley. He hacks for a good minute and spits over the side, then Bastian singles him and Rake out with his commanding stare.

"I don't have to remind you men that our last visit to this outpost resulted in a hole to Miss Eve's hull. We've got a few breaks in the cloud cover this morning to make things easier. Keep your eyes sharp and the ropes tight. I don't want her looking like a scavenger's airship."

"If Whiskers weren't blind as a bat, them holes wouldn't be there at all." Rake glares at Whiskers and the crank glares back. Just like old times.

"Credit and blame smell the same," Bastian growls. "You two know what I expect of you, and I expect no less now. To your posts, you scoundrels. We dock in twenty."

PLAYLIST SONG: Because by The Beatles