FireSweet

Never trust a pirate

I could feel myself slipping into the familiar nightmare before I was fully asleep; this time I wasn’t in class, but was instead seated by a roaring fire, pricking my fingertips as I labored over a sampler.  Of all the feminine arts, this may be one of the most wasteful ones.  Who wants to learn fancy embroidery when they could be making or repairing something?  Yet here I was, working meticulously on a rose and carnation border.  There wasn’t a center design yet, but I knew I wouldn’t be working on that pattern for another week at least. 

“You have come a long ways in a short time Darling,”

I looked up from my needlework, and smiled at the speaker, Lord Pipit himself, as he sank into an armchair across from me.  His white walking stick was as I remembered it, with its bronze knobbed top shining in an irritating fashion, matching his irritatingly shiny bald head.  I wanted to scowl at him, much as I had my first day, but as it was with flashovers, I seemed to do the exact opposite.

“Thank-you Lord Pipit,” I said softly, my eyes fluttering at him before I respectfully shifted my gaze to the carpet between us.  “It is an honor to be told such a thing by you.  I have done all I can to please the people here.”

“I know Darling,” he said.  “You have succeeded most famously with most of your instructors, yet have most displeased your dance instructor.”

“I later apologized for my forward actions,” I whispered.  “I spoke out of turn and had no business questioning my superiors in such a manner.  I am most ashamed of the commotion I caused.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he said in a tone that was supposed to be reassuring.  However, I felt as if someone has poured snow down the back of my shirt.  Unaware of this sensation, Lord Pipit continued talking.  “Remember Darling, all things are made better with time, everyone finds a home in Effugere.”

“Everyone finds a home in Effugere,” I repeated.

I opened my eyes and glanced toward the porthole that served as my window. 

“Home again,” I whispered to myself.  “Free from another flashover.”

I took a moment to shudder, to physically attempt to shake away the memory of Lord Pipit.  The sensation persisted, the back of my shirt damp from the cold sweat of my dream.  I shakily slipped my daggers back into place along my sash, collecting myself for a moment before I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. 

The world seemed still for a moment, as if I was the only soul awake, but creaking from the top deck told me otherwise.  I smiled to myself, moving toward the stairs and creeping up them as silent as I could.  Only Mají would be up at this hour, and I intended on surprising him if I could.

                “You swore that this was the only promise you would make during your time Mají-jalio.  You swore that as long as you were captain you would keep that pendant.  You gave me your word,” a female voice hissed.

                I froze, creeping closer to the final flight of stairs in an effort to see the strange speaker without being seen myself.

                “Times change,” I heard my captain whisper.  “You know that everyone thinks I’m in this prophesy nonsense.  I had to do it, you’ve got to understand.  There was no other way.”

                “You betrayed me!” she shrieked, her voice slipping from her control.  “There WAS another way; she should have belonged to ME!  If you had maintained the rules, you would be safe from the “prophesy nonsense” as you poetically put it.” 

                I could hear her heavy breath as she reigned herself back under control.  I waited for Mají to speak.  I knew I should announce myself, but I wouldn’t.  No pirate would.  They had mentioned the prophesy, the prophesy about the Griffin’s child, the prophesy that no one ever explained.  I waited patiently from my hiding place, listening to the creaking that meant one of the speakers was pacing along the deck.