Geared for Pleasure (17 page)

Bodhan inhaled sharply. “I wonder what our friend the Khepri would say if he knew one of his best operatives had gone rogue.”

Captain Amaranthe’s frown transformed into an expression he could only describe as smug. “Bodhan, you
are
off your game. Maybe you should retire. Who was it, do you think, that pointed me in your direction?”

The undeniable truth of her situation had been easier to accept than she’d initially imagined. Perhaps her days in the brothel beneath the sea had affected her on more than one level. Or maybe it had been all of the queen’s magical stories over the years that enabled her to accept her new circumstances. She was, in fact, a passenger on a sturdy vessel that skimmed the waves of the air, instead of the water below. This was no illusion.

It wasn’t wires or rails that held the Deviant aloft, but the strange cloud-shaped tube hovering above the ship. Phina had pointed to it as they’d started their vertical ascension and told Dare it was a singular creation known as an aether cocoon. An inventive chemist’s mixture filled and formed the specially sealed fabric, making the Deviant lighter than the air. As buoyant as wood on water.

But that wasn’t what powered it. Sails and steam and something more pushed it forward. The captain had given the order to run silent until they were over unpopulated land, and Dare had not heard the telling chug and belch of a steam-based engine. She would be willing to lay wager to the fact that this, too, like the Siren, contained contraband theorrite.

The logical conclusion, that theorrite could not possibly be as rare as she had always been led to believe, was inescapable. It was also last in the latest string of lessons that had sent a ripple through her foundations. How many other truths would she discover to be lies?

The gears of Theorrey did
not
run smoothly. Sexual depravity was not limited, controlled, or merely excused on the islands of Maithuna. And—she thought of Bodhan and her body warmed—it was not always depraved. It could be beautiful for pleasure’s sake alone.

Neither were the Wode inherently honorable. In fact, many of her fellow shield guards must have shown quite a different face for the queen’s citizens to accuse them so often of forced intimacy, or infer their abuse of power. She thought of the cruelty she had endured as a child in the barracks. Perhaps their behavior did not come as much of a surprise to her as the other realizations in her new reality.

The Theorrean Raj. The queen’s council who held her up as a symbol of their will while enforcing laws she did not introduce or approve of. Whether they had anything to do with the queen’s current disappearance, they were hypocrites beyond imagining, and her mysterious messenger was correct in ordering her not to trust them.

The final sword prick that burst her illusory bubble? Invention and imagination were the province of criminals rather than scientists. Weapons made of light instead of lead or steel, ships that flew above the clouds and swam beneath the sea. These things that her sovereign would applaud and embrace—these things were hidden.

Surely the science ministry could have spent their time focused on marvels such as these instead of their obsession with things unseen. Blood inheritance and its markers. Deciding who would and who would not procreate. Longevity for the nobility, enhanced intelligence for those born into scholarly families, and strength for the Wode. How did their obsession uplift the entire Theorrean population as they so often claimed?

The answer was simple. It did not.

Was nothing in her world true?

Dare looked down and noticed a break in the clouds. From this vantage point she could see so much land. Glints of life set fire by the sun, so miniscule she had to squint to make out any movement. The Wode barracks and shipping community of Two Moon Bay was swiftly disappearing. She knew there would be smaller communities separating the black sand of the Avici desert from the marshlands and the sea. Perhaps this ship, similar to the ones that floated on water, had a monocular she could use.

“Lean too far over the rail, lady, and you’ll fall into the dodge. Don’t think the captain is ready to lose you yet, else you’d a been tossed.”

Dare looked over her shoulder at the balding man who had so wisely held his tongue when she’d first arrived. “Does she do that often?”

“Captain Amaranthe?” The second man stood mid-deck, coiling heavy rope around his deceptively scrawny arm. He was tall and lanky, his cheeks hollowed and his eyes so deep-set he reminded Dare of a corpse she had once seen prior to its placements on a pyre. “Ever hear the fisherman claim females aboard are a curse to the catch?” He did not wait for her answer. “Female captains seem to be a curse to the crew. Especially ones like our captain. Gebby here has lasted the longest, not counting the big mute who rarely leaves her side. Sooner or later, every man who works aboard this beauty meets his doom. Some get rot-drunk and fall over the rail. Some die during one o’ the tussles we get sent into. Some, as you seen yourself, she kills outright ’cause she can.”

Gebby shushed him, his face stern. “
Some
live to a ripe old age ’cause they keep their gape shut and never speak ill of the fine captain. The captain and first mate could run this ship alone if they had a mind to.
Some of us
should remember that.”

Dare knew it was time to change the subject. “What does dodge mean?”

The older man scratched his cheek, as if deciding how much he should say. Dare imitated Phina’s smile. “Please tell me. No one has had time to give me the grand tour yet. Too busy with their hostage, I believe.” She hoped she sounded charming. “I think they also forgot to give me your names.”

She noticed the blush appearing through the stubble riding high on his rounded cheeks. Amazing how quickly that worked. She would have to remember it.

“Name’s Gebby. Sour mouth over there is Wen. I heard Lightfoot call you Dare, and just figured she’d told you about us ’fore she left you on our watch.” He tried to stand a bit straighter. “I apologize for the poor manners. Don’t have much need for ’em up here.”

“Lightfoot? You mean Seraphina?

Gebby chortled. “In
some
circles. Depends on which town we’re in, what the weather’s like there, and if she’s made an admirer or an enemy.” His dark eyes sparkled. “Other ’an the captain,
we
call her Lightfoot ’cause of her skills at gettin’ in and out of a place without a soul bein’ the wiser. She’s the best I’ve seen at robbin’ people. Anytime Lightfoot’s on deck, I know we’re in for adventure.”

“Oh.” Dare blinked, hoping he would see it as a flirtatious batting of her lashes as opposed to surprise at his obvious admiration—not for Phina’s feminine appeal—but her thievery.

“You were going to tell me what a dodge was?”

“That I was.” He joined her at the railing’s edge, leaning his arm down with a grunt of exertion. “Put your hand down where mine is. Careful, you’ll get a touch shocked.”

She hesitated for a moment, following his lead and sliding her hand down the wooden beams of the ship until her fingers slid against something… slick. Like slime. An arc of energy made the tips of her fingers tingle, but there was no pain so she didn’t move
her hand. She leaned a bit farther and saw a shimmer akin to a bucket of soap-filled water catching the light. She could still see the ground through it, but it was distorted. So distorted it made her queasy. “What
is
that?”

Gebby chuckled. “
That
is dodge. Same stuff that’s in the landing dodger—where the Deviant looked like part of the ground?” Dare nodded in remembrance and he continued. “Well there’s a mast, of a kind, that swings clear ’round the bottom, stem to stern. The dodge is rigged to that mast and we pull it out whenever we have a need.” He waggled his bushy eyebrows humorously. “Which we always do.”

She bit her lip. “I am not a natural sailor, sir. I had no idea this existed. To be truthful, I’m still confused.”

He shook his head kindly. “A natural sailor would be scratchin’ his head just the same, Miss Dare. The dodge on the Deviant is the only of its kind that I know of. Most ships don’t need to hide the way we do. Fish never notice them coming anywise. You see?”

Not at all
, she thought. “So the dodge is what hides you? How do the mechanics of it work? What is it made of?”

“I pay Gebby to follow orders, not answer questions.” The captain’s voice made Gebby’s friendly grin disappear along with the natural color in his cheeks.

Dare acknowledged that her own anxiety matched his. The woman had certainly made an impression.

“Miss Dare. Captain Amaranthe.” Gebby nodded at both of them, excusing himself without another word.

Dare met the captain’s gaze, lifting her hand slowly from over the railing, as if to ensure it was not seen as a hostile act.

The woman sighed. “You have nothing to fear from me, Blue. I’ve told you we are not enemies.” She tossed a square of fabric at her, which Dare caught without thinking. “Wipe your hands now. The dodge can have corrosive qualities when it comes into contact with sensitive flesh.”

Why was she not surprised? She did as instructed, watching the captain catalogue her features as though she were something beneath a science minister’s microscope. “Where is Bodhan? Is he awake?”

“He is.” The captain crossed her arms. “You and I have a few matters to discuss before I stop torturing him and let him see you. Follow me.”

She turned and moved with long, determined strides, forcing Dare to rush to keep apace. They passed the shining bright work and freshly scoured deck that seemed to mock the skeleton crew with its daunting size, and headed toward a door that led below.

The helm’s deck sat above the door and her eyes widened when she noticed the wheel moving to and fro with no one to guide it. She paused. “Shouldn’t someone be steering?”

The captain shook her head and mumbled before lifting her voice so Dare could hear. “Phina will explain it to you later. I do not have time to give sailing instructions.”

They reached the door and the captain opened it and started down the steps. Bodhan was down there. She’d seen the captain’s muscle-bound companion disappear with him. Phina, too, had followed shortly thereafter, muttering something about a change of clothes and leaving Dare with instructions to wait.

Dare was still confident of Bodhan’s innocence, inasmuch as it pertained to Queen Idony. Whatever he had done to this captain, he did not deserve to suffer. She would not let it happen.

The captain began to speak without looking back or slowing her forward momentum. “For the sake of your curiosity, I will answer one question, though I am sure you would rather not know. What you were touching is made from the skin of a dead deep-water beast. So rarely seen we don’t have a name for it. Alive, it has properties that allow it to hide in plain sight on the surface of the sea. It becomes whatever its prey needs to see to feel safe. Then it traps and digests them. Slowly.

“We call it dodge, and we use it in a similar fashion. Add a little jolt of static from the engine, and if our prey needs to walk by and see rock, they see rock. If they look up and expect to see the sky…”

“They see sky,” Dare finished softly, equal parts fascination and horror vying for dominance inside her. Phina’s earlier words made sense. The blood of monsters. But who on Theorrey would think of inventing something so deviously macabre? So ingenious?

Now she just needed to discover if the Felidae’s instincts about Bodhan’s treatment at the captain’s hands were accurate as well.

She entered a long hall full of closed doors that led, she assumed, to living quarters and storage rooms. At the very end, Dare could see a ladder descending to a lower level. From the opening, a barely discernible rhythmic hum rose into the air like a heartbeat. It was similar to the sound within the walls of the Siren. She’d been right. The engine was enhanced with theorrite, though perhaps not used as extensively as it had been aboard the submersible. The Deviant hadn’t the need of as many creature comforts.

Dare focused and sifted through the emotions she could sense in the air around her, hoping she could home in on Bodhan’s, but the captain restrained her with a hand on her arm before she could take a step past her down the hall. “We can talk in here.”

She opened a door on her left, revealing a room that appeared to be an armory—or a torture chamber. Blades of every shape and size imaginable hung from the wall, all polished and displayed as if they were artisan oil paintings. Or trophies. There was also an impressive array of rifles in a locked rack made of the same ironwood as the ship.

The captain, it seemed, while lacking in crew, had no lack of tools with which to arm them. Though Dare had a feeling Captain Amaranthe preferred not to share.

The clicking sound of metal grinding on metal made her glance
back to watch an automatic locking mechanism seal the door behind them.

Dare concentrated on keeping her expression neutral, which made Captain Amaranthe’s lush lips twitch. “Welcome to the captain’s quarters, Blue. The only place I’m sure Phina cannot break in to interrupt us. My personal palace.”

Dare’s lips parted in shock. Her palace? She studied the room with a more discerning eye, noticing the red- and gold-tassled hammock in the corner by the circular window. It was stacked with mismatched pillows, and beneath it were several piles of well-worn tomes and a tapered candle that was melted half down. They were more than parchment manuals for lowborn education. More than Theorrean lore. These were the kinds of books the scholars placed on their highest shelves, guarding them as one might a treasure. Had Phina stolen them for the captain from noble homes?

An unobtrusive desk was riveted to the floor beside the hammock, across from the narrow door Dare could only assume was a water closet for washing and other essentials.

The desk was small but intricately carved. Wood inlaid with solid ivory… or bone. The design etched into the inlay depicted the Deviant, its sails unfurled. On either side of the carving was a symbol she recalled seeing etched into the dragonfly’s metallic skin—a different kind of insect, round with wings folded against its body.