Knees soft as lard, Tress flopped down on the deck, then pulled her red inspector’s coat tight. She was terrified by what she’d done, but determined. She knew it was right; she felt it.
For better or worse, Tress was a pirate now.
THE IDIOT
The next day, Captain Crow woke Tress with a shout. That should have been Tress’s first clue that something was odd, as it didn’t involve kicking. Crow passed up opportunities to cause physical pain about as often as banks provide free samples. Instead Crow led Tress through the middle deck to a room with a very large padlock on the door. The type you use to make a statement.
“You really aren’t afraid of spores, girl?” Crow said as she counted over the keys on her keyring.
“I said that I am afraid, Captain. It’s just that lately, everything and everyone seems inclined to try to kill me. So I guess spores are simply one more, no more notable than the others.”
“No more notable?” Crow said, selecting the correct key. “Well, that’s an encouraging attitude. Encouraging indeed, my red-coated sprouter.”
The click of the key in the lock had an ominous tone. The sound of a trap being sprung. Crow removed the key from her ring and handed it to Tress. “This will be yours now, girl.”
Tress took it, but had not missed that the ring held a second key identical to this one. Crow pushed through the door, and Tress glanced down the hall to where several Dougs were watching and whispering to one another. When the door opened, they stepped backward.
Bracing herself, Tress followed Crow into the room. It did not seem so fearsome as to warrant such a reaction from the Dougs. The small chamber, longer than it was wide, had a single porthole at the end looking out at the sea. Spores churned up from the ship’s passing, occasionally rising to cover the window, briefly plunging the room into darkness.
It had a bunk on one end that was pure luxury to Tress, with a blanket, a mattress, and a pillow. Sure, the mattress looked lumpy, the pillow was small, and the blanket likely hadn’t been washed since the invention of vowels. But when you’ve been sleeping on the deck, you learn to grade on a curve.
Along the wall opposite the bunk was a small worktable. Above it, a set of drawers was built into the wall. The only other item of note was the large mirror hanging above the table, giving the room an open feeling—and revealing to Tress exactly how much of a mess her hair was. It evoked the impression of an eldritch horror escaping from its long slumber to stretch tentacles in all directions, disintegrating reality, seeking the lives of virgins, and demanding a sacrifice of a hundred bottles of expensive conditioner.
Crow stepped over to a door nestled in the corner, near the head of the bunk. She pulled that open and gestured inside, revealing a stall—barely tall enough to stand up in, with a floor that lowered two feet down into a basin. With a drain? And a spigot high on the wall?
A bath? If the bunk was luxury, the idea of a bath was paradise.
“We keep that spigot hooked to a barrel filled with water,” Crow said. “Let us know when you want it refilled. Weev always needed a lot of it for his experiments.”
“…Experiments?”
“With spores,” Crow said, sighing. “You’ll have to keep up, girl, if you’re going to train as our sprouter. Any time you work with spores, do it in this chamber unless you get specific permission from me. I’d even prefer you fill the zephyr spore charges for the cannons in here.”
“I understand,” Tress said.
“Be sure you do,” Crow said. “Your entire chamber is reinforced with aluminum, but there’s a silver lining beyond in case something breaks through. Despite all those protections, you could rip my ship apart if you’re careless.”
Tress nodded.
“You have no idea, do you?” Crow said. “What you’re doing? What will be expected of you? You have no clue how dangerous your job will be. Do you really want to go through with this?”
“Do I get to sleep in that bed?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m in.”
Crow smiled. It would have been less unnatural to see those shining teeth and curling lips on an actual crow. “I’ll send Ulaam to brief you. But before you grow too fond of your new accommodations, be sure to have a look at the floor.”
The captain sauntered off, taking a swig from her canteen. Tress sat on the mattress, trying to discern what the captain had meant by that last comment. The floor looked normal. Wooden planks, though a little dusty, since it didn’t appear that anyone had cleaned the room since Weev’s death.