Lost at Sea Bk. 02 Ch. 25

"Who is he?" Danica asked. "I mean, no disrespect, but... who teaches someone to be like Sandman?"

"Saying 'student' may have been misleading," Doctor Kalfou corrected herself. "People who seek out my grandfather are already very skilled. He helps them master their arts. His students come from many different disciplines. Sandman did stand out among them though."

"Aye, he would," Belita snarked.

Danica grinned. "The creepy skull mask doesn't really lend itself to blending in with a crowd."

"Wears a death mask now, he?" Friday asked, raising her eyebrow again. "Dangerous, that."

"You know what it is?" Danica asked.

"He said it helps him dreamwalk," Captain Vex said, curious and concerned.

"Interesting. Never heard of one being used like that, I," Friday tilted her head in consideration. "Death masks are intended to help someone keep safe in the Ways Between. It convinces the spirits there you're one of them, so ignore you, they."

"Ways between what?" Danica asked.

"This world and afterlife," Captain Vex explained. "In Camberly, we call it the Mistlands, or the Misty Isles. It's where spirits live, and where souls go on their way tae wherever they're going tae end up."

"Oh," Danica said, wide eyed. She'd never been much for religion, and for a sailor she put surprisingly little stock in superstition or magic. She preferred what she could see and touch. She knew there was more out there than she understood, but she always figured that if it wasn't making a nuisance of itself, it didn't matter much. "So he wears the mask so he can wander around with dead people?"

"As a simplified explanation, that is what they are typically used for, yes," Friday conceded. "From the sound of things, does not use them in the typical fashion, he."

Belita snorted. "He dinnae do anything in the typical fashion."

"Wait, go back," Danica said, pursing her lips in thought for a moment. "You said the Mistlands are where souls go, and where spirits live. What's the difference?"

Captain Vex started to speak, but realized she didn't really have an answer so she looked to the Doctor.

Friday smiled and shrugged. "Complicated subject, that. Most of the time, when we call something a spirit, it is a soul that is not where it is supposed to be."

"Like a ghost?" Danica said.

"Or any other kind of undead," Friday said with a nod. "That is what the state of undeath is. A spirit which, for whatever reason, is not where it is supposed to be."

"So spirits are just undead souls?" Danica asked.

"No," Friday said with a shake of her head. "Undead are all spirits, in some form or another, but not all spirits are undead."

Danica was fascinated, but felt like she was out of her depth. It felt like when Coleman tried to explain mathematics. "How does that work?"

Friday considered how best to explain. "Every living thing has a soul. When something dies, it's soul passes to the Ways Between and is supposed to be ushered on to the next place by a guide. The ones that do not move on become spirits that haunt the Ways. Because the Ways are so close to the living world, those spirits can sometimes manifest here. That is a haunting."

"The guides in the Ways are also spirits, and have souls, but have never been alive like we are. Not creatures of this world, they. When here, usually very strange, they, and cannot remain long."

Danica felt like she was starting to get it, but the whole discussion was so far outside her understanding that it was hard to fill in the blanks with what she already knew. "Can you give me an example?"

"Well, demons, for one," Friday explained. "Angels also. The Loa my people revere, and the Anima of the Akula. There are many different kinds of spirit."

"Wow," Danica said, wide eyed. "I have so many questions."

Friday laughed and Belita managed a smile. "Aye, but later," Belita said. "I'd like tae get out of this morgue and eat something."

"Oh, right," Danica said with an embarrassed laugh. "You feeling better?"

Captain Vex sighed in exasperation and eyed the jar of Grindylow toxin on the table. "Aye. If the doc has a plan tae save the crew, that's good enough for me."

"Will not know for certain, I, until they start showing symptoms of the infection," Friday said. "After that, need volunteers, I, to see if my ideas work."

"Symptoms like..." Danica cut herself off. "They are! A bunch of the crew are sick!"

"Might just be a cold," Belita said.

Danica shook her head emphatically, doing a quick mental count in her head. "Everyone I've talked to that is feeling sick was also stung during the fight."

"Send me two who you trust well, tonight after dinner," Friday said as she offered Captain Vex a hand.

"Lace and Coleman?" Danica suggested.

Belita let the doctor pull her to her feet and took a moment to make sure she felt stable and gave Danica a nod. "Make it happen."

"Right after I get you over to Stewpot," Danica said with a grin. She offered the Captain her arm.

Captain Vex shook her head. It wouldn't do to have the crew see her needing to be supported like that. She brushed herself off, smoothed her clothes, settled her hat on her head and walked out of the tent.

_____________________________

It was more like a cave than a basement. It looked like a natural hole that had been widened by amateurs. The stairs leading down from the trap door were uneven and slick with damp. The handrail was made out of one of the rusted pieces of railing that had once run around the perimeter of the upper level of the lighthouse, and held to the stone by pitons driven into cracks in the rock.

A broken coat rack leaned against the wall at the bottom of the steps. Caine hung the lantern in his hand from it and looked around. "Watch your step," he said over his shoulder.

Behind him, Janie crept down from Will's office like a child in a ghost story.

"Whatcha- woah. Is that a trap door?" Tonya's voice asked from the office above.

"Yes," Janie said.

"Can I come?' Tonya asked.

"You may want to put some clothes on first," Janie replied.

"Pfft. Naw," Tonya said. "I bet it's nice and cool down there."

"It is," Caine called up. "It's also full of broken glass and rusty nails."

"I'll put some shoes on," Tonya said. Her footsteps scampered away.

"So what is it?" Janie asked.

"Junk storage?" Caine shrugged.

"This whole place is junk storage," Janie said dryly.

Broken crates and barrels sat in a pile of wood and rust, mouldering against one wall. Broken bottles were strewn about. The only things of note were a mostly empty bookcase, a map hanging on the wall like a portrait, a small table with a single stool, and a row of about a dozen small footlockers.

Caine wandered through the mess toward the back of the irregularly shaped room, scanning with his lantern. Janie went straight to the map.

"Did that wall fall down?" Tonya asked from the stairwell.

"Not fell," Caine said, pointing to the scorch marks on the walls. "Blasted."

"Wasn't me, I swear," Tonya said, gingerly stepping into the room wearing nothing but a pair of thigh high boots.

Tonya's joke actually got a small smirk out of Caine. "Looks like it happened quite a while ago."

"Is it unstable?" Janie asked.

"If it was, the whole lighthouse would have come down by now," Caine said.

"Well it is somewhat in the process," Janie pointed out.

Tonya lightly stepped through the mess and looked closer at the collapsed wall. "Wonder if this is why."

Janie did a double take at Tonya's choice of footwear. "Those are the shoes you decided to explore a cave in?"

"They're sturdy!" Tonya said, turning out her heeled boots to look at them better in the dim light. They were shiny black with purple trim, covered in straps and buckles, and the thick heel looked to be at least four inches tall. "Everything else I have are high heels and fancy slippers."

"Remember that list I asked you to make for Kaduska?" Caine asked.

"Yeah, I did it," Tonya assured him.

"Are boots on it?" Caine asked.

"No," Tonya said, extending her leg for emphasis. "These boots are great. I don't need another pair."

Janie and Caine exchanged a pained look.

"What an odd map," Janie said, deciding to change the subject before she had to flee another conversation with Tonya. "There's no identifying features of any kind. Nothing is labeled. There's no coordinates. There's not even a compass rose."

"Maybe it's just too faded?'' Caine suggested.

"No, it's been sealed in glass. The lines are clear," she said. "It's just a handful of islands and a piece of a coastline somewhere."

"Woah, these are full," Tonya said, prodding a footlocker with her toe. She tried to open it. "Locked too."

"Janie, he gave you his keys, right?" Caine asked.

"Yes, but I don't think we need to be rifling through his lockboxes," Janie said tersely.

"Oh come on!" Tonya said. "Can't we just look?"

Janie looked uncertain. "No, that does not seem right."

Tonya scoffed in disappointment. "You're no fun."

"I can feel air here," Caine said, holding out his hand towards the pile of rubble.

"What's that mean?" Tonya asked, abruptly losing interest in the footlockers as a new mystery presented itself. She trotted over near Caine again and held her hands out to feel the faint breeze. The air was surprisingly cold. Her skin prickled and her nipples hardened. "Oh, you're right. That's nice."

"It means this used to be a tunnel," Caine said. "It goes outside, somewhere."

"Will did say the lighthouse used to belong to a notorious smuggler," Janie said. "He vanished without a trace years ago."

"This seems like a trace," Caine said.

Tonya picked up a rock, and considered the pile. "A secret escape route sounds real handy."

Caine blinked and looked at her, surprised that the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Yes it does."

"What?" Janie asked, confused.

"Janie, you have a price on your head," Caine reminded her.

She blanched. "Oh. Yes. I can see how a hidden tunnel may be useful."

"Looks like I'm adding shovels and picks to Kaduska's list," Caine said. "In the meantime, we'll just use our hands and buckets."

"You want to start now?" Tonya said, suddenly regretting her idea.

"Sooner started, sooner done," Caine said, taking a closer look at the pile to figure out where to begin.

"What are we going to do with all the rocks and dirt?" Tonya asked.

Janie smiled broadly as a thought occurred to her. "The drain for the pump system runs right down the back of the lighthouse, just outside the office window. There's a sluice trench in the ground that runs to the cliff. Anything in that trench gets washed away anytime it rains, or when we take a bath."

"Even rocks?" Caine asked.

"Well, no, I suppose not," Janie said, tapping the table in thought. "When the trench gets clogged, Will clears it with a shovel. He just sort of pushes the blockage down the trench and off the side. I forgot we had it. The shovel is right next to the drain pipe."

Caine nodded. "That works. So we dump the buckets out the office window and into the trench. Anything that doesn't get washed away I'll scrape off the side."

"This is exciting!" Tonya said as she scampered to the stairs. Her bare body jiggled and bounced in ways that got Caine's attention and made Janie blush. "I'm going to go find buckets!"

"I give her ten minutes of digging before the novelty wears off," Caine said as Tonya's pink backside disappeared up the steps.

Janie tried not to smile. "Five."

________________________

"I was told we would find the proprietor here," Will said carefully.

"And you have," the woman in white said with a welcoming smile. "Would you care for a drink? I have an incredible Casterly bourbon here, and a riesling from Armondet I've been looking for an excuse to open."

"You're... Shady?" Will asked, clearly surprised.

"They still call me that?" the woman laughed as she motioned over her shoulder. Then she gracefully offered Will her hand. "Call me Shae."

Will took her hand and eyed the pair of impressive rings she wore over her gloves as he brushed her knuckles with his lips. "You're not at all what we expected," Will said as he released her hand.

"I'll take that as a complement," Shae said with a small laugh. She gave Jack a small glance and a nod, but it was clear she was speaking only to Will. A brawny looking man in a slightly tattered waistcoat approached Shae from behind. "The Armondet," she said without looking at the man behind her. He left without a word and she settled herself in her chair again, laying her hands one over the other on the table. "I always wondered if I'd meet the notorious William Sterling."

"Notorious?" Will asked, surprised. He held out a chair for Jack, then sat himself.

"Is there a better word?" their host asked. "Your notoriety among my clients has bloomed impressively in the last few years. From what I hear, your maps are magical."

Jack let out a single laugh and Will shook his head. "Hardly."

"If it isn't your maps, it must be you then," she smiled. "From what I understand, none of the people who have followed a route you planned have hit storms, pirates, patrols, or any other bad luck the sea has to offer. Some are beginning to consider your maps good luck charms on their own."

"I think you're listening to sailors too much. You know how they like to exaggerate," Will deflected. "I didn't realize I was that recognizable."

"I wouldn't have recognized you myself, which would have been simply tragic. It was pure luck that I happened to be having a drink with a client who also happens to be a client of yours," she said, flooding her gloved hands over each other on the table. "He was the one who recognized you when you came in."

"I'm curious who?" Will asked conversationally.

"One Mister Timmonds," Shae said with a broader smile. "He had some rather colorful things to say about you."

A chill ran up Will's spine, but he tried not to let it show. "The last time I saw Timmonds, he took my assistant and I hostage. I thought he was still rotting in a Magistrate cell."

"He must have sorted all that out," Shae said with a dainty shrug. "Rest assured, he gave me his word that he will not be a problem for you while you're here."

Will gave her a skeptical look. "In my experience, Mister Timmonds is prone to saying one thing and doing another."

"Well, if there is one thing I cannot abide, it's a liar," Shae said with a tisk of her tongue. "If he becomes a problem for you, let me know. I'll make sure the issue is dealt with."

"If he comes for me again, there will probably be violence," Will cautioned her.

Shae sighed dramatically. "Boys will be boys I suppose. If you have to fight it out, try not to kill each other. He is useful to me, and I'm hoping you might be as well."

"Oh really?" Will said with a half smile. "Is this a business meeting?"

"Every meeting is a business meeting, if you're good at business," Shae countered.

Jack watched the byplay with quiet amusement. She was glad Shae's focus was not on her. In the past, Jack had usually been the one to be recognized or to take the front on business discussions. Will had always been content to play the role of the silent partner. He could be personable when he wanted to, but had always shown disdain for social niceties. Her efforts to teach him business etiquette had always been resisted as 'high society posturing,' but apparently he'd paid attention anyway.

It was nice to see a side of him she'd always suspected was there. Seeing him thriving in a position he used to actively avoid gave her a small amount of solace amid all the regrets and pain she carried around where Will was concerned.

On the other hand, it worried her that he was so comfortable meeting the leader of a pirate cove, and talking about violence and hostages like it was a normal matter of business. Their line of work was always dangerous, but most of the time the dangers were environmental, not personal. Will's efforts to remain professional with her had made it easy for the two of them to start falling back into old habits. For the most part, they were treating each other like they used to because it was familiar. This situation was a stark reminder of how much Will had changed.

She found herself feeling protective and annoyed as Will and Shea mixed subtle flirtation with their probing questions. It surprised her. She'd never been the jealous type with Will. They'd always been friends first, and business partners second. Sometimes they had been lovers, but they'd both been capable of keeping a lid on their emotions. They had both agreed that romantic feelings would have been too big a risk to their partnership.

They'd frequently helped each other find other partners, and teased each other later for their questionable choices in bars or brothels. Things were very different between them now, but that part at least felt similar. She had Quinn, and Will had managed to find himself regularly bedding Bella and the Captain, and now it looked like he would be adding the Doctor as well. She wasn't jealous of that. By the end of their first week on the ship she'd grappled with the pangs of envy she sometimes felt, particularly where Bella was concerned. Her guilt made it easy to remind herself that she didn't deserve to be in bed with either of them. She had hope of course, but it didn't leave much room for the kind of entitlement that jealousy requires. Now, his shipboard harem felt much the same to her as when she used to watch him chat up girls in a tavern. She was amused by his exploits, equal parts exasperated and proud. He was managing an impressive feat of lechery.

So why was she feeling irritated now? Why was knowing he was sleeping with three women on the ship easier to handle than watching him flirt with one in a bar?

The way they had cared about each other was difficult to describe. She'd explained it to her father once as a friendship so close that it felt more like the bond between siblings. Her father had laughed at her, and reminded her that if she actually had any siblings, she might choose a different way to describe Will. Now, with distance and time and the clarity that comes from feeling loss, she knew it had been love. It seemed so simple in retrospect. She'd always been bad at figuring out what she was feeling when she felt it. If it wasn't simple, like anger or passion or sadness, she never knew what to call anything she felt. Sometimes the only way she could recognize the shape of things was by looking at the holes they left after they were gone.

They'd put so many restrictions on how they were allowed to feel. They'd forced themselves to skip all the usual courtship stuff. There had never been any hot-burning passion or fumbling for meaning and reassurance. Instead they'd gone straight to the boring, stable comfort of mutual support and trust that usually takes decades to build. Their relationship had never left any room for things like jealousy or doubt, or for longing or depth. They'd loved like they'd worked, which was a blessing and a curse.

In spite of the problems that were clear to her when she looked back, it was the thing she had treasured most in her life, which was why she had destroyed it.

The guilt flooded in again, and washed away her attempts at introspection. The annoyance that still didn't make much sense to her flared into frustration as she watched Will smirk and tease this pirate pretending to be a lady.

"You never did introduce me to your friend," Shae said, noticing the conflict behind Jack's eyes. It was enough of an enticement that she finally addressed Jack's presence. Her smile was sweet and warm, but her eyes scanned over Jack's body without ever meeting her gaze. Jack knew this game. It was why she hated high society functions. The question wasn't really a question. Shae wasn't talking about Jack to learn more about her. She was fishing for information about Will.