Here There be Dragons: Testing the Waters

The next few days passed in numbing sameness. Aella would stalk about the ship, but had no fresh orders to issue. Epelda had taken over the day-to-day command, and the crew responded to her with an ease and natural rhythm that they had once had with Aella. Instead, she felt like she had tried to put on a jacket from her youth; it neither fit nor did it look right. The crew had, as a whole, learned a number of simple signs from Epelda, so that she did not need Jules to translate for her unless the ideas were complex. Evander and Dymion spoke to her primarily in the signed language. Alejo could sign and speak without any difficulty at all. Aella was left watching as her daughter’s world grew, became stronger, and her own felt more fragile.

Nereida was going into the water every night to sing of their plight, but the Grey Death had frightened away the sirens, and there were no answers the first three nights. After she sang, Nereida would dry off and then go to sleep. Tears would still be fresh on her face when Aella would climb into bed an hour later. Aella would lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the waves, wondering when they might hear back, worrying about her wife, and her listening to her children sleep as if they had not a care in the world.

On the third morning, they came into view of what had once been an oasis. The scent of rot hung heavy in the air, and there was almost no wind to dispel it. There were no birds in the sky, not even gulls. But they were not the only ones to be at the desecrated oasis. A small, stout little ship, one that likely needed only thirty souls to run, was anchored off the eastern shore. They had a short, stubby little mast, and she could not find the wheel anywhere. It was the oddest ship Aella had ever seen. She bore the name the “Brisk Brick” which seemed a strange name for a ship. Bricks sank.

“They’re Gnomes,” the lookout reported, saluting crisply. “They have some strange shit ashore, beggin’ your pardon Admiral.”

“Strange?”

“Glass tubes and vials, fire that glows green, not red.” The youth shook their head. “I can’t say what else, but they got a couple of crates.”

“Get my wife and Matthias. This is a diplomatic moment.” The youth bobbed their head and sped off.

The other Admiral wore the stupidest grin she had ever seen on his face.

“My stars and shadows, Admiral, a real Gnomish ship! They never leave their territory! I’ve only ever seen an old schematic! Do you think they’ll let me aboard to see her?”

“You’ll bump your head,” Aella replied dryly.

“Oh, such a marvelous adventure is surely worth a little lump, don’t you think?”

“Save it for the Gnomes.” She rolled her eyes, and turned to look for her wife. Nereida came out of their cabin dressed in one of her more stately attires. They had more clothing now, having been sent with most of their outfits. This particular one clearly required help to get into, with lacing at the back of her torso and arms. Aella allowed herself a moment to imagine what it would be like to remove the layers Nereida had painstakingly put on. Nereida caught her eye and smiled, a soft, but still teasing smile. Aella felt heat in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun that was burning the clouds away, and she turned away so that she could be the Admiral, and not the wife.

“We will speak to them, find out what their intentions are. If they claim to be here to reverse this, we can share the information from the book. But find out what they know.”

“Wine and dine?” Matthias asked, looking out over the beach. “Or stand and deliver?”

“Whichever you think,” Aella said after a moment. “I… I won’t pretend that I know the dance of diplomacy.”

“Fear not, Admiral darling, we shall take turns leading you across the dance floor.” Without warning, Matthias grabbed her hand and spun her about as if they were indeed on the dance floor. Aella grumbled at him, muttering about his gods-forsaken insanity, but he only laughed. Worse, Nereida was laughing.

“I’ll let you lead next time,” she whispered, as they headed over to the boat so they could row ashore.

They went ashore with Carlos. There were a dozen or so Gnomes about on the shore, but they had paid no mind to the ship, at least not that the lookout or Epelda had seen. Aella and Carlos rowed, the older crewman making small talk with Nereida about the children. His own were grown, but he had reconnected with them when they had gone to the capitol.

“My oldest is expecting her third,” he said with a soft smile. “She’s not got the sea in her blood like me. Strictly a home-body.”

“Little Gnome blood in you?” Nereida teased. Carlos laughed, a hearty, belly kind of sound.

“Nah, mostly Selinak through and through. Though my papi did claim he was an elf, pretty sure it was just so that he could be all serious-like.” A strange feeling twisted in Aella’s stomach, and she felt a cold certainty wash over her.

“What do you mean?” she found herself asking.

“Elves were born of the Sky dragon.”

“I thought that was the Sylph,” Aella muttered.

“No,” Nereida replied softly. “The Dragon of the Sky is different from the Dragon of the Clouds. In the stories I read, as a child, he forbade his children to express emotions, for the Sky must remain clear.”

“Charming,” Aella muttered. She looked up at Matthias. “Could you imagine you, but as an Elf?” Matthias pulled a face that would not be out of place on Egaz. Aella chuckled to herself, pleased she had revenge for his little dance maneuver earlier.

As they made landfall, one Gnome came trotting over. He was a stout fellow with wild, curly green locks, a large nose and spectacles that made him look more insect than man.

“Hi, yes, hello, terribly sorry, but this oasis is closed. Contaminated, you understand, and not fit for man nor beast. Say, are you a siren? In clothing? By my roots I have never seen such a thing!” Nereida stared at him, gob smacked, but Matthias swooped it, matching the Gnome’s energy.

“Oh heavens and shadows, man, what a thing to say! Of course sirens need clothing, they are as human as you or I!” The Gnome pulled off his spectacles to clean them, blinking up at Matthias as he did so.

“Biologically, I suppose we have common ancestors. But I cannot breathe the water. Nor, I suspect, can you, though I imagine you can dazzle women with your smile.”

“Not just women,” Matthias replied with an exaggerated wink. Aella groaned and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Why did she bring him? But the Gnome chuckled and put his spectacles back on.

“My apologies, lady,” he said, his tone sincere.

“Accepted,” Nereida replied. “Though, tell me, what are you doing here?”

“The earth was crying,” the Gnome answered, the joviality draining from his face. “We could hear it as we passed. We were supposed to go home, but this, this cannot be left alone!” His voice cracked as if he may cry. “We can’t hear the earth here anymore. The land itself is dying of this.” Nereida stepped forward, closing the distance between her and the upset gnome.

“My people hear the Ocean, hear each other,” she told him softly. “I have been too far inland to hear their songs before. The loneliness is… it is unbearable, sometimes. I imagine you feel the same when you cannot hear the earth?”

“Not all of us have that gift,” he said after a moment, his eyes full of tears that he was fighting. “But it is horrible.” He turned toward the mechanisms that they were still setting up. “We have to be cautious. To touch that ichor… we don’t know what it would do.”

“Kill you,” Nereida said flatly. Aella stared at her in horror. That was not how diplomacy was supposed to work! Where were the kid gloves? But the Gnome turned toward her with bright eyes and a hopeful expression.

“How do you know? Of course, we suspected, but, but, we haven’t tested it, just observed the lack of flora and fawna.”

“I killed the people who set this,” Nereida said, her tone soft, almost conspiratorial. Aella blinked, confused. She expected horror from the Gnome, but instead he clapped his hands together once.

“Oh, excellent! We aren’t warriors, you know, just scholars and builders and gardeners!” But after a breath, he suddenly looked crestfallen. “But if they are dead, they cannot tell us how they did this! It will take months to pick apart the base parts of this poisonous ichor.”

“What if you had an ingredient list?” Nereida asked softly.

“Oh, fairest of the sirens that I have ever seen, if you have such a thing, I think I might kiss your feet!” Matthias began to giggle at that, and Aella shot him her very best murderous glare. That, unfortunately, only seemed to egg him on.

“Oh, only my wife may kiss my feet,” Nereida said calmly. Aella looked about for a hole she could disappear into. Her face was burning, she could not swallow, could not think. But the Gnome wasn’t looking at her, did not see her clear distress. Instead he chuckled, an easy, gentle rumble of a laugh. Thank the dragons that Dymion was not this exhausting.

“Ah, of course, I’d never stake a claim on another’s farm! Still,if you have such information, it would be invaluable! We… I am unsure how we could pay you for it.”

“I will let you copy it,” Nereida said. “But we will keep the original.”

“Oh yes, yes! Please, do you have it now, please?”

“We will have to get it from our ship.” Nereida smiled. “But perhaps, as payment, I could get your name?”

“Georgie Tinkerpot,” he proclaimed. “I’m captain of the Brick.”

“Hell of a name,” Aella muttered, unable to help herself. But Georgie laughed so hard his spectacles fell from his nose into the sand.

“That’s the joke! It’s a brick joke! No? None of you? Well, I will have you know it’s peak Gnomish humour.” He bent over to retrieve his fallen spectacles.

“Perhaps we could bring it to your ship?” Matthias offered, leaning forward on his toes like a child awaiting a present. The Gnomish Captain laughed.

“We can arrange that. I will see you four in two hours then, for supper.” He turned to Nereida and grinned. “Bring your wife.”

“Oh I will,” she replied, deadpan. Then she reached out and took Aella’s hand. The Admiral stood as stoically as she could manage, even as she held her wife’s soft hand. Georgie looked between them, squinting, before he chuckled again.

“Nature is a strange place,” he declared, before turning toward the other gnomes and strolling away.