Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(22)
“No goats,” Evan said. “That whole blood-sacrifice thing went away five or ten years ago.”
Strictly speaking, this wasn’t a new ship, so the ceremony wasn’t necessary. But it was a new venture, and a new name, and they were in the mood to celebrate. Not to mention that they needed the gods on their side.
Evan spiked the cask and let wine flow into the cup until it was full. A bit self-consciously, he raised the cup. “We, the builders of this ship, offer her up to the gods of ocean, sea, and storm and ask for safe passage beyond the shoals and to safe harbor wherever our journey may end.” He drank from the cup and passed it to Frances, who drank, and then to Destin, who drank and returned it to him. “I—” Evan stopped, collected himself, but couldn’t bring himself to seek the protection and guidance of the gods under a false name. He began again. “I, Evan Strangward, pilot, humbly ask for the skill and courage to chart a true course in fair weather and foul while this ship is under my command.” Evan drank. Looking over the rim of the cup, he saw Frances stiffen at the last-minute swap of names. But Destin seemed unperturbed.
He already knew, Evan thought. Once again, suspicion flickered through him. Was it possible that Destin had been working for the empress all along? Was this just a ruse to deliver him to her new capital in Celesgarde?
No. Why would Destin spend six months building a ship that he didn’t know how to sail? Besides, only a fool would set sail for the Northern Islands with a weather mage like Evan at the helm. And Destin was no fool.
“Pirate!” Evan looked up, startled, to find Destin checking the time on an imaginary pocket watch. “Quit sailing off inside your head and let’s get this done.”
“I name this ship ‘Destiny,’ and commend her to the care of the gods of ocean, sea, and storm, and ask that they welcome her when she sets forth, and give her up when she returns to shore.” Evan splashed the wine over the gleaming varnish, newly emblazoned with the name. He raised the empty cup. “To the gods of ocean, sea, and storm, I commit this silver cup, in compensation for their rightful claim to sailors and their ships.” With that, he cocked back his arm, and then sent the cup sailing out into the harbor, where it splashed down in the distance.
Now he nodded to Frances, who descended the gangway to the shore. Breaker found a perch on the quarterdeck. Evan and Destin raised the gangway and slid it into its rack. Evan took his position, where he could manipulate the sheets and get enough canvas to ease away from the pier. Destin raised the curved blade and sliced through the hawser. “I set you free, Destiny,” he said, and then took his place at the helm.
And so they were under way. Once away from the pier and the other moorings, Evan loosed more canvas and their little ship leapt forward, as if eager to claim her freedom after so long mired at the dock. They threaded their way through the mouth of the harbor, passing in and out of the cool shadow cast by the pillars on either side—the sun dragons glittering in the sun.
Destin stood on the quarterdeck like a figurehead, gloved hands on the wheel, his long weather coat rippling around him. He tipped his head back, gazing up at the sculptures as they passed between them. “Have you learned how to use the dragons?”
“Maybe,” Evan said.
Destin looked amused. Then swung around, bracing himself against the sudden force of the winds as they passed into the open sea.
“Thirty degrees to larboard, Helmsman,” Evan called.
Destin shot a panicked look back at him, clearly searching through the nautical phrases and orders they’d practiced. Then he collected himself and said, “Aye, aye, Captain.” He turned forward, checked the compass, and adjusted their course southwest. Evan had charted a course far enough offshore to be forgiving, but close enough that they could seek an anchorage when they desired one.
Despite Evan’s limited ability to manage the sails on his own, and Destin’s lack of experience at the helm, Destiny turned out to be a nimble and responsive vessel, even with her novice crew. Through the day, they traded places, each playing multiple roles in navigation, piloting, and trimming the sails. They sang sea chanteys as they worked, which grew filthier and filthier as the day wore on.
That first night, they sailed through, each taking three-hour watches. On the second day, with Destin more comfortable trimming the sails and handling the steering, Evan experimented with manipulating the wind and currents. He found that by using weather magic and Destin’s amulet, he could more than compensate for their skeleton crew. Soon they were flying, whooping with joy, sails taut and spray needling their faces.
I could sail on like this forever, Evan thought, and never touch shore again.
The second night, having made good time, they anchored in a small cove. Evan cooked fish and lentils in the tiny galley while Destin fussed with a self-steering device he’d devised. He mounted it to the stern of the boat and then squirmed through the cabin, hauling lines to the tiller.
When he was finished, Evan eyed it with deep skepticism. “How does it work?”
Destin ran his fingers lovingly over a flat wooden blade that stuck up in the air. “This senses a change in the wind, which moves the tiller, which changes the direction of the ship to the most favorable point of wind.”
“What if that puts us off course?”
Destin shrugged. “It’s not for navigating in tight places. It’s more for what you call ‘blue-water sailing’—crossing large bodies of water where you’re not likely to run into anything. It allows for more flexibility with a small crew.” He laughed at Evan’s expression. “Don’t worry, Captain,” he said. “It won’t put you out of a job.”