A raven flew past, then changed direction and headed for them, its eyes centered on Prin. Brice saw it and reached for the bill of his hat. As the bird started to speak, he waved his hat and frightened it, drawing the attention of those nearby, including the mage. The raven flew off, as Prin watched the mage for any reaction. There was none. She felt the most dangerous part of the voyage was behind her, and the ship was still tied to the pier.
Brice handed his three tickets to the purser at the top of the ramp and received directions to their cabin. The design of the ship easily fit the needs of a modern passenger ship. All the woodwork held multiple coats of varnish, while the hull and most of the rest of the beautiful ship gleamed white from fresh paint in the late afternoon sunshine. The main deck held a single central passageway with well-marked doors on either side. Their cabin was 16. Brice held the iron key.
The deck above the main deck contained the dining room, sitting room, bar, and even a small library. Ample seating inside and outside on the deck provided the passengers with a view and a promenade for walking. It circled the entire ship. All other areas were reserved for the crew. The working parts of the ship were also shielded from the passengers. There would be little, if any, mixing between the crew and passengers.
Brice used the key and stepped aside. The cabin was roomy enough for one. Two tiny bunks were built-in, one above the other. Not even a closet or chest. The bottom bunk was high enough off the floor for their luggage to slide underneath leaving a “walkway” wide enough for one. Prin fondly remembered her snug hammock on the Merry Princess and longed for the same.
Their baggage had been neatly laid on the lower bed. A single small square window provided a view of the city if they knelt to look up the hillside. At sea, the view would be of the water.
Prin said, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Nonsense,” Sara said. “You and I will sleep in the lower bunk, our heads at opposite directions.”
“Is there room?” Prin asked.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Brice offered but didn’t sound sincere.
Sara removed a bag and slid it under the bunk. “We’ll make do. Nobody will sleep on the floor if there is room to do otherwise.”
They pitched in and soon emptied the lower bunk. If anything, it looked even smaller. Prin cast a questioning look at Sara.
Brice muttered, “I don’t suppose either of you knows a spell to make them larger?”
“Like the stretch-spell used in Maude’s garden?” Sara asked, then continued, “I wish I’d have learned that one.”
Brice was confused, not realizing how many things had been kept from him over the years. “There’s such a thing? It was a joke.”
Sara climbed onto the bottom bunk. “Come on, Brice. Use your mind. You remember the day when we searched for her hidden workshop?”
Prin watched Sara take up more than half the bed before attempting to climb in, to the amusement of both Brice and Sara. “Remember? The workshop didn’t extend outside, so where was it when you entered?”
He paused. “I guess I was so impressed by it, and all it contained, that I never thought about the shape of the house. I knew there was something odd about the hallway with our rooms, but decided it just couldn’t be seen from the garden.”
Prin climbed into the lower bunk, wiggled and squirmed until she managed to lie beside Sara, although neither would be turning over during the night without the cooperation of the other. Still, it was better than sleeping on the floor. Probably.
Brice snapped his fingers in sudden understanding, “That endless hallway where our rooms were. How did that even exist on the land for Maude’s house? And the garden out back was bigger than when you looked from the street.”
Prin said, “Never mind thinking about that stuff. I want to be on the outside deck when we depart.”
“Me too,” Sara said. “That was always my favorite part of being a sailor. Departing and arriving.”
Brice began climbing down from his bunk. “I’ll go with you. By the way, the Merry Princes tied up when my ship was in Indore.”
Prin sat up, bumping her head on the bottom of the bunk overhead. “Did you go there? Were the captain and bos’n glad to see you?”
“They both asked about the two of you and offered you jobs on the deck if you would return.”
Sara sighed, “If only we could.”
Really?” he asked. “You’d be a cook’s helper and Prin a deckhand again?”
“In an instant. That was a good part of our lives,” Sara declared. “There are a hundred ports we never sailed to, and sometimes I wonder what we missed in them.”
Prin led the way to the deck outside, and they stood on the promenade deck searching for Maude’s carriage, knowing it wouldn’t be there, but hoping for one last glance. Instead, she instantly spotted two more mages. How many of them are there?
They were speaking to a pair of young women, one with blonde hair. Prin felt a pang of guilt at what those two women must have to put up with. They probably couldn’t take a hundred steps without being accosted and confused with Sara and her.
She glanced at Sara and Brice. They appeared old in age, but familiar. Maude hadn’t changed their total appearances—that would be far too difficult to maintain. Instead, she had given them the wrinkles that come with age, huge noses that instantly drew attention instead of other body parts. Beyond the basic appearances, they all knew to move and act old.
In particular, Prin enjoyed being cranky, especially when there were young people around. She ate what she wanted, and when she wanted to do it, and made no bones about throwing tantrums when she didn’t get her way. “Say, I wonder when we can get something to eat?”
“Now, that’s an idea,” Brice said, his head spinning to look at the windows behind. Inside were rows of tables, and people were sitting at many of them, food on the plates in front of them.
Sara said, “Me too. Let’s go see what’s inside.”
A man dressed in white from hat to shoes waited inside to seat them. He consulted a notepad. “A window table?”
“Please,” Sara said.
He scribbled the false family name they’d given across an empty table on his seating chart. Most of the tables were already assigned to passengers. “This way, please. If the table is acceptable, it will remain yours for the entire voyage.”
The table was pushed against the wall of windows, three chairs on the other three sides. The view was of the pier—and the backs of those few passengers standing at the rail outside watching the departure. “Perfect,” Sara assured him.
He helped seat them, then began a memorized spiel in a monotone, “You may eat at any time, but the food is determined by our cooks, and there can be no individual preferences. However, I’m confident you’ll find the food better than that served on other ships. We also have a doctor on board, and he can attend to minor injuries. He has medicine to prevent seasickness.”
All three giggled in unison at the last statement, interrupting his memorized speech. Sara said, “We’ve all crewed on ships, so I think we’ll be fine.”
It didn’t appease him. The man stood stiffly and said through lips that barely moved, “A steward will be with you soon.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Sara said.
“Not a problem,” said the man who was apparently insulted. He spun and returned to his station near the door.
A diner at the next table leaned close and whispered, “It wasn’t what you said. The steward gets upset when he can’t give his full speech.”