"She would not have wanted me to do this," he told himself as he reached the door out of the hold and hauled on the bar that held it closed. "She would not have wanted me to do any of this."
The bar was jammed solidly. Gritting his teeth, Crucias rose and kicked. The bar shifted upward. Another kick, and the thing had nearly cleared its bracket. "Nothing can be easy. Not even this." He kicked one last time.
A creaking groan began, and he shied back. Wood splintered. Something struck the door, and it split, spilling rubble out on him. A beam rammed Crucias's belly. A cargo hook struck his head. He would have spun away except for the debris that mired his legs. The landslide of wreckage continued over him, burying him to the waist. Crucias twisted, struggling to wrench himself free of the pile, but a jabbing pain began in his side.
The ache intensified, stretching out through his chest and into his neck.
"This is it, then," he thought bitterly and slumped down in the debris. "This is it."
"Sit down, Daddy. It's getting cold," Nunieve said the next morning. She was on the verandah overlooking the sea, red bricks and grape vines embracing her in the cool air of morning.
Crucias stood where always he did, though this time, he knew it was only a dream. "There was no next morning, Nunieve," he said sadly. "You died last night."
She shrugged, leaning over to pat a little metal seat beside her. "I just wanted to see if you would make it through."
"If I would make it through?"
"Yes, through the night," she said simply. Her smile would have seemed almost mischievous had she not been so sad. "Now, come and sit."
"Oh, darling, this is only a dream."
"Yes. In this dream, I always ask you to sit, but you never do," she replied scoldingly. "It's a dream, Daddy. You can do whatever you want. Come, sit with me."
"Yes," he said, releasing a grateful sigh. "Yes."
With elaborate decorum, she lifted the teapot and poured his cup to the brim. The brown liquid sent up a gentle fragrance. Her hands were small and tan above the white porcelain.
"I broke these cups last night, too."
"Yes," she said. The tea poured contentedly from the little pot. "But you made it through. I was afraid you wouldn't. I was afraid your life would end."
"It did, darling. It did," Crucias assured. This time the tea was not scalding or bitter. "You were my whole life and future. I tried to go on. I built a ship in your name, but she wasn't you. And I couldn't provide for her, either. She wasted away, just as you did." He shook his head and let out a rueful laugh. "When you died, darling, my world had come to an end. And when the ship I named after you died, the whole world came to an end in a great explosion that consumed everything. The ship was destroyed by the blast and the storms afterward. I was blinded and battered and buried in a pile of rubble."
She looked at him over her cup of tea. Her eyes seemed older, her expression grown-up despite her young face. "What did you do then?"
A look of perplexity crossed his face, and he lowered the teacup, only half emptied. "What did I do then?"
"Yes."
"Well, darling-" he laughed darkly, "-I died. That's what I did then."
Her look turned to one of consternation. "You died?"
He nodded. "I died."
"You were one of the last people left alive in hundreds of miles of ocean, and you didn't make it through?"
Crucias reached over to take her hand. "What reason did I have to live? If I had had a reason I could have done anything. I could have crawled out from under all this rubble. I could have braved the storms to clear the deck. I could have manned the pumps by myself and found some way to smell for land or listen for stars. If I had had you beside me, I would have had my whole world again, and I could have done anything."
"You have me." Her voice had changed, eager still but not young, the voice of a woman instead of a child. Her face was fading-her face and the verandah and the morning sea beyond. A pulpy darkness seeped through the fabric of dream, and only the woman's voice remained. "You do have me. I thought I was the only one left alive until you opened the hold door."
"Nunieve, you're only a dream," he said wearily, groping for her hands.
"I'm not a dream," she answered. She clutched his hands tightly. "And I am not Nunieve. My name is Elgia. I'm Lady Gheiri's niece."
"Elgia?" Crucias replied. Where am I? "I was dreaming," he said into the tangled darkness of the cyclone. "I thought you were my daughter."
"Call me what you will. I want you to get up. I want you to get this ship back under control. I want you to take me to land."
He shook his head and felt icy brine dripping onto his shoulders. "I can't. I'm done."
"What about all the things you just said? About pumping out the ship and clearing the decks and steering to land?"
"I don't have any fight left in me, my dear. I'm worn-out-battered, blind. There is nothing left to believe in-"
The answer was immediate: "Believe in me. I want to live. Isn't that enough? I want to live."
So like Nunieve. So strong and determined and brave.
"It wasn't enough for my daughter."
"It should have been," Elgia said, desperate. "It should have been enough."
So like Nunieve.
"Yes. It should have been. But out there is a monster, perhaps a god, that sees all the should-have-beens in human lives and makes them impossible. Call it what you will-fate or curse, hatred or caprice-but it remains, the implacable darkness."
"I can see, Captain. I was below decks when whatever happened happened. I can see, and I can lift and tie and pump and anything you need me to do. You just tell me what to look at, and I'll see for you. I want to live."
A new breath entered him. For the first time since his daughter had died, Captain Crucias really breathed. "I was Yotian, Elgia. My daughter was Yotian. There is an ancient Yotian belief that every person has many souls, that you can always be redeemed. At any moment, you can let go of the old souls that ruled you, let them fall into damnation and begin a new soul. That's what my daughter was to me. Whenever I was sure my life was over, she appeared and brought me back up into the light of heaven. That's what Nunieve was to me-my keeper of souls."
"Listen to me!" Elgia's voice was desperate. There was a loneliness and fear in her tone, the sound of utter abandonment. "I want to live! I want to live!"
Crucias smiled. He actually smiled. Blind and battered and trapped in the Sargasso of his old life-trading off a damned soul for a newborn one-Crucias smiled. "Then help me dig my way out of this mess, Elgia. I want to live, too." The Mirror of Yesterday Jonathan Tweet