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One and a half years before.
Cait Molyneux was the middle child of thirteen brothers and sisters. And though most of the current generation of Molyneux children took to the sea in some form or another, Cait rarely encountered any of them. They were in the news feeds often enough: Nara, Cait’s third youngest sister and a captain in La Patrolo Oceano de la Mondon had a reputation as a prolific pirate hunter, and Jing, Cait’s next oldest sister, occasionally passed, captaining a COS Navy convoy. Cait would signal to her a customary, if not textbook hello over the Relay. The response always came back the same, an official, if not delegated salutation.
So it was surprising Galle, Cait’s second oldest brother, signaled her into a tiny harbor on the south coast of the 21 Kingdoms. The Rose was piloted aside Galle’s massive ship, the Kelonio, and moored to her. In short order, a sturdy bridge had been built between the two ships. Over the feed, Galle let them know they would be performing for a fortnight, and the Rose was welcome to stay as long as they liked. Cait was happy to take him up on his offer.
The rest of the crew had already left the Rose when Cait made her final sweep of the ship, checking every light, making sure the range was off, and generally assuring herself the Rose wouldn’t burn down to the water line. The end of her checklist placed her in the entrance gallery. Nina waited there, sitting atop an old trunk, her arms folded across her chest, her ears down against her head. She watched down the newly constructed footbridge, her gaze unwavering against the acute rocking of the Rose.
“Hello, Nina,” Cait said, giving her a quick nod.
“Hello, Aunt Cait,” Nina said, unmoving.
Galle stood ready on the Kelonio side of the bridge, fielding questions as assistants and carpenters, performers and servants ran up to him, and then scattered like so many worker ants. It all stopped when Cait came aboard. The workers got close, saw the siblings Molyneux share a familial hug, and curved their path, running to find someone else to answer their questions.
“Caitie,” Galle said, smiling at his sister.
“Hello, Galle,” Cait said. “Sorry for the delay. Rose needed to be closed down.”
“Think nothing of it. I’m glad you’re still sailing after the ugliness.”
“As am I,” Cait said. She placed her hands on her hips and looked around the entryway. “I hope we are not being too much trouble.”
Galle tilted his head, his smile fading. “I’m not sure there’s enough of you to be considered trouble. Is that all that’s left?”
“After the ugliness, yes, just the four of us.”
Galle put his hand on Cait’s shoulder, and steered her into the Kelonio. A team of technicians fixed lights to a truss, and Galle leaned over their shoulders to get a look at their work. “Rumour has it Chou is keeping you sailing.”
“Rumours travel too fast,” Cait said. “That much is true. There was a loan involved, as I’m sure he has not minded telling you.”
“A couple times, I think.”
Cait narrowed her eyes. “Bollocks.”
Galle patted her shoulder, grinning wildly. “I love it when you swear. It’s a rare treat, like seeing a rainbow make love to a shark.”
“I am glad you are enjoying my embarrassment.”
“Nonsense,” Galle said. “It reminds me of summers in the Highlands. Nothing to do but sit around and drink whiskey.” Galle watched Cait’s reaction, and when he got none, he added, “Also, boys in kilts.”
“Oh, hush,” Cait said. “Boys in kilts were almost always more interested in Shinty than the silly girls that got tricked into spending their summers on land.”
“Then never mind,” Galle said. “Let me introduce you to the crew. Then we can commiserate about our Number One Brother over a pint.”
“Oh sure,” Cait said.
“There,” Galle said, brightening. “That’s the spirit.”
Just beyond the Kelonio’s new makeshift entrance stood the ring, large enough across to fit a good portion of the Rose in it. Crew swept the stands, one per row, moving at a steady pace around the ring. Lighting was being lifted into place, last minute adjustment to colors being fitted in. The lead clown, a brilliantly painted human Cait recognized from show posters, discussed with a lighting tech that night’s show, pointing to the ceiling, and then the floor, making big circles with a pen he carried in his hand. An assistant desperately tried to apply makeup as he moved.
Galle had made his money this way, with a circus. Inspired by his days as a Traveler, he traced his path across the countries he had visited, recruiting every street performer he had met, and called his show “Kelonio,” Merchant for “turtle.” Along the way he picked up artists and poets, musicians and contortionists, collecting them together into one surreal, captivating performance. In a decade’s time, he had enough for the huge ship Kelonio, and he took his show on tour. He hadn’t looked back since.
“How is Nina?” Cait asked, sliding her hands into her coat pockets.
Galle shook his head, sighing. “That girl… She’s just so angry all the time now.”
“She is fifteen, dear,” Cait said. “You were angry then as well.”
“Right. But this is more so. She’s isolated. Can’t get her to do work anymore, not even selling tickets in the box office. I had to get someone to take over for her. She hasn’t left her room in a week. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“She has left her room,” Cait said, “and is on the Rose right now. I suppose we have made a little progress.”
“On the Rose? Doing what?”
“Moving in, it seems. She had her personal effects packed when I had come over.”
Galle turned back towards the reception gallery. “Sorry, Cait…”
Cait caught him by his arm and pulled him back. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Galle stopped, hands on his hips, and eyed Cait.
“Neither one of us had to grow up in the company of our parents. I was never around Archer when you were, so I don’t know if you stayed during the summer months. But I did, and so did Xin and Jing, and M’Bana, Tambo and Sinka. I am sure the rest of our brothers and sisters did, too. Nothing against mum and dad, but I think we all grew apart from them the moment we set foot in Archertown. And I think that part of us is in Nina.”
Starting back towards the interior of the ship, Galle put his head down, drawing a deep sigh from within himself. “I feel as though I have been a bad father.”
“Nonsense,” Cait said, falling into step next to him. “But I think you have to let her go.”
“Celine won’t be happy.”
“No,” Cait said. “I can’t imagine she would be.”
The whine of engines engulfed the ring, and the top of the Kelonio slowly split open. Above, the rusty light of sunset spilled down into the boat. Just outside the ring, performers and crew began pushing floats into place along the corridor. Galle led Cait up a sparse spiral staircase, to a box overlooking the ring. The rest of the Rose was there, sharing their company with a few of the Kelonio’s performers. Cait held back in the entry way, watching her crew relax for the first time in months. Xiphos noticed, and stepped away from the knot of people to stand next to Cait. On her way, she grabbed a pint from the bar along the back of the box.
“Sir?” She asked, handing the pint to Cait.
Cait took it. “Thank you, dear,” she said. After a moment, she looked over at the cat. Xiphos’s still-crisp Helmsman patch had been sewn onto her coat, likely by Billy. Cait took away Xiphos’s pint.
“Hey,” Xiphos said, narrowing her eyes at Cait.
“There will be plenty of time to finish it later. But right now, you are taking it too fast.”
“It’ll get warm,” Xiphos said, folding her arms over her chest.
“There is plenty more, I assure you. I need you to do something for me.”
Xiphos’s ears perked.
“There is a girl in the reception gallery. Tell her she can leave her belongings there, but we need her here so we can talk about her moving aboard the Rose.”
“Fine,” Xiphos said. She stomped down the steps. Cait set her pint on the bar, and she looked out over the ring. People had begun to file in to the stands. Tre and Billy smiled in the glow of beer and company, and for the moment, the crew of the Rose was happy.
Galle took his place next to Cait. He admired the ring a moment, his big ears flicking around as he watched the crowd take their seats. “You promise to take care of my Nina?”
“Yes,” Cait said. “And to make sure she comes back to you a better person she was before she set foot on my boat.”
“She’s not broken, Cait.”
“She’s as not broken as a Molyneux can be,” Cait said. “That is why she needs to do this.”
Galle nodded. “And like a good Molyneux, we cannot stop her.”
Cait looked back at the bartender, who nodded and handed her a pint. She gave it to Galle and, raising her own glass, said, “then to Molyneux stubbornness, may it drive us to success if it doesn’t drive us to madness first.”
“Hear, hear,” Galle said. He took a long, pensive drink. “Now,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I believe we were going to talk about Number One Brother.”
[g]
Curious. It’s nice to get a snapshot into the past, and I like the idea of a boat-travelling circus.
^_^ I’m glad you do. Thanks for reading through thus far! I hope you come back this coming Monday for the update.
“Here here,” not http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hear,_hear ?
Check. I’m sure that was one I had doubts about, and then moved on due to time and work and whatnot. Thanks for the catch.