Several of the crew were still on deck, adjusting the mainsail in the shifting wind. The sky had gone gray, the waves tipped with white, and the air had taken on harder, sharper edge of salt. Donal looked over from the helm and nodded.

“Captain,” he said. “The wind’s picked up a fair bit and shifted ‘round to the east. I’ve got the crew adjusting the sail. We’ll be reefing it in more should things get stronger.”

“Good call,” Caleb replied. “Think we’re in for a gale?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say as much, that’d be fit to throw the jinx.” Donal gestured as if tossing salt over his shoulder. “Salt up, we’ll be ready if it does.”

“We’ve not been through rough seas with the Spitfire just yet. So we’ll all be learning how she handles what’s thrown at her.”

“Aye, I’m still learning new things about her myself. Look.”

Donal reached down and tapped the wooden column that supported the ship’s wheel. Caleb heard a tiny snick. A little shelf popped out at the base of the helm’s platform. Three separate compartments contained a spare spyglass, a tiny oil lantern, and a compass.

“Someone turned this into a binnacle!” he exclaimed. His helmsman looked puzzled at the term, so he went on. “It’s a shelf with instruments to help us navigate.”

Taking care not to bend his injured leg, Caleb bent over to take a better look. The compass had been set into a painted metal sphere designed to shift back and forth with the movement of the ship. That would allow the needle to remain steady, even in rough seas.

“Interesting,” Caleb remarked. “The lantern’s there to give you light should you need to consult the compass after dark.”

Donal considered. “I think I’d be better off using the stars.”

“During overcast, like now, the stars aren’t much of an option.”

“Oh, aye. It’s just that the compass seems to be off the furrow. Broken.”

Caleb took another look at the instrument. Sure enough, the needle lay limply off to one side. The round metal compass housing itself had also been dented, preventing it from moving.

One of his two magic sub-specialties immediately leapt to mind. A turn of his hand called it up.

Craft with Iron Spells available for individuals ranked up through Level Fourteen:

Magnetize Needle Locate Metal Shard Hold Metal Shard Mend Forge Crack, Minor Extend Forge Crack, Minor Sense Metallic Weapon’s Qualities Sense Value of Coinage Align Metal Object Change Metal Object’s Buoyancy Heat Dispersion Mend Forge Crack Extend Forge Crack (25) Assess Metallic Object’s Value (26)

Caleb began by laying a hand on the compass housing. He invoked the first spell he wanted and felt a strange twang run up his fingers as he did so.

Align Metal Object

The dent popped out, allowing the sphere to move once more. He followed that up by grasping the compass needle between two fingers. A second invocation activated his next spell.

Magnetize Needle

That was followed by another twang that ran up his fingers. A new screen popped up in his Quest Window.

New Beginner's-Level Quest: Successfully cast the first spell in each of your two Magical Sub-Specialties. STATUS: COMPLETE.

Well, that’s a little ironic, Caleb thought, as he watched the newly charged needle swing around towards the magnetic north. I used the first Weathermancy spell, Call Up Mist, while still in my cell back on Irongrasp. Took me a while to get to this one.

Donal let out a low whistle as his Captain straightened up.

“Prayer’s up, I’m glad you can’t cast spells on wood! Otherwise I’d be out of a job outside of helming the ship!”

“I doubt that, my friend,” Caleb said with a laugh. “By the by, did you happen to see where Shaw and Miss Morningstar went off to?”

“They’ve been up on the afterdeck, Captain. Talking. Can’t hear what they’re going on about, but it hasn’t been a particularly stormy discussion.”

“Right. I’ll head up to see them once I fix our broken cannon.”

He headed down the larboard side steps to the main deck. A small group of men and women were gathered around the cannon, running through their gunnery drill. Two were brand new, as was the leader of the gun crew. That leader, a wiry-looking man with dark hair shot through with gray, made the two-fingered Avalonian salute as Caleb approached.

“Lucas Calum at your service, Captain,” he said, in a firm, dry voice. “Quartermaster Sheahan appointed me to run the team here. I’ve been puttin’ us through the arming and firing procedure.”

“So I see,” Caleb replied. “You’ve got a challenge ahead. Jaime Quinton set a high bar.”

“Aye, pokin’ out the eye of the Stone Angel! But we’ll get there.”

“Not if you don’t have a functioning cannon. I’m here to see what I can do about that.”

Caleb walked around the gun, eyes searching for the damage Donal had mentioned. Sure enough, there was a shallow chunk missing out of the barrel and a hairline crack that extended several inches towards the rear.

He placed his hands on the crack and closed his eyes. He sensed the interior layers of the metal beneath his fingers, like the grain in freshly cut wood. Then he invoked the second of his two recently activated spells.

Mend Forge Crack

This time the twang of sensation that flowed through his hands made his fingers vibrate. He heard surprised gasps come from around him as the crack sealed itself before his eyes. The metal surrounding the chunk that had been taken out of the gun’s barrel smoothed out and filled in.

Lucas Calum let out a low whistle.

“Never have I seen the like! You keep surprising us all, Captain!”

Caleb let out a breath. He felt tired now, as if he’d finished hiking a particularly strenuous trail. Still, he smiled grimly at the compliment as the mainsail rippled and bellied out even further with a harder gust of wind.

“Let’s just hope this gun fires true. Finish your drill and then secure the weapon. Weather’s starting to act up.”

The gun crew gave him a Yezzir. Then they went to work with a will as he headed back towards the helm. Caleb stopped at the base of the first set of steps and looked up.

He made out the side of Grimshaw’s snowy white furled wing and the very tip of Tavia’s horn. Once again, he took the two sets of stairs carefully. The sea’s waves had started tipping over into whitecaps, and the Spitfire shuddered and lurched anew.

The creak of the wooden steps announced his arrival. Both mare and drake looked up from where they’d been deep in conversation. Their expressions weren’t hostile, but they lacked the warmth and easy familiarity that Caleb had gotten used to.

He took a deep breath as he saw that the three of them were alone on the afterdeck. Then he limped over to the pair.

“I realize that neither of you are pleased with me right now,” he began right away. “I can’t blame you. As much as we’re alike, we’re from different worlds. There are always going to be some differences in the choices we make. I only want to ask two things of you.”

Neither Tavia nor Shaw said anything. But Caleb thought he saw the barest trace of a nod from them, so he pushed on.

“The first request is: Even if you disapprove of my methods, I’d like you to keep Daffodil’s presence on board a secret for now. Humans simply aren’t as noble as unicorns and griffins. They’re capable of a lot more dishonesty and greed than you’d expect.”

“Doth that include our captain?” Shaw rumbled.

“Guilty, on both counts,” Caleb sighed. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I’m no angel. And I was a great deal worse in my life, my past life, before I came here. Shaw, you and Tavia are shining examples of the way we should be. Courageous, inspiring, and damn good at what you do.”

The griffin ruffled his feathers. “Thou art trying flattery now.”

“Then don’t listen to my words,” Caleb insisted. “Ignore them if you want. Judge my actions instead. The fact is, you’re needed. Both of you.”

“I doubt that we’re all that necessary,” Tavia demurred. “If you seek glory, then–”

“Dammit, Tavia, this isn’t about me,” Caleb shot back. “It’s about everyone on board this ship, the ones who were ripped from their homes and sent to perish for the sake of the death cultists of Myr. The Arrenmar are good people.”

The mare let out an equine snort at that.

“Good people. So good, that they have to be lied to in order to keep the peace on board ship?”

“The very same. They’re not perfect, but I do know this: There’s no way any of us would’ve gotten this far without you and Grimshaw. Which brings me to request number two.”

“That being?”

“I’m sure that leaving the Spitfire has crossed both of your minds. As soon as we’re within flying or swimming distance of land, either of you could jump ship. My second request…is that you reconsider leaving. Not for me. For the rest of the humans on board.”

Both unicorn and griffin looked away for a long, silent moment. Rain began to patter down in a warm drizzle. Finally, Shaw cleared his throat and fixed his great golden eyes on Caleb’s face.

“Thou hast cleft my feelings in two,” he intoned. “Yet if thy recent words have been false, thy past actions have always been true. And thou didst not plead on thy own behalf, but for others. This counts greatly in thy favor, and I shall grant thy requests. For now.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said simply.

“I shall ponder upon this some more whilst airborne.”

“With the weather turning foul? Is that a good idea?”

“Foul? This? ‘Tis nothing but a small gale which approaches!”

“All right,” Caleb allowed. “Just…when you get back, I’d prefer that you don’t sleep out in the rain, especially if it gets heavier. My great cabin is always open to you.”

Shaw acknowledged those words with a snap of his beak. Then he spread his wings and took off into the stormy sky with a blast of downdraft. The griffin gained altitude quickly and disappeared into the clouds just as a peal of thunder rumbled through the darkening sky.

Caleb turned to Tavia next. She saved him the trouble by speaking first.

“It is my turn to apologize, Caleb,” she said. “In talking with Grimshaw, I’ve realized that my feelings aren’t as…well, as ‘cleft’ as his.”

“They’re not?” he asked, amazed. “I thought your objections were larger than his. He didn’t like the fact that I deceived the crew. But you felt that many things we’ve done conflicts with your being a paladin.”

She shifted uncomfortably on her hooves at that. The rain stopped for a moment, though now the horizon lit up with sparks of lightning. More rumbles followed.

“I’m a little conflicted, yes. Maybe more than a little. But I spoke more out of blind emotion than thought. As for why…well, it’s something I think you can relate to.”

“I hope so, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“When you died in your world and arrived here, what happened to your memories?”

Caleb shook his head ruefully.

“They came out as hash. I began by remembering almost nothing beyond my name. Some vague ideas about who I was, that’s it.”

“And it’s been coming back to you in pieces, correct?”

“Yeah, it has. Most nights, I get another one or two of those pieces back.”

“The same process has been taking place with Grimshaw. And me.” She tossed her mane, making her beads rattle wetly. “I died in my world, the Morning Land. Even though I never met Lir, Danu, or Myr, I awoke in Avalon with precious few of my memories intact. But those memories are slowly returning. And that is why I reacted as strongly as I did.”

“You mean when you said–”

“That I trusted you as if you were the leader of my Knightly Order. Then accused you of playing the crew for fools.”

He frowned. “You reacted the way you did…because someone lied to you before? In your former life?”

“Yes,” Tavia said firmly. “What’s more, I think that lie is what led me to my death.”