[Fanfiction] Kings on the Main

A short introduction:
I won't talk long. If my story's no good on its own, it isn't going to improve by me going on about it. Just as a brief synopsis, this is basically "Wind Waker" told from the point of view of all major characters, not just Link. "Wind Waker" has a cast as good as "Majora's Mask" and I thought it was a shame we didn't get more insight into them. The plot will parallel the main story lines, sometimes from very close, sometimes from a distance.
Of course, some details have been changed a little (I treat Link as a mute in this work because the idea of him being unable to speak isn't explored enough) but there's no new characters, no major changes. Just speculation through the eyes of Wind Waker's extensive cast.
Comments and criticism are appreciated. Especially criticism. I want to improve, and not just "misplaced a comma there" improvements. But, above all, I hope you enjoy it.

***

Orca:

I have seen the beast.

A dozen eyes cover its body, flitting, yellow, capable of finding the smallest flotsam in the deepest trench. Its arms, massive, strong enough to change the tides of the water, to pull one down, to hurl the greatest warriors out to sea.

I have seen the beast.

My brother and I were warriors once. I wielded a blade then; he, his mind. I dare not admit it now, but Sturgeon was always the better warrior. No matter how much I have trained or how strong my arm or how sharp my blade, I have never beaten an opponent without at least raising my hand against them. Sturgeon, he mastered an art I never could, the art of thought. Now he locks himself in his home, ten paces side to side, twenty fore to aft. Such a tiny cell for such a powerful force. His wall lined with his writings, shadowboxing for his intellect, his shelves heavy with books his eyes can barely read anymore. My stronger brother.

The boy has been coming to him often these days. I know this because I hear them at times, their voices drifting down through the floor. Or I should say Sturgeon’s voice. He does talk, that brother of mine. Even if the boy wanted to get a word in, he never would be able to. As Sturgeon locked himself up in his cell, so he’s locked his mind away in his skull, even refusing to pour it out to Sue-Belle, reigned by the sad thought that a female mind does not have the ability to hold his wealth of knowledge. But the boy he trusts with his art. He speaks to him, for hours. And the boy listens.

We were warriors, warriors from this very island. It was a harder time then, a heavier time. I carried a blade, not this fisherman’s spear. I cleaved wood to harden my arms. I climbed the sharp spires of Outset to harden my legs. I honed my blade against the winds. Sturgeon read. He tired his eyes on tiny, smeared words, he tired his minds on the weapons of ideas, on knowledge, on truth. He never raised a hand.

Our mother left us at my birth, taken by the winds even as they supplied me breath to cry. Our father left us nothing but a fishing boat and our mother’s books. He left this island when I was old enough to work. I watched him go, deep in the night, while my brother slept. I thought he did not see me, until he, out in the surf, already out to sea, called to me, “You were a beast boy. To slay your own mother, you must have no heart at all. You are a thing of darkness. A curse, from an ancient legend. To think I brought you here.”

He did not say it, but it was not my mother that separated my father from me. It was my brother, my brother who looked up to me, though I was younger, for my strength, for my wildness, who sought to match me on his own grounds. It was my brother who had loved mother and who loved me more than he did our constantly missing father. Our father was ever the stranger in our house. So like a stranger, he wandered away.

I hear the boy now, or, at least, I seem to. The house is always quiet. Even when Sue-Belle goes upstairs or visits me, silence sits here. But when the boy comes, the words flow. I hear the ages and ages of lonely thought from my brother pouring out, overfilling this place, filling me too. And when the boy comes to me, I find something strange. My life since seeing the beast has been one of lonesome, regret-less peace. But when he comes to see me, when we exchange blows, strike blade to spear, when I see his smile as he understands, as his young mind understands the motions and flow of battle, I feel a very different peace. A full peace, a peace earned, not simply had. I feel as if this could have been my son. I feel as if this is the father I could have been, had I been brave enough.

We survived together, Sturgeon and I. He knew the secrets of fishing; I knew the secrets of labor and work. We refused to let the other out match us, so that we constantly honed one another, like stone to edge. We brought in catches that almost sank our tiny boat. He knew the motions of the fish, the ebb and flow of the tides, the drift of the currents and wind. I hauled the nets, drove the oars, guided the sail, hefted the load. So often we were lost in that wide blue, but never alone. We saw islands unfamiliar and strange. A reef perfectly square, higher than our mast. A rocky waste of land where a stone face sat year after year leering out at the salty waters, as if close to comprehending them. A heart shaped island we dared not step foot on for the strength of the powerful presence that laid there.

It was on these voyages that my brother and I became warriors. We would drift, with scant supplies, for our boat could hold little in the way of rations, until we found land and there we would brave whatever danger for food and water. We were each determined that, no matter what extreme, the other must survive. In so doing, we preserved each other.

My boy, you would have been proud to face me in those days. What lessons I could have taught you with those able arms. You would have seen my blade like a vapor over the grass, cutting down the creatures of prey. If only I could see you now, wielding my sword as you deserve, wielding it with an arm better suited than my own. My boy.

Sturgeon. What manner of terrible, powerful art would you have taught our boy? The way you stepped from the boat, legs swaying every time, never used to the switch between land and sea. The way your eyes, far sharper than mine, took in the land, familiar or strange, small or wide. The way you knew the danger before it came. How often you told me what to do, to prepare for the creatures that waited in the underbrush or the bandits in ambush. Your strategy, your maneuvers. You would have taught him war.

The ring of your sword stays here my boy, even after you have gone. It fills this house with the energy of what could have been. The pots shake in fear even now. The walls groan, tired from the strain of holding your energy in. My arm still aches, do you know? Did you ever see the small flinch on my face when I guarded wrong? Did you ever notice how I preferred my left hand to carry the weight of your blows? I’m certain you did, but you did not know the reason. You, too, carry the weight of your battles in your left hand, but not like I do.

The creatures and bandits left treasure. We often hoped for an ambush, so we would be able to raid some store of stolen gems and wares to sell. No one could match us. My hand was too strong. Sturgeon’s mind too keen. I broke any shield, beat dull any sword, crushed any armor. My brother never raised a hand.

Then we faced the Knight.

Where He came from, I do not know. The island we encountered him on was a twist of land north of Outset, shaped like a fish. Sturgeon had seen a cave there several times; perhaps that was where He emerged. I do not know.

He attacked us in the night. Were it not for our campfire and Sturgeon’s eye, He would have cleaved my head open. It was a hideous struggle, waged in weariness, surprise, and, I will admit, fear. His armor was dark, blending in with the shadows. The fire caught the spines of metal and gave him a dozen eyes (so like the beast). He threw his arm and my guard broke. He nearly hurled me into the fire, into the ocean, into my own blade. I floundered. How could I have known there was a force more wild and savage than me?

But Sturgeon did not falter. He saw the opening in the Knight’s armor, along His back. He directed my blows, comprehended His pattern and warned me of his attacks. I dodged his blade, found the opening, and laid my sword into it up to the hilt. The Knight never made a sound as He collapsed, His armor falling off to reveal a body covered in fur. Beneath His helmet, the face of a dog, caught in a snarl, threatening even in death.

My attack cut loose the belt the Knight wore. It fell to the ground and I lifted it, marveling at its weight. The thick leather, the studs clean of blood or stain, the crest in the center depicting a helmeted bird.

This spoil we did not sell. It rests here. It has caught your eye before, I know. I see you at times peek at it, I see the curiosity that my brother loves so much rising behind that gaze. Even without me telling you, I believe you understand the symbol of the belt, if only a little. You know it is the sign of a true warrior, don’t you boy? You know it is a spoil of savage violence, won only with the sharpest mind and strongest arm and toughest will. You know you will seek such a spoil one day, don’t you my boy?

I can still hear you listening attentively to Sturgeon’s lectures on conduct, on sailing, on horticulture, on biology, on women (it always pleased me to see that that particular lecture never took much hold in you). But he never told you of the belt did he?

We were warriors, my brother and I, and this spoil was finally the proof of it. We had overcome the Knight, the hardiest warrior he and I had ever encountered. We put aside the nets. We used our assortment of spoils to purchase a larger boat, supplies, a sharper blade. No more of this quiet life. We would find more of this Knight’s brotherhood. Nine more at least. We would show that the brats abandoned by the fisherman were not to end up like their father, lonely rowers of dingies. We would prove that we were warriors, to be respected by even the finest holder of blades.

Can you guess my boy that we did not succeed? In all our years of travel, we encountered no more of the Knight’s brothers. It was as if He’d strayed from some squad of soldiers marching deep under the sea to a dark goal and wandered up onto the surface by chance. We searched every land, every barren rock. I even dared to step foot on one of the heart shaped islands so crushed by the awful presence of Someone of terrible power and feminity. I think it was Sturgeon’s inability to brave the presence of the powerful Lady of that island with me that gave him his view of women.

Though we fought and destroyed countless monsters, we never found another Knight. But what finally drove us back here, to Outset, was the beast.

We were sailing far to the north. There was no land in sight, only the call of the sea gulls, thick in the sky. We had no warning before a powerful current swept our boat into a circling pool. Sturgeon moved faster than me, taking the sail, keeping us from capsizing as water filled the ship and the air. The sun was blotted out, there was so much spray, covering us in darkness. In the midst of this storm, the creature emerged.

You know what it looks like, don’t you boy? You know. You haven’t seen it, but you know its tough hide, its flailing arms, its eyes. If not, you will. You will, I know.

It towered above our boat. Sturgeon was too busy fighting the sail, rain pouring down on us. Amid the cloud of water, its eyes glowed like ball lightning. It was trying to pull us in, trying to pull us down. I could not let it take us.

I took my sword, I leapt from the boat. I aimed for those eyes.

Water. The great pressure of being tossed, pulled, whirled in the deep. Somewhere far above, Sturgeon shouting. A pain in my arm.

I have hurt you before, haven’t I my boy? But you never show any sign of lasting pain. You grit your teeth, you bite your pain, devour it, swallow it whole, and never let it overtake you. I remember during one of our early practices, you came down on your foot wrong. Your guard fell as my swing came toward you. You had no defense, and I was moving too quickly to pull back. The tip of my spear parted the shirt above your belly. I was terrified to see you bleed. I would have landed on my own spear rather than hurt you. But you did not stop. You wrapped your stomach, took up your stance. You never stopped.

When I awoke, I was beside our boat on stepped land, covered in rocks and moss. We were in a gulch between two of the steppes, the tide rising up to lap at our feet, our boat knocking against the stone outcroppings. My brother’s squinted in the sun. Even then, he had already grown older.

“Did you see the beast?”

“I saw bravery wasted. I saw what we cannot best brother. I’m done playing the hooligan.”

After that day, Sturgeon put his weapon aside. He has never taken it up since. For my part, I can no longer hold my blade as I once did. The beast took what even the Knight could not. I could train myself to lead with my left arm, but the dance I once led with my enemies has ended. It shames me to be such a sad teacher to you my boy. You deserve the man who leapt out into the rain. Instead, you have only the fisherman that washed up on the shore.

You are growing quickly Link. Your arm is strong, your stance sure. Does your belly still have the scar? I doubt it pains you. Sturgeon’s voice has grown softer and softer in his lectures. His cup to you is almost empty. You are, or, at least, you will soon be, a warrior my boy. In you, there is potential to be a better warrior than either I or my brother. There is potential to be the greatest warrior. So far. For after you, of course, there will be the one you teach. But that is the stuff of legends, is it not?

I will not tell you the story of the knight’s belt or of the beast. Not yet. I will only help you to learn, even if there is little left for me to teach. But I know that it is not just for your benefit that I teach you. It is for me too. You can be what I almost was. I want you to carry on the swing, the stab, the dance of Orca.

I want you to be a beast. My beast.

Grandmother:

I know many legends.

I’ve heard them all. From the dawn of the world, to the far future when the tides will roll forward like scrolls and take the land back to the depths. Shall I tell you the stories? I know how the islands were formed from the primal deeps of the sea, hardened masses of deep water raised up to the surface. Yes, didn’t you know Aryll? The ground you walk on is actually of the deepest ocean. All beneath your feet was once, and will be again, the ever-enduring ocean. The ocean which holds all legends equally silent, equally sure. Once, this Great Sea we live on was pure water, not a speck of dust or dirt on the still waters. Because there obviously were no waves, since there was no shore. Until the gods saw fit to raise up from the deepest parts of the sea the dark dark masses of water, crushed under the depths, formed into solid stone, and these emerged from below, becoming the islands we walk upon.

Link, you never liked that story did you? The thought of walking on the raised depths frightens you. It is that weight of eternity, isn’t it? You do not like to think of something so long lasting, so ever present and unchangeable as the sea. I know my boy. Very well, let me tell you a different legend.

I did not come from Outset Island. I came from far away in the north, from Windfall Island. Haven’t I told you about it? How the island got its name? It is said that the first settlers of Windfall arrived there through a terrible accident. They were travelers, on a large vessel from far, far out beyond the Great Sea, searching for new lands. But everywhere they went, they found islands teeming with monsters. They were in despair, running low of food and water. Then, one night, a storm came. The ship was swamped. Many were thrown into the endless sea, consumed (do not cringe children; I am only being dramatic). The main brace of the ship was torn apart. A family of the travelers, determined not to be separated even in death, grabbed the ropes of the main sail as it was loosed from the ship’s frame. The heavy winds carried the family into the dark sky. They watched their ship sink beneath the waves, but never let go. They held onto one another through the storm, until at last their weight carried the sail down, miles away, onto an island so stricken with calm, that the wind seemed to die against its shoreline. For this reason, and for the way in which they fell to the island, blown by the wind, they called their new settlement Windfall.

Do you believe the legends Link? It is that Sturgeon I see in your eye whenever you smile at the old stories. You have a critical eye. You question, though you never reject. You will be wise, even if you do not yet know it. That intellectual buffoon has granted you his curiosity and his cutting knowledge, but you have been wise enough not to accept his cynicism.

Where was I? Ah yes, I was telling you a legend you would enjoy. Do you know how life began on the islands, for there was none there to begin with? The raised lands of the sea were barren and dull, all like the rocky reef north of us. This was unpleasing to the gods, so they sowed life among the islands, letting each grow as it would. Some raised only scant grasses, brush, insects, and monsters. Others brought forward all manner of animal and beast. But the luckiest were inhabited by creatures of mind. The Ruto, the fairies, us.

You’ve always such questions Aryll! You know I’ll come to it in time, but you are always so impatient. To have such curious minds and be expected to fill them is beyond my power. But it does please me to know under this roof there is mind and thought. That you will not go the way of your grandfather, so unfeeling and closed off.

I was coming to your favorite story Aryll, yes. The legend of the kingdom lost to winds.

Before the raising of the lands of the Great Sea, far, far away there was a mighty kingdom, established upon a mass of land that was wider even than the sea. The people there were happy, living under the watch of the gods, who flooded the land in golden light. You always smile at that thought Aryll, of land farther than sea. I wish you could see it, a place unbound by shores or ocean. Where you can run as far north as your legs will carry you and never catch the horizon. Then turn and run twice as far south and find it still leading you on. I see you, sometimes, traipsing from our door step, up the side of the mountain, up your tower. It worries me, at times, that you feel caged in. Does this place stifle you Aryll? I always hoped that the legends would give you two a joy for your simple home, a place where you can be free of the troubles that always haunt legends. But that is not the way of children, I suppose.

One day, a great darkness choked the land, smothering the towns and people. The people prayed that the gods would drive back the darkness. In response, the gods sent a hero, clad in green, bearing a sword of golden light. The hero faced many dangers, overcame many obstacles, and ultimately, struck down the darkness, driving it from the land.

How you always look so bothered by that story Link. As if some part of it troubles you. To think of you my boy, so soon to inherit those garbs of legend. With Sturgeon’s mind in you. With Orca’s grace in your arm. And that concern on your face. Do you know what you make me think of? That I am seeing the hero of the legend, having his own story read to him, suffering from the weight of it. I believe you feel the same as I do Link, that we both look forward more to the end of your birthday, when you remove your hero’s clothes and instead put on the simple ones of an island boy, the boy I have raised. I do not want a hero, who will go across the ocean, leaving me and your sister alone. I am content with the boy I’ve always known.

Didn’t I tell you I came from Windfall? You’ve never seen that place have you? If anywhere is the capital of this Great Sea, it is that island. A writhing mass of people always fill its streets; sailors clog the ports with trading vessels, cargo ships, sometimes even pirate boats. It is the crossing point of the Sea, home to dozens of accents, hundreds of goods, thousands of legends. I grew up amid them all. I heard all the stories, saw the many travelers that told them. I was as eager as you for more, always curious. I wanted to travel the world. I even tried to sneak aboard the vessels in the harbor. I was always caught.

On that island, I met your grandfather, a fisherman. He was an older man, to be sure, but he had the longevity of the sea in him. Perhaps my girlish attraction to him was simply from him having come from across the sea. His body did not age so much as harden, toughened by the winds and the rain. He was quiet, like you Link. Something solemn stayed over him, something heavy. I tried to help him lift it, but he would not let me.

We only had one child, your mother, before he went out to sea and never came back. To this day, I feel certain that he did not drown or sink. After your mother was born, there were times when something came over your grandfather, a haunted look. As if he were trying to flee some great failure. It had come when I spoke of having children as well, and then after your mother came, a deep gloom followed. I tried to find what was hurting him so, but he would never tell me. He spoke once of a beast, I believe a monster of the sea that must have attacked his boat. There are old sailors who suffer such terrors and relive them nightly. Some are so desperate for peace, they sail back out into the storm, hunting their nightmare to the end of the sea. Whatever it was made it impossible for him to raise your mother with me. Don’t look so fraught Aryll. I hold no grudge against him. Do I look like I need some man to keep me propped up? Bah! Never believe it my child! I am a strong woman, just as you shall be one day! Quit that grinning Link!

Your grandfather mentioned that he had come from Outset Island, so I decided I would come here, at least once, to see if he’d returned home. I did not intend on staying. But when I arrived, I knew that my travels had both begun and ended. This place, it is the opposite of Windfall. There is such a silence here, such a weight of time. No bustle, no change. Only the calm wind, the call of the gulls, the heat of the sun. Windfall was a melting pot of legends and people, but this place is the source of such legends. A timeless land. So I stayed, without meaning to, simply falling into this land and never leaving.

Have you ever considered how people came to Outset Island? I’ll bet you never have. It was long ago, long after the loss of the great kingdom. Oh, did I forget that part? I suppose I simply do not like sad endings. After the hero in green drove back the darkness, he went on a journey to a far away land. There, the legends of the hero end, for he vanished from history’s pages, as if he had simply slipped out of this legend and into a different one, of a different place, a different world. But what remained behind was the darkness, beaten but not dead, growing, waiting. One day, the darkness returned, and there was no hero. The gods did not answer the people’s prayers. The darkness swept over the land, unchecked, unstopped. And the history ends, with only the legend of the great kingdom remaining.

That is why you will wear the hero’s clothes Link (only for a day!) In memory of the hero and his lost kingdom, whose legend survives on the wind. Because, the darkness might have overcome that lost land, but did it overcome its legacy? No. The kingdom still lives on, doesn’t it, in this very story. We keep it alive. We keep the darkness from winning. Just think, in that way children, you are heroes, heroes of knowledge rather than power.

Do not fret Aryll, I’m getting to that! You are always so eager. Don’t you know the best stories are built slowly? You will see all in time. Long after the kingdom was lost and the gods founded new lands here in the Great Sea, Outset was a broken crag of grassy rock in the midst of the ocean. However, it is said that Outset is the island closest to where the great kingdom once was, and that is why only Outset continues to garb its boys in green when they come of age. And it is believed that, perhaps, not all of the people from the great kingdom were lost. Some fled to the sea and, eventually, found the raised land that would become Outset Island. There they built a fishing community, the start of our own home.

Just think! Your wandering grandfather had the blood of the people of the lost kingdom in him. You are part legend my dears! I am not, having come from Windfall, but you are both made from the same things legends are made of. The shield on our wall is even supposed to be the very shield of the hero himself. Doesn’t that excite you Link? That even here, on this tiny island, history can be found. The people of the great kingdom refuse to be forgotten.

I know all the legends. I’ve learned them well. And now, the time is coming for you, Link, when you will no longer be a boy. You will become a man, garbed in the green of the hero. And when that comes, I feel this island will not hold you long.

Children, I will not hold you back like my mother held me. The sea is wide, but your mind is wider. Even now I feel I hear the flapping of great wings, as if some great bird is coming to carry you off on the winds to an adventure, to a legend. And the laughter of my children will go with it, and the needful crying I tended will go, and the wicked grin of the mischief I taught will go. But not now, not so soon. Your old granny still needs you children. Let your legends rest. They can wait.

You’ll enter a legend that I do not know. But do not forget home. Do not be like the hero of legend. Gone, with only darkness remaining.

The flapping is growing louder. I almost believe it is real.

The Helmaroc King:

The large eared girl. Find the large eared girl.

The waters spread wide, many places to search. Island of wood and metal frames to the east. LORD says go there. Search for the large eared girl. Island hides many. Find them. The large eared girls flee. Grasp them. Struggle. Hold them. Kill not. Devour not. Take them to LORD. LORD takes them. LORD pleased.

Wrong. False large eared girls. Island of wood and metal frames hides no more. Uproot the frames. Smash the frames. LORD says no. “Too soon” his words. Smash not. Uproot not.
Obey LORD. LORD bring forth. Darkness without LORD. Obey LORD.

LORD. LORD from out of the dark. LORD calls. Dark pushed away. Wings stretch. Powerful. Claws grip. Powerful. Kill. Devour. Obey. “Go,” his words, “find the girl with the large ears. She is young. Light skinned. Look for her ears. Go.”

Go.

Find the large eared girl. Find the large eared girl.

Over waters. Islands spread wide. Empty. Land. Creatures strike and claw. Devour them. Creatures stab with metal and light. Kill them. No large eared girl. Go.

LORD. “You will be my hand,” his words. “You will be my reach. I cannot leave this place yet. It is too soon. You will be my influence over this land. Remind them of me. Even on these lonely mountaintops, they have not forgotten me yet. Remind them.”

Fly. Waters spread. Vessel of wood and sails. Beings upon its surface see not, hear not. Kill. Devour.

Large eared girl.

LORD’s words, “You must not kill her. Understand? I know you do. You must not kill her when you find her. Bring her to me. She has something, something I can only take if she is living.”

Grasp the large eared girl. Beings scatter. Fly. Metal in large eared girl’s hand. Pierces. Pain. Release. Stones come. Pain.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

LORD’s words, “You do not even know yourself do you? We are a likely pair then. I, shadow of my former glory, reduced to lurking in a filthy pile of stones. You, a masked pretender of that great beast from long ago. Thunderbird.”

Kill not. Take the large eared girl alive. Stones fly. Wings too quick. The large eared girl’s blade flashes. Claws too strong.

Thunderbird. Thunderbird.

LORD’s words, “But no. You are not that mythical beast. Perhaps if I recover my land, my strength, I will find him, tame him, but that shadow has passed out of this world, under the waves. You and I are all that remain of that great strength. That mighty legend.”

Grasp. Strong. The large eared girl’s blade falls. Stones do not fly.

LORD’s words, “You are to be a new legend then. A legend for the mountain tops and the sea swells. Make them remember me in a new language, a new lexicon, a new thought. Blow the new wind of change. My Helmaroc King.”

I am the Helmaroc King. I take her. I will not let her go. I will not let her go.

Aryll:

It was Big Brother’s birthday, his coming of age, the day he wears the Hero’s Clothes. He must be so excited! I love the story of the Hero in Green. I like to imagine where the Hero went after he defeated the darkness, what he did next. Maybe he went to a whole different world, with new people to fight beside! Grandma always jokes that he went to the moon!

Brother doesn’t seem so happy about getting his new clothes (I think he’s afraid of how hot they’ll be!) but I knew I still had to find him something good as a gift to compete with them! So, I had the best present picked out for him, something I knew he’d love. My spyglass!
I’ve had this spyglass for as long as I can remember. It was Father’s. He gave it to me before he and Mother left home.

“You can see the world with this Aryll,” he told me, “And you will. Just look out on the horizon with this and you’ll see the world going on and on and on.”

I said the world was too big. I’d never see it all, even with a spyglass. Father laughed.
“But isn’t that its beauty? What’s the fun of a world that just ends?”

I watched their boat sail on the horizon through my spyglass, until they became tiny dots bouncing on the waves. They never came back.

Brother remembers them better than me. Whenever I talk about them, his face gets stiff and hard. I can tell it hurts him. It hurts me to see Brother like that.

Today, Brother was out of the house before I was awake, so I couldn’t even give him his present in bed! I ran all over the beach, looking for him. Sue-Belle hadn’t seen him. I like Sue-Belle. She’s always nice to me, and I love watching her balance that huge pot on her head! She’s really good at it. Maybe she’ll teach me one day. Sue-Belle’s parents also left her when she was little. Her grandpa, Sturgeon, raises her. I think her parents are still alive though. I think they just left her because they didn’t want her. Who could ever be so cruel? I always try and be nice to Sue-Belle because if anyone deserves people being nice to her, she does.

Big Brother was on my look-out tower at the end of the island, like I thought he’d be. He was asleep! That lazy bum, he snuck out so I wouldn’t wake him up with my surprise! He’s always up there, looking out at the ocean. I like going up there sometimes too, when Big Brother’s not there. The tower’s really really high and I get tired climbing up the long ladder, but the view makes it worth the adventure. I watch the sea gulls instead of the ocean. I know Father said it goes on and on, but I can’t see the “on and on” part from our island. The gulls though, they’re alive. They’ll come down and play with me. I love to watch them glide high over the whole island and think about all the things they’ve seen. Sometimes, when a lot of them land on the tower, I like to think they’ll pick me up and carry me off. I don’t want to leave Outset and Grandma and Brother, but I do want to see more than my look-out can show me. I want to see everything! Not the ocean, but the other islands, like Windfall where Grandma is from. What good is a spyglass if all I can see is fog and sky? I want to see the huge world Father told me about!

When I woke brother up, he was still half asleep. He acted like he didn’t even know what day it was! Goofy! So I reminded him by giving him his present. He was so surprised! I hate hate hate when someone takes my spyglass, and I never let anyone borrow it cause that’s the easiest way to get it broken. Which is why I knew it would be a great surprise! When I gave it to him, Brother’s eyes got so wide. He looked so silly!

I’ve asked Big Brother before why he watches the ocean so much. “It’s boring,” I said to him, “just staring at the water. Why don’t you watch the gulls? Or the people on the island? Even the crabs are more interesting!” He smiled. I wish Brother spoke to me. I wonder how much he has to say? It’s sad to think about. I wouldn’t be able to go a day if I couldn’t tell how I feel! He always listens so well, but he must have so much he wants to say. Like why he watches the ocean. I wander if it’s because he misses Father and Mother? I wander if it’s because he wants to travel and see the world that Father told me about, to follow Grandma’s legends and Orca’s adventures? But part of me doesn’t think those are the right answers. I wish he could tell me. I’ve asked him to write in the sand, but he always just shakes his head. That I do understand. Some things should be said out loud.

While Brother was testing my spyglass out (I saw him get a smudge on the lens too! I should have told him off for that!) I was trying to find something for him to practice on. There were a lot of sea gulls out, so I was trying to pick one for him, and something big flew through the air past them. It was a rock, a big boulder flying through the sky! Imagine! On the horizon, a pirate ship, with fat white sails and a black flag, was coming towards the island. At first, I thought we were about to be invaded! I hadn’t heard of pirate raids on islands ever in my life! Grandma said that was something that only happened long ago. I told Brother to look when I saw the bird.

No. This thing is no bird. Calling it a “bird” is like comparing the fish near the shore to the big mean fish that Orca catches. “Bird” makes me think of a sea gull: kind, friendly, ready to play if you have some food for it. This thing is massive; its wings are longer than our house. Its claws are wider than our front door and they feel covered in metal, not scales. It’s feathers are so rough and coarse. Its face. I think of thunder.

Is this the sort of beast Sturgeon told me and Brother about? When Sturgeon told us of great sea beasts that stalk sailors who go out too far, I had nightmares about them, about glowing eyes coming closer and closer to Outset, bringing wind and thunder, pulling me off the shore. Pulling me away from land out to sea. I always thought that was what took Father and Mother. Maybe it was this monster.

The pirate ship was chasing the monster. Two men were loading a catapult on its deck, flinging the big rocks. At first they couldn’t hit it, but when the monster wheeled around, to fly over open sea again, they struck it head on! That was when I saw the girl the monster had in its claws. It dropped her, right over the top of the mountain, into the forest. I thought she’d be dead for sure!

Brother was gone, already running across the dock to Orca’s house. I knew what he was going to do. He was going to rescue her. Brother’s like that. When he sees something that needs to be done, he doesn’t stop to think about it. He can be pretty stubborn sometimes, because of that. I didn’t want to move. That monster had fallen behind the island and I’d lost sight of it. I wanted to run home but I was afraid to stop looking.

Big Brother once took me all the way up to the very top of Outset Island. We stood on the edge of the tallest cliff and looked out over the whole island. We could see everything! Our house, Sue-Belle’s well, Sturgeon’s room with the papers everywhere, the huge swatches of cut grass around Orca’s house where he and Link would practice sometimes, those funny pigs, the hopping rocks in the middle of the island.

I said to Brother, “I like our home. I don’t think there’s anywhere in the world I’d have rather been born.”

He smiled but I could tell he was thinking something.

“You’d have rather been born in some great kingdom wouldn’t you? Or on a ship out in the middle of the ocean? Or at Windfall, like Grandma, right?”

He shrugged. I tried to think of something to say.

“Do you know why I like this place so much?”

He looked at me. Listened.

“Because it’s not any of those places. It’s not some kingdom, or some big ship, or even Windfall with all its people. Here, I can know about all of them and think about how great it would be to see them. If I were born in those places, I wouldn’t find them the least interesting! Here, they actually mean something to me.”

Brother. I want you to be happy where we are. You always watch the ocean, always look so far away. I feel like you’re looking right where Father and Mother sailed off to. I’m afraid you’re tired of calling this place home… and, maybe, you’re tired of me.

When you came running back out from the woods, with that girl with the pony tail behind you, I guess I knew then what would happen. I could tell from looking at her, from seeing the sword in your hand that something had changed. And you had my spyglass. And the hero’s clothes fit you so well. As if they were made for you. Or you for them. Maybe we were made for a legend. And we’ve never had a choice which role we play.

I’ve always wanted to fly, so I could see more and more and more! See everything. Maybe, somewhere, see Father and Mother. And I guess I will see them soon, in some way.

I’m scared Brother. Because I never thought, when you fly, how you’ll be so high up. And the ocean is so so far away from me. And this monster’s grip is so loose. He already dropped one girl. I don’t know if I’ll have any trees to catch me. But up here… the ocean is so wide. I wish I could tell you. It goes on forever. It goes on. It goes on.

Brother, it goes on longer than we ever will.

Postman:

This is turmoil. Disorder. Malfunction.

Lord Valoo, how could this travesty occur? To think of a Prince, unable to gain his wings. Everything is in disarray. The Chieftain can barely be called to make decisions, so furious his drive to pacify Lord Valoo’s anger. The young Prince locks himself in his room like a petulant child. Ash and fire rain down upon our homes constantly. The shelves of mail overturn. But the deliveries will not be stopped. I will not let even this grand chaos disrupt my duties.

Order is required. In times of turmoil, order is of the highest importance. It takes a stable center to hold the rest together. And the post is the standard by which order is judged. We Rito are the messengers of the gods. The legends tell it so. We are their wings upon the sea. How can order be expected if messages are lost, late, mislaid?

But even my route has been threatened as late. The ocean seems to have lost its mind. Islands once calm are overrun with beasts. Often I have been plagued on my route with wild animals, but never of this cunning. These beasts that walk upright, shrouded in rags, wielding sticks, some kindled with flame, are more eager to attack than wild animals. The plants too have grown twisted and malformed, their exotics bulbs split with teeth, dripping with ichor. It is deadly to land upon some islands now where once a postman could rest, feel the wind through his feathers, arraigned his mail bag. Now, sticks and fangs and swords.

There are still some islands, though, that are peaceful, untouched by the disorder plaguing the sea. Outset is one of those islands. A fishing community on the fringe of the sea. Even the art of war is forgotten there save for one old man, hardened by years on the ocean. Every delivery to Outset brings me comfort, especially in this mad time. A family whose home is built near the island’s mailbox often entertains me upon my deliveries. The old woman of the house makes such a delicious soup that my distaste for watery foods cannot dissuade me from enjoying it.

Two children live there, a boy, Link, and a girl, Aryll. They are both the prime of life. Aryll, a constantly curious thing, who I dare say would smuggle away in my postage bag if she could. Link, a quiet boy with an insightful gaze. He is the sort of boy the Prince needs now to teach him discipline, self control, order.

Koboli gave me a delivery to Outset. Of course, it was a joy to receive such an assignment. When the letter arrived, the roost was full of clamor. Another ash-fire from Great Valoo’s latest bout of anger caused an explosion in a patch of bomb plants, injuring a nearby Rito. The Chieftain could not even be informed because at the same moment he was attempting to discipline his son, the two having been in the royal chambers for quite some time, their voices often slipping out, angry and raised.

“This disarray must end,” I told Koboli after the tremors, “It has gone on for days. We’ve many young Rito, eager to gain their wings, unable to from fear of Lord Valoo’s rage. What will become of our tribe if those of age cannot fly?”

Koboli is a calm man. Yet these days of savagery have left him weary and pale. He speaks slowly, moves slowly. I am often pressed to remind him we need to stay on schedule.
“Not only that,” he said, “but the investigation of whatever dark shadow has fallen upon the Forsaken Fortress has halted entirely.”

I had not yet heard of any happenings at the Fortress and asked what he meant.

“You’ve heard of the string of disappearances on Windfall, yes? Young, large-eared girls being snatched away, rumored to be by a large masked bird?”

I had. These kidnappings had caused some conflict between us and the people of Windfall Island. Because a large bird was rumored to have been involved in the kidnappings, the people thought that we may have something to do with it. Preposterous, a totally irresponsible claim, but it has soured communication between our two islands, leading to much disruptive gossip.

Koboli organized some spilled letters, continued, “A squad of royal guard sent to investigate the matter found that the bird has made its nest in the Forsaken Fortress. Worse, though we’d heard that the pirate gang that once operated there has left, there seems to be someone new taking up residence in the fortress’ walls. A large group of beasts guards the perimeter, fully armed, even threatening our men when they came too near. The Chieftain sought to investigate the matter, but with the recent occurrences…”

The ground shook. Dust and small stones fell from the ceiling of the roost, littering the pristine walk. Above us, Lord Valoo bellowed. His cry is as startling as that of a thunderclap in midflight. It pains any Rito who hears it.

As the roost shook, the Prince came from out of the royal chamber. In his arms, he clutched the large, red gem his father’s mother left to him upon her death. The gem is said to come down from out of legend, from the kingdom that was lost, that it contains power from the gods of old. It is hard to believe such legends when an orb so sacred is held by a child with such an irreverent countenance.

The shaking had disrupted the argument for the Chieftain was behind the boy, shouting.

“Do not ever speak to me like that again Komalis. I will not tolerate petulance even in a time like this. Especially in a time like this.”

“What do you care? It’s not you who was there at the peak when Lord Valoo first began his rage. It’s not you who was nearly burnt alive, almost thrown from the mountain top, unable to fly. You cannot understand.”

“Komalis, this is not about understanding or fear, it is about duty. A Prince must be above his own emotions. You must be able to stamp them out for the good of the tribe. That is the weight of leadership.”

“You stamp out yours then. You go and face Lord Valoo while he rages like this. See how you fare, taking a feather while the earth shakes and Lord Valoo howls in anger at you. You are our Chieftain aren’t you?”

The Prince ran off, nearly stumbling from the weight of the orb in his hands. The Chieftain followed after him, but the Prince did not heed his father’s cries, instead choosing to lock himself again into his room. Disorderly. Disgraceful.

I took my delivery and flew gladly. I can bring no order to the chaos of my home, but on the wing, I can have my own order. I can control the wind in my wings, and it gives me peace.
Our legends speak of Outset Island. We Rito hold legends different from the men who walk upon the land, though they share some correlation, such as the tale of the lost kingdom and the hero in green. But our legends hold that life upon the lands of this great sea came, not from other lands or kingdoms, but from the sea itself. The sea gave up life to simple creatures, who in time grew under the influence of the gods to take possession of the lands they dwelt on. And first of these species were us, the Rito. This is not a boisterous claim. We must have been the first to crawl from the sea for we are the only ones so far who have grown wings to dwell in the sky as well as on land. We have had the longest time to grow, our race growing closer to the gods than any other. This is another reason why we must be the standard that the rest of the world looks to for assurance that order is maintained. The eldest children of the gods must be the most disciplined, not cowering in our nests, afraid to do our duty. We must bear the weight of responsibility.

But Outset Island, it is told, is a special land, the land closest to where the great lost kingdom once flourished. And, some of the people of that kingdom arrived on Outset, mixing with the local population. It is believed that the line of the great hero may exist there still, diluted but strong.

I have often wondered if that is true, if the hero’s blood may dwell among those small houses and calm shores.

Wonder does not deliver the mail though, so I do not ponder long. The letter is an advertisement of sale from that strange traveling merchant I have encountered often at sea, Beedle. How does he do business in those far off places?

It was a steady calm that I landed in. A heavy and hot calm that Outset often sports, with its large patches of shore which collect the heat. It is soothing to the wings after long flight to rest in that warmth.

Given the heat, combined with a desire to prolong my time away from the roost (a desire I will admit was childish of me no matter how disorderly my home may at the moment be), I was considering visiting the house of the kind old woman and her two children. Then a shadow passed over the island. A large one.

I have seen monstrous birds, with wicked beaks and crooked wings and sharp talons. We often have to drive them from the spires of our island, less they try to nest on the less populated sides of the roost. But none were ever like this. Gods, this beast. How does the air support it? And that face, that mask. It is not something meant to be seen aloft in the skies, more like an ancient relic of the seas, dredged up by some wayward fisherman. Gods.

The bird flew over the island, covering its twin peaks with its shadow. This could only be the rumored beast from the kidnappings. No sooner had I realized this than the bird was struck by what appeared to be a flying piece of stone. I had not noticed before but a pirate ship was pursuing the bird, using a catapult to try and bring it down.

It is strange that while disaster strikes Dragon Roost and the whole island falls into disorder, this monstrosity can fall upon Outset Island and no one even leaves their home. The only people I saw about the island were the young girl who often carried jars upon her head, watching the skies same as me, and Link and Aryll. These two I saw on the opposite shore of the island, Aryll on the top of the watch tower, Link running up the base of the mountain. Aryll seemed stunned with fear; Link was picking his way up the mountain side towards where the bird had vanished. Metal flashed in his hand. I soon realized he, this boy, was carrying a sword.

Disorder. Even on this island, disorder. Perhaps the gods have cursed us. All of us.

I did not see where the bird went after being struck by the pirates. It disappeared behind the island as if into the sea itself. I tried to find it, flew around the island, but all I saw was the pirate ship and, once, two Kagarocs carrying strange beasts covered in rags. The birds dropped these beasts on the cliff top before flying off again, to what end I don’t know. I did not know about the young pirate girl in the forest at that time. I chose not to pursue them, and was intending instead to land and speak with the mates of the ship, when it returned.

The bird came down out of the higher clouds, much higher than a Rito would fly. It was as if the glaring sun itself had produced the beast. I thought it was heading for the cliff top. I did not see Aryll on the bridge until the last second.

This is what disorder brings. My eye is keen. How did I not see her? How could I not see a child with such bright hair, such visible clothing running up the side of the mountain? I should have stopped her. I should have prevented this chaos. I could have. I should have.

It plucked her from the bridge with such an ease. The way it hefts that massive body with orderly grace is beautiful. Perfect.

A child. Is every island to lose its children? Those who walk on the land lose theirs to the air, while ours are lost to the flightless earth.

I should have seen her there, but everything is falling into such disarray. What can I do? What can any of us do? Disorder breeding fresh disorder. Our gyres are falling apart. It feels as if the center of our flights no longer hold.

Gonzo:
I’ve known Miss Tetra since she was a child. When I first joined her mother’s crew, I was young. I was a brat. I’d run away from home. My old man, after my mom passed, he had a thing for working his problems out on me. He worked them out with his knuckles, his shoe, his belt. He didn’t like it. I saw him crying once, afterwards, face dripping with a drinker’s sweat. “Sorry boy,” he said. Not to me, just out loud. “Sorry boy. Sorry boy. Sorry boy.” I’d hate him, then hate myself for hating a man that pathetic and low. I had no siblings, no one to protect. I left the coward and ran.

If the old captain hadn’t been at port that night, I’d have stowed away. Getting out, that’s what I needed, and nothing was going to stop me. I saw her heading back to her ship. I’d seen her before, making sales with some of the shadier dealers. An old woman, always walking with a swagger, maybe from the booze, maybe from her own self-assurance. I ran up to her on the docks, just her and me surrounded by the barrels and rope and fish stink. A tipsy old lady and a brat.

I told her I needed work. I remember me from that age, remember the few times I saw a mirror. Those ropey arms, bruised from the elbow up. The knobby knees that’d shake like thistles. Not worth the food I’d eat. The old captain, probably near sixty, dressed like a man in britches, frilled vest, she looked right through me. I’d never felt more like a child till she looked at me.

“What can you do boy?” she said.

“Anything. Everything.”

She grinned at me.

“Anything? You think there’s much you can do for me? Why would I want a kid scuffing up my deck?”

“I’ll do anything. I mean it. Gutting catch, cleaning out latrines, cooking the food, anything. Whatever a cabin boy has to do. I need to get out. I have to get away.” I don’t know why I said that last bit. Just a desperate kid I guess. The old captain noticed though. She nodded.

“Look there.” She pointed over my shoulder, at a barrel of whaling hooks and spears behind me, almost up to my chin. “I haul cargo from that big up. See if you can move it.”

I tried. I grabbed the steel ring round its middle and tried to lift. Dug splinters into my fingers, moved it about half a foot before I lost my grip. Gashed open my thumb. The whole damn thing spilled over the dock, some of it into the water. The captain laughed at me. I tried to lift the barrel again, trying to haul it up right. It was so heavy. The captain patted my shoulder.

“Enough boy. Enough. Come on. You can tie knots.”

I wasn’t born a sailor. I was a Windfall brat, land bound as they come. The crew was different in those days. Senza was there, a lot younger than he is now, but the others were all old sea hands, rough necks with beards, scars, and burnt skin. Those craggy faces, around rotten teeth; I thought it was the old man all over again. But no, they toughened me in a different way.

The ship rolled and shifted on the sea more than I expected. I didn’t understand the meaning of “sea legs.” I stumbled a lot. Each time, I’d try and protect whatever I was moving with my body. I’d be bruised by a crate before I let it hit the floor, but there were moments when the motion of the sea would throw me off, send whatever I was carrying flying to the side, cracking the wood. Fruit, wine, metal, I’ve seen it all spill out. I waited for the blows to come, but they never did. Maybe the captain told them not to. Instead, they sneered at me, they laughed.

“Babe’s getting those sea legs! He’ll be crawling pretty soon, that’s a boy!”

“There ya go shrimp! That’s how it’s done, throw them around! Teach that cargo that it ain’t good enough for shop!”

At meals, my food would be knocked off the table. My drink’d spilled. I had a high bunk, and some nights after a really big mess, my bed’d sway more than usual, throwing me on the floor. There was always laughter after my nightly tumbles. I couldn’t say anything. Even if I could stand up against one of those old hands in a fist fight, I couldn’t stand up to all of them on the long voyages out at sea. They hardened me. Made me big. Made me strong.

All of them but Miss Tetra.

Miss Tetra was younger than me, almost a baby. I’d never heard of a child so young being on a pirate ship, but the old captain never showed a sign of worry over her. Some mornings, I’d come out and Miss Tetra would be climbing the rigging, her legs barely long enough to wrap around the rope. She’d be up in the crow’s nest, hanging over the side with her hands around a telescope. Senza was our navigator and he’d always have her around, showing her how a compass or a sexton worked, how to find your position on the ocean by the stars, how to judge distances. The old men didn’t notice her. But she noticed everything. Even me.

The first time she spoke to me was a few weeks after I’d been on board. By then, I’d lost the tremor in my legs that made me sway with the rocking of the ship. I’d learned knots, how to work the sail. One of the old men was starting to teach me how to steer so I’d be of use, and, around the middle of the day, he let me take the wheel while he went to grab a bite. It was just me at the helm, everyone but our look out down below. Miss Tetra, barely up to my waist, walked up beside me. She’d never said a word to me before and I’d heard her talk so rarely I thought she was dumb, or close to it. She stared out at the ship. A few birds came and landed on the railing. They chattered. We were drifting along by a light breeze.

She said, “You’re off course.”

Just hearing her speak was surprising, so I didn’t register what she’d said until she pointed at the compass. I’d drifted south, losing some of our wind. She took the wheel, forcing me to let go, put us back on course. I don’t remember what I said. I was a stupid kid. Probably blathered.

“We’ve got to keep with the wind,” she said. “Mom told me that. We have to keep with the wind. Keep it straight, because if you aren’t working with the wind, you’re not sailing at all. You’re sinking, slowly.” Her mother came up then, calling Tetra to her for some chore, leaving me at the helm.

I’d be ashamed to have a kid almost half my age speak like that to me, but I had no one else back then. She was the only one who was like me, learning. So I let her teach me. She’d correct me, when the old helmsman wasn’t around. Taught me how to hold steady, how to feel the ship, how it changed with the ocean and the wind. The huge wheel seemed to grow smaller; the chaos of the compass, the sails, the tackles, the flat sea more sane. The helmsman started praising me. “Gonzie’s getting some arms to go with those sea legs,” he’d say. “My boy’ll be captain before you know it, just watch.” The old captain would laugh and pat my back and tell me to start drinking so she could toast me. My food was knocked over less often. My bed stopped swaying so violently at night.

Some of the older men left us. One died there at sea, in the middle of a calm night. We woke up and he was stiff in his bed, swinging with the roll of the ship, mouth hung open. We wrapped him in his bunk, gave him to the sea. Some of the others left for the land, unable to keep pushing their bodies out there under the sun and the beating waves. Mako and Nudge joined our crew. Zuko came soon after. The Forsaken Fortress gang started up around this time, out of a few smaller crews that we’d encountered before. Miss Tetra grew older, started taking over duties for her mother. She kept correcting me. We’d spend hours at the helm, just me and her, me watching the compass and the sails, her watching the ship, the horizon, the crew until her mother called her to help with the sails or the freight. Sometimes there’d be no words between us, save for “drifting Gonzo” or “winds changed, let’s head west a little.” But those times at the helm were peaceful, oceans away from the old man and his hard fists. It felt right with Miss Tetra beside me. I could really believe I was steering my own course through the world. Not a lost boy beginning for a better leader.

The old captain was on deck less and less. Miss Tetra would go into her room and stay with her, sometimes all day. Even then, no one went into the captain’s quarters except Miss Tetra. When I first met the old captain, she had Miss Tetra’s gold emblem wrapped around her wrist, like a bracelet. But as the old crew moved off or passed on to the winds, Miss Tetra began wearing it around her neck. I guess that was when we knew it wouldn’t be long before the old woman left us. Nights were quieter and quieter without her laughter. We’d go days without seeing her. Miss Tetra spent more time with me at the helm. Her face would always be set, unflinching, but back then, she hadn’t learned to hide herself so well. She was afraid.

We maintained our silence, as we’d always done since we were just two children on a pirate ship, but Miss Tetra stopped correcting me.

The captain came on deck one day, dressed in her best. She looked dandy: loose leggings, red and yellow, a long red shirt with pockets and silver buttons, real leather shoes that looked like they’d never gotten wet, large brimmed hat, the first I’d seen her wear. We’d had a run in with the gang from Forsaken Fortress earlier that day, as they were moving some goods out of one of the reefs in the west. Miss Tetra had led us in taking the goods from them, a huge shipment of wine and fruit. The crew was celebrating; we had one of the barrels open, Senza pouring out wine into our mugs. The sweet liquid was washing over the deck, dripping down into the water. When the captain came on deck, we asked her to have some with us. She smiled.

“No. You boys enjoy it. You’ve earned it well. Each of you. You’ve earned it.”

Miss Tetra, who’d been watching from the helm, must have seen it before the rest of us did. I heard her speak with concern for the first time when she said, “Mother,” and started running down the steps as the captain dropped to the deck. Her hat bounced and tumbled off the side of the ship. She was so light when we lifted her.

It was like the old lady had wanted one last look at the sky, at her crew, at her daughter. I wonder which it was that she wanted to see the most. I wouldn’t dare guess, not that old woman’s mind.

Miss Tetra never cried. She wrapped the old captain in her bed sheets by herself, alone in the cabin. When she brought the body out, I saw that she’d sown a piece of paper into the bag, a piece of sheet music. I never did ask why. I felt like it wasn’t for me to know. That evening, the sun coming down, she dropped her mother over the edge. Senza sounded the gong a few times. It didn’t take long for the ripples to disappear, swamped by the toss of the ocean.

“Well.” Miss Tetra grinned, one side, just that flash of teeth like the turn of a lighthouse. “Enough solemnity. Mother hated long faces. Gonzo, open up our catch. Let’s celebrate.”

We passed the mugs around. Senza told us stories of the captain from when he first joined on, how the old captain had tricked a better armed vessel into a nest of Sea Hats, who thrashed the ship apart, how she nearly burned up an entire island trying to smoke out a member of her crew who’d jumped ship with a load of rupees and gone into hiding. Stories of the wild woman, who clung to the rigging during battle just so she’d have a better view. The young woman before the old mother with her rusted crew took over. Miss Tetra listened, laughed, clapped. She didn’t drink, but the distance that had always been between her and the crew was gone. No more “the captain’s child.” She had become, at once, captain and crew. Her mother had named no one captain after her, but none of us had to ask.

The last of the old men left soon after. They said that Miss Tetra lead well, but their captain had always been her mother. They knew no other voice to sail by. Miss Tetra grinned.

“It’s for the best,” she said, “Can’t use a new ship with old sails. Rusted rudders will just slow us down.” They left us with just enough men to crew the ship. It was a rather sad crew. Mako and Senza were both better with navigation than labor. Zuko was our look out. That left me and Nudge as the main ones to do heavy lifting, and I was the only one with experience at the helm. But we made do. Whenever the work got harsh and the toll of being shorthanded started hitting us, the captain grinned.

“Mom must have spoiled you guys. Come on, let’s work! I don’t want to have to bring in women to get things done right.”

We gained an extra hand when Niko snuck on board. The idiot was trying to stow away in a crate of fruit. When we found him, he was half starved, despite being surrounded by food. No one thought about keeping him as a part of the crew at the time. We just put him to work to shut him up. But Miss Tetra never dismissed him. Guess she has her mother’s eye for usefulness because, stupid as he can be, Niko gets his jobs done. Sloppy, but done.

Since her mother passed on, Miss Tetra still comes and stands with me at the helm. We don’t talk anymore now than we did back then, as two children under an old woman’s sail. But even with her grins, her playful looks, Miss Tetra’s become harder to read. I can’t tell what goes on in her mind, even less than before. Like with this boy from Outset. Link.

I don’t care what that Rito postman says. Miss Tetra didn’t owe anything to that brat. If he hadn’t of helped her out there in the forest, it would have been me instead. Miss Tetra owes the boy no thanks, no favors. But, she’s letting him on our ship, giving him a lift all the way to the north, to Forsaken Fortress.

Miss Tetra… you remind me of your mother now, you know? Looking down at some worthless kid and giving him a chance. Why? I never understood it when your mother let me on her ship. I can’t understand why you’re letting him onboard. I feel like there’s some half of you, you and your mother both, I’ve never been able to see. As if that is what’s made our hours at the helm so much more silent and distant.

What are you thinking captain? Why won’t you tell me?

Mako:

We were docked north of Outset Island when the bird flew in from the west. We’d landed to do business with the travelling merchant, Beedle. Gods, what a peculiar man. He has no specific type of wares. He’ll buy anything, yet all he ever sales in his floating shop is fish and bird bait. Every time he talks it’s like a Kargaroc screaming. Yet Miss Tetra never will turn away a useful business partner, a habit of her mother’s, and Beedle asks no questions.

When Miss Tetra’s mother died and Tetra took over the ship, it was difficult to find buyers who would take us seriously at first. Not only is she younger than all of us, there’s also the fact that she’s a woman, something her own mother had to work hard to overcome. Many of our old partners took it as a joke. They’d assumed Senza or I would be captain after Tetra’s mother passed. But for us, there was no question on the matter. Miss Tetra had been leading the ship since I first joined in, some odd years before her mother passed. The old woman was a fiery spirit, ferocious in a battle. She drove us hard but we would have followed her to the end. The way she smiled and laughed and moved among us. She made herself one of us. Less woman and more pirate. Her daughter, however, is harder to place.

I once served under a deranged man on a fishing vessel. My old captain refused to catch his cargo in the Great Sea, laboring under a manic fixation for the beasts of the wild regions. Each trip was a dance with disaster. We sailed through bitter storms that always dragged us off course. The very flow of the ocean changed at times, as if the deep currents were bending. Sickness was not unknown on our vessel, and I have seen my fair share of young men racked with scurvy, with fever, with delusions from the heat. Our captain would drive us to the point of death, even at the risk of encountering monsters of the sea. Eventually, after I left his crew, the man sailed to his death trying to kill a Big Octo, or so I have heard.

Despite his insanity, my old captain was less unnerving than Miss Tetra. While the old man could sail with reckless abandon, he was easy to understand. His love of the sea, his obsession with danger was his whole character. He was no evil man, simply wild and impulsive. Miss Tetra is calm, constantly smiling without revealing what’s underneath.

Her mother acted the same. In the evenings, she’d out drink her crew. She’d start fights in pubs. She’d shout and dance. She’d reveal nothing inside of her. One night, when all the crew was ashore for rest, leaving only Miss Tetra’s mother, myself and Gonzo, then just a cabin boy, on the ship, we were attacked by a small party of rival crew members, intent on raiding the ship. Miss Tetra’s mother had been swaying, inebriated, for hours, looking ready to collapse even as the party of five men climbed aboard, swords drawn. I had only my dagger and Gonzo was too young to fight. We should have been easy prey.

The captain had all five men face down in the shallows without them ever leaving a scratch on the ship deck. I’d never seen her eyes so clear. She wiped her blade clean with a rag dropped by one of the bandits and her hands were steady, her stance firm. She looked at me, straight, and smiled. I did not know whether to tremble or laugh.

Lately, we’ve no want for new hauls. The gang that operated out of Forsaken Fortress finally dried up, destroyed by in-fighting. They were thugs, no rules even amongst themselves. With them gone, we’ve had the rule of the sea. Miss Tetra’s worked us hard, sniffing out caches those louts left behind. A few days ago, we found a haul of furs and weapons from the northern sea that was buried on Bomb Island. Good furs, high price.

When we’d docked near Outset, I suggested an alternative to the captain than the eccentric Beedle. “There’s a merchant opening up on Windfall who’s from the northern seas. Perhaps we should sell these to him. He’d know the cost of these furs better than Beedle. May give us a better bargain.”

Miss Tetra said, “Mako, I appreciate you contributing this bit of wisdom after we have docked at our destination. It’s so useful to consider that option now that the anchor’s dug in and we’re awaiting our contact, isn’t it?”

I apologized, explaining that it was only a thought. The captain smiled. It is a strange smile she has, with only one side of her mouth. Her mother had one just like it. Taunting; it used to drive the captain of the Forsaken Fortress gang mad, seeing her grin at him across the waters like that.

“Oh, don’t apologize now, please. You know I welcome every suggestion. But, we must consider everything when going into a deal like this, yes? Not just the stores on the ship or the buyer’s personality.” She leaned against the railing. Niko’s been scratching his name into the wood again. She fingered the carvings. “True, the northerner may be more accurate in his prices, but other factors come into play. Such as, potential of doing business with the buyer again in the future, agreed?”

I agreed. Zuko called from the crow’s nest, “Ship spotted from the east. Very colorful.” Gonzo, Nudge, and Niko were bringing up the cargo from below. It was glaring and hot, no clouds. We should have been able to see for miles in all direction, especially with Zuko in the nest. The captain continued.

“There’s more to a sale than numbers of gain and loss. There is influence. Not only between the buyer and the seller, but potential influence with related parties. And a man as strange and wide sailing as Beedle is certain to have encountered some strange parties. Parties that may be of use to us someday. I don’t have the stores of friends my mother once did. It’d be good for me to build my own.”

The captain showed no sign on her face of deep thought or concern. Of late, something has been driving the captain on, spurring her commands. At first, I did not notice. We were pursuing the caches left by the Forsaken Fortress gang, nothing more. But our charts are beginning to reveal a pattern, a triangular route carved over the waves, centered in the mid east of the Great Sea. Though I have never been in the captain’s quarters, I have seen from a distance the chart she has upon her wall, with a similar triangular route inked over it. Is she searching for something else in these desolate places? What is it?

She will not tell us. Our captain stands apart. But we, or at least I, do not question this. A captain must always keep part of themselves separate from their crew I suppose. That smile the old captain gave me the night she killed that boarding party, that hidden part shining through. I only wish Miss Tetra would tell me what we are chasing so I might better plan the navigational charts. It does frustrate one to continually redraw the damned things.

A stack of crates toppled over. Niko had staggered into them, spilling their contents on the deck. Gonza helped right them.

“These furs are delicate you imbecile!” he said. “If you tear one, what good is it then? No Windfall lady’s gonna want it.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Niko kept apologizing, trying to pack the furs back into their crate, more likely to damage them than the fall. The captain laughed, said, “Perhaps, Niko, you’d rather wear them. If we clean you up a little, you’ll look dashing in those furs.” Gonzo and I laughed as Nudge tried to keep Niko from ripping the furs as he pushed them back in.

We saw the bird when it let out its cry. High, tearing; a grating sound. It was already swooping down on the ship, close enough to make out the feathers in its wings and the stone mask that covered its face. It had its talons outstretched. I thought it was going to tear the mast from the ship. This creature was massive, far larger than any of the other beasts we’ve seen. It could have likely lifted the boat bodily from the water if it had a mind to. We stared, all unbelieving. Even beyond the Great Sea, I’d never seen such a creature. Then it came down upon our captain. Amazing, even when it landed on the deck, it never once stirred the boat.

The captain didn’t let out a cry. When she saw the beast was coming for her, she moved. She had her dagger out and dug into the monster’s tender flesh above its talon before it could lift her from the ship. By now, Gonzo was already running to the catapult, in his haste loading it with one of the barrels of goods. I helped him to turn the catapult around. The bird was reeling from the slash the captain had given it and we shot a round, hitting it broadside. There was another crash of wood, Niko again, falling into the barrels in his panic. The bird was letting out cry after cry. It was as if the air were catching fire with that sound. It hurt to even hear.

In pain, the beast had released Miss Tetra and was flapping its wings, sending strong gusts over the deck. The spilled furs whipped into the sea. The sail bulged full. Zuko’s telescope came crashing down, shattering on the deck. Gonzo and I were thrown across the deck as the beast landed again, on top of the captain, knocking her into the ship’s railing. Gonzo shouted, “Captain! Don’t you touch the captain!” He abandoned the catapult, and instead tried to tackle the beast bodily. The bird flapped its wings, knocking Gonzo back, taking to the skies, the captain in its claws.

It took off, heading south towards Outset. Thank the gods, Senza kept his sense during all this. He was already at the helm, turning us south, while Nudge finished pulling in the anchor. We pursued the beast. The wind was in our favor, speeding us on as fast as the bird could fly. Outset was coming out of the horizon and we agreed to open fire when it was closer to shore, to prevent losing the captain in the deeps.

As the bird neared the shoreline, we attacked. Gonzo moved fast. I have always suspected he has some feelings towards the captain more than loyalty, but it would be obvious to anyone in the way he hefted those shots onto the catapult’s arm, never flinching or hesitating, fast as an archer loading an arrow. We fired several shots, each falling short of the beast, landing harmlessly in the water. It flew over the island and I was afraid of striking it, that doing so would cause it to drop Miss Tetra on the shore, the fall too far to survive. But, instead, it began to turn, providing us a clear broadside as it passed over the island’s high cliff top. We hurled a final stone at it.

The bird took the stone head on. Likely its hard mask was the only thing saving it from death, but it released the captain, vanishing behind the island. The captain’s body tumbled into the trees on top of the island, out of sight. We just managed to fold the sails and bring ourselves to a halt some distance from the island. It was damnedly quiet. The only thing moving was a Rito postman, flapping around the island, stirred by the commotion.

With the bird gone, we docked and discussed what to do. Gonzo was passionate to go ashore, despite the fact the captain as out of harm’s way for the time being.

“We clobbered the beast, that’s that. Why waste time? Let’s just get in there and grab Miss Tetra and leave before it comes back.”

“Think idiot,” I said, “What did that thing want? It was after Miss Tetra, not us. It can’t grab her in that dense forest so what good will it be for us to go up there and bring her down here only for the bird to come back? We need to find that monster first, make sure it’s dead, then go ashore and get the captain.”

“Our first priority is the captain! You know that Mako. What good’s a crew without a captain? If it comes back, we’ll be ready for it this time. Miss Tetra won’t be caught off guard again.”

Senza sided with Gonzo. “This island is one without guards or warriors. They can provide no real assistance to us and remaining here is only prolonging a battle on their shores. I say we go and assist the captain back to the ship, then draw the bird away into open water where we can more easily handle it.”


I was still in disagreement, feeling that exposing the captain would allow the bird a second chance to attack her. Yet we resolved to send Gonzo ashore. The rest of us would remain behind and prepare the ship for combat. Nudge and Niko stored the cargo back below, some of it having been damaged in the chaos. Senza prepared another shot for the catapult. Outset was empty save for a man out in his field and a young girl holding a large jar in her arms. Both were looking between us and the sky. Outset is an island I’ve seen several times, a place without change. Time sits heavy upon it, and it’s a land that knows only peace. It felt uncivil to wage a battle over these thatched huts and simply piers, but for the captain, we would have stormed each of these houses with sword or torch. None of us could have faced the memory of her mother had we done anything less.

There was still not a cloud in the sky. Just like when the bird first appeared. I have no idea how we could have missed it again. When I spoke to Zuko about it later, he said to me, “Not right. Came down, right out of the sun. Couldn’t have done it, but it did. Just came right down. Like it knew right where no one would be looking.” I’ve been in still waters, no cloud cover, stark light shining on you for hours. It makes the eye miss things. Blank spots fill your vision. But we were not in the intense sun of doldrums. We were on edge, watchful. We should have seen it.

The bird came straight over us, high. We didn’t know that the captain and Gonzo were out of the forest. There was no time to fire a shot, the beast charged past us. It was out of the line of fire and taking flight over the waters too fast to turn and pursue it. Senza called to Zuko if he’d seen the captain in its claws.

“Not the captain,” he shouted back. “Something. Not the captain. Look, on the cliff.”

The captain was there, pulling some boy up off the cliff edge. I didn’t give the boy a second thought, nor the thing Zuko had seen in the creature’s claws. To me, this battle was over. The beast had found a different prey, had opted not to fight against us for its meal. I was satisfied and why shouldn’t I have been? We were there for our captain, nothing else. The affairs of this tiny island are nothing to us.

There are times when I can almost see through to what the captain is thinking. Times when her smile almost reveals her plans. Like with her mother, when she put down those five intruders on our deck, how looking at her clear eyes, I could almost see the true Captain behind her, the leader that we would have followed to the end. Past the fumes of the alcohol, there was the real Captain. At times, Miss Tetra’s routes almost make sense. The object she is hunting for seems almost within my understanding. However, more often are the times when she will contradict every expectation I have.

How could I have expected her to bring on board the boy I saw on the cliff side? He was a fisher boy. There had not been someone so inexperienced on this deck since Niko first joined.

Captain, what is it that you’re thinking? What are you planning? What is that chart in your quarters leading you to? Or, should I say, leading us to? Because you know, wherever you go, we will follow. I followed your mother and I won’t let it be said my loyalty was only sufficient for a generation. I’ll follow you to the furthest, deepest end. But you must remember your duty to your crew. I pray you have not forgotten.

---------- Post added at 12:31 PM ---------- Previous post was at 12:29 PM ----------

Mako:

We were docked north of Outset Island when the bird flew in from the west. We’d landed to do business with the travelling merchant, Beedle. Gods, what a peculiar man. He has no specific type of wares. He’ll buy anything, yet all he ever sales in his floating shop is fish and bird bait. Every time he talks it’s like a Kargaroc screaming. Yet Miss Tetra never will turn away a useful business partner, a habit of her mother’s, and Beedle asks no questions.

When Miss Tetra’s mother died and Tetra took over the ship, it was difficult to find buyers who would take us seriously at first. Not only is she younger than all of us, there’s also the fact that she’s a woman, something her own mother had to work hard to overcome. Many of our old partners took it as a joke. They’d assumed Senza or I would be captain after Tetra’s mother passed. But for us, there was no question on the matter. Miss Tetra had been leading the ship since I first joined in, some odd years before her mother passed. The old woman was a fiery spirit, ferocious in a battle. She drove us hard but we would have followed her to the end. The way she smiled and laughed and moved among us. She made herself one of us. Less woman and more pirate. Her daughter, however, is harder to place.

I once served under a deranged man on a fishing vessel. My old captain refused to catch his cargo in the Great Sea, laboring under a manic fixation for the beasts of the wild regions. Each trip was a dance with disaster. We sailed through bitter storms that always dragged us off course. The very flow of the ocean changed at times, as if the deep currents were bending. Sickness was not unknown on our vessel, and I have seen my fair share of young men racked with scurvy, with fever, with delusions from the heat. Our captain would drive us to the point of death, even at the risk of encountering monsters of the sea. Eventually, after I left his crew, the man sailed to his death trying to kill a Big Octo, or so I have heard.

Despite his insanity, my old captain was less unnerving than Miss Tetra. While the old man could sail with reckless abandon, he was easy to understand. His love of the sea, his obsession with danger was his whole character. He was no evil man, simply wild and impulsive. Miss Tetra is calm, constantly smiling without revealing what’s underneath.

Her mother acted the same. In the evenings, she’d out drink her crew. She’d start fights in pubs. She’d shout and dance. She’d reveal nothing inside of her. One night, when all the crew was ashore for rest, leaving only Miss Tetra’s mother, myself and Gonzo, then just a cabin boy, on the ship, we were attacked by a small party of rival crew members, intent on raiding the ship. Miss Tetra’s mother had been swaying, inebriated, for hours, looking ready to collapse even as the party of five men climbed aboard, swords drawn. I had only my dagger and Gonzo was too young to fight. We should have been easy prey.

The captain had all five men face down in the shallows without them ever leaving a scratch on the ship deck. I’d never seen her eyes so clear. She wiped her blade clean with a rag dropped by one of the bandits and her hands were steady, her stance firm. She looked at me, straight, and smiled. I did not know whether to tremble or laugh.

Lately, we’ve no want for new hauls. The gang that operated out of Forsaken Fortress finally dried up, destroyed by in-fighting. They were thugs, no rules even amongst themselves. With them gone, we’ve had the rule of the sea. Miss Tetra’s worked us hard, sniffing out caches those louts left behind. A few days ago, we found a haul of furs and weapons from the northern sea that was buried on Bomb Island. Good furs, high price.

When we’d docked near Outset, I suggested an alternative to the captain than the eccentric Beedle. “There’s a merchant opening up on Windfall who’s from the northern seas. Perhaps we should sell these to him. He’d know the cost of these furs better than Beedle. May give us a better bargain.”

Miss Tetra said, “Mako, I appreciate you contributing this bit of wisdom after we have docked at our destination. It’s so useful to consider that option now that the anchor’s dug in and we’re awaiting our contact, isn’t it?”

I apologized, explaining that it was only a thought. The captain smiled. It is a strange smile she has, with only one side of her mouth. Her mother had one just like it. Taunting; it used to drive the captain of the Forsaken Fortress gang mad, seeing her grin at him across the waters like that.

“Oh, don’t apologize now, please. You know I welcome every suggestion. But, we must consider everything when going into a deal like this, yes? Not just the stores on the ship or the buyer’s personality.” She leaned against the railing. Niko’s been scratching his name into the wood again. She fingered the carvings. “True, the northerner may be more accurate in his prices, but other factors come into play. Such as, potential of doing business with the buyer again in the future, agreed?”

I agreed. Zuko called from the crow’s nest, “Ship spotted from the east. Very colorful.” Gonzo, Nudge, and Niko were bringing up the cargo from below. It was glaring and hot, no clouds. We should have been able to see for miles in all direction, especially with Zuko in the nest. The captain continued.

“There’s more to a sale than numbers of gain and loss. There is influence. Not only between the buyer and the seller, but potential influence with related parties. And a man as strange and wide sailing as Beedle is certain to have encountered some strange parties. Parties that may be of use to us someday. I don’t have the stores of friends my mother once did. It’d be good for me to build my own.”

The captain showed no sign on her face of deep thought or concern. Of late, something has been driving the captain on, spurring her commands. At first, I did not notice. We were pursuing the caches left by the Forsaken Fortress gang, nothing more. But our charts are beginning to reveal a pattern, a triangular route carved over the waves, centered in the mid east of the Great Sea. Though I have never been in the captain’s quarters, I have seen from a distance the chart she has upon her wall, with a similar triangular route inked over it. Is she searching for something else in these desolate places? What is it?

She will not tell us. Our captain stands apart. But we, or at least I, do not question this. A captain must always keep part of themselves separate from their crew I suppose. That smile the old captain gave me the night she killed that boarding party, that hidden part shining through. I only wish Miss Tetra would tell me what we are chasing so I might better plan the navigational charts. It does frustrate one to continually redraw the damned things.

A stack of crates toppled over. Niko had staggered into them, spilling their contents on the deck. Gonza helped right them.

“These furs are delicate you imbecile!” he said. “If you tear one, what good is it then? No Windfall lady’s gonna want it.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Niko kept apologizing, trying to pack the furs back into their crate, more likely to damage them than the fall. The captain laughed, said, “Perhaps, Niko, you’d rather wear them. If we clean you up a little, you’ll look dashing in those furs.” Gonzo and I laughed as Nudge tried to keep Niko from ripping the furs as he pushed them back in.

We saw the bird when it let out its cry. High, tearing; a grating sound. It was already swooping down on the ship, close enough to make out the feathers in its wings and the stone mask that covered its face. It had its talons outstretched. I thought it was going to tear the mast from the ship. This creature was massive, far larger than any of the other beasts we’ve seen. It could have likely lifted the boat bodily from the water if it had a mind to. We stared, all unbelieving. Even beyond the Great Sea, I’d never seen such a creature. Then it came down upon our captain. Amazing, even when it landed on the deck, it never once stirred the boat.

The captain didn’t let out a cry. When she saw the beast was coming for her, she moved. She had her dagger out and dug into the monster’s tender flesh above its talon before it could lift her from the ship. By now, Gonzo was already running to the catapult, in his haste loading it with one of the barrels of goods. I helped him to turn the catapult around. The bird was reeling from the slash the captain had given it and we shot a round, hitting it broadside. There was another crash of wood, Niko again, falling into the barrels in his panic. The bird was letting out cry after cry. It was as if the air were catching fire with that sound. It hurt to even hear.

In pain, the beast had released Miss Tetra and was flapping its wings, sending strong gusts over the deck. The spilled furs whipped into the sea. The sail bulged full. Zuko’s telescope came crashing down, shattering on the deck. Gonzo and I were thrown across the deck as the beast landed again, on top of the captain, knocking her into the ship’s railing. Gonzo shouted, “Captain! Don’t you touch the captain!” He abandoned the catapult, and instead tried to tackle the beast bodily. The bird flapped its wings, knocking Gonzo back, taking to the skies, the captain in its claws.

It took off, heading south towards Outset. Thank the gods, Senza kept his sense during all this. He was already at the helm, turning us south, while Nudge finished pulling in the anchor. We pursued the beast. The wind was in our favor, speeding us on as fast as the bird could fly. Outset was coming out of the horizon and we agreed to open fire when it was closer to shore, to prevent losing the captain in the deeps.

As the bird neared the shoreline, we attacked. Gonzo moved fast. I have always suspected he has some feelings towards the captain more than loyalty, but it would be obvious to anyone in the way he hefted those shots onto the catapult’s arm, never flinching or hesitating, fast as an archer loading an arrow. We fired several shots, each falling short of the beast, landing harmlessly in the water. It flew over the island and I was afraid of striking it, that doing so would cause it to drop Miss Tetra on the shore, the fall too far to survive. But, instead, it began to turn, providing us a clear broadside as it passed over the island’s high cliff top. We hurled a final stone at it.

The bird took the stone head on. Likely its hard mask was the only thing saving it from death, but it released the captain, vanishing behind the island. The captain’s body tumbled into the trees on top of the island, out of sight. We just managed to fold the sails and bring ourselves to a halt some distance from the island. It was damnedly quiet. The only thing moving was a Rito postman, flapping around the island, stirred by the commotion.

With the bird gone, we docked and discussed what to do. Gonzo was passionate to go ashore, despite the fact the captain as out of harm’s way for the time being.

“We clobbered the beast, that’s that. Why waste time? Let’s just get in there and grab Miss Tetra and leave before it comes back.”

“Think idiot,” I said, “What did that thing want? It was after Miss Tetra, not us. It can’t grab her in that dense forest so what good will it be for us to go up there and bring her down here only for the bird to come back? We need to find that monster first, make sure it’s dead, then go ashore and get the captain.”

“Our first priority is the captain! You know that Mako. What good’s a crew without a captain? If it comes back, we’ll be ready for it this time. Miss Tetra won’t be caught off guard again.”

Senza sided with Gonzo. “This island is one without guards or warriors. They can provide no real assistance to us and remaining here is only prolonging a battle on their shores. I say we go and assist the captain back to the ship, then draw the bird away into open water where we can more easily handle it.”


I was still in disagreement, feeling that exposing the captain would allow the bird a second chance to attack her. Yet we resolved to send Gonzo ashore. The rest of us would remain behind and prepare the ship for combat. Nudge and Niko stored the cargo back below, some of it having been damaged in the chaos. Senza prepared another shot for the catapult. Outset was empty save for a man out in his field and a young girl holding a large jar in her arms. Both were looking between us and the sky. Outset is an island I’ve seen several times, a place without change. Time sits heavy upon it, and it’s a land that knows only peace. It felt uncivil to wage a battle over these thatched huts and simply piers, but for the captain, we would have stormed each of these houses with sword or torch. None of us could have faced the memory of her mother had we done anything less.

There was still not a cloud in the sky. Just like when the bird first appeared. I have no idea how we could have missed it again. When I spoke to Zuko about it later, he said to me, “Not right. Came down, right out of the sun. Couldn’t have done it, but it did. Just came right down. Like it knew right where no one would be looking.” I’ve been in still waters, no cloud cover, stark light shining on you for hours. It makes the eye miss things. Blank spots fill your vision. But we were not in the intense sun of doldrums. We were on edge, watchful. We should have seen it.

The bird came straight over us, high. We didn’t know that the captain and Gonzo were out of the forest. There was no time to fire a shot, the beast charged past us. It was out of the line of fire and taking flight over the waters too fast to turn and pursue it. Senza called to Zuko if he’d seen the captain in its claws.

“Not the captain,” he shouted back. “Something. Not the captain. Look, on the cliff.”

The captain was there, pulling some boy up off the cliff edge. I didn’t give the boy a second thought, nor the thing Zuko had seen in the creature’s claws. To me, this battle was over. The beast had found a different prey, had opted not to fight against us for its meal. I was satisfied and why shouldn’t I have been? We were there for our captain, nothing else. The affairs of this tiny island are nothing to us.

There are times when I can almost see through to what the captain is thinking. Times when her smile almost reveals her plans. Like with her mother, when she put down those five intruders on our deck, how looking at her clear eyes, I could almost see the true Captain behind her, the leader that we would have followed to the end. Past the fumes of the alcohol, there was the real Captain. At times, Miss Tetra’s routes almost make sense. The object she is hunting for seems almost within my understanding. However, more often are the times when she will contradict every expectation I have.

How could I have expected her to bring on board the boy I saw on the cliff side? He was a fisher boy. There had not been someone so inexperienced on this deck since Niko first joined.

Captain, what is it that you’re thinking? What are you planning? What is that chart in your quarters leading you to? Or, should I say, leading us to? Because you know, wherever you go, we will follow. I followed your mother and I won’t let it be said my loyalty was only sufficient for a generation. I’ll follow you to the furthest, deepest end. But you must remember your duty to your crew. I pray you have not forgotten.

Niko:
Yes! Yes! YES! I’m not the bottom of the ladder anymore! I can’t say how happy I was when the captain climbed back on the ship with Link behind her. Of course, I was happy for the captain’s well being too, obviously. But then she told us about Link’s sister, how the nasty bird grabbed her by mistake, thinking she was the captain. Can you believe that thing’s actually roosting at the Forsaken Fortress, right were our old rivals once were? And Link’s planning on going there to boot, to give that bird a thrashing for stealing his sister (oh man, did we give that monster a thump too! Me and Senza were firing hell at it with the catapult, Zuka was up in the crow’s nest directing our shots. We were like professional warriors, real soldiers! Tetra’s got to be proud!)

Right after I lost track of the bird (I watched him as flew off, just in case he came back for more), Miss Tetra climbed back on the ship. Yeesh, Gonzo’s got no pride, the way he was yipping behind her. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt Miss Tetra?” Asking if she needed help, if her leg was alright. You idiot, it’s just a little limp! Miss Tetra’s tougher than that.

Then Link came up. I didn’t know what to make of him at first. To be honest, he is pretty scrawny. Short too! Little legs and arms, not much good for carting supplies. And that outfit he was wearing…. I’d heard stories of boys wearing weird outfits for their coming of age. Suppose to be from fairies or something I think. Still, he’ll be burning up in that if they keep him on deck. So I’ll just find him work in the hold instead! Man, I’m already in the leader’s frame of mind, just like Miss Tetra!

Tetra called us all together; even Zuko had to come down from the crow’s nest. She was limping pretty good from being dropped, but Gonzo’s constant pestering probably didn’t help!

“This boy is Link. He did me a favor up on the cliff after that bird dropped me. Killed a few monsters that were trying to grab me. I don’t know if any of you saw it, but that bird carried off his younger sister, thinking she was me. According to the Rita postman, it took her to Forsaken Fortress where it’s made a nest. So, we’re going to give him a lift, to try and rescue her.”

Man, their faces when she said that! Mako started laughing, like it was a joke. Course, he shut up quick when Tetra looked at him. Senza and Nudge didn’t look happy either. I wasn’t bothered, of course. I already knew what this really was; bringing on board the new cabin boy! I knew the captain’d been thinking about my request for an underling. But I didn’t say anything; I let Miss Tetra handle it.

“Miss Tetra,” Senza said, “Are you sure about this? He’s a child. No offense boy. I’m sorry for your troubles, but we have our own worries. We have places to go, and he’ll just get in the way.”

Nudge said, “I agree with Senza ma’am. This hardly seems like our problem, and having some brat running around will be worse than Niko’s antics!” That jerk! I should have told him off then. But I knew Miss Tetra wouldn’t let him get by with that.

“I’ve decided he’s coming with us.” She looked around and, whew, I’d hate to have talked back to her when that gaze hit me. Miss Tetra’s got eyes that can whither your very bones! “I trusted my crew to respect my command. If that’s a problem, if anyone has doubts about my decision, he can tell that to me, plainly.”

You can bet no one spoke up then. Just like I figured!

“Good,” Miss Tetra grinned. “Then why are all these muscles not in motion? The wind’s changing, let’s get some distance while there’s still daylight.” We hustled to getting the ship turned out to sea.

Of course, I waited before starting the new cabin boy’s training. I mean, the poor kid just lost his sister! She’s probably torn apart by now, gobbled up by that crazy bird; that’s got to weigh on you! So, I let him relax till we were out of sight of his home. Poor Link. He just stood there at the back of the ship, waving to his friends till they were out of sight. It’s hard leaving home so young. I should know! I snuck away from my home when I wasn’t much older than Link. The call of the sea was way too strong for an adventurer like me to ignore. I stowed away on board a ship, and… well, there were a few mishaps. I ended up getting stuck in a crate full of limes and traded to another ship, which happened to be Miss Tetra’s ship. I begged her to let me on board, since I’d be a valuable asset to any good crew. She saw my potential and let me stay. Sure, I’ve had to go through the trials of the new crew member, doing laundry, cleaning the floors, but that happens to every good pirate! And now, it’ll happen for my boy, Link! The beginnings of a great pirate, I just know it.

After the island was gone, Tetra turned over command of our new captain boy to me. Oh-ho, I put him to work alright. Link’s a good student, but it takes a good teacher to bring out the best in the brightest of students. Link and I make a good pair. We connect, me with my pedagogy, him with his good sense. When he came down to the hold, I patted him on the back and really made him feel at home.

I told him, “You’re in good company shrimp.” “Shrimp’s” my little nickname for him. It’s what I’d already decided beforehand my underling would be called. I think it gives him something to rise over, something to make him work hard, to prove “Hey, I ain’t no shrimp!” I said, “Now, I should warn you. Here on Miss Tetra’s ship, there aren’t no slackers what so ever! Got that? And you’ll be answering to me, so you can bet I’ll know if you’re slacking off.”

Link nodded. I waited for him to say something but he doesn’t talk much. Actually, thinking back, he may even be mute! That’s crazy! You wouldn’t know it from looking at him…. He looked real sure and he smiled as I talked to him, to show he was listening.

I set him up in a little basic training down below, reorganizing all those crates of goods that spilled in the fight. We’ve got the hold organized, since it’s such a tight space, what with the captain’s quarter’s taking up one end of the ship. Our food storage is near the captain’s quarters, as well as a few animals, cuckoos and a cow that Nudge takes care of for milk and eggs on long trips. We keep our fruit plants down there too, when they’re not on deck sunning. Then there’s our sleeping quarters. We only have just enough room so Link’ll have to sleep on a pallet, poor kid. So clearing up the hold was major important, but I could tell Link could handle it. He nodded and hopped to! He reminds me a lot of myself when I first joined.

He really started getting fast, packing the crates, setting them up out of the way. It’s a rough floor, and those heavy loads can be hard to push, especially for someone young as Link. He’d grit and shove and they’d slide across. I’m impressed at my little shrimp! I even joked, offered him a little bet.

“Tell you what shrimp! You’re doing such a great job, if you can get this whole area cleaned up today, I’ll just give you a special reward.”

I was just joking, but I think it really put the fire into him. Since he was doing so well, I decided to go up on deck and report to the captain. It felt so good being able to walk up on deck and get some fresh air, knowing the work was getting done down below. I offered to help steer, since Gonzo’s constantly working the helm. I’ve always wanted to steer the ship.

“Niko, shouldn’t you be down with Link?” Miss Tetra said. “We need those crates re-packed. We’ll pass by Rock Spire Island in a few days, on our way to the Forsaken Fortress. I want to stop there and trade with Beedle before we continue on. I’m not missing him again.”

Of course, Miss Tetra, as captain, would need to be concerned over the supervision of our new recruit. I knew she was worried about me leaving him to handle himself, probably afraid Link’d hurt himself down below. But I could tell my boy wasn’t that clumsy! He’d do fine, and I would have assured Miss Tetra if Gonzo hadn’t started off at the mouth.

“Niko thinks he’s on top of the food chain now that he’s got someone to order around. He thinks if he’s not scrubbing our underwear, he’s one of the real sailors.”

Oh, that Gonzo! He’ll push me too far one day, and then I can’t be held responsible for what I do! Luckily, Miss Tetra’s not one for blabbing like that. She told Gonzo to stow it.

“We’re a crew, act like one.” She had her necklace out, running her thumb over it. Her necklace is so weird. It’s like an arrow point or something with a triangular piece missing from the bottom. It’s a really bright gold, brighter than any of the gold I’ve seen before. I think it was made in some special way, probably an ancient blacksmithing tradition or something. I wish Miss Tetra would tell me where she got it from, but she just takes it out now and then, running her thumb over its edges, like she’s reading something on it. “Niko, go help Link.”

I knew she wanted to keep me and Gonzo from having it out, so I didn’t argue with her. But man, was I in for it! When I got down below again, Link had already finished stowing away the goods! That crazy brat, he was just sitting there on one of the crates, swinging his short legs, grinning at me. I ought to have knocked him over the head for such an attitude. He’s lucky I’m a pretty laid back teacher.

I did make sure to give him praise for his work, but the reward I’d promised was a problem. Mainly, there’s nothing on the ship that’s, technically, mine! I’d be glad to reward my dutiful shrimp well, but I hated to give him something that might be missed. Luckily, there was this old satchel the captain’s mother left down in the hold. It was part of a bunch of old knick knacks she had, stuff we couldn’t sell and didn’t want to throw away because it belonged to the old captain. The sleeve for her knife, the flask she drank from, the ribbon she’d wear around her arm when we got into a battle.

Working down in the hold so often, I’d see that collection of odds and ends and it’d be hard to go on. I can be pretty emotional, I’m not afraid to admit. I didn’t know the old captain, personally, but Senza told me how much of a companion to her crew she was, how Miss Tetra’s attitude came right down from her mother. I always felt like I could relate to the old captain. We probably would have got along well, she and I. I wish I had met her so we could talk.

I flipped open the lid to the captain’s stuff and, after a minute of rooting, found the satchel. It’s a tough old thing, made out of some odd purple leather, worn real bad. Some spots are worn so rough that the whole thing looks a little like a face, with the flap being the mouth and two rough patches for eyes. I figured it’d come in handy for Link in his new duties, give him something to carry any tools around in. This will come in handy as the master has much much more to teach the shrimp! But my boy Link’ll handle it! As his teacher, I have full faith in him!

Tetra:

My mother sang me a song. When I was young, before I could move over the rough boards of the ship, she sang it to me. The words are gone now, but the melody is here, a lullaby from somewhere deep. I think I hear it sometimes, when the ship groans, the sails smack. My mother is here, in the wood and rope of the ship.

I was doomed to be a captain. My mother taught me only the duties of a leader. How to love my crew, even when sending them into battle. How to present both mercy and cruelty in my manner. How to speak. How to hold steady. I'm always steady. She taught me how to grin, but not how to smile.

"Lift the sword."

I was six. We were in her cabin. Her bed beneath the chart, mine shoved into a niche in the left wall. She sat on her bed, the chart with its red etching hovering behind her, drawing out the pattern I see in every angle upon the ship and every corner of the world. On the other wall, the pictures of the legend of the lost Kingdom. Mother lined her room with the weight of ages. Before her, on the floor, her sword. It too carried the heavy weight of legend. Not the single handed blade with the large, cupped guard that her crew would at times carry, but a broad sword, taller than my body, a wide guard, straight with rounded ends. It shone in the light, the handle like dipped gold, the blade polished stone.

"Lift it," she said. "Grab the handle, hold it firmly, both hands. Lift it."

I gripped the handle. It was warm, almost hot. I tried. The sword's tip gauged the floor. My arms ached. The sword twisted in my hands.

"Lift. Lift."

I said I can't.

"Lift."

I pulled on my arms, digging the sharp tip into the boards, tearing out flakes in the polished wood. I held my breath; I buckled. The tip left the ground. I lifted the sword up to the level of my eyes. Then it grew too heavy and I dropped it. The hilt landed on my foot, pain going up my leg, but I did not notice for the ache in my arms. My mother bent, took the sword by the handle, lifted it with one hand.

"This," she moved the sword before her. The light from the candles caught the emblem in the middle of the hilt, a small pyramid of three triangles, one resting on top of the other two. The same design on the chart behind her. "This is the weight of a leader. This is the weight of a captain, a queen, a goddess. You've lifted it Tetra, but lifting it is not the goal. Bearing it, guiding it, that is the goal. That is duty."

I am a captain. Since my mother died, I've not only lifted the weight she left me but bore it on. The men she left behind have made the burden an easy one to bear. Senza, Mako, Nudge, Zuko are dedicated, I believe at times more to my mother than me. Gonzo, he follows me I know. Niko is Niko.

But I am still Tetra. Though they add "Miss" to my name, beneath that title I am still only Tetra. I am my mother's daughter, left a ship to sail and something to find. But I do not even know what.

When she grew sick, mother told me to come to her cabin. I had begun to make my bed among the crew then, becoming, like mother, one of them, learning their manners, learning their ways. I stepped into the cabin. It was always hot. No windows, only vents in the corners for the smoke. She often had many candles burning, besides a small fire. I never saw my mother sweat until she grew sick, and that night the perspiration was thick on her brow. It stood out in her lashes, on her lips. She was sitting up in bed, reading sheet music.

I sat beside her and she grinned at me.

"Amateurs," she said, tossing the music on the floor. Some of it whipped under her bed, a few sheets fluttered out of the door. "Amateurs, all of them. Composers these days are in love with flutes and fiddles and there are no drums. No good music lacks for drums. But despite that. Here."

She undid the leather strap around her wrist, the one on which hung her golden medallion. She handed me the trinket, dropping it in my hand. It felt light, so light for a moment I thought I had dropped it, but when I checked it still sat between my fingers.

"It's ugly, I know," she said, "I had to make the leather myself after my mother gave it to me. Useless woman never took care of anything. The strap had gotten dry and cracked and would have broken. But it's ours and you need to start wearing it. Get used to the weight of it. You must guard it with your life understand?" She gestured at the chart behind her, the portraits of the hero of legend and the lost kingdom on the wall. "It's something old, something of worth beyond the monetary value we place on these things. Don't ask me, I don't know what, exactly, it is, but it is something worth keeping. Else my fool of a mother would have sold it long ago."

Mother didn't believe in stories or gods or legends. Neither do I. So I was compelled to ask, "Then why is it special? What's its worth?"

"I've been looking for an answer for that," she said. She was watching one of the loose sheets. It had floated down into the fire and was catching, curling up. "Not very actively, I'll admit. The thing about antiques, about legends and old talismans… you get used to them. Assume they'll be around forever. Don't worry so much about them. I just never really bothered trying to find where it came from."

"Why now?" I stretched out the leather strap. It was long for a bracelet strap, long enough to be a necklace instead. Mother always wore it knotted several times to fit her thin wrist. "Why are you giving me this now?"

A silly question; we both knew the answer. It was only a few weeks after that that mother dropped on the deck, finally overcome by age and toil. Even then, we knew it was coming. But a daughter is obliged to ask. I have always some duty to fulfill. A captain's alwaysunder obligations. A captain, a daughter. A woman.

It was obligation that made me listen to the boy from Outset. Had I not awoken to see him in the forest myself, I probably would not have really believed a boy that young was responsible for helping me. While he does have a steadiness about him, he is still only a child. An island child, not one of the sea. But I saw him there in the forest, killing those strange creatures gathered around me. I saw him run headlong off a cliff to try and save his sister after that monstrous bird returned and snatched her away. Steady, hard beneath his child's skin. But stupid. So blisteringly stupid.

I accepted him because I do not refuse an obligation. Besides, Niko is always in need of assistance, so having him onboard would make unloading our freight easier. We still had those crates to sell to Beedle, who, in the confusion, had left Outset and sailed north. We'd have to catch him at Rock Spire Island instead.

I despise Beedle as an individual. He is a conman. I know this because I deal with his like among my own crew. Yet he is a success and wide spread too. That man has set up shop in seas few dare to sail, bravery either stemming from some superior knowledge or some inferior idiocy. Either way, he is much wider sailed than the merchants of Windfall, many of whom are nothing more than glorified peddlers, hawking whatever washes up on their shores. Beedle has been places. And, I feel, has likely done business with individuals who may be of use to me.

Once we were out of sight of Outset, I put Link to work with Niko below the deck. I did this to give the boy something to do. It was pathetic watching him as his home receded, that scrawny body clinging to rope, waving to people who could no longer see him. He did not shout any goodbyes, but then again, he never speaks a word of any kind. A mute, I suppose. A blessing since that meant I would not have to hear him whining.

I did not feel like seeing him mope around the deck of the ship; depression and home sickness build from inactivity. I told him "Go down below and help Niko. We earn our bread on this ship and since you'll be with us for a few days, you'll be in need of food."

As he could not speak he did not make any reply against me, but his looks expressed his thoughts clear enough. He gave me a firm glare, showing his distaste for being ordered around. Likely, my reluctance to let him on board also fostered his dislike of me.

I asked him if he had something to say. He turned and went below, his feet making soft sounds against the moist wood of the ship.

Gonzo was beside me, at the helm. He said, "Very nice words Miss. The boy ought to remember his place as a guest on board this ship."

"Do you know what I think of when I look at him Gonzo?"

"Me when I was that young?" Gonzo laughed. I couldn't help but smile as well.

"No. Niko, if he couldn't talk."

"Now that would be quite the blessing."

I was surprised when Niko came on deck later, telling me the boy had already finished reloading and fixing the damaged crates. I dismissed Niko at the time, but went down a few minutes later to see for myself. Just as Niko said, the boxes were all restocked, orderly, unlike that slovenly manner Niko has of shoving everything in as he grabs it. The boy was nearby, mending a worn bag with some old thread and needle. He looked up at me, grinning.

"You put everything back in order? The furs, the spears, all of it?"

He nodded.

"What is that?" I pointed at the bag in his lap. He lifted it to give me a better look. I recognized it from my mother's effects, a worn bag she used to keep her spoils in, small valuable trinkets she often took off opponents in battle. Then I understood. "Niko gave that to you?"

He nodded, smiling like a fool.

"For getting done so fast?"

He nodded.

"Well, that's good. I'm happy for you. You've earned the respect of the ship's swabby for moving some stolen goods around. Congratulations."

Link stopped smiling. I left him to his mending and returned to the helm. The next day was much the same. I put Niko and Link to work mending the damage done to the ship by the large bird. Again, I found myself unable to stop taking jabs at Link during his work.

That night, over dinner, Senza provided entertainment with a story of some drunken fishers who crashed their ship on the shore of one of the fairy islands and how they suffered the fairy's wrath for their crime. While we passed around wooden plates of fruit and salted pork, scrambling over each others' hands for the choicest picks, Senza leaned back, dripping his drink on his shirt, looking quite red in the face.

"The fairy said to the captain of the vessel 'As captain, you ought to lead your crew with wisdom. Therefore, go and learn the wisdom of leadership amid the leaderless packs of the Gyorg.' And with a wave of her hand she turned the old captain into a hideous Gyorg right there on the shore and he had to flop his way into the water and swam off!"

The table sounded with low chuckles. Niko howled with strained laughter. Link smiled, alone at his corner of the table, staring at Senza.

"Then she turned to the captain's mate and said, 'It is from you that the voice of reason is expected. When a ship's captain cannot lead, it is you who must act as its compass. Therefore, learn you the power of direction amid the spinning, directionless Seahats.' And with a wave of her hand she turned the mate into an ugly, spinning Seahat, and he twisted his huge body down the shore and flew out over the sea!"

"Best watch out Gonzo," Mako said, "You're closest to mate on this ship! If you start walking in circles soon we'll know why!"

Nudge and Senza bellowed and patted Gonzo on the back as he blushed. Niko nearly fell from his chair. Zuko had rose to check the deck and to get himself some more drink. I patted his arm, handing him my cup as he walked by. I watched my crew.

"Anyway," Senza waited until we'd calmed down to continue. "Anyway, anyway, the fairy then turned to the last crew member, the lowly swabby of the ship. She said, 'You are not more than an extension of your captain's will are you? Only a tool upon the ship, little more. Therefore, you shall learn the courage necessary for independence and responsibility amid the featureless Chuchus of this island.' And with a wave of her hand she turned the poor swabby into a slimy Chuchu and he bounced off into the grass, never to be seen again!"

Gonzo pounded the table, upsetting some drinks and spilling a plate. Mako giggled. Niko was red across the face, mumbling something. As Zuko passed by me to his seat, he said "Clear skies."

Once the laughter had run its course, Senza looked at Link and said, "You have any stories from back home boy? I know you can't tell them to us, but I'm sure your family has some legends from old times, right? Any good fables?"

Link smiled, nodded emphatically and jumped up, walking across the room. We watched him go to the ash bin for the oven and remove a small lump of coal from the bottom of the bin. He returned to the table, pushed aside his plate and cup and began to draw, using the coal as a stylus. Mako looked at Nudge and laughed. "Our little artist. A little scholar."

"Give my shrimp his space!" Niko said. "Just you watch. My Link's going to tell you something even Senza doesn't know about."

I took a sip from my cup, watching him, waiting. His arms moved rapidly. He's left handed. He sat back, grinning, gesturing at the table. We all leaned forward to look. Nudge grabbed the lantern over the table and angled it to light the tabletop.

There was a line of crude drawings, difficult to make out at first given the darkness of the coal. The first one was a picture of a castle and a figure on horseback in front of it, a sword held over its head. I recognized the image instantly, both of those elements having sat framed in my mother's cabin all my life. The hero and his kingdom of legend.

The next image was of the castle without the hero. Instead, a dark cloud was coming down on the castle. Smaller figures of people were fleeing the castle to a large boat at sea. In the next image, the boat was sailing upon the ocean, then, the final image, showed the boat beside an island shaped roughly like Outset, with several figures grouped together, smiling on the shore. Some of them wore the same hat as the hero from the first image. Then, after that image, there was simply a large arrow pointed down at the end of the table, to Link.

He sat there grinning, eyes running over us all. Waiting for us to get it.

"Well well," Mako said, clicking his tongue. "Would you look at that. Link's of royal birth."

Senza sat back and laughed softly. "That he is. We've got a royal guest on board this ship. You're quite lucky Miss Tetra. Not every girl gets saved by a hero's offspring."

"Hey, don't pick on my boy Link!" Niko said, patting Link on the shoulder. "I've seen him work and, trust me, he's of royal stock alright. He's tough!"

They laughed, chattered. Link smiled. I let them go on. It felt good, hearing simple talk. Simple talk is what makes a crew. Even Mako and Nudge began to include Link in their discussion.

The third day we came in sight of Rock Spire. I had Link and Niko move the crates onto the deck. Zuko was in the crow's nest, but we also had Nudge standing with Gonzo at the helm, keeping an eye on the horizon. None of us could shake the uneasy feeling that the bird might come again.

"Perhaps it would be best for you to wait below deck Captain," Senza suggested to me. "At least until we're anchored."

I shook my head.

"You're forgetting your own stories Senza. A captain must possess the wisdom of leadership. Cowering in my cabin is not leadership. If that bird comes again, I will be ready this time."

The catapult was loaded, Senza and Mako manning it. I stood on the deck, watching Beedle's frightfully colorful ship come in from the horizon. Link came beside me. He had a bottle of water in his hand, from which he drank as we watched Beedle come closer. He offered me some, which I accepted.

"Have you ever done business with this man before? On your home island?" I asked. Link nodded. He was wearing the bag Niko had given him and he removed a small fruit from it, giving it to me. It was a Hyoi Pear, a favorite of sea gulls. I handed it back to him. "I did see a lot of gulls on your island. I suppose they flocked there because it is good resting ground for them."

He shook his head and took out from his bag the piece of coal from the night before. He scratched on the railing of the ship "My Sister."

"They come for your sister?"

He shrugged then nodded.

The bird did not come. Beedle pulled alongside us, our two ships bumping lightly. Niko and Link threw down lines and locked us together, tossing over a step ladder. Beedle came out on deck and watched Gonzo and Nudge cart the boxes down. It's always so odd to see him standing up. It's a wonder his legs actually work; normally, he is inside his ship, sitting with his legs bunched up next to him, never standing even to accept payment. As they brought the crates down to him, Beedle opened each one, checked the contents, and then let them take it inside. If I must say one thing for the man, he is quite friendly. He did not stop smiling the whole time and whenever he told Gonzo or Nudge to go in, it was always, "Thank you! Go ahead."

I dropped down to speak with him. The deck of his ship is surprisingly steady. In fact, when coming from my own ship to his, it's like stepping on land. Inside his ship he has a sparse "merchandise stand" with only a few selection of items. Odd considering how much he buys. It's a wonder there's room on the ship for him at all. After the last crate was loaded, Beedle gave me an estimate.

"For all of that I think I'm willing to go, say, 800 rupees. A fair price, don't you think?"

I didn't. I had hoped to clear a thousand for those furs, but at the moment, I needed something more than money. 800 would be enough to pay everyone their wages. My payment was to be in information. I followed him into the dark of the ship, out of hearing of the crew

"Sure, 800 is good. But I was wondering if you could inform me on something."

"Anything!" Beedle said, digging out a small purse of rupees from behind his stand. He had the bag locked with an iron ring, despite the fact that the bag itself was made of simple fabric. "I'm always willing and ready to help a valuable customer!"

"I'm looking for an expert on maps. I have heard that such a cartographer exists on the Great Sea, a strange man with peculiar habits who is quite hard to find." Our two boats continued to clap together, making a hollow tapping. I could feel the vibrations from the tapping in the bottom of my feet. "In your travels, have you ever met this man or heard about him?"

Beedle had his hand in his rupee bag, counting out orange rupees on the table. Now he stopped. He set his bag down, rested his hands on the table. His voice was shockingly quiet without that salesman energy.

"A cartographer? I had heard of someone like that actually, yes. Can I ask what you need him for?"

"I need him to decipher a chart for me. A very old one." That wasn't giving away too much.

"I might be willing to buy the chart from you. If its price you are concerned about, I can guarantee I'll aim for the highest lot."

"No. Price is not the object here. It's just a family heirloom. Old, musty, hard to read. It's not even worth anything." I wanted him off the salesman pitch. I needed him to have no interest in the matter. "I just need an expert's eye to go over it is all. The language is old, badly written. It's just a curiosity."

"I see." Beedle nodded slowly, thoughtfully, over and over. Someone on my ship shouted, "Niko for the gods' sake!" There was another yell and a few distant thumps, likely Niko falling into something. Beedle took out a sea chart and spread it over his merchandise table.

"It's been quite a while since I was last there," he said, moving his finger over the chart, searching for something. Finally, he landed his finger on a blotch of land not too far from Rock Spire Island, just a little ways south. "There. That's where he last did business. I saw him only once. A frighteningly strange fellow. Always moving, hopping, jittering about fairies and magic words. But, if what he says is true, when it comes to charts and maps, there's no one with more knowledge than him. I can't remember his name but you'll know him when you see him. A weird green imp of a man. Lives there, in a tower of his own design, just as frightening looking as its builder."

I memorized the island's location so I could mark it on my own chart. I'd seen that tower before, in the distance, but had always assumed it was an unused fortification, possibly one built by the Forsaken Fortress gang before they fell apart. I thanked Beedle and collected my money. As I left he screeched that awful "Thank you!" We disconnected the two ships and my crew seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as the colorful ship sailed away into the east.

A tower to the south. I finally have my lead. The necklace mother gave me, the chart left in her room, now the resources to understand what they mean. The only thing to take care of first is Link.

Link…. There is something familiar about him but the more I try to make the connection, the further it slips from me. He's nothing to do with my mother's chart or my necklace, but I can't help but feel that there is something. I do not know what. That not knowing is what worries me.

While he was writing on the railing of the ship, I took that moment to slip something into his bag, another trinket left behind by my mother, this one of more immediate use. A small green stone, a twin to one in my possession. Whoever possesses one of these stones will be able to communicate with the possessor of the other. But, more importantly, I will be able to keep taps on what this boy is doing.

He is nothing but a brash, stupid boy, but I do not trust that. I trust this feeling inside of me, this captain's instinct. I know I must remember my duty to my crew, and I will try. But I am Tetra, beneath it all. And I must remember my duty to myself first. I will answer these questions. For me. Me alone.