Fiction, Funnies, and Songs:

Malena pushed her way past a group of women gossiping around the fishmonger's stall, busily comparing the merits of the plaice and cod.  They made a nice screen once Malena was behind them, careful not to run but lengthening her stride as much as she dared.  Once past the little stall, she dared a glance over her shoulder with feigned casualness.  No sign of Furio yet.  She shivered.  No man had ever deserved his name like him!  Why couldn't he have been named Hilario instead?

She continued weaving her way through the wharf-side crowd, using her basket to open a path, while her eyes roamed the area for both pursuers and opportunities.  How difficult would it be to sneak on board one of those boats?  Ships...  Whatever...  She looked down at herself; she was hardly a child, to hide in small corners of a ship's hold as a stowaway.  She had no trouble figuring out what her most likely fate would be if she got caught.  She chewed on that thought for a moment.  If that was the most likely way to end, maybe she should try getting on a ship as a whore.  She thought of Furio again and decided to keep this idea for complete and utter desperation.  She wasn't quite there yet, but seemed to be getting closer.

She examined the various vessels at anchor, trying to guess which ones were bound for something better than this place.  No point in getting on a fishing boat, for one thing.  And she wasn't too hot about getting passage for another of the Vodacce Keys either.  Not far enough, too difficult to leave.  The mainland, at least.  Would she dare hop on board a ship bound for some really foreign place, like Avalon or the Crescent Empire?  Heh.  Yes.  If she saw a good opportunity.  Anything but Dionna and Furio, at this point.  She paused near another stall, ostensibly to look at the crab wriggling in their mesh baskets, and checked again for any signs of pursuit.  She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw someone who looked like Furio – there – no, maybe not.  Her heart was pounding a little too hard; she took a deep steadying breath and started walking again, not too fast, not too fast, don't attract attention...

"How are we doing, Onofre?" asked a man's voice behind Malena.

"About complete, sir," answered another man.  "All we're missing's a mate for the carpenter.  No luck so far, I don't think we're going to find one until we get back to Castille.  Too much work available, they're hard to snap up."

It took Malena a second to place what was so odd and so attractive about the two voices.  They were speaking Castillan!  Theus' mercy, she hadn't heard Castillan in – what, months? years, now?  It was like getting a drink of cold fresh water.  She turned around, struggling to look casual, and glanced at the speakers.

She saw two men, clearly sailors from their clubbed pigtails and their style of dress.  They had the dark wavy hair of Castillans, tanned skins, and that peculiar stance seamen assume even on land, feet apart as if still bracing themselves for the next roll.  One was chewing something, occasionally displaying a gap where a front tooth used to be.  He wore a red scarf on his head and a gold earring in his right ear; his cheerful ugly face reminded Malena of certain breeds of dogs.  The other was a bit neater and stood easier, somehow Malena decided he must be the officer; he had a good open face but his nose had been broken at some point.  There was a young woman at his elbow, a slip of a girl listening attentively to the men's conversation, standing very straight with hands clasped behind her back.  Malena didn't think she was a jenny, since she didn't act the part and she was dressed like a man – very odd.  She looked too clean to be a sailor, with a crisp white shirt and a blue slashed-sleeve doublet, and her hair was gathered in a braid at the back of her neck.  The officer's woman, maybe.

The actual words the men had spoken finally reached Malena's brain. A carpenter?  They were looking for a carpenter?

At that second, she felt as if the mild breeze had just carried the word of Theus himself, whispering kindly in her ear.  Later on, she would sometimes wonder if it had been the Adversary instead, but at that moment it seemed like salvation.  At the same time, she caught movement from the corner of her eye, some sort of disturbance near the street side of the wharf-side walk.  She took a bold step towards the men and spoke up before her reason could catch up with her.

"I'm a carpenter!"

The trio looked up in surprise at the words spoken in Castillan.  They stared at her for a second, then the man with the red scarf waved a dismissive hand at her.  "Don't waste our time, woman!"

She took another step forward, holding her empty basket almost like a shield in front of her.  "No, really, sir, I mean it!  I'm a carpenter – just let me show you what I can do."

The officer looked skeptical.  "You don't look like no carpenter."

Malena blushed a little and looked down at her matronly skirts and bunched up aprons.  "Well, that's neither here nor there – sir," she added, immediately regretting her quick reply.  She started dipping into a little curtsey, decided that would only make matters worse and abandoned the effort.  "My papá was a carpenter and cabinetmaker, the best in Altamira, and old Prince Allegro Villanova himself hired him to make his armoires and desk and furniture of all kinds once papá moved to Dionna.  I learned everything from him!  I can be your carpenter, sir, just let me show you what I can do!"

Over the officer's shoulder, she could now see the disturbance clearly in the distance.  For sure that was Furio's silhouette, thank Theus he'd just been stopped by the city guard and it looked like he was yelling at them.  She thought he hadn't spotted her yet.

The officer pursed his lips, doubtful.  He turned to glance at the young woman at his side.  "Captain?"

The woman shrugged, eyeing Malena closely.  "No harm in asking Jürgen to see what she can do.  Onofre, why don't you take her aboard to see him."

Malena stared, disoriented.  The slip of girl was the captain?  What crazy ship had she just chosen to make her escape from Dionna?

Meanwhile, a pained expression crossed the face of the man with the red scarf.  "But Captain, ma'am, we've got enough landlubbers as it is – we're not that hard up, can't we wait until we get back to Castille and hire an able seaman?  She's probably on the run from an angry husband, is all, and we'll have to deal with him."

Malena stiffened, feeling suddenly cold even in the bright Dionna sun, but bit her tongue.  Damn the man's perceptiveness!

The woman – the captain – paused minutely, then waved a hand.  "Hm.  I guess it would make up for all the bigamous sailors running away from angry wives," she commented tartly.  "Just have Jürgen check whether she's really a carpenter," she added.  "If she's not, I promise you I won't hire another landlubber, how's that."

The man gave her a mournful look but answered: "Aye, Cap'n, off to Jürgen, then.  Come along, you, woman!"

Malena didn't wait to receive a second invitation.  She hurried behind the man, trying not to do anything to aggravate him and even less to attract Furio's attention.  The latter had finished his little conversation with the guards and was now moving along the wharves, examining the women.  Malena noticed a pronounced limp and felt a mixture of savage elation and terror.  This time Furio would kill her if he caught her.  But the man with the scarf was directing his steps towards a side berth, in a minute they'd be out of sight of the wharf-side walk.

He kept up a monologue of woes.  "Another one!  Another landlubber, and a housewife this time!  Theus, His Prophets and all His saints, what am I to do with the lot of you!  The woman will be the death of me!"  He suddenly stopped to glare at Malena.

"You!  What's your name?" he said accusingly.

"Malena."  She gritted her teeth, thinking Hurry-hurry-HURRY!  Down the side pier!

"Malena, then!  Have you ever been on a ship?"

"Um, yes."  Once.  When papá had had the rest of the family follow him and move to Dionna, fifteen years ago.

"Hempf."  Onofre gave her a suspicious look, opened his mouth to ask the next obvious question, then threw his hands up in despair.  "Oh, what's the use!  Let's see Jürgen and get this over with."  He started walking again and Malena hurried along, breathing a little easier.

He led them to a smallish vessel, bigger than the sailing boats but not by much.  It had three masts, but it was so small!  She'd been hoping for something bigger, like the ones across the port with their big square sails.  A plaque on the side read: "Maris Stella" and the prow figure was a good-looking woman with flowing hair holding a star between her cupped hands.  At least Malena was pretty sure it was meant to represent a star, though it looked a bit like a big carambola to her.  Onofre indicated the gangplank.  Malena hopped on it without questions.  She didn't worry too much about falling; fifteen years in Dionna had gotten her thoroughly used to the craziest catwalks, some of which swayed more than most boats.  Onofre followed her, still muttering.
 

Malena stepped lightly onto the deck.  She could see maybe a dozen people on board, working on various tasks: cleaning the decks, knotting and unknotting ropes in arcane patterns, sewing canvas with large needles.  Malena notice with a thrill of hope that one was a woman.  So they wouldn't throw her off just for being a woman, then, would they?  The sailors glanced at her and her unlikely accoutrement, curious.

Behind her, Onofre jumped on board and yelled: "Jürgen!  Jürgen!  Where in Legion's stinking hell is Jürgen?"

"Oh-ho, bosun's in a bad mood," Malena heard a young man snicker.  Onofre turned a baleful eye to look for the author of the comment, but was distracted by the arrival of a grey-bearded man, emerging unhurried from an open hatch.  Malena remembered that was how they called these trap doors on ships, a hatch.  Onofre made a beeline for the new arrival.

"Jürgen!" he barked.  "You're to check on this here woman, Malena, and see if she'll do for your... for a carpenter's mate.  Cap'n's orders."

Jürgen raised his bushy eyebrows a little, gave Malena a quizzical look, and grunted.  He turned on his heel and started walking without haste towards the back of the ship.  Aft, thought Malena. Let's see, facing front this is to my right, so... starboard.  Yes.  She had a second of hesitation, then hurried after the newcomer.  He strolled towards the railing; there were six cannons on each side of the vessel, but the one furthest "aft" on that side was in sore shape.  The gun had jumped its carriage, which had been seriously damaged; one wheel was split clean in half, and the entire side of the carriage was shaken apart and sporting cracks.  The gun itself was now propped by makeshift blocks and strapped against movement, but it couldn't have been very reassuring to be near it if they'd met any rough seas on their way in.

"You fix it," grunted Jürgen.  He had a thick Eisen accent.

Malena's eyes snapped back to his face, searchingly, but he didn't seem to be joking.  She gulped, then dropped to one knee to examine the carriage.  She ran her fingers along the split wood, trying to understand how the various parts had been assembled before the damage, and evaluating which parts could be salvaged or had to be replaced.  She wanted to ask questions, but Jürgen seemed a man of few words.  She pursed her lips, frowning, then hopped to her feet and strode to the next gun to compare its intact carriage to the broken one.  After a few minutes, she turned back to the ship's carpenter.

"I need tools," she said, wondering if they were expecting her to carry those hidden in her basket at all times.

Jürgen spared a nod for her and turned back to go down the hatch again.  From her vantage point, Malena now had a better view of the wharf-side walk again, and could see Furio moving down the walk like a bull, shoving strollers out of his way.  She was only too thankful to duck below-decks.  She assumed that's what the man Jürgen's nod had meant.  It was much darker down here, and with the contrast with Dionna's brightly lit sky, she was almost blind for a few instants.  She didn't pay close attention to the direction they were going, intent only on not losing Jürgen in the ambient gloom.  He headed down and back, to a small nook that that was almost a cupboard, where a profusion of tools were neatly hung or latched to the walls.  No, the bulkheads.

Jürgen gestured at the array of tools.  "Choose."

Malena rolled her eyes a little.  She had picked a crazy ship.  Well, no matter, now; she might as well make the most of this one chance.  She examined the equipment available and started picking up what she thought she would need.  She filled her apron with the smaller items, balanced most of the larger items on one shoulder, and finally handed a few more to Jürgen.

"Can you help me carry these?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't give her performance a black mark for that.  But he just nodded and took the objects.  She nodded back to him.  "I think that's it," she said tremulously.  "How about wood?"

"Ja."  Without more explanation, the carpenter walked her back to daylight, while she tried to pay better attention to where she was going this time.

She wasn't all that happy about getting back on deck where she'd be visible from the quay, but since she'd mostly be kneeling to work it shouldn't be too bad.  She could hunch over behind the gun carriage too.  At any rate, Furio was unlikely to be very welcome if he tried to force his way on board.  Malena made vague plans to run for the hatch and go hide in a corner below if he tried it anyway.  It was dark in there and full of oddly shaped little nooks and crannies.

She discovered that while she'd been below decks, Bosun Onofre had had a crew remove the gun from the broken carriage and secure it temporarily.   Wood had also been brought and placed nearby.  Onofre was standing near the carriage and looking unhappy, even nervous.  More sailors had appeared and had secured good viewing spots, but not so close that they would be in the way, and they all had taken pains to find some legitimate-looking work that would ward off the bosun's attention.

Malena slowly walked up to the challenge, its various parts ordering themselves in her mind.  She crouched near the gun carriage and started arranging the tools so they wood be at hand, then examined the wood that had been supplied.  The first task must be to take apart the carriage and sort the salvageable parts.  She got to work, unconsciously humming to herself.  It had been a while since she had done serious carpentery work, and even longer since she'd tackled anything that large.  She had, of course, never worked on a gun carriage.  But as papá used to say, the wood itself would tell her what to do.  She hoped.

Behind her, she heard the bosun whisper worriedly to Jürgen: "You keep a good eye on her.  I don't want that gun ruined."

"Ja," the carpenter answered.

But Malena soon became too absorbed in her work to pay much attention to the onlookers.  The sun was high, there was plenty of daylight, so she decided to work without hurry.  She pushed the thought of Furio from her mind; if she tried to rush through this job, she risked making a stupid mistake that would get her thrown off, right into Furio's arms.  She didn't think she was very visible from here anyway, although she did feel awfully exposed.  While she pried apart, measured, marked, cut, and filed, her thoughts turned to the very object she was working on.  Guns jumped their carriage when they overheated from being used repeatedly and too fast.  So this tiny little vessel with its twelve cannons had been in battle recently. It didn't look in bad shape, though.  Probably the crew had had time to repair other damage.  They must have been here for a few days since it sounded like she was volunteering for the very last crew position open.

A vessel that small but armed and freshly come from battle, flying the Castillan flag...  Not a merchant, and too well armed for a smuggler.  Not a Navy vessel either from what she could see, no uniform in sight and no Navy flag; anyway, she didn't think the Navy would hire women.  That left... dear Theus... a privateer or a pirate.  Even something this small could do the job, if it stuck to lightly or unarmed prey.  She considered the option with dislike, and went back to the merchant or smuggler possibilities.  Maybe it was just a well-armed merchant or smuggler, itself concerned with defence against pirates?  She liked that a bit better, but was not having good success convincing herself.

All the while, she worked away on the repair.  Her back and knees were getting tired of the awkward position, and her skirts were ridiculously inconvenient for the task at hand.  Although the apron did come in handy to hold small pieces and tools.  She carefully reassembled the carriage with the new and repaired parts.  When she reached a point when she needed help lifting the larger assembly, she straightened up cautiously, stretching and hearing multiple little pops and cracks along her spine.  She took care to step back out of line of sight from the pier.

"All right, I need this thing lifted," she announced.

The bosun glanced at the carpenter, who nodded and grunted, which Malena now figured must count for a double answer.  Onofre's gaze turn to sweep the by-standers and single out the ones who had had least success in finding credible excuses to be there.  "You, you, you, and you!" he pointed.  He didn't have to add anything else.  The designated volunteers grinned, abandoned their choice locations for watching and stepped forward to the carriage.  Malena indicated how she wanted the frame positioned so she could finish the assembly.  They seized the wood structure and with a Heave, ho! moved it to Malena's instructions.  She bent down again and finished the job with care, making sure as many parts went back in as had come out and inspecting each one last time before replacing it.

She gave the new wheel a spin to test it, then announced: "All done.  Down she goes."  The men carefully righted the carriage and let it drop down the last hairsbreadth.  They straightened up and wiped their hands, looking alert and cheerful, watching Jürgen to see if he would bless the result.  The carpenter moved in close and started inspecting the repaired carriage inch by inch.  Malena stepped back and waited anxiously for his verdict.

"Would you have the guts to stand next to that gun the next time it's fired?" Onofre suddenly asked, making her jump.  She hadn't noticed the bosun stepping to her side.

She made a face, thinking.  "Well...  As much as I would dare stand next to 'tother gun," she grumbled.  She felt tired.

The bosun's face slowly split into a smile, the first he'd had for her although it seemed his more natural expression.  "Aye, it may come to that..."

Near the gun carriage, Jürgen straightened up and walked up to Onofre and Malena.  He glanced at her with piercing blue eyes, then shifted his gaze to the bosun.  "Very good," he said.  "She will do."  That was more words than Malena had heard from him in the last several hours.

There was a sort of silent breathless pause, and Malena slumped in relief.  Around her, several sailors whooped with glee.  "Another fair one, San Elmo be praised!" a man exclaimed.  A female sailor cuffed him, not too hard.  "You are a pig and an idiot, Felip," the woman said cheerfully.

Bosun Onofre's face returned to a frown and he glared at Felip.  "An idiot and a pig without enough work to do!" he added.  "Find some right now before I find it for you!"  Felip grinned but stepped lively and disappeared somewhere in the direction of the main deck.  Onofre looked at the female sailor.  "Llora, why don't you show Malena here to her mess.  Malena, congratulations, you are now carpenter's mate on His Majesty's Privateer Maris Stella.  I reckon you'll be paid at an apprentice rate until you get some sea legs, but you get a share in the loot just like everyone else.  In a couple of months, if you learn the trade, you'll get full pay."  He held out a hand.

That sounded lovely to Malena at the moment.  She grasped the offered hand and shook it.
 

The woman Llora gestured.  She was small and wiry, her face marred a bit by a circular scar on the left side, perhaps the size of a doubloon.  Her hair was clubbed like the men's, but the tail was longer.  "This way, I'll show you where you'll berth."  Malena fell in step, and Llora escorted her under the forecastle.

"You want to go ashore get your things?" asked the sailor.

Malena shook her head.  "I don't have much, it's not worth it," she said truthfully if with only partial honesty.

"Huh," Llora said with an arch glance.  "Right.  Well, you can always borrow some things until we've made you some slops.  I'll help you, my sewing is good.  This way."  She ducked a low timber and pulled aside a sheet of canvas that was blocking a corner of the quarters from view.  "The women share their own mess, so that's more room for us.  Mostly it's six men to a mess on the Maris Stella, but with you that'll make four in ours.  The others are Zuanna, the master of the tops, and Renata.  There's Louisa too, but she's the captain's steward, so she doesn't mess here."

The revealed corner contained three sailor's kits, neatly stowed, sea chests, and a fold-down table currently housed.  Llora jabbed a thumb over her shoulder.  "The galley is right over there, but I'd stay out of Prejun's way.  You're probably hungry, but the meal is pretty soon.  Onofre didn't say which watch you'd be on, so unless he comes and tells you you're on the port watch, just get in line with the folks of the starboard watch for the first serving."

She started rummaging in the sea chests, although Malena noticed that she was very careful to put everything back in place neatly.  "Hmmm, you're taller than me, I think we'll need to borrow some of Zuanna and Renata's clothes.  I'll square it with them; they're on shore leave right now anyway.  Here, try these."  She tossed Malena a pair of trousers and a shirt.  "You don't need small things, do you?" she added with a grimace.

Malena shook her head.  "N-no, I guess not."  She was still thinking about that one, though; should she wear her bodice over the shirt?  Llora didn't.  "What do you do about the, uh..."

Llora grinned.  "Under," she said.  She pulled up her shirt to reveal a bodice cut very short and laced over a chemisette under the thick sailor's shirt.  She then tucked the shirt back in her trousers carefully, cinching the belt over it.

"Oh," Malena nodded, "makes sense.  I'll have to shorten mine at the same time I make clothes."  She checked that the canvas curtain was in place, then started changing into the unfamiliar clothes.  This felt very strange.  "Do you get much trouble from the men?" she asked anxiously.  "You don't have to..."

"Nah!" Llora said firmly.  "Onofre would bash their heads in, right after we finished kicking the stuffing out of 'em.  I mean, yes, the new hands sometimes think they're going to be living the easy life because there are women on board and one of 'em's the skipper, but they get cured of that within a few days.  And some of the older hands are... they've worked for outfits that don't appreciate the mistreatment of anyone, man or woman."  Llora's eyes slid away, leaving Malena to think a bit on what outfits she might mean.  "Now if you find you like someone," the sailor continued, "my advice is to wait for shore leave before doing anything about it.  A ship's a small place and a lugger even smaller."  She shrugged.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind," Malena chuckled.  "Right now I can't say that's my main worry.  How do I look?"  She finished tucking her shirt.

"I'd guess not, no.  You look fine.  The First Dog Watch's about to ring, let's go eat."  Llora was holding two mess kits.  While they walked out of the crew quarters, she explained the watch and bell system to Malena.

Malena felt horribly exposed in the trousers and shirt.  She was glad to be accompanied by Llora, so she could blend in a little.  A very little.  Up on the quarterdeck, she noticed that the captain and the officer – Captain Orduño and First Mate Telmo, she learned from Llora – were back on board and talking to Onofre.  The captain flashed the bosun a grin when he gestured towards the new carpenter's mate emerging for dinner, but Malena couldn't hear a word of the conversation from this distance.  She also noticed that the wood, tools, and broken pieces had been picked up near the repaired carriage and the gun put back in place.

A bell rang and the sailors who had been on duty rose, stretched, and started gathering.  Some headed into the crew quarters to get the mess kits, while their messmates got in line.  The cook was dishing out dinner and a man was pouring something from a keg in the drinking mugs proffered by sailors.  Once they had their dinner, sailors plopped wherever they could to eat it.  Some returned to the crew quarters to eat on the fold-down tables, but it was a fine afternoon and most preferred to stay on deck.  Meanwhile, more sailors were getting on duty for the next short watch.

Llora and Malena got their food and drink, and found a spot to sit on a thick coil of cable.  Malena examined her dinner; the vegetables and meat were fresh, unsurprising since they were in port, and the drink was a half-pint of red wine mixed with some fruit juice, lemon or lime.  Not bad.  She ate and drank her share, then resumed the conversation when dinner was about gone.

"So you... we... are privateers.  What's it like?"

Llora had a lopsided smile.  "Pretty routine, most of the time.  Can be boring for days on end.  Miserable when it's not boring.  Then you get to be scared out of your wits for a few hours, and do it all over again.  Pay's decent, what with the prizes, but you only get to spend it once in a blue moon when you go ashore; I guess that's why most sailors are so good at spending it so fast.  And once you get shore leave, it's usually cut short because we have to get right back on board and race to some weird place a thousand leagues away."

Although Malena appreciated the honesty of the description, she couldn't say much for its appeal.  Though it still beat life – and death – with Furio by a long shot, right now.  "And the scared witless parts are what?  Battles?"

Llora made a so-so gesture.  "Some, though not as often as you'd think.  Storms, fires – Theus save us from that, and the weird shit that keeps happening.  Sorcerers, Syrneth doodads, that sort of thing."

Malena's mug stopped halfway to her lips as she stared at the other woman.  She didn't seem to be putting her on.

"Aye, and then there are the pirates!" someone added.  That was the man named Felip, who seemed to be the official clown on board.  He looked young, in his early twenties at most, though his baby face might be misleading.  His hair was very curly and struggled to escape the pigtail.  Malena had yet to see that grin leave his face for even a moment.  He had apparently been listening in on their conversation.  "Just days ago we gave a good thrashing to some Crimson Rogers!"

Crimson Rogers.  Right.  "I'll bet you taught Reis his lesson yourself," Malena said ironically.  "He must have been so scared!"

Llora grinned, but didn't comment.  Felip's own smile widened.  "Oh, no, he was much too scared to face me!  When he heard I was on board, he just sent his men and stayed far away.  But they were terrified!  Why, when Jemy here saw me, he just surrendered and joined the mighty Maris Stellas!"

He indicated a large man sitting by himself not too far, his back against the bulwark.  The man was huge, and his skin was black as night; Malena had never seen anyone like him.  He had a very small smile upon hearing Felip's antics, but just kept on eating.

Llora used her now-empty bowl to hit Felip over the head.  "Ha!  I don't see you making the same joke to Volta!  Go tell him that to his face and leave us alone."

Felip rolled his eyes and gave a dramatic shudder.  "What, you think I'm crazy?  The man has no sense of humour.  Besides, he had a sore head this morning, I'm not getting anywhere near him today."

Malena noticed that Jemy's smile was a bit wider this time, but he remained silent.

"Jemy and Volta joined our crew just recently," Llora explained in a low voice.  "They're both mute.  Volta is a Crescent with a bad temper.  Jemy...  Well, nobody knows where he's from but my guess is he's Crescent too.  He won't answer the question yes or no. I've no idea what he was doing with the Crimson Rogers; the man has been gentle as a lamb so far.  I work with him a lot because he's a good sailmaker.  Very restful compared to the babble of some ninnies around here."  She gave Felip a pointed glance.

Malena made a face.  "Two mute Crescents, and Jürgen who can't seem able to string two words together.  No wonder some feel they have to take up the slack," she commented.

"Why yes, that's why we've been hiring more women," Felip quipped cheerfully, immediately ducking a backhand slap from Llora and moving a little further away.

Llora gave him a mock glare, then turned back to Malena.  "Jürgen?  Oh, that won't last, don't worry.  He's very bashful with the women at first, but once he gets used to you, you won't hardly be able to shut him up.  He likes to tell stories, you know, old seamen's tales.  Luckily, his Castillan is improving.  I guess as his new mate you'll get an earful."

Malena shook her head, bemused; she had a hard time imagining the carpenter chatting away.  Since they were both finished with dinner, Llora got up and gestured for Malena to follow suit.

"Let's get started on some sewing," the smaller woman said.  "We're putting to sea on the next tide out early in the morning, you'll have plenty of other things to worry about then."  She headed back for the crew quarters and Malena followed dutifully.  Felip waved.
 

In the women's mess, Llora folded down the table and spread out a sewing kit and some fabric, heavy worn sail canvas made soft by long use.  "Here we go," she said.  "I'll show you how to cut it."

Malena knew as much about sewing as any woman who has to make and repair clothes for her household, but Llora was considerably better.  She was very quick, and her stitches were remarkably even.  She also used a different stitch style from what Malena was used to, one that locked on every stitch.

"We use this to keep the sails together even if there's a rip," she explained to Malena as she showed her how to do the same.  "No reason not to use it on clothing as well, and it'll be good practice.  Every seaman has to learn to do a bit of everything: sewing, knotwork, reefing, all that good stuff.  You'll be glad of it some day, even if it makes your next few weeks busy as all hell."

Malena copied the stitches, although her own sewing was slower than Llora's.  At least her seams were nice and straight.  When she was sure that the new recruit had the hang of this and enough to keep her busy for a while, Llora got up and announced that she'd be back soon.  Malena nodded her assent, though the prospect of being left alone on the strange vessel knotted her stomach a bit.  But she focused on the task at hand, which required care and attention but still left her mind free to wander.

Furio's hand balled in a fist, descending.  She always instinctively protected her face, unable to fight the deeply ingrained reflex, but he was more cunning than that.  He wouldn't leave marks on her face for the world to see, that would have been too blatant and the parish priest might have spoken up.  No, Furio knew how a husband should beat up his wife, though he did enjoy feinting as if he really was going to break her face this time, just to see her flinch.  As long as he left no marks so obvious that someone would have to take notice, he was as assured of impunity as any Vodacci man, lord and master reigning over his wife.

His blow connected with the arm she threw up to protect herself.  Right on the same spot that had just been turning from blue to yellow from the last beating.  She let out a grunt of pain.  She tried ducking under his arm and running past him towards the door, but he was faster and caught a handful of her hair, bringing out another cry of pain through clenched teeth.  He pulled her head way back and drew closer, a mockery of a lover's embrace, his eyes glinting malevolently.

For a moment he held her, like the cat holds a trapped mouse.  Then without a word, he threw her against the nearest wall.  She faltered, then caught herself.  Furio was advancing again, never saying a word.  That was always the signal that things were turning dangerous, when he stopped shouting.  A moment later, he would replace every yell with a blow.

Malena braced herself against the wall, looking for something to defend herself with.

Sometimes she thought it might have gone easier on her if she hadn't argued back, and fought back.  Maybe Furio would have gotten bored, or appeased.  But she couldn't; there was too much of the Castillan in her.  The more unjustly she was treated, the more she fought and the more violent Furio became.  She had tried to talk to other women, but the Vodacci seemed to accept this as part of normal life, though most husbands didn't seem nearly as brutal as Furio.  Maybe the women didn't truly understand what Malena was going through.  Or maybe they were afraid.  But she knew this was not part of normal life.  Never had her father raised a hand on her mother, Theus forbid, and she didn't remember anything like that from the old days in Altamira.

She kicked and struck out at Furio each time he caught her, landing a few lucky blows that drew growls from him.  Each blow she successfully landed earned a vicious retaliation.  He picked her up and threw her across the room, again and again; Malena scrambled to elude his grasp, but each impact left her a little dizzier.  When she stumbled across the kitchen floor to land on all four, she tried to roll out of the way of the next blow, with partial success.  Furio's hand glanced against the bread box and left a crack in the pine siding.  He growled again and let out a string of curses in a low voice.  She scrambled to get out of the way again, and her hand closed on something solid.

With the slow, blinding clarity that some moments take on when too much is happening for the mind to function at its normal rhythm, she seemed to envision the whole scene and its inevitable unfolding in one single tought.  She was holding the heavy shovel she used daily to clean the hearth.  Furio was swinging back to launch a powerful kick, one that would hit her belly without holding back at all.

No more.  She was done with this.

Without conscious thought, she decided.  She rolled back in, leaning into his kick rather than away, swinging the iron shovel with all her strength and aiming right for his crotch left unprotected by the leg he had thrown back.  When she connected with a meaty impact sound, his scream was as bloodcurling as she might ever have hoped.  Theus, but that looked painful, she briefly thought with detached satisfaction.  Her husband and tormentor collapsed on the tiling, curled in a ball and gasping in pain.  She scrambled to her feet, using the shovel as a cane to prop herself up, and the enormity of the trouble she was in finally came into sharp focus.  There was no holding back now; Furio would kill her for this.  She swung the shovel again and hit him hard on the side of the head.  It wasn't a very good blow and although it clearly stunned him, he was still gasping wheezily.

Malena stared at her husband with wild eyes, leaning on the shovel again and panting.  She could get a kitchen knife and slit his throat, but murdering her husband was hardly going to improve her lot in life if she got caught.  How would she dispose of the body?  How would she explain Furio's disappearance?  No one would help her, but his family was sure to look for him.

Or she could get out of Dionna.  Without a word, she dropped the shovel and ran to the cupboard where she kept a few coins hidden for household expenses.  She did grab a kitchen knife as well, one of the smaller ones she could hide in a sleeve.  And she ran for the door.  But as she reached it, her mind's eye envisioned what this would look like if she ran for her life from her own door; surely the neighbours would check immediately.  She stopped, forced herself to straighten up her clothes and hair, and took a deep breath.  On her way out, she picked up her shopping basket near the door, as if going to the farmer's market.  She gave the prone Furio a last glance and closed and locked the door behind her, walking away briskly but with poise.

She had to get off this island.  The only place to go was the port, and Furio would figure it out sooner or later once he managed to get up.

"Here you go, your own kit," announced Llora, interrupting Malena's thoughts.  The sailor dropped a mess kit on the table.  She also left an empty sea chest at her feet, lid propped open.

"Oh?  Where did you get that?" asked Malena, surprised.

A wistful expression flickered on Llora's face.  "When we lose a sailor, his things are auctioned off and the money is sent to his family.  I knew there was some gear floating around after our last boarding action, and I bought it back for you.  You can pay me back later."

The new carpenter's mate was both pleased and flustered.  "Oh...  That's really kind of you.  That means you don't think I'm going to run away as soon as we reach the next port, then?" she finished with a lopsided grin.

Llora laughed, shaking her head.  "No, I saw those bruises on you and I don't think you'll want to run until we reach a really distant port.  And I happen to know how things generally work out on this ship; you never end up where you thought you were going.  You'll get your sea legs yet!"

Malena laughed too, ruefully.  Llora was not wasting any effort trying to make this job sound easy!  She did not answer the comment about her bruises.  She ran her fingers along along the lid of the sea chest, wondering about its previous owner.

Llora picked up the sewing Malena had just put aside and inspected it.  "Pretty good," she commented with approval in her voice.  "That's one task you won't have any trouble with once you've learned the tricks of basic sailmaking."  She held the new trousers at arms' length.  "I guess you can give back Renata's spare trousers once you've finished this.  Let me help you with the shirt and bodice, it'll go faster.  And during First Watch we'll have some music on deck, you can meet some more of the crew.  That's, um, late Vespers to you."

(to be continued)