The candles went into the top drawer, the lamp oil beside the casket of medicines, carefully padded; two sets of toiletries remained in their bags atop the dresser and respective pairs of spare boots were set neatly under the hammock and bed at just the right angle for grabbing them up in the morning. When all this was done she flicked the stray ringlets that had been so artfully set that morning away from her face where they had fallen, and suggested,

“I’d best change into something a little more appropriate for shipboard life, father, don’t you think? —Would you perhaps care for a stroll above decks, and a last look at the city before we go? It’ll be quite a while before we see it again, after all.” She stated this quite calmly, in an attempt to obliquely assure her guardian that his concern was misplaced; she was prepared for the journey ahead, and all the consequences thereof. The brown-furred feline paused in his repetitive steps back and forth to gaze at her for a long moment with his expression unreadable. Then, running a distracted hand across his head fur and with a muttering of “Aye,” that sounded just a bit rueful still to his daughter’s ears, he turned and exited the cramped confines of the cabin. Alidee breathed a sigh of relief, smoothing the lightly patterned silver fur of her own arms from its slightly ruffled state before beginning the Houdini-esque process of groaning, wiggling, straining and stretching to reach the ties on her skirts and corset, in order to begin the lengthy and painful process of removing them herself. She regretted the absence of the nimble-fingered maids now, as she proceeded haltingly, jerkily, with stifled oaths and tense, stiff fingers soon throbbing sore from prickings of stays and unsheathed sharp nails to undress. It was with a great sigh of relief that the billowing dress fluttered to the floor, followed soon by her whalebone corset; Ali stepped disdainfully out of it, giving a small wriggle of pleasure at the breath of fresh air, the sheer delicious unrestricted freedom of standing in nothing but three layers of underwear, before picking up the drab layers of eminently more practicable work skirts and dressing herself in the umber leather and sturdy off-white linen. Far less elegant, she thought, buttoning up the lapelled jacket—normally seen on men, but custom-tailored to her feminine form in this particular case—but so, so much better to BREATHE in. She kicked off her leather-bottomed silk slippers and stuffed them unceremoniously into the drawers, where they could die and rot for all she cared. With a self-satisfied little cat smile, she switched out her sparkling polished and cut gemstone earrings for smaller, plainer silver studs, and donned a sterling chain with its small heart locket about her neck as well before gliding out the door with a purr, ready to greet the new world she’d insinuated herself into once more.

“…Excuse me, sailor, can you tell me where I might find my father? He’s the merchantman who owns this ship.”

The ragged-eared gray squirrel in his seafaring togs stopped and looked at her, eyebrow quirking as he attempted to surreptitiously give her a once and then a twice-over. “Why certainly, Miss Carrodyne,” he replied without missing a beat. “He’s up with the captain on deck right now, watching them sea birdies fly. I can take you right to him.”

“Thank you, crewbeast …?” She let the question hang.

The rodent grinned, revealing a jawful of slightly crooked yellow teeth and a pair of enormous orange incisors. He had a chip in one of them. “Scrytt at yer service milady. Crewbeast Scrytt of the goodship Greengold, seven years and running.” Alidee tactfully refrained from comment on his somewhat scraggly appearance—likely no worse than most of his circle, though she did not enjoy the eye-opening close-up view this one afforded her now. Instead of speaking, as he offered her his arm, she modestly gathered up a fistful of dress in each hand, and nodded to him to continue. With an amused twitch of the whiskers the squirrel turned and led her up into the sunlight once more, calling “All hands make way! Th’ honr’able Lady Alidee Carrodyne coming through, step lively now, step lively, hup!”

“Scrytt,” snapped a raccoon in rebuke from his station at the wheel, a name and tone quickly echoed by the Captain, who turned with her father away from the rail as all eyes fell upon Alidee, rising up from below decks like a very sorry Aphrodite indeed, she thought. Yet that didn’t stop the uncouth sailors’ eyes from lingering, in many cases, ’til the mates first and second called them to task and set them working diligently once more.

“Sorry Captain,” muttered Scrytt, and disappeared below once more. The Captain shook his head in resignment.

“That Scrytt,” he said. “Forgive me. His sense of humor leaves much to be desired. Harmless, if in bad taste.” Alidee and her father shared a brief warm embrace, charged with an undercurrent of excitement as the captain glanced at the raccoon navigator, who nodded and said, “Ready, Captain.”

“All ready to make waaayyy!” shouted one of the mates, as the sails were unfurled and Captain Kre’kalmin took up the helm, guiding the great ship as she glided across the murky waters with smooth majesty and slowly increasing speed, almost ethereal in her stately splendor and seeming untouched by the dirty dockside waters, the rough manners of the distant ships’ carousing crews or any other worldly concerns. Like an eagle in the sky she spread her great wings in the sunlight and soared out into the great wide ocean of blue beyond, in a royal exit that took Alidee’s breath away.

“Magnificent,” muttered her father, squinting up at the skies of perfect blue and the high white fluffy clouds dotting it.

The Captain was busy with the wheel, but the tough otter identified earlier to them as the first mate was keeping an eye on the landlubbers in his place. He caught the breathless look upon the girl’s face, and smiled, feeling an echo of the same wonder within his own soul despite the myriads more journeys it had sailed. For the moment, at least, their minds were of an accord.

“Welcome aboard The Greengold, Miz Alidee,” he said.

*****************************************************************************

“I’m sorry,” said Raxonil lamely. What else was there to say?

“Me too,” said Alidee, sniffling, and swiped an arm across her face. Throwing back her hair and changing the subject, she said, “Come on. Let’s get these bandages on you. If I prop this pillow behind you, does it help you to sit up?”

“Maybe. A little. Yeah,” said Raxonil, sitting up with her assistance.

“All right. Now grit your teeth and hold still; I’m not very good at this doctoring stuff still, sorry…”

“After all those guinea pigs I gave you?” said Raxonil, wincing as a particularly tender area of skin was pinched between the winding layers of linen. Alidee reached over to unwind it a little and resettle it more comfortably.

“Oh, shut up,” muttered Alidee again. “Hold still.”

“You know, I could have you keelhauled for disrespecting the new captain like that,” said Rax. “—Ow! What was that for?!”

“You know,” said Alidee. “Shush up, Ril. You may be the new captain, but I’m the new doctor, and in medical matters such as this, my word is law!”

“How modest of you.”

“If you weren’t already injured,” said Alidee, balling up a fist right in front of his face and making sure he got a good, close-up, if cross-eyed look at it, “I might have to hurt you.”

“Ouch,” said Raxonil again, grinning at her. “But that’s… how you can tell… the best doctors, y’ know… They always… threaten to hurt… you, if you don’t… follow their plans for… treatment, exactly—ow!”

“Your chest moves when you talk.” Alidee was trying her best not to smirk. “Stay quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The bandaging continued in relative silence, save for the occasional murmured request from Alidee, to lift this hand or move that shoulder, and numerous winces from Raxonil which (miraculously enough) managed to remain silent. “…There,” said Alidee finally, wadding up the remains of his tattered, blood soaked shirt and throwing it into a dusty, unused-looking corner. “Now isn’t that better?”

“Yep. I’m… all ready… for my sarcophagus,” said Raxonil, wincing again as he lay gingerly down.

“Oh, stop it!” Alidee burst out laughing; the captain did seem as if he had been dressed up to look like a half-wrapped mummy. “Go back to sleep. I think I liked you better unconscious.”

“As the doctor orders… so do I obey.” Raxonil closed his eyes and was soon breathing steadily.

*****************************************************************************

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” said Nichual cheerfully. “I’ll be fine. I’m small, and fat, and old, and harmless… there’s no prestige in picking on me. Besides,” and he grinned wickedly, “—nobody in their right minds pisses off the cook.” With a cocky wave he pulled open the door and was gone. Alidee bit her lip, not entirely convinced, but did as she had been bid and locked it securely behind him.

From behind her came a dry chuckle that caused her to whirl about, startled. “That Nic…” said Raxonil, smiling with eyes still closed. “S’ true… do be sure to… don’ piss him off…”

Alidee smiled weakly, and made her way to the invalid’s bedside. “I don’t know… I’m still worried for him. Maybe because he’s so damnably self-confident.” In light of Alidee’s experiences of the day, and what Nic himself had just told her, that seemed particularly foolish to her. How could one be certain of anything on this damn boat? … Or anyone, for that matter?

Pushing her pessimistic thoughts aside, Alidee looked to Raxonil, who opened his green eyes for a moment to take in her face. “You doing okay?” she asked.

“No… s’ true,” said Raxonil again. “Th’ cook… controls the portions… ‘n’ what goes into ’em…” He laughed weakly. “And I’m fine. Just… tired. You… need to take a rest, though… sure looks like.”

Alidee’s tired smile spoke for her. “…Don’t we all. …Here, eat your soup while you’re awake and rest yourself. Then maybe I can sleep easy.” Though privately, she doubted it.

“I can feed… myself,” said Raxonil, picking his head slowly up and raising a shaking hand. Then, letting them drop, more grumpily, “Okay. …Maybe I can’t.”

Alidee smiled, and spoon fed him, to the tune of muttered complaints such as, “So this is what being a limbless thousand-year-old grandfather feels like…”