3. Foul winds

Angelica did not resist as Olga gently led her to the portside rail, and bade her sit upon the row of packs which had been rapidly rearranged into a semicircle. Someone had even found some cushions, likely from the Captain's room below for them both. None had even ventured to suggest to Angelica that she go below; it was plain from how frequently she looked to the horizon that she would not entertain the idea. Certainly not tonight.

How do they do that?

Angelica permitted her curiosity to overwhelm her dark thoughts for a spell, staring at the beautiful wood planks of the deck, curving gently in harmony with the curve of the hull as it tapered to the transom. Between each plank was a thin line of black, and there seemed no way that the whole was attached to whatever was beneath. As she stared, she could see the faint circles of wood that did not quite match ... so beautifully crafted.

I should not be able to see this, not at night.

Her eyes felt raw, and despite Olga's protest she knew she had rubbed them far too hard. Even now, tears were not far away, and yet she noticed Tori-Anna had not shed a single tear. Olga had cried only a little. "I need to pull myself together. I must look awful, what will they think of me?" she whimpered quietly to Olga.

There was no immediate reply, instead Olga rested one hand on her chin, and looked about them at those visible in the glow. More than a few had taken to huddling together beneath cloaks, shielding themselves from the vile spectacle. "They love you for showing your heart" she said quietly "and for aiding the children." she nodded towards where the two young girls were sleeping fitfully, three paces away under Angelica's cloak. Right beside them, propped up against the wooden balcony that ran around the deck was one of the soldiers, fast asleep. "You noticed that, right?" Olga said softly.

"No? What?" Angelica replied, welcoming the distraction.

"Tori-Anna ordered half the guards to go to sleep. If they all stay awake, eventually they will all be too exhausted to be alert when the need arrives." her slight smile betrayed just how happy it made her to have such a capable young officer thinking ahead.

"Oh." the young girl looked about more carefully "I really do completely miss the obvious, don't I?"

"Yes, you do." Olga said with the barest hint of outright teasing "but that has to change. Soon it may not be safe to miss a single clue, and while we will always help you if we can, we might miss things as well. How many crew sail this ship?" she asked.

"Ummm... I am so bad at this!"

"Relax, I don't know either. But the Captain's name is Zalori. Your Father chose him for a simple enough reason: his ship was the only big ship in port last night. The ship belongs to the Duke. Zalori's family were up the coast, and we know the fires reached there first." Olga's voice was very carefully controlled. "They are gone. The young Duke relayed that he looked back from the watchtower on the high pass to the City over the port hills, and saw both town and castle consumed."

"Is he here?" Angelica asked, being careful to keep her voice soft yet failing to keep the hope out of her tone.

"No" Olga said, her voice catching in her throat slightly. "The Young Duke insisted on staying by your Father's side, even though he had been ordered to the ships."

Angelica turned to her maid and looked again, with great care. A single tear evaded Olga's willpower and slid down her cheek. "Who was he to you?" she asked gently.

Olga lowered her head, and hid her mouth in her hands so none looking might read her lips. "Brother".

Angelica pulled her into a hug, and whispered quietly "I guess I better stop thinking of you as my maid, no?" and with genuine warmth barely audibly appended "Duchess".

Olga returned the hug then allowed a quiet laugh to escape. "It was never meant to happen this way ... I was meant to be your Lady in Waiting and some day take a role in your Court."

"Ewwwww!" Angelica said suddenly, stifling a giggle. "Your Father put you in plain sight of my brother!"

"Yes." Olga smiled "You are not as bad at this as you think."

"But my brother? He was ... " Angelica froze mid-sentence, realizing that what she was about to say about her brother would be inappropriate. Her brother was dead a year. Now so was Olga's.

"Yes, he really was, wasn't he?" Olga finished for her, avoiding embarrassment or insult. They both knew exactly what they were referring to. Not saying it did not make it any less true, or any more flattering.

"You never said a word when he died though?"

"What was there to say?" Olga replied "There was never anything between us, for all of father's schemes. Perhaps in time there may have been, but my father was even more insistent that I stay on with you after that."

"Ah" Angelica finally saw the obvious. The weight of Mother's tiara was heavy upon her head; obvious was an understatement. To keep the air where my brains should be from drifting off. "Well next time I am so dense, kick me under the table, will you?" she whispered amiably. "I command it?"

"Impertinent brat!" Olga replied in a perfect imitation of Angelica's letters and numbers tutor.

Angelica hid her face in her hands, trying to hide the laughter that threatened to leak out.

Once she had her composure, she replied earnestly "I have to congratulate the Duke when we meet in the beyond. His scheme worked perfectly. I only cannot think why you did not tell me years ago? In fact, why did no-one at all tell me years ago?"

"Simple" Olga replied. "Your Mother."

"Ah" Angelica should have seen that one. No-one had better steps and passes in the Great Dance than Mother.

"Was I really horrible?" Angelica asked cautiously.

"No, you have been like a little sister to me. Annoying, insufferable at times. And yet I would do anything to keep you safe."

"Thank you" Angelica said, and kissed her friend on the cheek to emphasize that she meant it.

"You are still an Impertinent brat!" Olga replied casually. "You know some day they will tell stories about us."

"Optomist" Angelica replied darkly.

"Oh yes. And they will say you were an impertinent brat!" Olga teased.

"Wait" Angelica replied slowly, all humour vanquished. "Why do I feel as if I am drunk?"

"It is the stress" Tori-Anna had approached in silence, entirely unnoticed by the two young women. "Here, drink this, it will help you M'Lady ... M'Ladies." she corrected.

Angelica accepted the canteen, and took a sip. Clear, cold water. The officer was right, of course; half a night of singing, crying, weeping, and staring at the horizon and she really was thirsty.

"Not too much please" Tori-Anna said carefully.

I understand she let the subtle dip of her head and flick of her eyes convey to the officer.

Water. It was life in the sandy deserts she had read about. They were on the blue desert now. She took a second sip and passed the canteen to Olga, who likewise took two careful sips and returned the canteen to Tori-Anna.

Tori-Anna next produced two slices of apple, from which the core had been carefully cut away. As her charges ate quietly, savouring the taste and crispness, the officer quietly added "we are keeping every fruit seed in pouches, and will dry them when we are able."

Angelica nodded slowly, and as understanding finally percolated though smiled to the officer.

Hope. Collecting seeds is holding hope that we will live long enough to plant them, and that we shall find some place which is not on fire.

"Thank you. What do you think we should say in the morning?" Angelica asked quietly, her tone and inflection indicating an unambiguous shift from disorientated chatter with her friend to the command she was born to.

"Worry about that in the morning" Tori-Anna replied flatly. "You are both well?" her shift in tone was an unambiguous herald of something far more serious than apple slices.

Angelica looked to Olga, who nodded, and then replied "yes. We are ready."

"Captain" Tori-Anna said slightly more loudly. At her invitation a well built man with an outstanding beard and hair tied back behind his head in braids presented himself to the two seated Nobles, bowed formally and waited.

Angelica inclined her head to his bow, and spoke first as custom demanded. "Captain Zalori, we are delighted to make your acquaintance, be it that I would wish for better circumstances."

"M'Lady" he began softly "I beg your forgiveness. We are failing."

"At what?" Angelica sat up straighter, confused. A tingle of fear wound its way down her back.

"Your Father's orders ... where I was to convey you. We can't." he said simply, wringing his hands nervously. Failure was bad. Very bad.

Angelica felt the fear trying to rush up, to make her rush. She thought of Mother, and took a silent breath first. "Father cannot command the wind, even I know that ships must heed the wind" she replied at length "although I do not quite understand?" she said inviting a proper explanation.

"It's that" the captain said, gesturing at the burning horizon. "Whichever way we go, the wind is blowing straight towards that. We are sailing at an angle to the wind, as we must, so for every 10 paces forward we go, we make only one pace further from that." he gestured again for emphasis. "And in a gust, we are blown back as much or more."

"I see" Angelica wished she had paid more attention to her tutor suddenly. Shrew or not, she understood numbers and diagrams well. "Options?"

I have no idea why I said that.

Angelica suddenly felt afraid. She was just copying what she had seen Father do. What if there were none and no-one spoke?

"That way" Olga said smoothly, pointing along the coast one direction "or that way, towards the Duchy" she pointed the other, "or back closer to shore, to search for survivors."

Survivors?!

"No" ventured Tori-Anna quickly. "Captain, am I correct in thinking that if we go closer to the shore, the wind might get stronger? Like walking closer to the air vents in a kiln?"

"Oh, yes. Yes exactly." Zalori looked upon the officer with a new found appreciation. "To go back near the shore is to risk being drawn in by the wind to ... " he suddenly remembered quite how young the girl sitting in front of him was, and decided against finishing the sentence. After all, the boiling horizon of fire did not really need his embellishment. "Up or down, we can sail either."

"The direction of the Duchy?" Angelica queried.

"No" Olga said, her voice carefully neutral. "We know for certain the fire came from that way, and that it destroyed the Duchy."

"Maybe the fire will be out there by now?" Tori-Anna offered quietly.

Olga studied the horizon, and Angelica could feel her shiver beside her. "No. That isn't fire, it is something more. Hellfire? It has not dimmed in the slightest since it came."

Angelica bowed her head slightly, knowing Olga was right. Where the fire had been was gone. She took another breath, and sat up straight, looking directly to the captain. "Away from the Duchy, following the coast. I still want to send a ship to look for survivors, but not until it is safe. Captain?"

The Captain smiled and bowed, and as he turned away back to begin yelling orders to the other little ships about them and his own crew prepared to come about onto the new heading, they heard him let out a relieved sigh. He didn't have to make the decision which way to go to try to outrun Hell itself.

As they settled into the more favourable aspect to the wind, the ship heeled over slightly and began to pick up speed. Angelica watched the horizon. The wall of fire split the world in both directions as far as she could see.

She began to think of riding, imagining if her horse and she were made of fire, and they were racing along that ribbon of light.

"What is that?" Olga's question broke her reverie.

"It looks like snow?" Angelica replied, looking up at the flecks of white in the sky drifting down about them, splashed with colour from the horizon. She held up her hand to allow a snowflake to alight and brought it down to see it close.

Ash.

Their home had not only be burned, but was silently falling gently about them.

Angelica stood frozen in horror, the ash in her hand could be all that remained of Father, or Mother, or Olga's Brother. She closed her hand tenderly about the flake, and glared at the ribbon of light with naked rage.