The Atalian Sea rolled beneath them. The water was deep blue and clear for a dozen feet beneath the surface. Through it she spied great schools of silver fish and the hard gray lines of sharks on the hunt. Salt scent tickled her nose, mixing with the smell of the oil that was used to weather the deck. Through her feet she felt the faint vibration of the steam-furnace, ever present. High overhead the sky was clear, a few puffy clouds scudding high across the heavens. Lina hadn't seen land since she'd gone off-shift the night before, and it felt strange. The airship just seemed to hang, a fixed point in space surrounded by cerulean.
Something caught at her attention on the horizon. Lina watched it until it resolved; a heavy cloudbank dead ahead where the ocean met the sky. It was thick and heavy, but not dark like the herald of some storm or sudden squall.
Lina frowned. What's this? Considering the recent event with the scryn, she turned back down the ship to look for someone to fill her in on what was undoubtedly some other piece of common knowledge she lacked. Henry Smalls stood nearby, examining one of the stanchions attaching the deck of the ship to its gas-bag frame overhead. Lina walked over.
"Mr. Smalls?"
Henry looked up, brightening on seeing her. "Miss Stone. You're looking well. I heard the tale about the scryn."
Lina coughed.
"Daresay I wouldn't have acted as quickly as you." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Though I probably wouldn't have let it crawl onto my arm either. Anyway, what can I do for you?"
Lina pointed out past the bow. "I saw something strange on the horizon. Odd clouds. Not sure if I should tell someone?"
Henry walked up to the bow, peering beyond. "Already? Those are good sails. We're making excellent time."
"That's expected?"
"Oh yes." He pointed. "That, young miss, is Engmann's Maelstrom."
Lina blinked. "What?"
"A perpetual storm, of sorts. Though a calm one. Come, let's go inform Lucian and the Captain." He bustled off.
Captain Fengel, Lina thought to herself. She frowned then, acutely aware of her knife-hacked hair and rough hands. No. Stop it. Lina started after the steward, following him down the length of the deck. She glanced at the other pirates of the day-watch as they lazed about. Lucian and Fengel stood at the helm near the stern, dark-haired Maxim at the wheel as before. The aetherite was smiling slightly.
"All I'm saying," complained Lucian, "is that a man's trousers should be sacrosanct. I mean, really. Powdered peppers? That's a paltry sort of jape. And stop smiling Maxim. I know it was you. Oh, hullo Henry."
The three turned to face Lina and the steward. Lucian had been restored to his usual dashing self, while the captain was redoubtable as always. When he looked her way, Lina averted her eyes.
"Miss Stone sighted the Maelstrom off the bow ahead," said the steward.
Lucian frowned. "I knew this ship was fast, but damnation. We're only a day from the Continent and the Stormwall then. Hm. If she saw it from the bow, the lookouts above should have called out first. Hey there!"
The first mate called out to a passing pirate. Ryan Gae stopped. "Sir?"
"Go up above and yell at the lookouts for a bit. I'll be up to do the job proper shortly."
"Sir," said Ryan, running for the ratlines up to the gasbag frame and beyond.
Lucian started walking up the length of the deck, calling out orders and rousting the crew. They jumped to attention, rushing about to tighten slack lines and lock away loose objects.
"Sir," Lina asked Fengel. "What is the Maelstrom?"
The captain looked up from the dials studding the gearbox. He held her with his eyes, so striking and green. "Engmann's Maelstrom? A permanent storm of sorts." He smiled, fatherly. "Do not worry, Miss Stone. It's not a real storm, and in a ship like this we'll be just fine. Maxim? Could you explain it a bit better?"
The navigator nodded cheerfully. "You see," he began. "There is a substance that surrounds us, that binds the world—"
"Aether?" interrupted Lina.
Maxim frowned. "Yes. Well, it is not as unordered as the other elements. Aether runs in great—"
"Yes, big curvy paths called aetherlines that we can ride a bit. Got that too."
The navigator glared at her. "Well. Sometimes there are great disturbances in the aetherlines, where two of them meet, or where a powerful daemon is trapped along its length. This causes the aetherline to churn and whorl. Did you know that?"
Lina thought about it a moment. "So it's a permanent maelstrom made out of aether. Why didn't you say so?"
Maxim blinked, opened his mouth to say something, then turned away with a disgusted sound.