NaNo Day 1
Half-asleep he stumbled up to the deck of the ship, following the music. Every night, it played in his dreams; every night, he swore he heard a voice singing faintly across the stars. The chill air hit his face like a blaring alarm ringing in a return to reality. He awoke fully, and the first thing he became aware of was not the stars above nor the sea below, but the mug of the ship's first mate, an unsightly and unavoidable wart on the face of a beauty.
A voice like the pus leaking from a wound called out to him. "Oi, Petey, whotcha doin' up here? Shouldn't you be belowdecks, asleep or somethin'?"
Pete managed a grunt of assent before yawning. "Can't sleep. Noisy."
"Noisy? Ain't been nothin' out here but the wind." The first mate peered at Peter closely, bringing his stinking breath closer and blowing away what little remained of the ephemeral dream. "Want some coffee?"
"Coffee. Good." Pete accepted the proffered drink and took a swig, then handed it back, making a face. "Was that coffee or engine grease?"
"Dunno. Don't care. Wakes you up either way."
Pete grinned at the first mate. "There's really been nothing out here? We've had peace and quiet for days."
"And don't go jinxin' it! Last thing we need are a bunch o' pirates, swoopin' in with their fancy hats an' their hootin' an' hollerin'!" The first mate made the sign to ward off evil.
"Come on now, Neil, don't tell me you really believe in jinxes."
Neil scoffed. "Better I do an' they don't exist, than I don't an' they do! Lestways, you mark my words, pirates come, it's on your head, Petey!"
Pete laughed and moved towards the bow of the ship. He liked to sit out here during calm weather and just watch the world go by. They had left port two weeks ago, headed north around the cliffs of the Burning Mountains. They sailed from the port city of Per'rayir, in the glorious empire of Kinh, headed for the kingdom of Ageatia. Travel across the Burning Mountains by land, while far from impossible, required the use of a certain pass known officially as Tylliria's Way (and unofficially as the Bloody Breech). The Bloody Breech was a constant source of conflict, and dangerous enough on its own without the endless skirmishes that took place on the Western edge. The empire had airships, of course, but they couldn't carry large amounts of cargo. No, the only way to do consistent, large amounts of trade with the kingdoms of Ageatia and Tolmbur was by boat. Boats like the one he worked on, the Pale Moon.
It was no short trip. It meant weeks upon weeks of sailing. The northern sea was not particularly difficult to navigate, unless you got too close to the cliffs, and tended not to have as much bad weather as other seas. But such a long journey had its own perils, from the food and fresh water supply, to the mental stability of the crew, and of course, the ever-present threat of pirates.
Peter was glad he had found such a stable crew. They had gotten all the mutinying out of their systems long ago - it had ended, he was told, rather abruptly when Captain Jadar ran the ringleader through with a galley fork - and they were seasoned enough to judge supplies well. He had been lucky that he had been poking around the port the day their old mechanic ran afoul of some unfinished business, and rather wisely decided to go take care of it before it took care of him. Steam engine mechanics for older boats were hard to come by, and so he had gotten the job straight away. Most mechanics these days chose to work in more prestigious positions aboard Imperial airships and the like, with newer, more stable technology. There was something about the finicky nature of the older engines, though, that had transfixed Peter from an early age.
Unlike airships, which used steam power as a primary means of propulsion, sea vessels still used the wind most of the time. They used the steam engine only in limited circumstances, such as when the wind did not blow and they were dead in the water, or to escape some dire peril. Their cargo room was for things more valuable than fuel. Peter had once heard a story of an old ship that had run out of fuel after outrunning a band of pirates, and the mechanic had improvised a new fuel from seaweed and rum. He both longed for and dreaded an occasion wherein he would have to do something similar. Upkeep of the engine, as well as his other duties on the crew, kept him busy enough. He was even learning the finer points of navigation by the stars. As he breathed in the fresh sea air, he could think of no other place he would choose to call home. Though there was still something else out there... Something calling to him across the oceans...
"PETEY!"
Pete whirled around to Neil's shouting. "What? Huh? Pirates?" A swirl of panic surrounded his thoughts.
"Naw, mate, no pirates. I've been callin' your name for five minutes an' you ain't responded. Cap'n wants to see you." Neil peered closely at Peter. "Whotcha always thinkin' about out here, anyway? Some woman, I bet!" Neil chuckled as Pete sputtered out a denial. "Don't matter none, Petey, just you be sure to come when the cap'n calls, you got it?"
"Sure thing, Neil." Pete flashed a smile at Neil and headed for the captain's quarters.
Captain Jadar's quarters was sparsely furnished. Pete had seen other state rooms, and once asked why the Captain's quarters weren't as fancy. He had been told that the Captain had long ago seen that plush furnishings make a man soft as the cushions, and he preferred to keep a small cottage somewhere in the highlands of Agaetia. Pete had gotten this sense of "duty first" off the Captain from the moment they first met, and instantly liked the man.
He knocked on the door to the Captain's room. "Enter," called the gruff, booming voice from within. Pete opened the door and walked into the room. Jadar sat at his desk, which was covered with maps, charts, and books. He was staring intently at something in his hand.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Aye. C'mere and have a look at this, boy." The Captain held up what at first glance appeared to be nothing more than a highly ornamental paperweight. Peter moved closer and took the object from the Captain's outstretched hand. Peter turned it over and over, and discovered that it was a box of some kind. Made of brass, gold, and silver, he almost didn't want to touch it for fear of breaking it. The design on the outside was exceptionally well-crafted - and also very foreign. He had never seen anything like it before. It might even be writing of some kind, he mused to himself. "Open it up." At the Captain's words, Peter found the latch and opened it up.
A haunting melody began to play. The music box chimed out its notes slowly, and Pete stood there transfixed. Where had he heard that melody before? The inside of the box itself was relatively plain. There was a mirror on the underside of the lid, and a pewter base with more indecipherable writing on it. "What language is this?" he asked as his fingers ran over the lettering.
"Don't know. Can't figure it out. In all my travels, I've never seen anything like it. I've been looking through some of these old books and things" - he waved his hands with a flourish at the stacks on his desk - "but I can't figure it out. That's not the strangest part, though."
"What is?"
"I can't find a way to wind it up."
"But it hasn't... stopped playing..." Peter trailed off, staring at the music box incredulously. "Magical?"
The Captain shook his head. "I had a magus take a gander at it while we were in Per'rayir. He couldn't find any magic about it, and he'd never seen the writing either."
Peter let out a low whistle. "A magus of the Grand Empire, stationed in one of the biggest trading ports in the world, didn't know what it was? Either they're training them dumber these days, or..."
"Or we have ourselves a genuine artifact," the Captain nodded. "I want to know how it works, Peter. I want to know why it works. I want to know where it came from. I want more of them - and more of whatever the people who made it have." The Captain leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "A man gets to thinkin', later in his years, about settling down for good. Problem is, Petey, while business has been good, it's not been good enough to retire. One trip, one haul with things like that - well, even a young man like you wouldn't have to worry for the rest of his life."
Peter pondered this. "So why show this to me, sir?"
"Well, Petey, my eyes aren't so good anymore, and no one else on the Pale Moon has the knowledge of machines you do. If that ain't magical... It's a machine. Clockwork. Right up your alley. The men of this boat, bless them, are good men and hard-working, but you and me both know they're dumb as posts. You and the navigator, you're the best brains we've got. And Ormius, he took one look at the thing and begged off to go 'double check the charts'. That leaves you. Study it. Take it apart if you have to. When we get to Agaetia, we can ask some of their philosophers if they know the writing. Right now, though, go get some sleep. I need you rested tomorrow night. Ormius has a new lesson plan for you."
"Aye-aye, Captain." Peter saluted and turned. He left the room and headed down towards the engine room, which doubled as his bunk.