Having no charts or plans, Dexter spent much of his time helping Kragor with the remaining work. Bekka approached him after they secured a bunk to Jenna’s room. Dexter told her to follow him and they walked up to the front near the helm.
“It’s a good helm, Captain,” Bekka began. “I charged the ship as best I could and I’m needing some rest now. It’ll be several days of charging before it’ll be ready to fly and, truth be told, I don’t much like the feeling of having my magic drained out of me like that.”
Dexter nodded. “I understand. I’m planning on picking up a battery to help, but that comes last. We’re running low on money and all we’ve got is dry rations for food and no sails yet.”
“Yes Sir,” she said. “I’ll do my best.”
Dexter saw the troubled look on her face and opened his mouth to ask what it was about channeling her magic in the helm that bothered her, but decided now wasn’t the time.
“It’s different for those like me,” she explained.
Dexter fought the urge to jump and wondered if she’d read his mind.
“Wizards and priests learn their power, it’s not natural. Those like me, sorceresses and the like, magic comes natural to us, and to have it drained out of us like that is uncomfortable.”
Dexter bit his lip and nodded. “I can’t say I understand, since I don’t have your gift, but I will say that as soon as we can do it another way we will. That’s all I can promise.”
She nodded. “That will do, Captain. Thank you.”
Dexter paused at the door and turned back. “Bekka, have you and Jenna met before?”
Bekka smiled. “No, she dislikes me because I’m a half-breed. I’m impure, to her. You and even Kragor are better than I am.”
“Because we’re pure?” Dexter asked.
Bekka nodded. “It is the way with elves. Many races feel that way, but none so strongly as elves.”
Dexter nodded, thinking about it. “I’ve only seen a few half elves in my life,” he admitted.
“You’ve only recognized a few, many take pains to disguise themselves.”
“Fair enough,” Dexter admitted. “Being shunned like that must put a lot of hate in a person.”
Bekka smiled. “You keep passing tests, Captain.”
Dexter returned her smile and said, “Get some rest, not much you can do to help right now, I don’t reckon.”
Back in Jenna’s room Kragor worked on building a table that would fold down from the wall. Meanwhile Jenna was doing her best to ignore him. When Dexter entered she turned to face him.
“I need some parchment to write down our supplies and some ink and a quill, or at least some charcoal,” she told him.
Dexter had no chance to hide his surprised look. “You mean to keep track with books?”
“You want it done right?” she asked.
“It’s only us on the ship, I trust you to run it right.”
She shrugged. “You do a lot of trusting.”
“I do,” he admitted, winking at her. “Let me know when it’s a bad idea.”
She opened her mouth then closed it. At a sudden loss for words she turned back to the weapons and, with her back to him, asked, “What do you need?”
“A decent sword, a couple of knives, and a pistol,” he said, rattling off his standard fare.
She gathered the equipment and handed it to him one item at a time. Dexter set the weapons on her cot when he realized he could not hold them all at once. She handed him a weapon belt with a scabbard on it last. With the belt on he tied the daggers, already in sheaths, to it and slid the sword home. The pistol he tucked through the belt and then tied on the two small sacks containing fire powder and lead balls for shot.
“Arm yourself then join me on the deck, I’d like to see how good you are,” Dexter said.
Jenna looked at the weapons and shrugged. She grabbed a longsword, a dagger, and a pistol. Dexter noted she already had secured a belt around her waist. He made his way up the staircase and onto the deck, followed closely by the elf warrior. He stopped finally and drew his blade, turning to face her.
Jenna drew hers and looked at it, frowning a little. He lunged forward, certain she would not be caught off guard. He was right. She turned his blade aside and countered, striking back at him, which he dodged.
The two fought for several minutes, testing each other out and noting strengths and weaknesses. Jenna was skilled enough with the longsword, but her skill was nothing that left him speechless. She was good enough to kill the average man, Dexter knew, but he had hoped for a little more out of her. Finally, both of them sweating, Dexter held up his hand to signal an end to the fight.
“Enough, I’m getting distracted,” he said. “You fought well.”
“Distracted?” Jenna asked between breaths. “By what?”
“You need to change your shirt,” was all he said.
Jenna realized that she still wore the torn shirt from the prison. She laughed, surprising Dexter. She had not realized that it was now so loose that any abrupt twist, lunge, or other movement would have one or both breasts spilling out of it.
“Why are you laughing?” Dexter asked, confused. He was trying to save her from embarrassment and humiliation.
“You humans, so modest… I’ll have to remember that and make use of it,” she said.
Dexter looked at her, brows furrowing at his lack of understanding.
“The body is a beautiful thing,” Jenna explained. “Not something to be hidden and ashamed of. My people wear clothing to be sensible, fashionable, or for protection, not because it bothers us if others see us without it.”
“Oh,” Dexter said, suddenly the uncomfortable one. “I, um, I guess that makes sense.”
Jenna grinned at him, enjoying his discomfort. “Perhaps next time I’ll fight you nude.”
“Not sure I could handle that,” Dexter admitted.
Jenna chuckled. “Yes, Captain,” she said. She turned to head back below then stopped and twisted her torso to look back at him. “Captain?”
Dexter chanced a look at her, noticing almost instantly that the way she had twisted gave him a clear line of sight to the full swell of one breast behind one half of her torn shirt. He forced his eyes up to hers and fought to ignore the heat in his cheeks. “Um, yes?”
“If you’ve the money when you return for supplies could you pick me up a rapier and a short sword? You might find me a little more challenging thus armed.”
Dexter nodded, anything to escape the embarrassment he felt.
She made her way down the staircase and Dexter let out a deep sigh. “Gods,” he muttered. “What am I doing with women on the ship?”
He shook his head and headed towards the forward staircase to head below deck. All the while he tried to figure out why he had felt embarrassed when she was the one accidentally exposing herself
The next day, with Jodyne at his side, Dexter returned to New Haven for more supplies. He picked up the foodstuffs she needed, as well as the cooking utensils and even a hotstone, which cost 10 gold by itself but kept Jodyne from using a flame to cook any food on the ship. He had plans for a magical frostbox, to keep food fresh, but the cost prohibited him from buying it.
The largest expense came from the dozens of yards of canvas, thread, and needles he had to buy. He had enough left that he found himself drawn to a weaponsmith’s shop. Jodyne had returned to the ship to await the delivery of the canvas from the tailor’s shop.
When Dexter returned to the ant he had a rapier hanging from a baldric over his shoulder. The canvas had been delivered, and with nothing else to do, Dexter paid for the dock authority to recharge the ant’s helm, then he paid the docking fees and piloted the ship back to the asteroid field.
Bekka rose from her nap and helped Jodyne carry in the supplies. She looked pale, but nodded to him when he mentioned the canvas. A tired smile accompanied the nod, convincing him to once again mind his own business. He noticed that she must have acquired a dagger from Jenna as well; the stubble on her head had been freshly shaved.
