“Pirates? Really?” Serena asked, raising an eyebrow.

Amelia watched Menes as he explained, “Those that live in the passage do not spend all their time in piracy, my sayyidah. These men”—the demon nodded to the fishing vessel in the distance—“need to spend more time surviving than attacking merchants. They fish, farm, eat, drink and do whatever else men do. The pirate groups don’t just earn in the skies, but through business on the mainland as well.” Menes chuckled, continuing, “Some have legitimate ownership, even in Ishaq.”

“It’s starting to seem like to me that you and your colleagues tolerate these criminal groups instead of suppressing them,” Serena said, folding her arms. “I’m suspecting there may be a lack of will here, Menes. Ishaq may be in its own little world, but it must still adhere to the principles of the Empire.”

“The world is not so simple,” Menes countered. “It is more complicated than good man and bad man. You understand this, yes? You have fought for many years? Were all those you battled with evil? Or were they the same as you?”

Serena was quiet for a long while. Eventually, she opened her mouth and asked, “What do you recommend we do regarding our pirate friends?”

Menes looked at the ship shadowing the Vengeance and sighed. “They are interested in you, understand? Like how I watch Ishaq’s skies or the fortress tracks passing ships, the pirates patrol their so-called Pirate Republic. These fishermen will, if they haven’t already, report seeing you. They will be concerned you will turn south and hunt them. They will likely not recognise the ship, so they will be scared. You could demand they leave, and they probably would. Or… you could ignore them. A little ship like theirs will not be able to follow for long. If you wanted to be—”Menes’ eyes flicked to Amelia before returning to Serena—”more forceful, you could fire a warning shot. They will then leave and tell their friends you are a violent captain, yes?”

Serena held Menes’ eyes for a long while. In the meantime, her foot tapped the decking in a slow, methodical fashion. It didn’t take long for Amelia to sense Menes begin to wilt, with each tapping of Serena’s foot causing a little more withering to occur. The Arakian might be taller, broader, and more muscular than Serena, but under the gaze of those beautiful crimson eyes, no man could stand strong for long.

“Not to say… ha ha…” Menese chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not to say you are not kind, my sayyidah, yes? You have been very kind to me and my boys. You are very feisty, yes? You’ll get along with my wife, she—”

“Menes.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” Serena rolled her eyes. “Anathor, tell the bridge to hail the vessel. Tell them to rise to our elevation and pull alongside the Vengeance’s portside for inspection.”

“Aye, Captain,” came Anathor’s ethereal reply. As the Formless spoke, Amelia could see Menes tense up a little. It seemed that the large Arakian hadn’t yet fully adapted to life on the ship.

“Don’t worry,” Amelia said, catching the demon’s attention. “You’ll get used to Anathor. He’s rather lovely, I assure you!”

“...What a strange ship we’ve found ourselves on, my anisa,” Menes said. “To meet one of her children in person. It will be a great story to tell. You are a lucky woman.”

“Anisa?” Amelia asked, furrowing her forehead. “What’s that?”

“A Hakian term of respect, my anisa. Sayyidah is for a noble lord, like the captain, yes?” Menes gestured to Serena who didn’t respond. “Anisa is for a young lady like yourself. Respect is important in Southern society. You will remember that, yes?”

“Mmm!” Amelia nodded.

“Captain…” Anathor grumbled, reporting the pirate fishing vessel was protesting Serena’s demand. After a moment of deliberation, Serena ordered, “Give them a burst from the underhull. One ship length.”

“Aye, Captain,” Anathor grumbled.

“My sayyidah!” Menes spoke quickly. “From this distance? One ship length is too close for a warning shot! You’ll hit them!”

“Don’t underestimate my gunners, Menes,” Serena said with a voice full of pride. “While you’ve been playing around in Ishaqian skies, we’ve been fighting a war. If I wanted, from this distance, I could put a penetrator through their aetherscope.” Menes tried to protest further but Serena waved him down, instead turning and looking at the distant vessel.

Amelia and Menes joined Serena at the railing. There was a short moment of imagined peace and then Amelia felt the decking shudder through her feet, followed a fraction of a second later by the noise of the underhull turret firing. The trail of bullets streak through the sky, passing the fishing vessel by a few metres before disappearing into the void. The warning shots looked almost serene, but Amelia knew how loud the munitions the Vengeance fired could be, even when passing by in the air.

Now, the pirates knew that too.

She saw them scramble, shouting at each other and gesturing to the Vengeance. After a while a decision seemed to be made and the fishing vessel abruptly turned away, fleeing to the east. Amelia wondered if the pirates thought Serena was actually trying to hit them, considering how close those bullets were over such a distance.

“See?” Serena raised an eyebrow at Menes. “I don’t want any rats sniffing around these skies, not while the Vengeance is carrying out its duties. We’ll be turning north soon to search for survivors of the Myrmidon and Indefatigable. I have enough crystal to spare for a few days, but I won’t risk any more than that. If we don’t find them by the time Christmas passes, we’re heading to Ishaq. We’re not exactly suited for prolonged rescue operations.”

“...It is a noble thing, my sayyidah,” Menes said after a moment, his voice soft. “Not all captains would spare crystal. Many would consider it a lost cause. To try and reclaim what the passage has taken. Some would say it is foolish.”

Serena snorted. “I have little time for superstition, Menes.”

A silence descended on the group as they watched the skies pass by. Amelia knew Serena didn’t like Menes, but Amelia also thought Serena didn’t necessarily dislike the man. He was, after all, a demon from a vastly different culture than anything found in the East. Serena had inherent respect for her fellow captains and officers of the Imperial Navy, and it seemed like Menes respected her back, even if some of his views were a little… traditional.

Although, given the socio-economic status of the Known World, what Amelia considered traditional and old-fashioned was the status quo here. How many amazing talents like Hinako and Mel were hidden because societal expectations kept women from exploring their full potential?

She knew attitudes would naturally shift as the world developed, but she wouldn’t do much harm if Amelia gave it a reassuring push in one direction or another, right? She was, after all, the perfect example of how an unbelievably powerful woman could also be terribly cute and devilishly loving. As long as she kept being herself, she would naturally inspire both men and women to realise that the world was better with more Amelias, right?

She could start with the traditional-minded Menes, couldn’t she?

If only the atmosphere wasn’t so awkward!

Amelia felt that, at any moment, Serena was going to end the silence and send him back into the cargohold. She wanted to get to know the Arakian demon a little more! She needed to create a cheerful atmosphere so she could have a discussion. What should she say? What would—

Ah, right. She could just use the old reliable, couldn’t she?

“I like your horns!” Amelia chirped, catching the demon’s attention. “I wish I had horns!”

Menes tilted his head. “But you have horns, my anisa.”

Right, right, she was still under her Kanaxai disguise, wasn’t she?

“I mean, I wish I had bigger horns!” Amelia corrected. “Cerulean horns are so small, aren’t they? Your horns are similar to Tomes and Dagon. Are you from the same place?” Her compliment and interest in Menes had covered up her mistake and she sensed the Arakian open up.

After all, who didn’t like talking about themselves?

“Not quite, my anisa. I’m Arakian,” Menes said, proudly jabbing his chest with his thumb, “with strong Hakian blood! My sperehand is of the old tribe, the true-blooded pyramid-builders. You have heard of our pyramids, haven’t you, my anisa?” Seeing Amelia eagerly nod, Menes broke out into a wide grin and continued, “my ancestors built them very long ago. Back when the desert had great rivers running in it, and the Haki and Treki tribes were of one blood, the trueblood Ashendi

tribe!”

“What about the people of Shiloh and Jimar?” Amelia queried. From her memory of the maps she’d seen, Jimar was right next to Trekell while Shiloh was a little further away, nestled deep in the Krummund mountain range to the east. “Don’t they also have Ashendi blood?”

“Ha!” Menes laughed dismissively. “No, but they try and claim, yes? Everyone knows the Jimari tribe came from the west, where Tevari still stands tall today! And”—he raised a pointed finger—“the Shiloh sperehand is of Dakian blood! The same sperehand of Dectus and Qasim. They are a strange people…” The Arakian shrugged, as if he himself was the most ordinary person in the world. “The Dakian do not respect the desert. They carve big shapes into the sand. A foolish thing to do! The desert should not be dug into. They will summon the wrath of Urlen and he will come and destroy them!”

Amelia placed a finger on her chin, remembering what she’d been told of the desert geoglyphs. “Are you talking about the Dectus Lines?”

“Yes.” Menes nodded. “Some call it that. Why people go to see them, I do not know.” After shaking his head, the demon continued, “What is so great about removing from the desert? Why remove when you can build, like we have done!” Once again, a note of pride settled in the man’s voice. “When you see the Ashendi pyramids, you will be amazed, my anisa. You will think to yourself, ‘How did they build such a mighty building? How did they move such heavy stones? Even with aura, such a thing is too heavy!’ When you see the shapes the Dakians have etched into the sands you will think, ‘What’s so impressive about this? Anyone can dig a hole in a straight line! This is boring!’”

“I don’t know,” Amelia said with a grin, “I think the Dectus Lines are impressive in their own way! I bet a Dakian might think your pyramids are boring!” Despite Menes’ preference for his own culture, Amelia was equally excited to see both wonders of the desert. The Dectus Lines reminded her of the Nazca Lines of her old world. Unfortunately, some of the ancient historical geoglyphs had been destroyed in one of the World Wars, but others remained and she’d seen photographs and reconstructions of how they used to be.

“Bah!” Mense waved an annoyed hand. “That is a silly thing to say. It is what happens when your sperehand is weak. It’s what happens when you spend your time drawing silly pictures into the desert instead of building great pyramids!” Menese puffed his chest out, as if the more physical space his body took up, the stronger his argument.

Resisting a giggle, Amelia asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask, but what is a sperehand? Is it your bloodline?”

“Yes.” Menes nodded. “The bloodline of the father. The p—, the pa—” Menes frowned as he tried to pronounce the word.

“Paternal?” Amelia offered.

“Yes!” The demon’s eyes opened wide with gratitude. “Sperehand is the paternal bloodline. The bloodline that built the pyramids. The pyramids are our desert patrimony. Their weight is on my shoulders and the might to build more is in my blood.” Menes clenched a fist, flexing the muscles of his forearm. “I will pass this down to my son, and he will pass it down to his son. It is the way of the desert, the way of my Ashendi fathers, my anisa.” 

“And what about your daughters?” Amelia asked. “What’s the maternal bloodline called?”

“The spinelhand,” Menes replied. “The bloodline of compassion and loyalty. To honour the sperehand we build. But why do we build?” The Arakian spread his arms wide, turning in a circle. “We build to honour the spinelhand, and what is the mightiest spinelhand? Is it not the great maternal bloodline of Mura? The gods can be traced back to the Greatspider herself—the great being that ruled the world eons ago. Our very Empress is one of her children, and look at how mighty she is! Look there!”

Menes pointed to the north-west. Amelia followed his direction, identifying a distant dark spot that seemed a little more chaotic than any other part of the passage. It was at such a distance that even with her enhanced perception and access to the Shimmer she could barely make out the dim shapes of spinning islands and other large rocks.

“You can see, yes? Rhaknam’s maelstrom.”

“The Shattered Isles?” Amelia asked.

“We are far from it now, but it is there. A dominion hundreds of klicks wide. A never-ending storm, second only to the Great Storm itself. A territory created by one of Mura’s children, Empress Elana, now inhabited by another of her children, the greatest of the arcwhales.” As Menes spoke his tone became reverent, as if he were discussing a sacred matter.

Which I suppose it is, Amelia thought. These are his religious beliefs.

“Have you ever seen Rhaknam?” she asked.

Menes shook his head. “No, but my father’s father did. A hundred years ago. He flew over the desert, over his pyramid. It was a great sign. A great reward.”

“You built him a pyramid!?”

“Yes!” Menes nodded proudly. “Two centuries ago it was finished! This was back when we had Suijin

, yes? The desert rivers had not yet dried, and the ancestors could still transport the stones deep into the desert. Now those rivers have long since dried. Until the water god returns to us”—Menes cast a side-glance towards Serena—”we can only build close to the desert’s outskirts…”

“Don’t look at me like that, Menes,” Serena intoned coolly. “Suijin’s communion is a great achievement of the East. It’s not our fault the South cannot muster the strength to earn his respect.” Serena’s lip curled as she berated the Arakian demon. Amelia could see her girlfriend was having fun. After all, the one responsible for that particular achievement was right here!

“So Suijin’s Speaker maintained the desert rivers?” Amelia asked. “In the past?”

“Yes.” Menes nodded. “The previous overlord used his embodiment to fill the desert with water. The rivers would run for years before needing to be refilled. Now, there are only the occasional oases and deep rivers to survive on. But…” Menes glanced a fist, his eyes flashing with determination. “There is still life in the Arakian desert, if you know where to look!”

“Mmm…” Amelia hummed, her voice trailing off as she thought of an outrageous possibility. Glancing at Serena Amelia jumped seeing her girlfriend staring at her with an intense look.

What!? Amelia asked with her eyes.

Don’t think about it, Serena’s eyes warned.

Amelia blinked innocently. Think about what?

You know what.

“Hehe…” Amelia chuckled.

“You two seem like friends,” Menes said suddenly as he looked between them. “What is it you do, my anisa?”

“I help the kitchen!” she explained. “I’m an ice mage so they have me making blocks of ice to preserve the food.” To emphasise her point she raised her finger and manifested a few droplets of water that she quickly froze and let fall upon the deck.

“Ah…” Menes nodded appreciatively. “Desert traders pay well for such a talent. It could be the difference between life and death on the Red Sands, yes? But, I don’t think you’re just a mage, are you? There’s something special about you… You feel like a warrior… Very strange…”

“Stop prying, Menes,” Serena warned, tapping her foot on the deck. “Unless you want to spend the rest of the trip in the cells.” At her warning Menes quickly apologised and the conversation proceeded onto his ship, the Neferati and its complement.

“Shouldn’t we have seen your friends by now?” Amelia questioned.

“Mmm,” Menes hummed, shaking his head. “I hoped we would, but it is easy to miss one another in the passage. The route through the passage changes, and ships make their own way. The rest of my boys could be close, or they could be far. They could be searching the boulder fields, or they might have returned to Ishaq. They may even visit the fortress, to see if I took the In… Inde… Indefatigable there!” Menes’ eyes widened and his chest inflated as if to say, ‘See? I pronounced it just fine!’

“Hmm… Captain,” Anathors gruff voice interrupted their conversation. “We’ve arrived.”

Serena nodded. “Come on, you two. It’s time to begin the search. Menes, how many of your boys have good eyes?”

“One or two, my sayyidah.”

“Then pick one or two. I want you and them working as observers. Work hard, and you’ll get some of the Christmas meats Lia is keeping cool.”

“Ah!” Menes’ eyes widened. “So you trust me now? I told you!” The Arakian raised a rough finger. “Me and my boys are honest! You can put us to work!”

“Well…” Serena rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “The Head Chef will be short of horns. When you’re not watching the skies for signs of our stranded colleagues, you can help him prepare meals.”

“It is no problem!” Menes nodded eagerly.

As they made their way back into the ship, Amelia couldn’t help but share a knowing look with Serena. Her girlfriend had told her there were two kinds of people that a captain must never lock horns with: dockmasters and ship cooks. The former could frustrate every aspect of a ship’s operation while docked, while the latter could do the same in the skies.

Menes and his men would be alright with a bit of washing up, wouldn’t they?

Well, if they struggled, Lia the Icemage would show them how it’s done!

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