Scones and Secrets

By Alicia Peterson

Sebastian adjusted his brass eyepiece and scanned the forest around him for the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.

A bright glow led him to a large creature rooting around in the undergrowth.

“Any sign of it, Ghost?”

His navigator, Kytt Windthorn, rose from the tangle. “I can’t believe I dropped the astrolabe!” He pulled a stick from her hair. “To be fair, quite a lot of cloaked men were chasing us at the time.”

She glared at the forest. “Let’s try north again.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” When she didn’t rise to his sarcasm, he sighed and followed.

As the Pirate Gearlock, he was accustomed to striking fear into the hearts of young debutantes. Now, despite his best intentions, this one had taken up residence in his heart, instead.

Sebastian scanned the ground with renewed vigor. She could never be his, but he was selfish enough to enjoy one last mission with her. Then he would do her the honor of leaving her behind.

“Captain, maybe we should—oh!”

She halted so abruptly that Sebastian nearly knocked her over. Then he saw it, too.

An enormous dog wearing a cheerful knit hat blocked their path. Buried within the wet flaps of the animal’s jowls, something glinted. Something brass and very expensive.

Kytt patted her thighs. “Here, boy. Drop it!”

The dog ignored her and walked away with their astrolabe.

They followed. Sebastian’s one attempt to get close was met with a menacing growl, and he fell back.

“I get the feeling we’re being led by the nose,” he mumbled.

“But where?”

They crested a low hill, and the answer appeared: a small cabin with smoke curling from the chimney. The dog trotted through the open door. They followed.

Inside, a woman with a halo of curling white hair scratched him behind the ears. “What did you find, boy?” She looked up at her visitors. “Or should I say, who?”

“Captain Gearlock at your service, madam. And this is the Ghost.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Miriel Takkenridge. This mountain of fur is Matteo.” She cocked her head at Sebastian. “You look familiar, Captain.”

Kytt pointed to Matteo’s mouth. “Pardon the intrusion, but we’ve been searching all afternoon for that.”

“Then it’s a good thing he found it. Drop it, boy.” She turned to the stove. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Matteo opened his large jaws, and the astrolabe hit the wood floor with a dull thunk.

Kytt knelt and lifted it by one corner. A slow drip of slobber stretched toward the floor. “At least it’s undamaged.”

“Would you like some tea?” At their silence, she added, “I insist! And a scone.” She turned holding a loaded plate. “They’re still—” She froze at the sight of the object dangling from Kytt’s fingers. “Oh.” She lowered herself into a chair.

“Are you well, madam?”

“Perfectly. I just never thought I’d see old Ptolemy’s astrolabe again.”

At their surprised expressions, Miriel sighed. “It’s a long story.” She gazed at the instrument, not like it was a coveted valuable, but like a photograph of her long-lost beloved.

Her friendly smile returned. “I expect you want to continue your search for the prize.”

“Indeed, we do.” Kytt dried the instrument with one sleeve and began making adjustments.

“I’ll save you the trouble. I know where he’s leading you.”

“And where is that?” Sebastian asked. She seemed harmless enough, but Ptolemy had been dead for seven hundred years.

“Here.”

Kytt looked up from her readings, astonished. “She’s right.”

Miriel slid the plate toward them. “Scone?”

They each took one and sat.

She served tea. “I imagine you know, Captain, that the astrolabe leads to Liminalis.”

Sebastian nodded.

“You can’t get there in a straight line,” Miriel explained. “So it sets a winding path. It knows I can help.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his heart pounding. “You’ve spent time there?”

A sad smile clouded her face. “Twenty of my best five years.”

Kytt frowned. “Liminalis? What are you talking about? There’s no such place.”

He spoke carefully. “It’s a place between places, where visitors from many times and worlds interact. Devilishly hard to get in.” Or out.

“That’s only the beginning.” Miriel stroked Matteo’s head absently and looked at Sebastian. “You really are familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on—” Her face brightened. “Sophia Malstrum!”

He stilled. “She’s my mother.”

“You have her smile.” With an almost imperceptible nod, she confirmed what he had suspected for years: His mother was in Liminalis.

Sebastian braced himself for what came next. Kytt would learn his goal had always been finding his mother, not claiming the treasure she desperately needed. The betrayal would sour their friendship into hurt and anger, and he would deserve it.

Miriel said nothing. Instead, she fetched a rucksack and began gathering supplies.

“Are you going somewhere?” Kytt asked.

“You’re going to need a guide.” From the forest beyond, the sound of shouts and baying dogs filtered through the open door. “We don’t have much time.”

Sebastian stood. “We’re returning to our airship first. Kytt is going home.”

Kytt shot up. “I’m coming with you! This is my mission, too.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have time. Your family is waiting.”

“If I don’t get that prize, my family is ruined. I’ll make time.”

“Time is funny there,” Miriel warned. “You might stay for a month and be back a day later. Or you might lose decades.”

Kytt stowed the astrolabe. “Then let’s stop wasting it.” When Sebastian still hesitated, she stepped closer. “I know our crew can’t last forever. But I want one last mission to remember when I’m old, married, and boring.” She entered the doorway. “Come on, Captain. Let’s disappear for a while.”

He could still tell her the truth. He could bring her home and give her time to save her family another way. Or like a selfish, thieving pirate, he could take her outstretched hand.

And Almighty forgive him, he took it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alicia Peterson is a former librarian and lifelong nerd. She writes genre-blending flash and YA fiction with strong character voices and quirky humor. She’s drawn to stories at the crossroads between worlds, where the lines between reality and fantasy, sacred and profane get a little wibbly-wobbly. She lives in Northern Minnesota with her husband, two young sons, one old dog, and two dozen accidental chickens.

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