Chapter 77: Old Friends Part 1

"I can't believe people are being such fools." Pentam stormed around the room as Cal and Crysabel watched, along with the Crysabel's mother, the Baroness.
"Most people are fools, Dear." Crysabel sipped at her water. "It is what allows them to survive the ultimate boredom of their lives."
Pentam stopped and looked at her in shock.
"Think about it. What do these people do? They wouldn't be caught dead working, they might dabble in supporting a business venture, but aside from gossip their lives are meaningless. They are more to be pitied."
"Not all of them." The Baroness frowned slightly. "There are many who are involved in charity works and other worthy causes."
"Very true, Mother, and those people are least likely to be swayed by the scandal of the day."
"Either way," Cal said, meeting Pentam's gaze. "I do not want to spend my visit talking of such matters."
"You're right." Pentam sat down and rubbed his eyes. "I'm just upset because there is nothing I can do."
"You don't need to do anything." Cal moved her shoulders to get rid of the tension in her neck. "You have your thesis and your family to think about. I will be fine."
Pentam looked at her doubtfully, so Cal pulled out a sketchbook.
"Let me show you a bit of our trip." They spent time until dinner looking at her drawings.
"I'd like to see a drawing of the Gates of Hell." Pentam closed the book and handed it to Cal. "It would be hugely popular given their reputation."
"Perhaps I will try again while I'm here." Cal stared out the window. "I haven't been able to capture the ferocity of the place."
"If I know you, a drawing you think to be second-rate will stun anyone else." Crysabel pointed at her. "You're too hard on yourself sometimes. Not everything needs to be perfect."
"Come, it is time to eat." The Baroness led them to the dining room.
That evening Cal sat in her room with her sketchbook open in front of her. The few attempts she'd made at the Gates of Hell felt flat and lifeless. She closed her eyes and tried to capture her feelings as she'd steered through the immense waves. Fear for her ship and her crew. The smallness of the Kestrel in the face of the titanic clash of oceans. Exhilaration at the challenge. Her hand moved on its own...when it stopped she opened her eyes and gasped. The lines on the paper jumped out at her, angry and dangerous. The sky in the east was growing light when Cal finally put down her pencil and stepped back to look at her creation.
Dark with bits of white where froth blew off the water, or waves crashed together. A tiny ship braved the tempestuous ocean with mountainous swells all around. Waves sloshed over the bow making it look as if it were on the point of sinking.
Cal set it aside and collapsed on her bed. She could get a few hours' sleep before the house awoke.
***
"This is amazing!" Crysabel looked mesmerized by Cal's drawing. "That little ship looks so brave."
"This would be a stunning engraving." Pentam rubbed his chin. "I know a fellow who is always desperate for money for plates and such. He's very good. I bet he could do something with this, in return for some help with costs."
"How about I leave it in your hands." Cal rolled the paper and handed it to Pentam.
"It sounds like you don't like it." Crysabel put her hand on Cal's arm.
"It's not that... but looking back, I should never have been there. I didn't know enough to say no, and lost a good man because of it."
"There's a story going around the taverns at the port about a Captain who pulled off a rescue in the middle of this." Pentam waved the tube. "You wouldn't know anything about it would you?"
Cal felt the heat rise on her face.
"For more than one reason, I should have let him drown." She sighed and stretched. "What's done is done, and I won't be making that mistake again."
"How is rescuing someone a mistake?" Pentam asked.
"When it risks the ship and crew. It is only luck we didn't capsize or break apart. The old girl is tougher than she looks." Cal shook herself. "I have something else I wanted to ask about." She pulled out a sketchbook and opened it to the drawings of the machine from the Dynasty.
"What is it?" Pentam peered at the drawing.
"I have no idea other than it has something to do with electricity. The rumours were someone in the Zithayan Dynasty found a way to produce lightning on-demand."
"It's not a battery. There are no moving parts, and this looks like a coil. Maybe copper wire?"
"How would it work?" Crysabel moved around to look.
"A battery is a chemical reaction which creates a current through a copper wire. Think of a spark as energy jumping from one place to another. The greater the distance, the more energy required." Pentam dipped his finger in Crysabel's water and she stuck her tongue out at him. He held his hand so the water formed a drop on the tip of his finger. "It builds up until it has enough to leap." The droplet fell. "Then it starts building again. A battery creates a steady stream of drops. This would do the same thing from what you said. Interesting, but I'm not sure about its usefulness."