Janie looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the person she saw.

Her had been styled with hot metal rods and some kind of light, fragrant oil that held its shape as it dried. It had taken a while, sitting there and letting Tonya do who-knows-what to it. Then Tonya had put makeup on her and helped her pick out an outfit from a communal closet. After all that work she could finally see it all. Her hair tumbled in loose flowing waves. A small black hat with a white band was pinned into place at a jaunty angle. A lightweight mesh veil of white lace covered the top half of her face. Makeup gave her a smoky, upswept look that turned her eyes into dark pools behind the veil. Her lips were painted with a deep red stain, like she’d eaten too many cherries. A ribbon of white was tied around her slender throat.

She wore her white bustier, with nothing to cover it but a gauzy black shawl that was nearly as see-through as her veil pulled around her shoulders. A long flowing skirt cinched around her waist. It was made of ruffled layers of thin black material that was gathered all the way up to the hip on her right side, revealing her white stockings and part of her shapely thigh.

“I don’t know about this,” she said. “Can’t I at least have a blouse?”

“Well you could, but that booster thing is just too fantastic not to show off,” Tonya said from the bed behind her.

“Bustier,” Janie corrected.

“Boosty-aye?” Tonya said, sounding it out to make sure she had it right.

“That’s right,” Janie said over her shoulder.

“Well, it certainly does make you boosty-aye,” Tonya snickered, eyeing Janie’s impressively accentuated chest.

“I feel like I’m naked,” Janie grimaced.

“If you saw another woman dressed the way you are, what would you think?” Tonya asked.

“That she needed to put on some clothes,” Janie snorted.

“In a place like this?” Tonya laughed. “You’re going to be practically overdressed.”

“It was not my idea to come here,” Janie retorted.

“Would you rather just hide here in the room?” Tonya asked. “You said you didn’t want to be alone.”

“Can’t I… do something that doesn’t involve dressing like this?” Janie asked.

“Well, there’s kitchen work. I don’t recommend it,” Tonya shrugged.

“Why not?” Janie asked.

“Because new kitchen staff are put on potato and dish duty. Feel like eight or ten hours of peeling potatoes and washing pots and pans?” Tonya asked.

Janie shrugged. “I’ve worked in kitchens before. All the Acolytes had to take a turn once a month.”

“Well, it’s an option. Or you could actually enjoy your night,” Tonya said. “It’s up to you.”

“When I mentioned the possibility of disguise, this was not what I had in mind,” Janie looked at herself in the mirror again. She had to admit, she liked the outfit. She just didn’t like the idea of everyone seeing her in it.

“What’s a disguise for?” Tonya asked with one eyebrow arched.

“Not being recognized,” Janie said incredulously.

“Who do you think is going to recognize you?” Tonya laughed.

The incorrigible young woman had a point. Her face was made up in a way that drastically changed her appearance, and it was half covered too. Her outfit was eye-catching, but fit right in with what the other people working wore. “Probably no one,” she admitted.

“Who’s going to be looking at your face anyway?” Tonya snarked.

Janie looked down at her breasts. They certainly did stand out. “I’ve spent my life trying to dress in ways that avoided exactly that sort of attention.”

“And you still can. Tonight it’ll be like you’re a different person. We’re even going to come up with a different name for you,” Tonya said. “What do you think?”

The idea had its appeal. She had to admit that she actually did like the idea of so many eyes on her. She just didn’t want them to know who she really was. The fantasy was exciting, but the reality scared her. If anyone recognized her she’d never be able to live it down.

Did it matter? She was going to leave this place anyway. Will would come back, and then she would be swept away on a ship into some grand adventure.

She scoffed at herself and rolled her eyes.

“What?” Tonya asked.

“I’m thinking like a ridiculous schoolgirl with a head full of nonsense,” Janie said bitterly.

“Oh, that’s good. Listen to your inner schoolgirl,” Tonya grinned.

“Why?” Janie asked, genuinely confused.

“Because she hasn’t forgotten how to hope,” Tonya shrugged.

Janie stared at the mirror, lost in thought. Was this what hope felt like? Was this what hope looked like? Was this what a schoolgirl’s dreams turned into? An unrecognizable harlot in the mirror?

It really was a good disguise and the idea of pretending to be one of Mary’s girls for a night was a bit exciting. Far more than peeling potatoes, at the least.

On the other hand, she didn’t know if the person she saw in the mirror was the person she wanted to be. Her family would be horrified at her. Prelate Alexandra would never approve. All the other Scribes and Guards would judge her horribly, save for Thomas.

Thomas would ask her if she was alright.

Her eyes narrowed. She did not care about the opinions of any of them, save for Thomas. Once she explained everything to him, he’d think it was hilarious. He’d never think less of her for this.

“Alright,” she nodded.

Tonya clapped her hands. “Oh good! What made up your mind?”

“Anyone who’d think less of me for dressing this way isn’t someone who really cares about me in the first place. They’re just wanting me to be someone who does what she’s told,” Janie said with a small shrug.

Tonya nodded. “That’s true. Just remember that anyone who thinks more of you for dressing this way doesn't really care about you either. They’re just wanting to see you on display.”

“Didn’t you want to see me on display? This was your idea,” Janie said with a bit of reprimand in her voice.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t have thought less of you for saying no,” Tonya shrugged. “It’s only fun if you decide that it’s what you want.”

“You remind me a lot of Bella,” Janie said, smiling even though her eyes suddenly felt misty.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” Tonya grinned, hopping off the bed and coming closer to hold Janie’s hands. “So what do you want your disguise name to be?”

“Evangelina,” Janie said with a devilish look in her eye.

“Well, that’s a fancy name,” Tonya said with a small snicker.

“Only my mother and my grandfather call me that,” Janie said with a small glare. “I hate it.”

Tonya laughed. “Your inner schoolgirl is a rebellious little thing, isn’t she?”

“She is now,” Janie said. She lifted her chin, looked at herself in the mirror and loved the person looking back.

_______________

Will was sweating profusely.

The galley was not a fun place to be. The stove had to be kept well-stoked to heat the kettles so they could wash the dishes that had accumulated. The Galley was little more than a wide hallway lined floor-to-ceiling with cupboards and drawers on one wall, and a long work table and a two-oven stove along the other. Against the back wall was a large sink with a single porthole window above it. The porthole was open, but between the ambient humidity, the heat of the oven, and the steam from the boiling kettle, the small space was still sweltering.

Will, Jack and Lace were packed into the room working at getting all the day’s dishes cleaned. It was hard work. They scraped at cast iron pots with dirty rags, wooden scrapers, and even with a metal wire brush that looked like it had been stolen from a blacksmith shop.

Will pushed his wet hair back and out of his face for the fiftieth time, envying Jack’s braid. The two of them were shoulder to shoulder at the sink, scrubbing at the endless pile of pots and pans. At least she was suffering too, he scowled. Her face was bright red. Her beige shirt was soaked through and clinging to her body. Will could clearly make out the curves of her breasts and the dents her nipples made in the fabric. A few loose strands of her long brown hair were stuck to the side of her face. The force with which she was scrubbing a cook pan was causing her whole body to shake in ways that were very hard not to watch.

“Make way,” Lace growled from behind them. Will and Jack leaned to opposite sides, putting their shoulders against the wall as Lace unceremoniously poured another kettle full of boiling water into the sink. Another plume of steam billowed up. Will sighed.

“I thought it was normal to do dishes after each meal,” Jack muttered, passing the cook pan she was working on over her shoulder.

“Normally, it is,” Lace said, taking it back to the rinsing and drying station she’d set up. “Today wasn’t a normal day. The whole crew was working on splicing ropes so I can secure Sterling’s stupid boats.”

“Of all the days to volunteer for dish duty,” Jack sighed, tugging at her sopping shirt. “I wore the wrong clothes for this.”

“Turn around,” Lace said.

Jack turned and waited, not sure what was about to happen.

“Unbutton your shirt,” Lace said.

Will slowly turned his head, his curiosity suddenly piqued. Lace’s hand grabbed him by the back of his skull and turned his head back the other way. “Eyes front, dish-swab,” she said flatly.

There was a rustling of wet fabric. “Alright, now pull your arms free and tuck the sleeves under them, here,” Lace said.

“Ugh, it’s sticking to me,” Jack said in a disgusted tone. There was some pulling and wet tugging.

“Now gather it all, fold the bottom up over the top and around again into a roll, and tie the whole thing in front,” Lace said. There were more wet fabric sounds. Will had been absently washing the same pan since Jack had turned around.

“Oh, I see. That’s much better,” Jack said. Will turned to look again. Lace gave him an arch look. Jack had taken off her shirt, rolled it into a narrow band, and tied it across the front of her chest. It looked a bit like the red sash thing Lace wore across her own chest, save that the sleeves of Jack’s shirt hung down her front, and her chest was quite a bit larger than Lace’s. Still, she wasn’t quite endowed enough that the makeshift halter top didn’t work.

Jack looked at Will as he looked at her. She put her hands on her hips and waited for him to see enough. Their eyes met for a moment. He was keeping his face deliberately expressionless. She was not. Sardonic was the word that came to Will’s mind to describe her expression. He turned back to the pan he hadn’t ever stopped scrubbing.

“I think that one is clean,” Jack said, an amused expression on her face. Wordlessly he handed it back to Lace. She glanced between the two of them, then took the pan and left.

They worked in silence for a time, then Jack managed to drop a large cast iron pan. She’d grown up with servants, so in spite of having broken away from that and developed her own independence and an impressive set of survival skills, she didn’t have a lot of experience with basic household tasks like washing dishes. Little things, like washing pans under the water rather than balancing them on the edge of the sink like one might do with a plate, were completely foreign to her.

The plume of water that exploded up from the sink when the iron pan slipped soaked them both. Will stopped what he was doing, wiped away the soap from his face and turned to look at Jack. She gave him an appropriately shocked look that quickly faded to embarrassment as water dripped from her face. Behind them, Lace started laughing. Jack did too after a moment.

“This is a profoundly humbling experience,” Jack muttered.

“Here, switch with me. You still look like a drowning rat,” Lace snorted. The two women did an awkward shuffle around each other, jostling Will a bit. He leaned to the side again to give them room. Lace stepped in and pulled a pan out of the steaming, soapy tub. Her tight braids and penchant for not wearing much were serving her well here. Her upper body glistened, but she didn’t look half as miserable as Jack had, and Will still did. The red band tied across her chest didn’t retain much water.

Deciding he’d had enough, Will peeled his shirt off and hung it from one of the many hooks in the ceiling that were normally reserved for large pots. Lace eyed him a bit with an amused look on her face, taking note of the sprawling treasure map tattooed on Will’s chest and back, then went back to scrubbing her pot.

There was a clatter behind them. Lace spun. Will just looked over her shoulder. Jack was standing, bracing herself on the wall as a dozen pots and pans finished falling out of a cupboard and skidded to rest on the floor. Lace winced in sympathy. Will really tried not to laugh. Jack glared at both of them.

“This entire setup is miserable!” Jack spat, her embarrassment finally becoming frustration and anger. “The sink doesn’t have anywhere stable to balance what we’re working on! And are we really supposed to just pile everything into the cupboards and latch the doors? That doesn’t stop them from crashing around and falling over! We’re on a ship! Everything moves! It’s like rolling the dice every time we open a new cupboard door!”

Will continued to keep his mouth shut. He’d been doing that ever since Mister North had led them back here and put them to work. It seemed like the wise thing to do when in close quarters with two women with sharp weapons and sharper tongues. He had to admit that watching Jack struggle with something as simple as washing dishes was deeply satisfying.

“When you’re the cook, you can decide how you want things done,” Lace shrugged.

“Your cook is an idiot,” Jack said, starting to pick up the scattered cookware again.

“He feeds the whole crew three times a day, every day. He gets up first and ends his duty day last. He works his ass off harder than anyone else on the ship. I doubt he has a lot of energy left for redesigning the storage system,” Lace said flatly.

Jack wiped her hand across her face to clear away the beaded sweat and water. “No, I suppose not.”

“You want to spit out whatever you’ve been chewing on since we got down here?” Lace asked in a not very comforting tone.

Jack’s eyes flicked to Will’s back. Lace raised an eyebrow at her and snorted. Jack looked affronted. “I could ask you the same thing,” Jack countered.

“Oh, I think it’s obvious,” Lace said, side-eyeing Will. She went back to scrubbing pans but kept talking to Jack as though Will wasn’t right next to her. “Our new jackass Navigator has disrupted every single part of this ship’s operations, and he hasn’t explained why to anyone.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Jack agreed, filling the kettle again from the barrel near the door and setting it on the stove.

“Miss Webber, you’re Akula, right?” Will asked conversationally, not stopping his work.

“Only the Captain calls me Miss Webber. And yeah, why?” Lace asked. Her tone wasn’t conversational at all.

“I got to see an Akula fishing web in action once. Have you seen that?” Will asked.

“Of course I have. My parents are both fishermen. What about it?” Lace asked, not following Will’s thought process at all.

“The day I saw it, an Akula fishing crew waited until a large school of tuna were migrating through a nearby reef. I was anchored there looking for a particular wreck and the islanders came out to fish. It’s an ingenious system. All those fishermen, working together like that. They caught more fish in an afternoon than I’d ever seen before. I heard a haul like that would have fed the whole community for a month on one day’s catch,” Will said.

“Yeah, so?” Lace shrugged. To her, that wasn’t special. It’s how her people had been doing things for hundreds of years.

“They were able to work right in the reef itself, without any trouble at all. They never even snagged a net or scraped a hull,” Will said.

“Are you going to get to the fucking point sometime this century, or what?” Lace asked flatly.

“The Kestrel will never make it through the Drifts. She’ll end up as kindling,” Will said. “Getting a ship this size through that channel is impossible.”

“Then why the hell are we going?” Lace demanded.

“We aren’t going to take the Kestrel through,” Will said.

“I thought as much,” Jack said from behind them. “You’re thinking that all those small boats will get through the Drifts where the Kestrel can’t. It’s madness. Those little ships will never carry all the gear we need to transport, and they’ll be dashed on the rocks just as fast.”

“No…” Will said, giving Lace a meaningful look. She stared back at him, her face slowly going from annoyance, to bewilderment, to dawning realization.

“Oh fuck me,” she muttered. “That could work.”

Will slowly nodded. “She doesn’t get to know. Nobody does, save for the Captain.”

“What!” Jack exploded. “Why not!”

Will turned around and leaned against the sink. “Morant.”

Lace looked back and forth between them for a moment, then nodded. “I know the rules, and why we have them, Sterling. Navigators don’t give up the route plan. The tricks of your trade are your own. I won’t tell anyone your plan.”

“Well, I sure as hell don’t understand your sailor tradition garbage,” Jack huffed. “Why? What does Morant have to do with anything?”

“If Morant knew Will’s plans, he could drop Will off at the next port and continue on without him,” Lace said. “I’ve seen it happen. Navigators are only valuable if no one else can do their job. If other people know the route, a navigator is a pointless job. Just another mouth to feed. Ship owners are a cutthroat lot. If there’s a sailor on a ship collecting pay for a job that isn’t needed, that sailor is going to find themselves dropped at the nearest port.”

“That’s why we all guard our skills and our maps so closely,” Will said with a small shrug.

“I still don’t see what that has to do with me, but fine. Keep your secrets,” Jack said, drying more pots and pans furiously. Will watched her breasts bounce, feeling conflicted about enjoying the sight. As much as his feelings about Jack had changed, she was still quite nice to look at.

“If you find out, you’d tell Morant. It’s part of your job,” Will shrugged.

“I would not! I work for him, but I certainly don’t like him. Why would you think I’d ever betr-” Jack stopped. A muscle clenched in her jaw. Will watched her, waiting. She went back to drying. Will turned around and went back to the dishes.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Lace looked back and forth between the two of them, her brows high on her forehead. “What the fuck was that?” she asked, confused. She felt like the room had gotten even smaller.

“You want to tell her, or should I?” Will asked without turning around again.

“Go ahead. You wouldn't believe my side anyway,” Jack muttered.

“Maybe I would if you’d ever tell it,” Will shrugged.

“I did!” Jack yelled. “I told you I had to!”

Will turned around to face Jack again. “Oh yes, it was a very clear explanation,” he snarked.

“What did I tell you before we went into that chamber?” Jack asked fiercely.

“You asked me to trust you. Then you let me take the ring, knocked me out and stole it. Then you left me for dead, cursed, in the middle of a trap-filled ruin in a jungle full of angry cultists,” Will said like he was explaining arithmetic.

“Fuck me…” Lace said, shocked at that revelation. “You really did that?”

“No!” Jack snapped. “Well, sort of. I didn’t have a choice. I tried to tell him after he made it back.”

“A year later,” Will said. “I lost count of the number of times I almost died, and the number of people I watched die around me before I figured out that I was a walking bad luck charm, and when I finally made it back you couldn’t even tell me why.”

“I did it for Bella,” Jack said grimly. Then she cursed under her breath. She looked angry that she’d said anything, frustrated with herself for not being able to hold her tongue. She fumed.

“I had no designs on Bella. You two had a good thing going as far as I was concerned. I didn’t even want to be around her after I got back because she reminded me too much of you,” Will said. He was starting to have a hard time staying calm. This was exactly where he didn’t want to be in this situation. Why had he even started talking?

“No, not like that,” Jack said. “I did it to save Bella.”

“From what?! From me?” Will snarled. “What could you have thought I was going to do to Bella?”

“You aren’t listening! Again!” Jack yelled. “Bella was dying!”

“What?” Will asked. His building anger suddenly emptied and he felt confused and hollow.

“Fuck,” Jack scowled down at the pan she was still clenching in her fist.

“Fuck is right,” Lace said with a half grin on her face, She had her hands on the sink, leaning back against it and unashamedly watching the drama unfold. “You two put on a hell of a show.”

“Not the time,” Will said with a small shake of his head toward the dusky-skinned woman next to him. He turned back to Jack. “Explain.”

Jack shook her head. “Bella was dying. I had to save her. That’s why we went to that ruin.”

“Explain more.” Will didn’t move. His head was spinning in too many directions.

“Do you remember the mural we found?” Jack asked.

“Sure. It was only partial. Something about giving up your heart, and something else about unimaginable wealth. Standard cultish sacrifice and reward nonsense, and a list of trials we had to get through. We figured it all out. It wasn’t even that difficult aside from that bit with the ropes that had rotted away. Why?” Will asked.

“You were the sacrifice, Will. That was the last trial,” Jack sighed. She dropped her pan and sat down.

Will’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He shut his mouth again and thought for a bit. “You tried to sacrifice me?”

“I did sacrifice you,” Jack said sadly.

“No, you didn’t. I survived,” Will said, gesturing at himself to draw attention to the obvious.

“Sacrifices don’t have to mean death, Will. They just have to mean loss. I sacrificed you. I know I did because it worked,” Jack said, sounding as hollow as Will felt.

“Great. You know that explanation doesn’t actually make anything better, right?” Will asked. “It kind of makes things worse.”

“The whole ruin was a trial to get the ring. The last trial was a sacrifice. A betrayal. That’s why I brought you along in the first place.” Jack sounded completely defeated.

“That’s definitely worse,” Will said.

“I had to sacrifice the thing dearest to me! That was… you. How I felt about you. I sacrificed us,” Jack’s stared at the floor at Will’s feet, not willing to look up and meet his eyes.

Lace snorted. “I feel like I’m reading a penny dreadful. This is some melodramatic bullshit.” Jack's eyes snapped up at her and glared. Will snickered, then started laughing. Lace started laughing with him. Jack glared at Will.

“You asshole!” she snapped “I finally tell you! I finally admit it all, and you... You think you can just laugh at me?”

Will wiped his eyes and then swept his hair out of his face. “Well, she’s right. This is pretty melodramatic. If we were watching someone else have this conversation, you’d be the first one to roll your eyes.”

Jack stopped and rubbed her temples. “I would. This is such nonsense.”

“Alright, so it was a trial and you had to sacrifice me for the ring so you could… what? Save Bella with it somehow?” Will asked.

“Exactly right,” Jack nodded. “I knew you would be fine. You were alive, and still the most capable man I’ve ever known.”

Lace looked at Will like she thought maybe Jack had him confused with someone else. She was about to open her mouth, but Will held up a finger. “Save it for later,” he said. She sighed and shut her mouth again.

“I had to save her, Will,” Jack said.

“How do you know she was dying?” Will asked.

“She told me. She’d done the divinations. She knew exactly how long she had left,” Jack said with a small shake of her head.

“That’s why you wouldn't let me take the time to do any research,” Will said.

Jack nodded. “I’d already done enough on my own. There was no time, and I was afraid you’d figure it out if you started researching that ruin.”

“So you knew what you were doing from the very beginning,” Will said.

Jack gave a small nod.

“Before we’d even left, you’d already made the decision to... sacrifice me,” Will continued.

Jack nodded again.

“Because that’s what you had to do in order to save Bella’s life,” Will said.

Jack took a deep breath and nodded again.

“You could have told me. I’d have stayed there willingly, taken the curse and everything,” Will said.

“That isn’t a betrayal, Will,” Jack said. “I had to betray you. That was the point of the trial.”

“That’s a messed-up trial,” Lace said.

“Yes, it is,” Jack agreed firmly.

“Why? What was so important about that kind of sacrifice?” Will asked.

“It’s what the wards protecting the ring demanded,” Jack shrugged. “It was like a lock, and that was the last part of the key.”

“Who would design a key like that?” Will asked.

“Someone who didn’t want any decent person to ever have that ring,” Jack said.

“Why? You said you used it to save Bella’s life, right? Why shouldn’t a good person have that?” All the bitterness had unexpectedly drained out of Will, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. The kettle on the stove started whistling. Will picked it up and dumped it into the sink behind him. The mundanity of the chores suddenly made the whole conversation seem almost normal.

“Because it’s a curse, Will. I can’t tell you any more than that. Just please believe me when I tell you that it isn’t something that any decent person should have to experience,” Jack said, sounding as hollow as Will did.

“You’re saying you are a decent person?” Will asked.

“No. I’m saying I’m not. I deserve this, and I think that was the point of the trial,” Jack took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Will said nothing. She’d finally told him. She’d been wanting and dreading this moment for years, and now he was just… quiet. She had no idea what was going to happen next and it was gnawing at her. “Say something,” she said quietly.

“What happens now? Does the magic go away? Does Bella die now that you’ve broken the rules?” Will asked.

“No, that was just for the trial,” Jack said.

“So you could have told me sooner?” Will asked, a bit of an edge to his tone. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because now you’re going to ask questions and eventually figure out what all of it means, and I… I don’t want you to do that. Please don’t ask me why,” Jack said.

“First you tell me to talk, then you tell me to shut up.” Will let out a single laugh.

“Yes. I suppose so,” Jack shrugged.

“Alright. It’s going to take me a while to process all this anyway,” Will said, turning back around to keep washing. “I guess I can’t say that I don’t understand what could have driven you to do what you did anymore. I don’t know what I would have done if it had been me in your shoes.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Jack said.

Will didn’t reply to her. Instead, he looked to Lace, who was still leaning against the sink, watching the whole thing unfold like she was at a play. “What were you going to say earlier?” Will asked.

Lace eyed him up and down, her eyebrow slowly raising. “That if she thinks you’re so incredibly capable, she needs to meet more men. You don’t even know how a fishing web works.”

Will blinked. “What?”

_________________

Bella’s vision swam in the mirror. She pushed herself along by her will. Her face in the mirror never wavered, but behind her reflection, it was all churning fog and flickers of half-formed shapes and light.

This was the dangerous part. The Ways Between had no maps, no paths, no stars to navigate by. The only guiding light was a distant point to focus on, a destination, and if she lost her focus for a moment she’d lose sight of where she was headed and the whole ritual and all the energy she’d spent preparing would be wasted. Worse yet, she might upset the Traveler, who was not known for patience or forgiveness. It was difficult to earn the attention of a higher power. The Traveler did not have to allow anyone to travel her Ways. Supplication was hard, and maintaining the Traveler’s continued ambivalence to her presence meant upholding what she said she was going to do. The Traveler cared little for destinations or reasons, but cared a great deal about broken promises and unkept oaths. The Ways were full of people and… other things, which had set out with purpose and lost their way. Worse yet, the Ways Between was home to many things which had no set purpose beyond cruelty, capriciousness, or simple hunger.

She ignored the whispered voices and faint cries for help. She ignored the glitter of faintly seen treasures and the distant songs and chants. All that mattered was her destination. Finding what was hers. Connecting what was here and what was there.

She’d done this before, but never across these distances. She knew that distance was a strange thing in the Ways Between, but somehow the distance on the mortal plane still did matter, but exactly how much seemed to vary according to many factors, like time of day, or day of the year, and other esoteric phenomena that she’d never been taught. She’d been at it for more than an hour. She hadn’t moved. Her muscles hurt from the effort of standing so still and compensating for the motion of the waves while she tried to keep her face lined up with the marks on the mirror. Her stomach was rumbling. She’d missed dinner.

Behind her reflection in the mirror the fog parted, revealing a handsome man’s face with eyes full of the same fog that surrounded them both. He began to speak with her, she rushed past. Fingertips touched her shoulder in the mirror. She felt it, there on her body, in the Captain’s bedroom. Not a reflection. There and real. A rich voice in her ear asked why she was running. In a moment of panic, she nearly looked down at the hand she felt, but she forced herself to continue to face the mirror. She pushed with her mind. The churn of fog surged forward again and she felt the hand slip off of her.

The churn of fog broke from time to time, showing her places, reflections of the real world cast in black and white. Now, she was rushing past a small island rimmed with warding Akula totems, each with a bright, colorless fire burning at the base. All the hue had been leached free of her surroundings. She had color, and occasionally she thought she saw other things that did. They were distractions. She could still feel the tug of her destination. That was all that mattered. She felt lost, but she knew she wasn’t. Not really. She wanted to look up at the sky. It was an instinct everyone had when trying to find their bearings. She had to remind herself that there was no sky. Above her was only the wooden ceiling of the Captain’s chamber. The grey island with its strange carvings was only a background in the mirror, and as soon as she passed by it in her periphery it was gone. Picturing it all as an illusion helped. The churn was a maze without walls. She had to maintain her focus and keep moving in the only direction which was correct.

Abruptly the fog thinned again. She was on a grey cobbled street. She couldn’t see far, but she didn’t need to. Her face broke into a grin. Finally! She knew this place. She was close now.

The streets rushed past her, the fog swirling. This was the hard part. In the mirror, she could only see what she was passing in the Ways, never what was in front of her. The urge to turn her head for a better look was insistent, but foolish. She had to concentrate, to make the right turns at the right intersections. She could hear faint music, and the sounds of laughing, boisterous people. It sounded odd, like it was far away and underwater. She couldn’t see anyone who would be making the sounds, but that wasn’t a surprise. They didn’t exist here, only their echoes did. She focused her will to turn herself a bit in the mirror. It wasn’t really changing her destination. It was just changing the route she was taking to get there. A small loophole, one of the few she could exploit. The streets behind her reflection turned a bit giving her a better idea of where she was.

As she did, she caught sight of half of a hanging sign. A dancing girl with a tambourine. She’d made it! The rest was easy. She knew the route blindfolded.

A few more steps and her reflection would pass through where the door would have been, had she been there for real. Something stopped her. She pushed with her will, but her position in the mirror stayed where it was. Her surroundings didn’t shift. She should have been able to walk right through the door like it wasn’t there. She couldn’t see it since it was in front of her reflection, but she knew exactly where it should have been. The rules of the Ways were clear. All doors in the mortal realm should be open to her while she walked Between. There were only a few ways to close a door in the Ways, and apparently, one of them had been used on Merry Mary’s.

“Why?!” she snapped at her own reflection. Who would do that? Why would anyone want to ritualistically block travel into Mary’s via the Ways? Who even had that kind of power? Bella didn’t, and as far as she knew she was one of only two or three decently skilled practitioners of Witchcraft who frequented Bastard’s Bay. She couldn’t think of any reason why the others would have any interest in Mary’s at all, even if they had the power to do it, which she doubted they did.

The Magistrate were known to ward their libraries and archives against all kinds of divinations, including this one. Alexandra could have done it, but Bella couldn’t imagine a reason she would. The Magistrate didn’t work magic quickly. They would have had to have carved their runes into the flagstones. It would have been a production. Someone would have noticed. Maybe the Warding was old? What was Mary’s before it was a brothel? A bathhouse? Maybe someone was very concerned about their privacy? No, that was just... The idea of Mary’s being warded this way at all was absurd.

The feeling of being lost that she’d been fighting the entire time the ritual had been going welled up. She couldn’t turn around or stop facing her destination. That would break the ritual. She could move laterally, or back up, but she had to keep her reflection facing her goal. There was another door. The kitchens. She backed up a bit and willed herself along the wall, down the alleyway and around to the back of the building. She wasn’t nearly as familiar with this side of the building, which made navigation difficult, but she had a pretty good idea of where the doorway should be.

She tried to move herself forward. Nothing happened. She re-positioned herself. Nothing. Again. Still nothing. The way was blocked. A sense of panic started to rise inside her. “Think. Think,” she said to herself, looking at her own reflection like she was giving herself advice.

The chimney wouldn't do. It was too small. Sizes, like distances, were sometimes malleable in the Ways, but she didn’t know a lot about how that worked. Trying some kind of theoretical size manipulation on her reflection in the Ways while maintaining the ritual she’d already started sounded far too dangerous to try. Her eyes narrowed. There was one other way. She just had to hope that whoever had Warded the building didn’t know about it.

___________________

“What am I supposed to do while you’re… working?” Janie asked. She was sitting with her hands in her lap, her back straight and her knees together, her posture more like a prim schoolmarm or governess than someone wearing her underclothes on the outside and presenting herself lewdly in a brothel.

“Whatever you want. Wander around. Enjoy the shows on stage. Sit at the bar. Wander around and talk to people,” Tonya shrugged. She was setting up the space for customers. She put a deck of tarot cards on the table along with one of Bella’s hokey crystal balls, then pulled a big book off the shelf and flipped through it until she found something that looked close enough to an arcane symbol. That went on the table too.

“But then the men will think I’m… working?!” Janie was having second thoughts about this entire plan.

“No doubt. New girls are always popular. Especially when they look like you,” Tonya winked. “Just tell them you aren’t working right now. They’ll leave you be. If anyone gets pushy, Caine will sort them out.”

“He wants me to stay close anyway,” Janie sighed. “Couldn’t I just stay in here with you?”

“Only if you want to watch me getting stuffed from both ends,” Tonya smirked.

Janie’s brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to puzzle out what Tonya meant, and then her eyes went wide. If she hadn’t been wearing so much makeup her face would have burned bright red. As it was, only her ears flushed noticeably. Tonya laughed. Janie didn’t know where to look. Unbidden thoughts of the apprentice witch having carnal relations with men rushed into her mind. She glanced around for something to focus on, anything but Tonya, her eyes finally just falling on her own feet. The strappy leather shoes she’d borrowed were ridiculous. They had a heel that made walking nothing but difficult. She had to admit they were elegant though.

“Yeah, that's what I figured,” Tonya snickered, reading Janie’s answer in her flustered behavior.

“Both… ends?” Janie whispered. “Wouldn’t that take… two men?”

“If I’m lucky,” Tonya shrugged. She gave herself a once-over in the big mirror on the wall and turned around, one hand on her hip, a coy, mischievous grin on her pixie-like face. “How do I look?”

Janie looked up, still blushing. Suddenly she was picturing Tonya on the table like Bella had been back at the lighthouse. Only this time there were two Wills, and they were… “Youlookverynice,” she stammered out.

“Get a handle on yourself,” Tonya said gently. “What would Evangelina do?”

“I don’t know,” Janie said. “I’ve never… No, I have. I’ve thought about it many times. Evangelina is like Bella. Brazen, unabashed. And like Belita. Confident and bold.”

“You have the costume, you have the character, now you just have to sell it to the audience,” Tonya said encouragingly.

“I don’t know if I can,” Janie swallowed, her eyes still wide and wild.

“Just go out there and take a walk around. If you decide you can’t handle it, you can just come back here,” Tonya said. “If I don’t need to pull the curtain, there’s no reason you can’t sit here and pretend to be my assistant.”

Janie took a deep breath. That didn’t sound so bad. “Alright.” She stood up and smoothed her… normally it would be her blouse. She wasn’t wearing a blouse. She’d just run her hands across her breasts and down her stomach, petting the soft lace of her bustier. She glanced down at herself seeing her own cleavage on full display. Again, apprehension welled up in her.

“Do that again,” Tonya said.

“What?” Janie asked.

“That thing with your hands, where you just ran them down your body like that,” Tonya said, trying to imitate what Janie had just done.

“Why?” Janie asked, not sure of what was going on. “It’s just a habit.”

“It’s a sexy habit,” Tonya smiled. “That will definitely get you some attention.”

“That is not what I’m trying to do,” Janie tried to remind the feisty little witch. “I’m in disguise, I do not want attention.”

“Well, you’re going to get it. Besides, It’ll help you blend in,” Tonya shrugged, a big grin still on her face. “Go. Take a walk. Go say hi to Caine. If you get overwhelmed you can come right back.”

Janie nodded and swallowed, gathering her courage. Why was this so difficult? She’d faced down armed thugs. She’d been taken hostage yesterday, and it hadn’t made her feel like this. Wasn’t there a part of her that was excited about the idea of being looked at? Hadn’t she just had that conversation with Bella not long ago? Why was she so nervous?

She was good at figuring out lies and truths and intentions. This should be easy. Walking out there meant showing off her body to a crowd full of…

Men. Strange men. Men like the ones who’d dragged her from Kaduska’s cart and threatened to kill her. Men like the ones who still wanted to kill her now. They were the reason she was stuck in this brothel, instead of at the lighthouse. Instead of on the ship.

Suddenly she was angry. She hadn’t really been afraid of them yesterday; why was she afraid of them now? Why should they get to influence how she felt at all? The fact that they had such power over her made her furious. She wanted those feelings gone. She had to face them.

Some of the men from Jakob Kidd’s band of thugs might be here tonight. She might even recognize them. What would she do? How would she react in the moment? What did she want?

Justice? Vengeance? A small smile crept across her face. They wouldn’t recognize her, but she might recognize them.

Tonya watched Janie think, wondering what was going through her head, but knowing that now wasn’t the time to interrupt. She took the moment to adjust her small breasts in her green corset so she was practically spilling out. She was going to have to get a proper fortune teller outfit at some point. She had to look the part now that she was taking over for Bella. She wasn’t looking forward to giving up the fancy dresses and corsets.

Janie suddenly walked out of the small room with a determined look on her face. Tonya remembered the first time she’d put herself on display like that. Bella had thrown away all her kitchen maid rags and spent hours raiding the communal wardrobe the new girls shared. The transformation had been daunting. She’d felt awkward, exposed, and nervous that everyone who saw her would know that she was a fraud. The first steps out into the lounge had been one of the biggest challenges of her life. She’d been stared at, judged, lusted after, pursued in ways she never had been before. She’d struggled to find words. He tongue had felt thick and her mouth dry, and her mind had screamed at her to run.

She hadn’t. Within fifteen minutes she’d made so many small discoveries about who she was and what she was capable of that looking back on herself before that night felt like thinking about someone she’d known a long time ago. Her hope was that Janie would have a similar experience. She watched Janie’s straight back and prim steps as the slender brunette crossed the lounge toward the bar. She was already doing better than Tonya had done. Apparently walking like a schoolmarm translated well to brothel work. She was distracted by a young man approaching. She met his eyes and smiled. It was time to work.

_________________

Caine did a double take. Not long ago Janie had looked, and smelled, like someone who’d been dragged through a gutter. Now she was one of the most stunningly alluring sights Caine had ever seen. From him, who’d spent years working at Mary’s, that was saying quite a lot. “You clean up nice,” he said.

Janie was wearing too much makeup for her blush to show, but her eyes flicked down self-consciously. “Thank you. I feel like I’m being stared at.”

“You are,” Caine agreed. “I count five men and two women eyeing you like they’re interested. There’s a few others who look curious, but it might just be because you’re new.”

“You didn’t even look around,” Janie said incredulously.

“Sure I did. You can take a look and check my numbers if you want.” Caine’s eyes were the only things that gave away his mirth.

“No. I think I’ll just sit here with you and try to ignore them, if you don’t mind,” Janie said carefully sliding into the seat next to him.

“Want a drink?” Caine asked.

“Yes, but I’m not sure I should,” Janie said, she folded her hands on the counter to keep them from trembling.

“Rum, wine, or ale?” Caine asked.

“Wine?” she asked with a small shrug.

“Jewel, one for her. Put it on my tab,” Caine said to the blond bartender.

Jewel handed a patron a mug full of ale and gave Caine a surprised look. “Since when do you have a tab?”

“Since now,” Caine shrugged.

The bartender laughed and poured Janie a glass of wine. “He doesn’t buy girls drinks often. What makes you special?” she asked. She sounded more amused than judgmental.

“I don’t know,” Janie said, not sure how to respond.

“Wrong answer,” Jewel said. “Around here, everyone has something that makes them special. Sometimes it’s all made up, but it’s something to say. What’s your thing?”

“I… can usually tell what people want,” Jaine said after a moment.

“Around here, that’s going to be pretty obvious,” Jewel smirked. “Good answer though. Just the right amount of mysterious.” At the other side of the bar, a patron raised his cup. Jewel slid away to get back to work.

“I have never thought of myself as mysterious before,” Janie mused, not sure what to do with that idea.

“The girl I met earlier tonight might not have been, but the one sitting next to me now sure is,” Caine said. “The whole outfit sells it. Combine that with the way you walk and sound, and I think you’re going to have a lot of people wondering.”

“The way I walk? And sound?”

“Proper. The accent tells people you’re educated and not low class, and you walk like you spent a lot of time learning how.” Caine explained. “I’m betting you had someone who used to make you balance books on your head or something? A governess?”

“My mother. She was a tyrant about posture and proper diction,” Janie nodded, surprised at how astute Caine’s observations were.

“It shows. Lots of people are going to wonder what a girl like you is doing in a place like this. Better come up with an answer,” Caine took a pull off his mug.

“I can’t exactly tell them the truth,” Jaine swirled her wine in her glass, staring at it while she thought.

“Nope.”

“I was excommunicated,” Janie smiled. “A priestess, thrown out of the church for unlawful carnality.”

Caine choked on his ale, suddenly taken by a fit of coughing. When it passed he looked at Janie with a judging intensity that reminded her a lot of Prelate Alexandra. She shrank back a bit, suddenly-second guessing her recent flippancy toward the church. After a few moments, he took a deep breath and started chuckling. “Perfect. That explains everything.”

“What… what was the look for?” she asked.

“Just had to figure out what you want,” Caine shrugged.

Her eyes widened. Afraid of blowing her cover she whispered, “You’re magistrate too!”

“Was, yeah. I’m undercover, same as you.” His eyes scanned up and down her figure. “Well, maybe not quite the same.”

She blushed as he looked at her but smiled again, wider this time, thinking of all the ways she could play the role. The knot of anxiety in her chest relaxed. Suddenly she was feeling excited.  “Sister Evangelina,” she said, trying out the name.

Caine gave her an approving nod and raised his tankard. “Pleased to meetcha.”

She sipped her wine and met the eyes of a man who’d been watching her from across the bar. He smiled and got up to head her way. Her stomach began fluttering. She took a larger sip and let her inscrutable mask of poise and professionalism settle over her. No one needed to know what she was feeling. She’d spent years perfecting that art. Tonight, she’d put it to the test.

“You’re new, ain’t you?” the man said next to her.

She slowly turned and looked him up and down. “It is my first night,” she answered.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I seek out sinners,” she said with a small smile tinted with cruelty.

“Plenty of those here. What do you do with ‘em when you find ‘em?” He wagged his eyebrows at her.

“That depends on the sin, and the needs of the sinner. Would you like to confess something?” she asked.

“Lust is a sin, right? I got me a powerful lust,” he smirked.

“And are you repentant for it?” she asked.

“Not a bit,” he grinned.

“Then for you, I offer punishment,” she said coyly.

“What kind of punishment?” the man asked, leaning in closer.

She leaned in too, and whispered in his ear. “The kind that will leave you striped red and aching for release from torment.”

“I’m interested,” he said, smelling her intoxicating perfume.

“You’ll have to offer a tithe,” she whispered, tapping the bar with her fingernail.

He rifled through his pockets and deposited a handful of gold coins on the wood. She looked down at them. Inside her heart was racing and her blood was pounding in her ears. Was she really going to do this? What was ‘this’ anyway? What did she really have planned? On the outside, all she said was “Good enough.”

He leaned back against the bar. “Where to?”

“Wait for me here. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Janie smiled. Without waiting for a reply she slipped off the bar stool and headed for Tonya’s alcove. Just as she approached a flushed looking young man pulled the curtain aside and said “‘scuse me” as he slipped past her. Tonya was looking pleased with herself, dabbing at her mouth with a kerchief.

“I have a… client,” Janie said.

Tonya laughed. “You work quick!”

“I don’t actually want to have sex with him. I want to… well, I want to make him watch, but not touch me or anything,” Janie explained.

“Oh, right. Like the stage shows,” Tonya nodded.

“What?” Janie asked.

“Nothing. You’ll see later,” Tonya shrugged. “So you want to get him all worked up watching?”

“Yes,” Janie said. “Can I do that?”

“If he knows what he’s paying for, then yeah. One of the big rules is that no one gets tricked,” Tonya said.

“Alright,” Janie said. “Uh… Will you… I’m not sure how to ask this. Will you help me? To make sure I don’t botch it up?”

“You want me to help you tease a guy?” Tonya raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Teasing isn’t really my specialty. I’m more of a sure thing,” Tonya chuckled to herself. “I suppose I could use the practice though. Sure. What do you need me to do?”

“Just, obey me, I guess,” Janie said nervously.

“Alright. I can follow your lead. What’s the scene?” Tonya asked.

“Scene?” Janie countered, confused.

“The fantasy. What will we be playing out?” Tonya clarified.

“Oh, I see,” Janie said, thinking for a moment. “Sister Evangelina and her Acolyte will be taking the confession of a sinner, and punishing him for his wickedness.”

“Damn, girl. You don’t start slow, do you? That sounds sexy,” Tonya grinned.

“Can you… can you take your clothes off?” Janie asked, ideas coming quickly into her mind. “And set a chair right here behind the curtain, then just stand in front of the table here.”

Tonya laughed. “I’m liking the sound of this already.” She started taking off her dress.

“Thank you so much,” Janie said. “I’ll be right back. I… I’ll probably be acting differently.”

“You’re full of surprises, Evangelina,” Tonya said, tucking her dress away in a small lock box.

____________________

Bella walked the color-drained halls of Merry Mary’s navigating by memory, only able to see what was behind her reflection in the mirror. She was headed up the stairs from the baths, then through the bedchambers, and finally into the Lounge. She was almost there. Suddenly she was nearly blinded. She managed not to flinch away from the light. It was like she’d suddenly caught the reflection of the sun in her mirror.

“What the hells,” she muttered. She adjusted a bit, turning just enough that the source of the glare was over her shoulder.

It was a figure at the bar. A man. She could make out his broad shoulders and muscular back. He looked like he was naked, a being made of light. He brought a shadowy, indistinct shape to his lips and tipped back his head.

“Caine?” she said out loud, shocked and confused. She’d never seen anyone who showed up in the Ways like that.

The glowing figure spun around and looked straight at her. She locked eyes with him in the mirror. Terror gripped her. She had no idea what was going on. She felt like she was frozen, which was lucky because any wrong move would have broken the ritual.

The brightly glowing figure of Caine walked up behind her, just over her shoulder and looked at her in the mirror for a long moment. Then he moved past her, around to the front. His reflection in the mirror vanished for a moment, then reappeared. She’d expected not to see him anymore, since he was in a place where the mirror couldn’t see, but then the mirror reflected the back of his head, as though he was standing in front of her in the captain’s cabin, but only visible in the mirror. She could see through him, like he were a ghost made of light. It was hard to concentrate on looking at her own reflection with Caine’s glaring light reflected right at her. It was actually brighter in the room she stood in now. She had no idea how that was possible.

“Bella? Is that you?” Caine’s voice asked. He sounded muffled, like he was underwater, or talking through a pillow.

“Yeah, what’s going on? Why are you glowing?” she asked.

“I just do. How’d you get through my wards? I didn’t feel them break,” Caine’s voice asked.

“Those are yours? Why?” Bella was having a hard time wrapping her head around the idea that Caine, Mary’s drunken bouncer, had put up rare and powerful wards on a brothel.

“I have my reasons. Now, how’d you get through them?” Caine asked again.

“The baths. There’s an escape tunnel down there. It’s behind the towel shelves. Can you please not lock me out? It was hard to do this, and I don’t want it to be for nothing,” Bella pleaded.

“Go ahead and finish what you’re doing, I’ll make sure I don’t sever your pathway when I ward up that escape route,” Caine said. “What are you doing anyway?”

“I need to talk to Tonya,” Bella explained.

“Oh, right. That makes sense. Gotta continue her education while you’re gone. Smart,” Caine nodded.

“I’ve been at it for a while now and I’m really flagging, so I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, alright?” Bella said.

“Yeah. I hear cutting a path like that is hard work. Do your thing,” The back of Caine’s head nodded and then slipped out of the reflection. A moment later he reappeared in the reflection behind her, headed back to his bar stool.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the glare died down. Moving forward again, she passed through the rest of the lounge to where she knew her alcove would be. Now was the risky part. If Tonya had moved her mirror, Bella was going to have a bad night. She took a deep breath, standing directly in front of where she was fairly certain the mirror in her alcove was.

“In my name and by my power,

with the blessing of the Traveler,

I have found what is mine.”

She released the ritual energy she’d been holding, establishing a bridge between where she was and the mirror in the alcove. It was like a ripple in a pond traveling across the surface of the mirror.

“Show me.”

Color bled in from the edges of the frame, erasing the reflection of the cabin and replacing it with a view of the alcove, like the mirror had become a window. She didn’t even have time to enjoy the feeling of release as the ritual completed. She sat back on the bed with a sigh, but then her brows climbed up her forehead. She giggled. “Oh my.”

She saw Janie, dressed in her bustier and stockings, with a lacy veil across her face. She had her arms around Tonya’s neck and was kissing her passionately.