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was truly completely out of reach of the Kabbalah.
    When I subtly questioned my guide regarding those areas of the ship I’d yet to see, I found the galley appearing suddenly in our path, as if this might appease me. It was not as much as I had hoped for, but I have never been one to look a gift horse in its proverbial. If nothing else, it confirmed for me that the fish-like people worked alongside the human occupants of the vessel. I met Lafe, the chef, a man easily seven feet tall who appeared to be all limbs and little torso. Even his head was elongated, and the only deference afforded him as the chef was that he wore a flag.
    Despite Axel’s amiable chatter, I began to get the distinct impression that the things he was hiding from me were complex, far more so than the relative simplicity of areas of the ship the captain did not wish me to see. Perhaps this was to be expected; I was a stranger, and I sensed not a small amount of apprehension about their mission lingering in the air around the crew, a surly bunch to say the least. It was not only the possibility of failure and death, should they run out of air before finding the Hollow Earth Everett sought, that seemed to have the crew worried, although that alone was worry enough; it was the possibility that the Kabbalah might come after them.
    I knew little of underwater travel, but I knew the ships of the Kabbalah could easily out-fly all but the most expensive airships of my home world, and a few Bravasian vessels with technological advancements. I had no difficulty believing they would be in possession of a submersible capable of catching up to, or overtaking, the Narwhal.
    In a strange way, their mistrust was comforting, but I’d begun to question why they had accepted my story so readily. I had no proof to offer them, save the tattoo creeping down my spine and the bizarre nature of my appearance in this world, an appearance that was only seen by one person, a girl who apparently could not speak. I still harboured a suspicion that the enigmatic Drusilla was able to understand the odd little noises Vee had made.
    And so it was that I came to be the one carefully leading Axel, with my questions and the subtle choosing of corridors, while he continued to believe he was the one in the lead. It took some time, but eventually I coaxed him back to the room I’d seen when I first came aboard. Axel himself was as jemmy as his rather elaborate coat, something he never seemed to remove despite the fact we were in an enclosed and decidedly balmy vessel. He had his uncle’s strong jaw and hair, but eyes far softer—or perhaps they were simply younger. His clothes were much like his uncle’s, though all black save a glimpse of a cream cravat and fogle. His boots were polished to such a high shine I wondered how long he spent on them, before realising he likely had a manservant to do such things for him.
    I myself could not abide Eldon, my own manservant, whom Cecelie had insisted upon hiring for me. He pried into everything, and while Cane assured me that he was fully supportive of our ends, I could not help but feel uncomfortable in his presence. Perhaps I feared he would discover more than he should know. Cecelie, after all, knew next to nothing of our endeavours for her own safety, and no matter how long I spent with Eldon, he always felt more like her servant than mine. Perhaps it was simply because there was nothing he did that I had not managed to do myself for years before Cecelie’s father became my personal benefactor.
    I tried to track how many hours I had been gone, and what she would be doing by now. Sleeping, most likely, if she wasn’t furious after another row with her father, who would undoubtedly have refused to tell her where he had sent me.
    As much as I liked to refrain from hiding things from her where possible, there was one thing she could never know: that I was in possession of the compass. Such knowledge was dangerous—too dangerous—certainly for