Magic Rises

legs.”
    Curran shook his head. “I guess he’s sure now.”
    “Yep.”
    The deckhands cast off the lines.
    “He said four enchanted water generators, right?” I asked.
    “Yes.”
    “The rule is, the bigger the magic engine, the longer it takes. Four giant generators, and the crew is what, two dozen people? I wonder how long it will take them to get us started.” We could be sitting in port for another hour.
    “Why do I smell Doolittle?” Curran asked.
    “He went through here on the way to his cabin.”
    “Ah. Wait, what?”
    “He said he’s coming with us. I thought that was your idea.”
    “What?”
    “He said it was decided.”
    “It is.” Doolittle came up the ladder. “I decided it.”
    The deck around us was suddenly silent. Everyone looked at Curran. I decided to look at him too, so I wouldn’t feel left out.
    “Why?” Curran asked quietly.
    “Do you know what goes into panacea?”
    “I know when I smell it,” Curran said.
    “But you don’t know if it’s potent. You don’t know if it will actually do what they say it will do. You don’t know how to test it.”
    “What about the Pack?”
    “Please. I’m leaving the Pack in the care of five medmages based in a state-of-the-art facility. You will have only me.” Doolittle surveyed us. “I’ve brought half of the people here back from the brink of death. Left to your own devices, you lose what small drop of common sense you have and do things like running through fire, breaking your bones, and taking on creatures of much larger size. If you persist in this foolishness, I should be there to make sure at least some of you get home alive.”
    Doolittle didn’t quite bare his teeth, but if he had fur, it would’ve stood on end.
    Curran smiled. “We appreciate having you on board, Doctor.”
    Doolittle blinked. He had expected a bigger fight, and now Curran had cut his feet from under him. “That’s right,” he finally managed, then turned around and walked away.
    Saiman walked onto the deck and stopped near the nose of the ship. “Your attention, please!”
    Everyone looked at him.
    “We’re about to sail. I ask you to please be silent so the crew can begin.”
    Everyone shut up.
    Saiman leaned back. A subtle change came over him. He seemed to belong here on the deck of the ship. He opened his mouth and sang out, in a rough but clear voice.
    “Old Storm Along is dead and gone!”
    The crew caught the melody and sang out in a chorus. “Ay, ay, ay, Mr. Storm Along!”
    “Old Storm Along is dead and gone!” Saiman called out, louder.
    “Ay, ay, ay, Mr. Storm Along!”
    Something stirred beneath the ship like a slumbering giant slowly waking up from a deep sleep.
    “It’s a sea shanty,” Curran whispered to me.
    Magic streamed from Saiman and the crew, melting together, seeping into the steel bones of the ship, as if they were at once bringing it to life with their voices and making it theirs in the process.
When Stormy died, I dug his grave,
Ay, ay, ay, Mr. Storm Along!
I dug his grave with a silver spade,
Ay, ay, ay, Mr. Storm Along!
    Something purred deep within the ship. Magic sparked deep below. The hair on the back of my neck rose. The song and magic braided together and pulled me in. I wanted to join in, even though I didn’t know the words and my singing would scare off the fish in the ocean. The crew was singing full out now, Saiman’s voice blending with the others, part of the strong powerful chorus, its rhythm like the beating of a heart.
I hove him up with an iron crane,
Ay, ay, ay, Mr. Storm Along!
And lowered him down with a golden chain,
Ay, ay, ay, Mr. Storm Along!
    The enchanted water generators came on, expelling magic in a thrilling cascade. The Rush shuddered and pulled away from the pier.
    Wind bathed us, pulling at my hair. Another tremor shook the ship. The Rush surged forward, into the ocean. The crew clapped. Saiman took a bow, grinning. I had no idea he had it in him.
    “We’re off,” Curran said.
    “Yes, we are.” We would get there, we would fight, and we would return.
    * * *
    We hit our first storm one day out. The ocean churned and boiled, its waters leaden gray and frothy with foam. Huge waves rolled, each as big as a house, and our large cutter bobbed up and down, tossed about like a paper boat. Water hammered at the hull, and the vessel careened until I thought it would overturn and the lot of us would drown, only to roll back the other way the next second.
    Saiman tied