Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Doll.

The blazing green flames were slowly fading, and the sea around them was beginning to calm.

After confirming with Goathead that the Vanished had left the dangerous waters and that they could now sail on their own, Duncan took his hand off the dark helm. He lowered his head. What came into view was his body, restored to flesh and blood, and the deck of the Vanished, returned to normal after the green flame went out.

Yet in some unseen way, he felt that many things had changed.

He could feel that the moment he had grasped the Vanished’s wheel, something had shifted. The emerald flame had bound him to this ship, and even to this sea. Even though the flame had now retreated, he could still feel that invisible link and sense every detail of the great vessel beneath his feet.

Duncan slowly closed his eyes. He heard faint whispers coming from the deep, dim corridors inside the Vanished, whispers that carried a strange sense of closeness. He saw that the consecrated lantern in the captain’s cabin had lit itself at some point, a ghastly white light flickering inside its glass shade. He heard the sound of waves beating against the hull, and under those waves there seemed to be deep eyes watching. But whenever he tried to find the source of that gaze, it hid itself, as if it had a will of its own…

Duncan opened his eyes and let out a light breath. The spirit form sails on the Vanished’s masts, thin as gauze and mist, billowed in answer. He walked toward the stairs leading up to the deck, and the ropes beside the stairs writhed to either side, opening a path for him.

He understood now. Only after he chose to take the wheel had he truly become the captain of this ship.

“Captain, we are rising from the edge of the Spirit Realm and will soon return to the Mortal Realm,” Goathead’s voice came from beside him, but this time it was not through the brass pipes used for communication on the ship. It appeared directly in Duncan’s mind. When it spoke of serious matters it sounded much more solemn, and far less noisy. “We were lucky. At our deepest we only brushed the bottom layer of the Spirit Realm. We were almost untouched by the influence of the Abyssal Deep.”

Mortal Realm, Spirit Realm, Abyssal Deep Sea, and, deeper still, Subspace… These strange words, which had appeared before him again and again, floated through Duncan’s mind. He knew they pointed toward the true nature of this eerie world, but he still did not know what they really meant.

However, when he listened to Goathead call him “Captain”, Duncan always felt a subtle change in its tone. He even suspected that now, even if he revealed the identity of “Zhou Ming”, Goathead would still obey his orders. This was the change brought by taking the wheel and successfully returning from the green flame.

But after a brief hesitation, he still did not rashly try it. Nor did he ask Goathead about the Spirit Realm, the Abyssal Deep Sea, or Subspace.

If it had been a few days earlier, he really would have sunk into anxiety and unease, and would have been desperate to figure out his situation. Now, he did not seem to be in such a hurry.

In this world there were other “people”, other ships, a society with order, and other civilizations. That alone was enough for him to grow many hopes for the future, and even to form some plans, though they were still quite vague.

As his thoughts wandered, Duncan recalled the details of the encounter with the ship that had suddenly emerged from the thick fog. He remembered the ship’s striking smokestack, and the mechanical structures that had appeared directly in his mind when it crossed paths with the Vanished.

“That was a mechanically powered ship… while the Vanished looks like a sailing warship from an earlier age…” Duncan muttered to himself. “But it was not completely a mechanical ship either…”

There were compartments on that ship whose purpose he did not understand, laid out like sites for some sort of ritual. On the keel he had seen many strange patterns and symbols. They looked like decorations, but went far beyond what decoration should need.

“Goathead,” Duncan called suddenly. He did not know Goathead’s real name, so he instinctively used the name in his mind. “When we ‘crossed’ that ship just now, the man who looked like the captain was shouting at me. What did he say?”

Goathead seemed not to care at all how the captain addressed it. It accepted the name happily and answered at once: “The wind and waves were too strong. I did not hear clearly.”

“You did not hear either?” Duncan frowned. “…I kept feeling that his expression was so tragic, like he was ready to die together with me. Whatever he was shouting should have been very important.”

“Wanting to die with you is a normal reaction for humans, especially for sailors at sea. It is nothing to make a fuss about. And their shouts before they, like ants, try to shake a giant tree are even less worth your attention…”

Goathead’s answer sounded perfectly natural to it. Duncan, who was walking up the stairs to the deck, almost missed a step. His mouth twitched in shock. “Wanting to die with me is humans’ normal reaction?”

As soon as he said it, he felt that something was wrong. It sounded like he was exposing flaws in his identity as “captain”, revealing how little he knew about “himself”. Maybe the green flame had drained him too much, or maybe the feeling of merging with the Vanished had dulled his caution. Whatever the reason, it made Duncan tense at once. Yet Goathead seemed not to notice at all.

“They fear you. That is normal,” Goathead said, his tone even sounding a bit proud. “Anyone who sails the Boundless Sea should fear you, just as they fear those old Gods and the Shadows in Subspace. Speaking of Shadows, do you know that a great engineer – or maybe an agronomist, or a gourmet – once said…”

Duncan wisely did not take up the topic. He was worried that if the conversation went on, he would not be able to keep up the act. [Of course, the main reason was that he really did not want to talk to Goathead. Once someone responded, its chatter grew at a geometric rate.] And in the next second, something else on the deck drew his attention.

“…What is that?” Duncan stood at the edge of the deck, staring in astonishment at the thing by the door of the captain’s cabin.

It was a wooden box a bit longer than a person, built with very fine craftsmanship. Unknown dark wood had been joined together so tightly that no seam showed and then reinforced with metal that looked like gold. Along the edges of the box he could see complex carved patterns, like writing, or like pictographs that had been deliberately twisted. This box was definitely not something from the Vanished. Duncan had not seen it when he left the captain’s cabin earlier.

After a brief silence, Goathead’s voice sounded: “…I do not recognize it, but it should be spoils of war…”

“Spoils?” Duncan did not react at first. He walked around the box twice. “Why does this thing look like a coffin, only much fancier than a normal coffin… Wait, spoils? You mean this thing was ‘taken’ from that ship just now?!”

“A successful hunt, Captain,” Goathead said in a very serious tone, with something that sounded like flattery mixed in. “You always return fully loaded from every voyage. This is just your usual performance.”

Duncan opened his mouth without thinking. He felt that he had never planned to take anything from that ship. How did this count as a hunt or as “returning fully loaded”?

But then he thought again. Saying that out loud might not fit his image as “captain”. More importantly, that mechanical ship had already disappeared into the thick sea fog. Thinking of that white-bearded captain’s eyes, almost bursting with rage as he glared at him like a man ready to die together, Duncan felt there was no way to send this thing back. He could only swallow all his words.

He stood before the ornate wooden box that looked like a coffin and noticed that the lid seemed loose. It looked as if it would open with a single pull.

After hesitating for a moment, he placed his hand on the lid of the box. At the very least, he had to figure out what his little “Spirit Realm joyride” had brought onto the ship.

His body was stronger than he had imagined, and the lid was lighter than he had thought. With just a little force, the dark lid lifted, opening a crack, then swung fully open under his hand.

Duncan stared into the box, dumbfounded.

“A person?”

Inside the box lay a beautiful young woman. Her silver-white hair spread inside like liquid mercury. Her features were flawless, and she carried a faint air of noble detachment. She wore a gorgeous purple-black court dress, and her hands were folded on her chest, as if she were in a long sleep.

Perfect, like a Doll.

“No, wait. This really is a Doll!”

As he looked closely, Duncan suddenly noticed the inhuman structure of her joints.