The first summer night

Despite the distant lightning, the weather was still calm and the sea was quiet. The gig brought the elfess aboard the flagship quickly and smoothly. Elena deftly climbed the rope ladder aboard, where the midshipman on watch saluted her:

— Captain Elena Viscarra of the Third Star!

— She is, — the elfess nodded to him.

— Please follow me, madam.

To Elena's surprise, there was only one person waiting for her in the flagship's aft cabin. And it was not Admiral Steinbrock.

— Madam. — A tall man in a captain's uniform rose from his desk and bowed to her quite formally. But his face, scarred with a whitish scar from a saber-rattling he had suffered decades ago, had a smile on it. — Good to see you.

— Carl. — Elena couldn't help but smile, too.

— I had the courage to invite you a little earlier than the other commanders. — Captain Blanfeld, commander of the flagship vessel, walked round the table and held out his hand to the woman. She shook it firmly, remembering to remove her glove first. — I think we have a lot to talk about before the general meeting.

— Would you like to hear the old woman's tales of warm countries? — Elena couldn't resist the quip. — I have just returned from an expedition to the equator a month ago.

— Women are never old, — Karl chuckled, gallantly seating his guest on a chair with a cushioned back. — At least, not according to them, anyway. And elf girls are always young, anyway.

— Where did you pick up such cheap talk, Monsieur Blanfeld? — Elena squinted. Even by human standards she didn't look young — a mature woman between thirty and forty. Most adult elves look like that from a human perspective. Only those who know where to look will find the signs of true age. Elena's once brown eyes grew more pale with each passing year, giving away her approaching old age.

— I read a lot of silly books, — Karl apologized as he returned to the table. — I'll give you a few as a parting gift. You'll be able to appreciate them. — He sighed. — I'm afraid we don't have time to talk about the past. I've been thinking that you've hardly changed in the years since we parted, madam. Which means I can consider that I still know you well. There's an uphill battle ahead, and I wish both our ships survived it. We can help each other if we discuss actions ahead of time — not as part of a common plan, face to face. Anyway, the Admiral will give you a free hand, I already know that.

— No doubt about it. — Elena leaned forward, leaned against the table, and folded her palms into the black gloves of the finest leather. — You can count on me, Karl. But everything has a price, as a goddess I know used to say. If we both survive the battle, you'll listen to whatever tales I wish to tell you....

* * *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. But the port of New Hope, the capital of the Maritime Republic of Elvart, had no intention of falling asleep. There seemed to be even more people on the streets. A lanternman — in a black cloak, a round hat with fields, with a long pole in his hands — was striding confidently in front of Elena. With this pole he deftly unlocked the gas lanterns, lit them with a small light, locked them again. The captain could have outrun him, but she did not hurry on purpose. Passers-by looked at the woman with interest — not at all because she was an elf. Elvart had been a friendly neighbour to the Duchy of Kornath for centuries, and elves were seen more often here than anywhere else in the world. However, the townsfolk had grown accustomed to the Kornath elves — light-skinned and fair-haired. Helena, with her dark-brown skin, curly black hair, and comparatively short ears, was noticeably different.

It was fun to walk around a town that was younger than you. Of course, New Hope wasn't built from nothing; there had been a town here before the Night of Flames, but what's left of it? Only archivists in dusty libraries remember the name. But the port could boast straight, wide streets and cleverly placed town hall, admiralty and other buildings. The map of the city resembled a ruled notebook, with streets crisscrossing at right angles or running parallel to one another. Even a child could not get lost in it.

She passed the Temple of the One Creator, whose doors were lit with golden magical lamps instead of gas lanterns, and crossed the square to the First Staatthalter. She paused briefly to admire the statue in the centre of the square. The founder of the Republic stood on a high pedestal, holding a spyglass in her right hand with her left against her hip. Elena liked the monument, though it was cast in bronze and lacked colour. The elfess still remembered the bright blue eyes on the painfully pale face. It had always seemed to her that a mad spark smoldered in the depths of those eyes — but that madness had never come out. The first Staatthalter was remembered for her hard work, unselfishness, intelligence and genuine concern for the people. Few rulers could boast such a set of qualities. However, Elena knew — that woman had once broken down, and reassembled her soul from the small shards. Gaping holes were left in some places.

From the square, the Captain's path led to Triumph Avenue, along which the famous Elvartian apple trees bloomed, and from there to a cozy, sleepy alley, where Elena finally sensed the coming of night. The lights were also on, but there were hardly any pedestrians. The windows of the houses glowed yellow, and she could hear the muffled voices, the clinking of dishes, the splashing of water.

She stopped at the right door and tapped on the bronze plaque with the door hammer. The landlord must have spotted her through the window as he opened the door for his guest himself.

— Commodore. — Elena touched her chest with her palm and bowed her head. — Good evening.

— Elena, come on, — Karl snorted, taking the woman's hand and inviting her into the house. — I'm not on duty now. Besides, you'll always be older than me, no matter how many ranks they give me. Come.

The elf woman did not take her long boots off, only shuffled the soles over the rug near the threshold. Together with Karl they ascended the stairs to the first floor. It was a strange sensation not to have the steps wobbling underfoot. It had once taken Helena half a century to learn how to move freely from the wobbly sailor's gait to the feminine walk from the hip. As far as she knew, no human sailor had ever been able to do such a thing.

The baby's room was lavishly furnished. Warm rugs not only on the floor but also on the walls, rows of toys, poufs and cushions in the corners, a magic lamp braided in bronze. The baby-sitter held a baby wrapped in a pink blanket on her lap, softly humming a lullaby.

— Augusta is in church now and will be back for dinner, — the man explained. — I'll introduce you at last.

— Won't she be jealous? — Elena asked, not taking her eyes off the child. — She'll say her husband's bringing home all sorts of elf girls...

— You come and go, but I married her. — Karl shrugged. — Don't worry, our family is fine. Augusta trusts me.

— Uh-huh. — Elena didn't voice the doubts on her tongue. After all, elves have their own ideas about family and loyalty, they don't fully understand human relationships. — So you haven't changed your mind? About your request?

— No, don't even think about it. — The man grinned. — If you won't let me give my daughter your name, at least be her sister-in-waiting. The initiation ceremony is the day after tomorrow, in the main temple, so you won't stay long.

— Well. — The elf woman sighed. Then she smiled. — You're gonna make me a member of your family after all, so...

* * *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. The black steel side of the battleship loomed over the pier like a fortress wall. Electric floodlights shone down on the concrete tongue of the jetty. Seamen in ceremonial uniforms and white gloves lined the gangway as if they were planning a party on board. A young lieutenant in a new-fangled cap with a shiny visor saluted Elena:

— Captain Viscarra!

— Good evening, — the woman nodded to him.

— You are just in time, — was all the young officer said.

The two of them made their way up to the deck, ducking through one of the bulkhead doors. Helena found it hard not to crinkle. The battleship pressed on all her senses at once. It smelled of metal and grease, gunpowder and sweat, stovepipe, coal dust. Something rumbled and clattered in the steel bowels, though the boilers of the steam engines should now be extinguished. The cramped corridors led them to a spacious, well-lit living quarters, where an old gray-haired man lay on a broad bed. His body was shriveled up like a splinter, his sparse hair whitened, his cheeks sunken. Even the scar from the saber-rattling was lost among the wrinkles. But his eyes were the same. As they had been in all their previous encounters, vivid, stubborn, the colour of bright summer greens.

— Hello. Good to see you, — the man said in a husky voice.

— Hello, Karl. — Elena took a seat in the chair beside the bed. She didn't call him "Admiral," though the uniform with its gold epaulettes was now hanging on the wall, in the most prominent place. — I thought you were going to invite me home. Why are you here?

— You know, the sea and the family are not compatible,— the man said quietly, as if not in response to her words. — You always have to choose between them. I chose the sea. If it comes to an end, my place is here. — The pale lips curved into a grimace that faintly resembled a smile. — Cunning of me, eh? They didn't have time to ship me off, so I have every right to stay here...

Elena removed her glove and gently took Karl's hand. The man's face relaxed slightly.

— You're part of the sea, Elena, — he almost whispered. — Just like the wind and the foam on the waves. I came to the sea because there was wind, waves and you. Now there's nothing to hide.

— I'm not eternal, Karl, — the woman reminded him. — I'm already seven hundred years old, elves rarely live longer. I think you'll be meeting me before you know it. Then I'll tell you all the stories I know. There's so many of them piled up...

— And now... — Karl took a deep breath before he continued. — Will you tell me something now? Something I haven't heard?

— Of course. — The captain squeezed the man's fingers a little harder. — Listen now...

...It was getting light when Elena stepped down on the jetty. In her hand she clutched a small box lined with velvet. A parting gift given by the adjutant at the gangway. Karl had asked that it not be opened on board. The woman dutifully stepped away before lifting the lid. On the silk backing lay a silver brooch in the shape of a cherry blossom. Elena frowned. The brooch seemed familiar. She wore a similar one, usually fastened to her waistcoat on the left. A moment later, the elfess realized. It was her brooch. Elena had missed it years ago. Right after Karl had left her ship for the Elvartian fleet. The woman laughed softly, hiding the box in her breeches pocket...

* * *

Twilight was gathering, turning into the first summer night of the year. Though the skies were clear, a northerly wind was blowing hard so that the steam-powered patrol craft that stood at the roadstead occasionally lurching against the waves, straining the anchor ropes. Leaning against the railing of the open bridge, Elena watched as a young man in a blue navy uniform climbed the deck near the forward installation of a hundred-millimeter gun. The rocking was considerable, so he was assisted by the sailors of the patrol boat and the oarsmen of the boat in which he had arrived. He dragged the locker on board and asked the midshipman on duty something. The officer pointed to the bridge. He nodded and rushed over there, leaving the locker to the care of the sailors. As he came up the gangway a gust of wind kicked up and the gunwale tilted particularly hard. Something stirred in the elfess' memory, and without even thinking, she jerked forward almost reflexively, reaching out a hand. No help was needed, however. Young man grabbed hold of the railing and held on to his cap, which was about to come off his head. Sniffing his nose, he climbed to the bridge. He straightened up in front of the captain, saluted bravely. Elena smiled at him instead of saluting him back. She knew those stubborn, lively bright green eyes.

The end.

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