Evelina
Eve tried to shade her eyes against the sun reflecting off the sea. The wind blew briskly from the Great Western Ocean, plucking mischievously at the flyaways in her hair. This spot on the forecastle of the Karego Rose had become her favourite place to watch sea and near the horizon was Cianwood Island, blue and hazy with distance. Further off, if she squinted, Eve could see the most southerly of the Whirl Islands, Blue Point Isle.
After a month aboard the Rose Eve was privately glad they'd be making landfall by the afternoon. The Rose was the last working merchant ship under sail in the Empire, though 'working' was stretching the definition rather thinly. Captain Livesey paid for the ship from his investments and only ever did any trading when he remembered to. At times it had been, well, silly. They were all big boys, really, playing dress-up with the biggest toy ever.
Oh, the voyage hadn't been unenjoyable, by anyone's metric. The five days they'd spent in the Orange Archipelago had been like a holiday. On Pummelo Island they'd been spectators for once, and watched Supreme Gym Leader Drake's ditto tear through half a challenger's team, and his dragonite tear through the other half. West of Tangelo Island one evening they watched in wonder as a pod of almost thirty wailord cruised by, spouting and calling with plangent voices. On Trovita Island they'd both won a Spike Shell Badge from the unctuously flirty Gym Leader. With Eve watching, Rudy had the direst trouble paying attention to his battle with Josh; it wasn't flattering, the man was a clear pussy-hound. After her victory Eve had tried to triumphantly squeeze her badge in her fist, and Josh had nearly pissed himself laughing when she yelped in pain. And then on to Valencia Island, beautiful, butterfree-strewn Valencia, an island which made Josh especially contemplative.
Speaking of silly. She watched Josh patiently descend barefoot from the rigging. She'd managed to pester him into keeping his wavy, ringletty hair. Not that she'd really seen much of him, at least when they were aboard. It hadn't taken long for her big kid to make the transition from passenger to would-be crew. There was something hopelessly dorky about the sight of him helping the master's mate at the wheel, or perched inelegantly somewhere at the top of the mainmast. Eve realised she was smiling. He didn't seem to know or care how dorky he looked.
She remembered that night off Tangelo Island, which had turned into an impromptu piss-up on deck. Josh had been unusually drunk, goaded into it or trying fruitlessly to keep up. Eve had been standing right here, watching him joining in the singing:
"What do we do with a drunken sailor?
What do we do with a drunken sailor?"
"You pack of bloody clichés," Eve murmured.
"It's an authentic work-song, you know. Makes a better drinking-song, mind," 1st Mate Lawrence had commented, joining her on the forecastle. Eve watched the drinking critically for a while with growing disapproval. They were laughing a lot, clapping and egging him on.
"Are you making fun of him?" she said accusingly.
"What? No! Perish the thought!" Lawrence said, raising his hands defensively. "No, he reminds us of why we all joined the Rose in the first place."
Josh fell over, again, splattering his rum onto the deck. The 2nd Mate was just as badly affected, legs buckling beneath her – three or four crew caught hold of each of them and hoisted them up.
"Put him into bed with the captain's daughter!
Put him into bed with the captain's daughter!"
"They don't mean her," Lawrence said hurriedly, catching Eve's expression. "It's a joke. The captain's daughter is, was, a whip. They won't use that either."
"Shame," Eve said sharply.
I didn't mean that, Eve thought, with some regret, coming back to the present as Josh climbed up to the forecastle.
"Well, hullo stranger," she said, and hugged him. "Didn't you say you've been to Cianwood before?"
"Been a few years since I was last here. But yeah, almost every summer once. Cianwood Island used to be cheap for families."
"Time to spill it, daddy-o," Eve said. "What's your plan?"
"Well my idea is," Josh started, probably knowing she'd insist on signing-off on it, "we follow the coast path southwest along Route 47 and 49. There'll be plenty of opportunity to catch a Water-type, that goes without saying -"
"Which is too simple for you," Eve interrupted. That did make sense, though. They both could do with a stronger Fire counter, and Eve had been considering the relative merits of a cloyster.
"We'll head for Towan Bay," Josh said. "There's an invasive population of vibrava there, and a bounty on their capture. Double the reward."
"Hold on, does this mean there'll be a lot of steep cliff paths?"
Josh shrugged. "It's Cianwood Island."
"Well, I'm not climbing up and down forty-five degree cliff paths with a loaded backpack on my back. We're hiring a pack pokémon. And don't say it! We've got more than enough hoarded Gelt from Gym victories."
"Oh, fine. Actually, I do need to talk to the captain about the weather. Back in a moment."
Eve looked back at the sea. She would have liked to stay longer in the Orange Archipelago, but the blunt fact was winning Orange League badges, though good practice, wasn't going to get her closer to the Silver Conference. Besides, the tropical sun made her face not so much tan as freckle. An exultant cry drew her attention to the rigging. Gail was up above the second set of sails, her small brown body silhouetted against the blue. She leapt off into the sea wind like she was born to it. Perhaps she was. Gail loved the wide freedom of that wind and sky. Often Eve had caught her swooping at wild wingull in mock attacks, trying out different aerobatics, different strategies. She'd grown strong in this time. Rudy sure as hell wasn't prepared for the kind of Twisters Gail could whip up now.
Gail had also duelled and subsequently crushed the 2nd Mate's fletchinder, which was thoroughly satisfying. The 2nd Mate was the captain's daughter, and Eve believed Miss Francesca Livesey deserved a defeat. 2nd Mate Livesey had soft grey rainwater eyes. 2nd Mate Livesey had satin smooth hair despite all the damn salt in the air. 2nd Mate Livesey had a glorious figure improved by climbing the rigging all day. Eve scowled up at Livesey scaling the ratlines, giving her an excellent view of her best assets.
2nd Mate Livesey had spent most of the month teaching Josh all about the sea. He was somewhat overawed by her, hanging on her words and trying to learn unfeasibly quickly to impress her. And Josh didn't normally talk much about what he could do, not by way of anecdotes or stories, unless you coaxed it from him. Every night 2nd Mate Livesey had done just that. Smug little tart.
The captain took Josh up to the quarterdeck. Eve followed as some of the crew started to assemble on the deck – 1st Mate Lawrence, the Master, fifteen or twenty of the others. Eve made a point of standing by Josh.
"It's been a pleasure having you aboard, Mr Cook," Captain Livesey said cheerfully. "All good voyages come to an end, but we couldn't let you leave without a small memento. Mr Templeton?"
It was a green bandana, embroidered with the name Karego Rose. About half the crew were wearing similar bandanas in shades of red.
"Yours is the only green one," Templeton said. "We thought it appropriate."
"… I know I'm no sailor," Josh admitted.
They had the decency not to confirm that one. "They're only made for crew," someone else said.
Josh smiled gratefully, tying his hair back with the bandana with practised ease. Eve remembered his mother's complaints about not wearing headscarves. Somehow he looked more obviously Native Orange with it on. It occurred to Eve that she hadn't seen Josh smile like this in … she'd never seen him smile like this. Well, that was ok. After Goldenrod City he deserved it.
As she approached the island, from the deck of Karego Rose you could see most of Cianwood City. A city of narrow streets and golden sands wedged into the shelter of the bay like a krabby in a rockpool, divided in two by a rocky, steep-sided point. It was called a city mostly as a courtesy – it was smaller than Cherrygrove, smaller than Azalea Town even. There was a white lighthouse sited near the head of the point, decoratively crenellated, with beacon windows flashing in the western sun.
The harbour was in the rivermouth on the northern side of the point, defended by a stout breakwater. They had to take the ship's launch in. The busy harbour was altogether too small for a ship the size of the Rose. As they rounded the breakwater Eve saw, through the forest of fishing boats, the Ranger station converted from the old harbour chapel, flying a weathered Middle Kingdom flag from the tower. A couple of sea rangers were industriously hosing down their lifeboat. After they said some final goodbyes they crossed over the headland to the south side of the city. June was very much the holidaying season. The beach was full of people, a mass of bright parasols, windbreaks, tents, and towels; amid the sandcastles and games of cricket girls sunbathed optimistically; the sea teemed with surfers, a few pokémon-mounted lifeguards floating at the peripheries.
Despite the crowds Cianwood City was endearing itself to her. The town was awash with surf culture, with the laid-back, positive vibes that connoted. Eve noticed a few people giving one another the shaka sign as they passed in the street. The Pokémon Centre wasn't far from the beach. Eve enjoyed herself exercising bragging rights over her cousin while Josh haggled over the hire of a pack pokémon. Arguing over sixpences might put him in a better mood, which had been getting steadily darker since they'd landed. Maybe it was the crowds winding him up.
The afternoon was wearing on by the time they left Cianwood City for Route 47. Evidently, the coast path didn't start where it ought to start. Josh had tried to join it from the south side of the city, only to find a spa hotel had been built there and the path co-opted for the use of the guests. He'd been in the mood to walk through the grounds anyway, private land or no, and probably would have done had Eve not refused. Another path, the Cliff Edge Gate, had been cut through to Route 47 nearly half a mile away.
The cliff path above the city was bright and breezy. Blended with the voice of the sea was the strong sound of a waterfall tumbling its waters more than a hundred and fifty feet down to the sea. Route 47 was much quieter than the beach. There were a few trainers heading inland to the Safari Zone, a few couples out for a romantic stroll in the afternoon sun. An easy few hour's walk away was the next village, Porth Cian. There might be a room available in a surf lodge, there might not, it didn't really matter.
A clatter of hooves behind belonged to the gogoat Josh had hired. He didn't have a name – his trainer just called him #14. He waited patiently, oblivious to his burden. Two backpacks was no more difficult than carrying a laptop was for her.
Westwards the coastline stretched, craggy and lonely, to the distant horizon. Eastward Eve could still see the lighthouse on the point, and beyond, the Karego Rose setting sail.