{"id":4046,"date":"2018-08-27T12:00:02","date_gmt":"2018-08-27T16:00:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/?p=4046"},"modified":"2018-08-27T12:00:02","modified_gmt":"2018-08-27T16:00:02","slug":"new-serial-chocolatiers-of-the-high-winds-by-h-b-kurtzwilde-chapter-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/?p=4046","title":{"rendered":"New Serial! “Chocolatiers of the High Winds” by H B Kurtzwilde: Chapter 1"},"content":{"rendered":"

Chapter One: Runaway<\/strong>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

There was no point in trying to take in the scenery from a steam coach. The carriage rattled along in a shroud of smoke at high speed, but very low comfort. Each passenger fought his own private battle with motion sickness. The window seats were given to those who lost.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Despite the noise, smell, and shaking, Mayport Titus slept. He had made good his exodus from Ramshock\u2019s Academy for Young Gentlemen without detection by his personal watchdogs. Rest was necessary for the final leg of his journey. Somehow, he managed to get some before being jolted awake by the conductor\u2019s shout. Mayport grabbed his carryall pack. He had no idea what the man was saying, but felt he\u2019d come far enough from Surat to get well and truly lost. The overcrowded coach gave little room for him to move. He tumbled from the side door, narrowly avoiding his own luggage being thrown down from the roof.<\/p>\n

He grabbed his bags and scrambled well-clear of the carriage\u2019s tracks. Smoke and steam poured out of the engine, engulfing him in grime. The gears screamed, and the carriage thundered on its way.<\/p>\n

Mayport hunkered in the tall grass and weeds until the dust had settled and he felt certain of his solitude. Only then did he get to his feet and examine the guidepost at the deserted crossroads.<\/p>\n

Several bits of scrap metal had been fashioned into signs and fixed to a stone pillar. The squiggles were quite beyond his understanding. During his travels that intimidation had begun to wear off. He needed numbers, and found them clearly marked, directing the way to a farm village. Mayport stood there calculating distance and time. It would be foolish to change his plans so late in the game, and yet an opportunity stood before him.<\/p>\n

He shook off his nervous hesitation and took up his bags once more. The difference in destination was only a few miles. The sun was high and bright, so he turned his back on the village road and marched off into the countryside.<\/p>\n

Mayport wanted to keep a straight face and be dignified, even with only the rabbits to see. Instead, he found himself smiling, then laughing as he hurried along. The rolling hills were fresh and green and welcoming of his hard-won delight.<\/p>\n

All across the pastures he saw cows making good use of the grass. In the distance, vast swaths of reeds rose up in a disordered jumble. Only a few houses were ranged about, but he knew somewhere a warehouse must exist. He had only to find it from ground level.<\/p>\n

The first evidence was a plume of white, rising up to meet the clouds. Looking down into the dells, only then did Mayport realize his mistake. Above the trees of a distant park rose the banners of a European-style building that looked more whirligig than domicile. Mayport stared, finally realizing the miles he had to cover.<\/p>\n

At least with the banners plain before him, he had no fear of losing his way even if the sun set. His bags were only three, but seemed to grow heavier as the afternoon wore on. Though he thought longingly of the comfortable village behind him, he stiffened his resolve and stayed on his chosen route.<\/p>\n

He tramped over a pasture, dodging cowpies as he went. Wheels rattled from the direction of the road, and dust rose up like a pale shadow. Men on a pony cart rushed along, crying out as they went. Mayport ducked into the tall grasses near a stone fence.<\/p>\n

A cow looked at him with benign curiosity as he huddled in the lee of the fence. Mayport laughed. \u201cYou would hide too, if you didn\u2019t speak the language.\u201d<\/p>\n

The cow stepped closer to him. Its bulk hid him from the men on the road. He gathered handfuls of clover to keep her content while he waited.<\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t done anything wrong,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s not running away if you mean to go right straight home again.\u201d<\/p>\n

The cow seemed disinclined to judge harshly where clover was concerned. Mayport kept company with her until he had his wind back, and had cooled down a little. Then he had to wait longer when the cart returned along the village road.<\/p>\n

The cow turned away without comment and made her way to a path that linked the fields. Mayport took his bags and followed behind her when he saw that the path lay in the direction he wanted to go. As the sun made ready for its afternoon exit, he was glad of something more than the sight of the warehouse to guide him over the uneven fields.<\/p>\n

The cow knew what she was about. As they went along together, more cows came from the fields and joined the afternoon procession. Mayport did the best he could to stay off the muddy path, but his shoes grew soggy anyway. Eventually the path turned away from the banners Mayport sought. He said goodbye to his companion and went on his own way. As the sky put on its red and gold, the warehouse lit up as though a new star was housed within.<\/p>\n

As he drew closer he could see motion in the light, and hear the steady sound of working mechanisms. He climbed stiles and found gates, all the while seeking out the shape of sails or even an anchor post. Only when the sun had set completely did he give up hope of seeing such a thing.<\/p>\n

He tried not to feel disappointed. As an unannounced visitor, he could expect little. If his assumed host wasn\u2019t home, he had only himself to blame.<\/p>\n

In his mind he began rehearsing his self-introduction. In his breast pocket was the weight of a thick letter he had been given to carry. In his youth, these fields and the shining house had seemed a kind of fairy tale, while his reality had been wholly his education. His friends from school were his only society, and even now offered the only help he might rely on.<\/p>\n

Mayport didn\u2019t think himself a sensible boy, despite all efforts to persuade him otherwise. At age eight, he had gone away to get his education. At twelve, his parents had been lost on the high winds. The bank had a representative at school to watch over him in the person of one Costor Achely, who had been no more than fourteen when his grandfather bestowed his first account to tend. Costor\u2019s first goal in life was to make Mayport a man of means. Thus far, they had failed each other.<\/p>\n

The moon rose full and bright as Mayport trudged on through the fields. He mounted the last stile between the pastures and the trees, then stopped to rest. He leaned against the wall, craning his neck back and back again to see if there was anything like a person moving inside the brightly lit house.<\/p>\n

He set out across the grove of ancient trees, resisting the urge to turn back. Though he had neared, the noise of the tower seemed not much louder than it had at a distance. Windmill arms of metal and glass twisted and spun above the tree branches. Light and shadow cast ever-changing patterns as he went.<\/p>\n

At last he came to a wide path of round, white stones. He could no longer deny the weariness in his limbs. But with every aching step his heart grew lighter, and some of his excitement returned. Mayport stood on the gravel and looked up at the house. The bottom stories were made of the local, sturdy mud brick. A few lights shone here and there. Only in the higher reaches did it become a vast, mechanical wonder.<\/p>\n

He swallowed his fear and went up to the door. At the press of a button, warm bells rang out in welcome. Then, footsteps approached much more quickly than he expected.<\/p>\n

A man in a smoking jacket of black and purple silk pulled the door open and opened his mouth to shout. He hesitated and then frowned. \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Mayport Titus. I\u2019m looking for Jebediah Cully. I\u2019m here to resolve the issue of this warehouse, and your disposition within the Titus Chocolate Company.\u201d<\/p>\n

In an instant, the man\u2019s expression went from stormy to fair. \u201cOn my life, I never thought to see you here! What in the world has happened to you, poor boy? You\u2019re up to your knees in mud, come in, come in.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cully stepped aside and soon had Mayport out of his muddy shoes and stockings. He was left to wait by the door while the captain hurried ahead to make a path. He looked around the place, astounded by the collection of oddities stacked all the way to the ceiling. Cases of trophies were crammed full of odd bric-a-brac that defied description. Bits of machinery and tools were mixed in with china figures and clumps of dried flowers. Between the shelves hung map weavings and painted star charts.<\/p>\n

He leaned this way and that to get a better view of the ornaments. Deeper in the house he could hear Cully rushing to and fro. His legs ached, but he didn\u2019t dare to sit when the floor looked made of dust and debris. He kept his mind off the cold in his toes by trying to figure out the strange pictures on the walls.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll have to write to that fool at the factory,\u201d Cully called down the hall. \u201cHe\u2019ll be afraid you\u2019ve been carried off by kidnappers, or worse.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m here on my own business, so it\u2019s none of his. What would be worse than kidnappers?\u201d Mayport asked, amused.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn his opinion, I would be,\u201d Cully said. \u201cWhat in the world are you doing here? You\u2019re too young to have business of your own.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not,\u201d Mayport said, and frowned. Indeed, he wasn\u2019t. \u201cHow old do you think I am?\u201d<\/p>\n

Cully laughed, a warm, rich sound that seemed to wrap around Mayport. \u201cI really have no idea. It won\u2019t matter way out here. You\u2019re as near to the end of the world as you can get without falling off the edge. Why have you come all this way, my dear boy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve come to assess the value of this outpost, now that the British East India Company has given up and gone home. What is all this junk?\u201d Mayport asked as he followed Cully\u2019s nimble lead to the stairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s your father\u2019s. I didn\u2019t know what you\u2019d want to keep, and he kept everything.\u201d They came together to a kind of den filled with books and more trophies, cluttered desks, and a table that was already set for a meal. \u201cLook in the trunk behind that screen, see if there\u2019s something comfortable for you to wear.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mayport went quickly to change. There were pajamas and slippers of soft, gray cloth. He peered between the cracks in the screen as he dressed, taking in the captain as he read the letters of \u00adreference.<\/p>\n

Mayport had expected the broad shoulders and work-hardened hands, the silver beard and sturdy frame. He had not imagined brown eyes full of amusement, nor the expressive mouth, so ready to smile. He began to relax, and put his hopes in Cully\u2019s welcome.<\/p>\n

The table was full of distractions, so Mayport hurried to present himself. Cully hardly glanced up from his reading. He merely waved Mayport on to enjoy the feast. Mayport smiled to himself, reminded of the so-absorbed professors who could sit for hours over a completely empty plate, now left behind at school. He pushed a few temptations into Cully\u2019s range, then sat down and tucked in.<\/p>\n

Dining at Cully\u2019s table was an exercise in luxury. The velvet of the chair felt deep and plush enough to sleep in. Game meat was the main offering, but was surrounded by veggies and fresh, soft bread. Mayport lost himself in roasted rabbit, spring peas, and sweet, buttery rolls to the exclusion of all else. He followed that with a bit of a savory pie and tender okra. He marveled over the variety just long enough to taste it, then moved on to fruit pie.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have an appetite,\u201d Cully said in an approving way. \u201cI thought I would have to bully and harass food into so scrawny a boy as you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mayport almost stopped shoveling down the berry pie to say he wasn\u2019t scrawny. He kept his eyes down and the spoon working. Cully could call just about any man scrawny, by comparison.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you\u2019ve made it halfway around the world and no worse for the journey,\u201d Cully said. \u201cIs that man Cane still hanging around as your chairman? He will have my skin if he thinks I somehow persuaded you to this mutiny.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not sorry,\u201d Mayport said. \u201cHe should have seen to my business before now. What are you doing out here, and what is this place? It looks like a stupa making a daring bid for flight. I thought you were stranded in the wilderness, not wallowing in the lap of luxury. I hope you can explain what you\u2019ve done with the company\u2019s assets.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sound extremely resentful, young man,\u201d Cully said. \u201cIf you have something to say, speak up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s my father\u2019s ship? Not the one he crashed. The other one. The first one,\u201d Mayport asked. \u201cFather went off on his new best ship, and the other was left here, under your care. She hasn\u2019t been seen in a port for quite some time. I want her back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was decommissioned before the war,\u201d Cully said. \u201cDon\u2019t be ridiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe British East India Company lost their \u2018disagreement with the local element\u2019 last year,\u201d Mayport said. \u201cI was led to believe the first ship was lost in that war. Certainly, my father is considered dead and gone. He\u2019s been reported as \u2018apparently drowned\u2019 but nobody says where or how. Two ships, two captains, all gone but you, and so I must demand answers.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are very tired,\u201d Cully said. \u201cI should never have kept you up so late, but that you needed your dinner. Well, you\u2019ve had it, so you should rest. On up the stairs three more turns, and there\u2019s a room three doors down. It\u2019s dusty, but you\u2019ll survive. I was working, and I have to finish. We\u2019ll speak again tomorrow when you\u2019ve had time to reflect on what you\u2019ve done.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t do anything wrong,\u201d Mayport said. \u201cI\u2019m not out here on my own. My friend is coming, and we want answers. It\u2019s better if he doesn\u2019t get the idea you\u2019re trying to screw me. He can be very jealous about that sort of thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBed,\u201d Cully said.<\/p>\n

That was the last word the captain spoke to him. He eventually gave in and went where he\u2019d been told. He resisted sleep in a stubborn way by cleaning up a bit and ferreting out clean bed linens before he finally surrendered. As he lay staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, he wondered if all his efforts had been for nothing.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Short on patience? Buy the ebook or paperback right now, and get instant gratification!<\/p>\n

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Chapter One: Runaway There was no point in trying to take in the scenery from a steam coach. The carriage rattled along in a shroud of smoke at high speed, but very low comfort. Each passenger fought his own private battle with motion sickness. The window seats were given to those who lost.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[124,225,240],"class_list":["post-4046","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-serial-fiction","tag-chocolatiers-serial","tag-gay","tag-h-b-kurtzwilde"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4046","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4046"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4046\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4046"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4046"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4046"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}