by Ann Aguirre
“We can control it now. But before…” Szarok fell quiet, either unable or unwilling to explain how it used to be.
She didn’t ask again. Instead she patted his back in a steady cadence akin to a heartbeat until his trembling subsided. Eventually he came out from under the blanket and up onto his knees, facing her, so she got unprecedented access to his face. His bones were sharper than a human’s, too prominent at chin, brow, and jaw. The differences would probably be even more distinct in skeletal structure. His eyes had inhuman irises, rapidly flowering pupils, and the sclera was the same as the iris, not white at all. He had no hair, not brows or lashes, and his ears were larger yet fused to the skull and flat, not curled like a seashell. Certain sounds might even cause him pain.
She would’ve continued cataloguing the differences if he hadn’t shifted away like her gaze hurt him. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not a specimen.”
“No,” she agreed. “But I was learning your face, not studying it. Is that wrong?”
“I don’t understand the difference.”
“Learning is just … wanting to know something. Studying is more scientific.” In truth, her impulse had been a bit more complicated, but she couldn’t say she wanted to know him well enough that she could picture his features at will.
“Then,” said Szarok, “fair is fair. Let me learn you.”
Pure Determination
Tegan stilled as Szarok leaned forward, but he stopped a foot away and just stared until her skin might crawl off her bones. Heat washed her cheeks; she dropped her gaze and scooted away, until her back met the cabinet behind her. If he meant this as a lesson, it was an effective one. If this is how I made him feel, I owe him more than an apology.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “The difference between learning and studying doesn’t seem important anymore.”
He sat back. “As long as you know.”
“Well … you don’t seem panicked, at least.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything, because his eyes darted, like he’d just remembered about the ship. “It won’t change anything.”
“You can do this,” she said. “Your people are counting on you. Antecost isn’t too far north, and we’re stopping to collect the rest of the crew.”
“Thank you.” Just then the ship lurched.
His skin was always gray, but judging by his tortured groan, he didn’t feel well. Collecting her professional acumen, she touched his brow. Clammy with sweat. It wasn’t hard to diagnose this as a case of seasickness, exacerbated by his fear. The passage didn’t even feel that rough to her, though she had to steady herself occasionally as she opened her bag and rummaged for the right medicine. With a triumphant smile, she opened the pack of ginger restorative and added the powder to a cup of water.
“Take it. This will help.”
He sniffed once and regarded the medicine with a dubious air. “How do I know your treatments won’t poison me? You’re a human doctor.”
“Smell it. I’m sure you’ve had this before.”
For a moment he stared, then he snatched the cup and downed the contents in a grimacing swallow. Gratified by his trust, she leaned over and let the bunk down from its vertical placement on the wall. The ropes bounced, but the bed seemed stable. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to let patients rest here or not, but since this was Szarok, she decided the answer was yes.
“Come and lie down.”
He didn’t argue, which spoke volumes on how awful he must be feeling. Once he did, she covered him again, then she wet a damp cloth, folded it, and rested it on his forehead. Tegan wanted to do more, but as a doctor, there was no further treatment to offer. She hated the fact that she wanted to put her hand on him, as if she had some healing touch. Instead she busied herself with putting away her supplies. As she worked, she hummed, and at some point, his breathing evened out. It might be polite to leave him in peace, but she feared it might send the wrong message, one of indifference rather than good intentions.
At one point she heard footsteps outside the door, but they only slowed in passing by, so it must not have been urgent. Possibly James or Millie wondering where I’ve gone. When the dinner bell rang, she decided she couldn’t let him sleep any longer, at least not here. With some regret, she made the sound he’d taught her, feeling self-conscious. Yet his eyes snapped open immediately, so she must not have gotten it wrong.
“Do you feel better?” she asked.
“It no longer feels like my stomach will twist inside out.”
“Good. I don’t know what you should eat, if anything. You don’t like bread or vegetables, so maybe some broth if it’s available.”
Szarok sat up slowly, his expression sharpening into one she didn’t recognize. At least, it was a look she hadn’t seen on him before. “The fish … They were delicious.”
“I’m glad.”
With that, he went, and Tegan opened the office door to search for supper.
She didn’t see him again before they made port, but she heard quiet complaints among the sailors that a monster had been given free run of the ship. As she stood watching the approach to Antecost, a rigger with a scarred cheek spat on the deck and muttered, “They ought to keep him caged. Safer for normal folk.”
Thus goaded, she couldn’t keep quiet. “The Uroch saved us in the war, unless you’ve already forgotten. They are our allies.”
The sailor inspected her with eyes that left her feeling as filthy as his teeth. “It’s nothing to us what you mainlanders do. We were safe enough.”
“Then you’re the monster,” she said fiercely. “If it’s fine with you that the rest of the world dies, as long as you’re not bothered.”
Before the situation could escalate, suddenly James was at her side. She didn’t want to be grateful—hated that she was—but the look in this sailor’s eyes was dreadful and familiar. Tegan took a step back, hands curling into fists. Smoothly, he set a hand beneath her elbow and guided her away from the brewing conflict. While she didn’t want to be rescued, she couldn’t physically fight every imbecile on the ship.
If there’s one, he’s bound to have friends.
“I see you’re getting to know your colleagues,” James said.
She shot him a baleful look.
“Enough of that. Admire the scenery.”
While she was in no mood to appreciate natural beauty, when she focused, Antecost took her breath away. They were sailing toward the gentle side of the isle, but she could see that there were sheer cliffs topped with green forest. On the far end, a village sat like a bouquet of flowers and painted just as bright. She’d never seen houses that reminded her of butterflies before. As they drew closer, Tegan noticed that the paint was chipped and flaking away to reveal the broken plaster beneath.
“We don’t know how to make the paint anymore.” James sighed a little. “They’re experimenting, but it never lasts intact past the first rain.”
“But they keep trying.” There was something sweet and hopeful in that.
He nodded. “We’ll be in port overnight, or so I hear. After that, we’ll be at sea for some time. The trip will be grueling.”
So far there hadn’t been any medical emergencies, just routine splinters and bruises, and she appreciated that respite from the intensity that would doubtless follow. “I’m ready.”
Millie strolled along the deck toward them, her cheeks bright with wind and sun. She’d braided her hair so only dark wisps escaped to frame her face, and Tegan thought she looked uncommonly pretty. “Can you believe it? We’re almost there.”
“It’s only the first stop,” James teased. “You’d better pace yourself or you won’t be able to handle the rest of the world.”
They joked back and forth about possible sights and sea monsters while Tegan wore an absent smile. As before, the ship dropped anchor off the coast and they went ashore in small numbers, with a few men designated to stay back. She wasn’t sure how they determined that responsibility,
but nobody tried to stop her when she went down the ladder. James and Millie joined her. Above, the sun glowed orange on the horizons and the waves rocked back toward them in ripples of gold. The rower argued when James offered to spell him, but soon James had the oars in hand, pulling them toward the shore.
“You’re good at that,” Millie commented.
“This and fencing. That’s all the sporting skill I have.”
“Good enough,” said the sailor, apparently enjoying his break.
The sky darkened, dropping from umber to purple. Soon the rowboat tapped the dock, and with some help, Tegan scrambled onto the weathered boards. From here she could see how stony the shore was before the village. In Rosemere, there was more of an embankment. But the water was different here, too, darker and rough with hidden rocks.
Seeming to follow her gaze, the sailor made an unfamiliar gesture, flattening both hands over his heart. “They call this Great Graveyard.”
“Excuse me?” Tegan’s eyes widened and she glanced at Millie, but the girl seemed more intrigued than frightened.
“There’re ancient shipwrecks all around. These waters are famous for them.”
Captain Advika was coming in on the next little boat, and she scoffed. “Are you telling ghost stories again, Bigby? If you scare off my doctor before she settles in, I’ll make you the ship’s surgeon, and somebody will kill you after you hack off a leg that could’ve been saved.”
“I didn’t make up the stories or wreck the ships,” he muttered.
The captain fell into step as they headed for Port-Mer. “This used to be the size of Rosemere, but after the trouble, people flocked north in droves. Now there are little villages all along the coast, though there are only three ports safe for ships. This coastline’s a bitch, plus, the weather’s cold, plenty of rain. But you can eat venison forever.”
“Good hunting,” James added.
Briefly Tegan thought he was saying good-bye because that was how they’d parted in Company D. Then she realized he was making an observation as Millie said, “I love venison stew. Is there a place I can have some before we go?”
“There’s a tavern,” Advika answered. “Probably have a pot going. They usually do.”
“I’m so hungry.” Millie grabbed Tegan’s arm and hauled her along in a fit of enthusiasm.
Tegan cared less about filling her belly than exploring before the light faded, so she shook free. “You two, go on ahead. I want to take a walk along the water. I’ll be there directly.”
“Are you sure?” James’s gaze lingered, but he followed when Millie tugged his sleeve.
This time, however, he didn’t look back when he strolled away. Instead of saddening her, she took heart in it. The captain didn’t seem to have any pressing business, so she stayed with Tegan as she angled her steps toward the rocky beach.
“You’re young to be a doctor,” the other woman observed.
“It’s better to say that I know a little about treating ailments.” She didn’t say that she was old where it counted—deep in her heart and down in the bone where it ached.
“Don’t sell yourself short. Heaven knows you won’t get the credit that you’re due in this life with a soft voice and modest manners.”
“I have seen a lot,” she said.
“It shows. You carry yourself like you’re walking over a deep well.”
Though she didn’t know what that meant exactly, she took it as a compliment. Tentatively, she smiled. “Did you always want to captain a ship?”
It was hard to tell how old the other woman was. She had an ageless face, strong but beautiful, yet her eyes hinted at grief. “No. In the beginning I just wanted to live.” The captain picked up a flat rock and skipped it over the water in a sharp, skilled arc. “I’ll tell you a secret, Doctor. I came from the ruins, too.”
“In Gotham?” The startled question slipped out before she could stop it.
The older woman shook her head. “No. We called it Saint City. Before, it was something else, but you know what life in the old cities was like, don’t you?”
Tegan nodded, choosing her own rock; she mumbled a curse when it sank instead of hopping. “Why did you call it that?”
“Where I lived, it was a city of the dead. Just graves as far as the eye could see. There were stone houses and carven statues and huge monuments. It must have taken centuries to build. But it was also safer than the rest of the ruins because there were so many places to hide, and it wasn’t far from the river. I pinned all my dreams on that because sometimes when the weather was fair, I could see boatmen passing by.”
“Someone stopped?” she guessed. That was what happened with Thimble and Stone, how they made their way from the ruins to Rosemere.
But Captain Advika gave a wry smile. “Not the first time I shouted or even the twentieth. It’s funny when I think back on it … that my life depended on pure determination, and that in the end, my fate still hinged on somebody else’s whim.” Her expression lost that misty, faraway quality. “And so does yours. My crew … Some I only took on because they’re smart or strong. But not good. Remember that.”
“I will.” Tegan wondered if the captain had heard something about her confrontation with the sailors complaining about Szarok, but she decided to accept the warning at face value.
“You coming to sample that venison stew?”
“I probably should. The food on the ship hasn’t impressed me.”
Captain Advika laughed. “Yeah, Cook’s grub all tastes about the same, which is kind of an achievement when you think about it.”
In companionable silence, they walked back from the pebbled beach to the packed dirt road that led to town. Here and there, Tegan saw signs that this was an old settlement, broken stone roads, layered over with newer attempts at paving. This patchwork process left the path uneven. Along the way, someone had lit lanterns for isolated circles of brightness, echoed by the silver moon hanging nearly full overhead.
The businesses were closed for the night, apart from the tavern, where almost the whole ship had gathered. James rose and beckoned; he and Millie had a table full of company, and Tegan sighed a little. His gregarious spirit exhausted her sometimes. She preferred to join a group quietly and just listen, but James always wanted to haul her to his side—at the center of attention.
“I’ll get a pitcher of something,” Advika said.
When she got to the table, James kicked a chair toward her. It wasn’t discourtesy, since he was in the middle of a story. Everywhere he went, people asked him for words in lieu of payment. His ability to spin a yarn on demand was one of his most admirable qualities. This one was about a girl who thought she was a witch, and half the tavern quieted to listen. Grateful she didn’t have to speak, Tegan ate her stew, pleased with the captain’s recommendation.
Only half attending to the tale’s climax, she peered around. There were unfamiliar faces in here, probably locals, packed tight and talking over one another. In quick succession someone started shoving, and darts went sailing around, slamming into the wall. Keeping low, Tegan hurried toward the door. Millie was shouting something, but she kept moving.
Outside, the air smelled crisp and clean, if cold enough to show her breath. Tegan realized she didn’t know if she was supposed to go back to the ship, and if not, where she was meant to stay tonight. Going back inside seemed like a poor decision. She went toward the pier, but it was dark and still, not a place to linger with the captain’s warning fresh in mind.
Turning, she nearly ran into a cowled figure. Relief dawned like sunrise, building into a brilliant smile. “Thank goodness it’s you.”
Szarok didn’t respond to that. “Come.”
Without touching her, he made it clear she was meant to follow. So she did. Some distance outside town, he’d made camp, well away from the water. It made sense that he’d take this opportunity to sleep on dry land, as it would be his last for a while. The fire crackled with cheerful disorder, wood popping and ashes tumbling, o
range worms crumbling into gray. She breathed in the smoke and held out her hands, grateful to be away from so many people. Out here she didn’t need to watch so hard, gauging potential threats from all angles.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
“Why?” He sounded impatient, angry even.
It didn’t faze her. “Because I know I’ll be safe with you.”
The Opposite of Enemy
“You are too trusting,” Szarok said at last.
He intended to sound harsh, but Tegan only shook her head and smiled. “I have an excellent sense for when people want to hurt me. Have you eaten?”
“Yes.” A wealth of information shaded that word, all of which he chose not to say.
She might understand that he’d hunted as soon as he could and savored the blood with all its delicious copper and salt. He’d eaten a hearty portion of deer before butchering the rest. Now one of the haunches roasted on the fire. Not for him. For her. Just in case. While she’d called him friend, after the way she had cared for him on the water, he considered her kin.
“Are you cooking that for tomorrow?”
He nodded because it was simpler, and explanations would probably confuse her. “You can sleep here if you wish. I’ll be scouting all night.”
“You’re going?” For the first time, she showed signs of alarm, and it was hard not to reassure her in his own tongue.
It wouldn’t help. They’re only sounds.
But she’d woken him like one of the People today. “I’ll be at the dock tomorrow. But tonight I must see if there’s anywhere for us on Antecost.”
Space and welcome were two different issues. But Antecost might be possible because there was no central party capable of making decisions for the whole isle. From what he’d gathered, each village had a chief or an elder, but they all operated separately. So if he picked a spot far enough away from everyone else, the Uroch might be able to come in quietly. Antecost didn’t whisper of home like Rosemere, but it was significantly larger. That might be enough.
“You can’t cover the whole island in a single night,” she protested.
