by Lisa Daniels
Personally, Evelyn thought twenty golden circs was cheap for such an act, but she was also dimly aware that such money would be unheard of in the Undercity. “Glad to hear they’re having fun.”
He stood beside her, reminding her of how tall he was. She barely made it above his shoulders, and she wasn’t exactly a small person herself. His dark hair was far less voluminous than hers, and he wore a gray overcoat, similar to the rest of the crew and to her. Big feet as well, she observed, glancing to his heavy boots.
“I suspect that you don’t really want to try and blend in,” Janus said. “That you’re still pissed off with us for poaching you from your former ship.”
Yes, Evelyn thought. Though at the same time, she did want to make an effort, because she didn’t want to spend the trip alone. The conflicting emotions didn’t exactly make it easy. “I miss them. They were simple people, and we got to see some impressive things out there in the high skies. I’m constantly amazed how people can and choose to live in areas that would normally kill a human.”
“Your family were celebrating your new role in the courts,” Janus said, still with that gruff unconcern, “and I couldn’t help but notice that you were absent. Frolicking away on one final trip.”
“You could say… I’m not really a fan of them right now,” Evelyn said, imagining her mother and father laughing themselves sick as they spooned luxurious food into their mouths, living off her magic and wealth without a penny of effort invested by themselves.
“Shame. I wonder how they’d appreciate you going to Zamorka.”
Evelyn snorted. “Out of all the places you guys could have chosen to go, it had to be the one place nobody visits.”
“People must have come here before. Given that you probably spoke to a lot of other crews if you stopped for repairs or restocking at any point.”
“No. We never spoke to anyone who had visited Zamorka.”
Janus frowned at this fact. Honestly, Evelyn wondered if anyone here had made it to Zamorka. If anyone had bothered to leave the comfort of the Six Isles or their functioning Undercity, if they were just going into this expedition blind.
“Tell me why you don’t like to be seen with your family.” Janus regarded her with one raised eyebrow, and she tied back her thick hair into an aggressive ponytail that resembled more of a curly mop on her scalp. “I’ve been to a fair few of the court gatherings myself when the king’s involved, and I’ve seen your family, but never you. You can’t always be busy at all those times.”
If I’m not, I’ll try and make myself busy. “There’s nothing wrong with them, I guess. It’s… it’s a little embarrassing to be around them. You probably wouldn’t relate. You come from people who are all hard work, no play, but...” Evelyn hesitated, wondering if she did want to tell a total stranger about her family. Perhaps her views were a little unfair, but it didn’t stop her from feeling them. Emotions did have that annoying habit of sticking around, no matter how petty. “I’d get paraded around by them a lot. Boasted about to the other parents, like they were having some competition about who could have the most talented child. And when my air magic came early, they insisted on throwing a party, inviting all their friends—but not inviting any of mine. Just… endless showing off. Doing tricks with the wind like a tame dog. How happy my mother was to know that even in her old age, there’d be an air witch in the family drawing so much pay that the family tax would ensure they never had to worry about a thing again.”
Janus’ eyebrows wrinkled slightly, and Evelyn realized he didn’t relate. She felt a need to explain further, somehow, if just to shake off the sense of embarrassment building up in her body. “I was their achievement. Their fattened calf to give them money. Not really a daughter. Just something to boast about and lavish a lot of attention on. But all the attention I ever wanted was just...” To have my mom and dad love me. How exactly could she explain she was missing love, when to anyone else’s eye, they would see nothing but abundance? “It doesn’t matter. It probably sounds strange to you.”
“I can’t pretend I understand,” he replied courteously, “but I suppose I do somewhat know how it feels to not get the love you want.”
“Right. Because your mother and father made you work, didn’t they? I heard something about that.”
“Yes. It was simple for me. If I didn’t work, I didn’t get food. If I didn’t work, I didn’t have a nice bed to sleep in.”
Evelyn gaped at him. “What? Really?” She certainly never had to worry about food or sleep…
“I had chores I needed to do every day. Sometimes help out with my father’s business, as well. If I didn’t make the bed or tidy up my bedroom after using my toys before bedtime, I’d be locked in the basement for the night. And if I dodged any of my chores, then no food.” His eyes clouded over, and his hands threaded together. “It was… difficult at first. Spent a few days not having dinner, a week in the basement. You could say I learned fast what I had to do.”
“That sounds really messed up,” Evelyn said. Something about Janus’ tone seemed off, however. He didn’t say any of this with bitterness. He said it matter of fact, like it was normal that parents did this.
“I think it was smart of them,” Janus said shortly. “It installed a sense of discipline in me that I appreciate now. I didn’t appreciate it so much back then. It was their way of showing love. Making sure I’d never need to rely on anyone later on.”
“No offense, but that doesn’t sound like love at all.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Think what you will. But I am glad for one that they gave me the lease on life that they did. Things might have been very different. Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to talk to the other air witch. Just getting to know the crew.” He gave her a short bow before leaving, and Evelyn couldn’t help but feel she’d offended him, despite her “no offense”.
Ah well. Maybe next time. Still, Janus didn’t seem nearly as grumpy as she’d expected someone like him to be. He also didn’t appreciate her saying anything bad about his family.
Wait, she realized with a cold rush of horror. Didn’t he recently lose his family…? Oh, sky curse her, she was about as subtle as a brick. She knew about that, yet decided to completely forget about it and speak ill of the dead.
What a genius. She glowered, and saw him now sitting next to Rukia and the scholarly crew member, and they seemed to be having a lot more fun than her. A small knot of jealously stirred. Irrational, but there all the same. She turned her attention back to the shifting skies and the land below, wondering how long it’d take before they reached the seas. Before they finally crossed the border into Zamorka.
A part of her hoped that they wouldn’t even make it that far. That something would turn up, forcing them to end their journey early. But she also somewhat understood the need to look into a potential cure for the Creeping Rot. Maybe there were some answers in Zamorka. Or maybe they’d just all die, and only the bones would be left to tell their tale.
She slouched back downstairs to see what Alex and the rest were getting up to, wondering if they’d progressed to arms and legs yet, or whether Alex had finally run out of magic.
A shame magic couldn’t quite fix her big mouth.
Chapter Four– Janus
It didn’t take very long before Janus decided he hated sailing. Being stuck on a wooden prison, as luxurious as they’d tried to make it, still felt horrid when big, sloshy rains pelted the deck or found ways to leak down the stairs along the corridors. During the first proper storm they had, both air witches were in the alcove, splitting duties, he presumed, so that one helped protect them from the brunt of the weather, and the other focused on getting them through it. Neither focused on keeping them particularly warm. Or stopping the rain sleeting their deck.
Worst came the hailstones, when they drifted high. Those tiny white bastards hit like rocks, and the whole deck rattled with the sound of impact. Hiding inside his cabin room did nothing to stop the noise—he still heard i
t like an incessant ticking clock, making it hard to sleep. He also wanted to shift into dragon form for some freedom, but the captain didn’t want any of them hopping off, even if they could fly. If a sudden storm or hurricane hit them, or worse, then there might be a high possibility of losing someone.
“Saw it happen once,” Captain Eswick said, his mustache twitching as he spoke. “One of the serpent lords, telling me that we’d be fine, he could easily land back on the deck if he wanted. And we flew… and the barometer went crazy. Sudden pressure drop. Next thing we knew, we were in the mouth of the underworld itself, bits of wood flying everywhere. Never saw that lord again.”
“And what was the lord’s name?” Janus had politely inquired, with a mind to background check the story.
“Lord Feylen,” Eswick said, “from Feylok Island. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
Come to think of it, Janus did hear about someone from Feylok Island dying on a trip. He didn’t know the specifics, however, as it was before his time, gathering connections and expanding his wealth. People liked the brutal efficiency of the Ruthe family. He had cousins, uncles, aunts, but didn’t speak much to them. But they all carried that family trademark of working for their pay.
“Yes, I’ve heard about him. I’m surprised you were the captain then.”
“Oh, I wasn’t a captain. I used to be a deckhand back in those days,” Eswick said, smiling. His peppery hair looked as though tiny snowflakes had landed within the black. Janus accepted his words for now, though a part of him still wanted to break free anyway. He doubted people would allow a dragon to sprawl out upon the deck.
Getting caught out in storms within open sky, however, wasn’t something he liked experiencing. It made the Elegant feel like a badly put together collection of wood and metal, and he just hoped the air witches could take away the brunt of the storm, and easily manage the part they did get affected by.
He also remembered how both air witches wanted no one talking to them, no one interrupting them. Because it took all of their energy to prevent the storm from messing with the ship.
At least they collected a lot of electricity, he supposed.
The landscape below them was invisible in the clouds now, but the captain seemed confident of their direction. “When we cross the seas, we want to make sure we’re high above Zamorka, so nothing sees us coming in, if possible. We’re so high up in the death zone now that we need the witches working day in, day out, to make sure we don’t succumb to oxygen deprivation and thinning air pressure.”
Death zone. What a terrifying concept. A section of sky that even he couldn’t penetrate. The air witch on duty now, Rukia, was reading a book and chewing on some kind of protein bar. That didn’t seem safe to Janus. Doing something when one lapse in concentration might kill them. But they didn’t die, so she obviously could handle some distraction.
He felt pretty sure that his parents would be angry at him for wasting so much money on a fool’s errand. Even with the knowledge that the disease would take them, and many others.
His first parents, though, the ones who were taken by the disease, quarantined on Serpent Isle… they would want this. Just like how they agreed to be isolated for everyone else’s safety—they would applaud him for taking the trip, risking his own safety to secure the lives of countless others.
Two sets of parents. Two types of lessons.
But who was right?
Meridas sauntered onto the deck, his face slightly flushed as if he’d spent his time laughing or being embarrassed, and he seemed to breathe easier in the fresher air.
“They’re playing Daggers and Demons downstairs right now,” Meridas said with a broad smile. “You’re missing out on quite the fun. Or are you concerned you’ll lose your tough man act if you’re seen reveling among the commoners?”
“You’re cheerful yourself for a man who might not make it out of their trip alive. Considering we are currently dealing with the unknown.”
“The point of us going into the unknown is so that it can be known. That’s kind of why we make expeditions in the first place. And why we’re bringing scholars.”
“And who has ever made it to Zamorka?” Janus held Meridas’ gaze, witnessing the flush in his cheeks disappearing.
“Us,” Meridas said. “Along with two people who can trace their bloodline back to the place. And I don’t exactly see anyone else lining up for the job, do you?”
“No,” Janus grudgingly agreed. There wasn’t much more to say after that. He left the people on deck to whatever it was they wanted to do, and made his way below to the kitchen galleys, casting his attention along the open spaces in the ship until his eyes settled upon Evelyn, also taking time out in the galley to eat some stew.
He didn’t know what to make of her. An air witch, sure. A talented one, about as apathetic of the trip as he was. And one who seemed to have little to no regard for his own background. He used people’s emotions as a playing point all the time in his business dealings… but something about how easily she’d dismissed his parents’ morals got on his nerves. He supposed he was more bruised about it than he wanted to admit.
People expected a certain thing out of him. They pounced on weakness. He knew that. He’d have to take some careful measures to make sure something like that didn’t contain any sting to his persona. She glanced up from her bowl, noticed him, then held her gaze in an almost defiant way, rather than look down as someone contrite might do.
Some of that anger stirred in him again, even though it’d been nearly a week since their conversation on deck. Before the storms and the wet and the dull moments of sailing that sent him almost mad with boredom.
So he strode right up to her. He didn’t know what he was going to say, or what about this woman vexed him so. “Bored of watching body parts being cut off?”
She paused in eating her stew, wrinkling her nose. She had all her hair tied back into a fluffy black cloud, and she didn’t appear too impressed with his comment. “What do you want?”
“To talk to you.”
“About?”
He gritted his teeth against the hostility. “You. And me.”
“What about us?” Now a little smirk appeared upon her lips, enough to make him want to slap it off.
“Is it me who has been avoiding you the past week, or is it you?”
This gave her pause in her attitude. “Me, I think,” she said then, and he raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. He thought she’d accuse him. Because he was on a level. After all, he did run out on her on a not-yet-finished discussion. She pushed her stew aside, the steel of the spoon glinting in the orblight. “I figured I touched a nerve. Which was surprising, given the reputation you hold. But at the same time… I was thoughtless. Obviously, the things that happened on Ruthen Isle compelled you to… be here.”
He relaxed slightly. “This is intended to be an apology?”
“I’m sorry,” she replied, but didn’t take her eyes off him.
“Accepted.” He drummed his fingers upon the wooden table she ate from. “Do you know of the fall of Serpent Isle?”
Evelyn nodded. “Not well. I know it was the main island of the dragon shifters. And it was struck by the Creeping Rot. People hoped the Rot had died with the island.”
“I was one of many children evacuated from that island. My birth parents died on it, and the Ruthes took me in and gave me a future. They may be many things, but clearly there was some kindness there, to adopt a child to take on their name.”
Gevard and Yera Ruthe. Stern, with faces rugged and set as if always expecting attack. Giving him chores, but teaching him how to do them properly first. They never assumed he could automatically do something. They always gave him a chance before punishment.
“You must have hated them as a child,” she said, before wincing.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I did. I wanted my real parents back. Not these imposters. It took a while for us to really warm up as a family unit together. But I’m glad we did
in the end. Being here… it’s trying to honor all my parents.” He swallowed a lump, feeling slightly stupid for having realized this fact only just now. He also felt stupid, because once again, he was revealing far too much to a total stranger. One who he wasn’t sure had even earned the right to listen.
He did, somewhere, want someone to know him. And strangers were a great sounding board when they were completely removed from politics and the everyday life he endured.
“I get that. I mean, I can’t relate in that way completely, but I get that need to want to do right by them, somehow.” She gave him a tired smile. “Can’t be too easy, being Janus Ruthe.”
He made sure to sit opposite her now, tucking the chair in with minimal scraping. He pulled out a little bottle of Black Fire, and offered her the special whisky. She smiled, but declined. “Not my thing, but thanks, anyway.”
“Can I get you something instead?” he asked, unscrewing the cap and taking a small swig of the whisky himself. “Coffee? Tea?”
“No coffee,” she said adamantly. “I’m quite the fan of water. Which, as you can see, I already have.”
“How boring,” he said. “Drinks are usually a great ice breaker.”
“They’re bad for you,” she replied, “and I’d rather not have anything impairing me when it comes to air witch duties. Unless you don’t mind blacking out for a moment or two because there’s no oxygen.”
“Noted,” he said dryly. “Do you even spend much of your time on land?”
“Sure. Visiting exotic places, like Birdfoot Island...” And she was off, suddenly animated, eager to talk about all the places she had been. Which was a lot more places than he’d heard of. Tiny, isolated floating islands which traded all manner of strange goods, from animals to delicacies that people paid so much gold for.
He felt a tiny bit jealous of her travels, of experiencing so much, despite the fact that she seemed much younger to him. He straddled the ripe age of thirty-four himself, but she couldn’t have been older than twenty-seven.
