The Voyages of Trueblood Cay

by Suanne Laqueur

  Fen felt nothing as his knife swiped through flesh and veins, leaving death in its wake. Why should he? His next act was to free the child impaled on the dead man’s cock. If you could feel that and not lose your sanity, a severed jugular was nothing.

  He swallowed hard and approached the boy on careful feet, stumbling once as the ground shifted.

  “Not a word out of him all this time,” Boru said, trailing behind. “Not even his name. We put down Sennoma in the register and it’s stuck.”

  Sennoma—no name.

  “Héjo,” Fen said gently, stopping several feet away. The youngster kept his eyes on the ground where he was drawing circles with a stick.

  “Functional catatonia is the only way I can describe it,” Boru said. “He’s here. He’s present. He understands. But his mind is somewhere far, far away. No social engagement. He doesn’t connect.”

  Fen crouched down on his heels, tilting his head to get under Sennoma’s thousand-mile gaze. “Salu,” he said. “Do you remember me?”

  Sennoma looked up, then down again. With no more interest than if Fen were a rock.

  “You came flying with me. You rode on my back. But I had four legs then.”

  He closed his ringless thumb within a fist. If he could release his wings, maybe it would trigger the boy’s memory. Then again, maybe all memory of that day was better off where it was. Far away and forgotten.

  Godsdamn this fucking place.

  “It’s good to see you, lad.” he said. “I think about you all the time. I didn’t forget.”

  Sennoma’s stick drew another circle in the dirt. Fen got up slowly, backing away with no sudden movements.

  “You tried,” Boru said.

  Sighing, Fen turned around. “He’s safe. I guess you can’t ask for m—”

  The breath exploded out of him as Sennoma crashed into his back. “What the…?” His knees buckled and his arms flew out for balance as the boy skittered around him and reached for Fen’s hands. Huge blue eyes looked wildly at his rings.

  “It’s me,” Fen said, wiggling them. “You remember these?”

  His hands were flung away and now the boy was behind him again, digging under Fen’s shirt.

  “I think he remembers,” Boru said.

  “Héjo,” Fen said, laughing as he peered over his shoulder. “Yes, it’s me.”

  Sennoma patted his palms against Fen’s back over and over. Pointed at the sky and patted him again, harder now.

  “No, they’re put away,” Fen said. “I’m sorry, I don’t have them right now. They’re… No, don’t cry. It’s all right.”

  The boy was slapping Fen’s legs, tugging at the fabric of his breeches and kicking the toes of his black boots. Pointing to the sky, over and over. Up, let’s go, let’s get out of here, what are you waiting for?

  “I can’t,” Fen said. “I’m sorry, I’m…different now. I won’t be able to fly for a little while.”

  Sennoma flung himself into Fen’s arms and Fen picked him up. Draped on Fen’s shoulder, he kept hitting Fen’s back and pointing to the sky.

  “I know. I want to be up there, too. I’ll get them back. I’ll take you to fly again, I promise.” He set Sennoma down, took the handkerchief Boru passed and wiped the boy’s tears. “How about we go for a walk in the meantime? I and you. Walking’s good.” He glanced at Boru. “Is that all right?”

  “I don’t know, kheiron. You’re awful young.” Boru leveled his golden gaze at Sennoma. “Lad, can I count on you to bring Fen back here safe?”

  The boy took Fen’s hand and nodded vigorously, thin shoulders squaring into a line. They made an odd little couple as they set off for the market: a kheiron still getting his sea legs and a survivor in charge of his return.

  “Pé, stop fucking him with your eyes,” Raj said.

  Trueblood pulled his eyes off Fen and sucked his teeth. “Shut up.”

  “Are we going to trail him through the market all afternoon? Or meet up and have a drink like civilized people?”

  “I’m not trailing him, we just happen to be here at the same time. And he’s got a kid with him so the time isn’t conducive to drinking.”

  Shaking his head above a knowing smile, Raj turned back to a vendor’s long table, cluttered with old sea instruments, charts and maps.

  “Shut up,” Trueblood said, moving toward a booth with leather notebooks. His fingers trailed over the soft covers while his eyes followed the kheiron’s path. He watched Fen buy squares of sugared ginger here, a bag of preserved lemon peel there. Dried fruit and nuts. At a grain vendor, he bought a couple bags of something and Trueblood made a mental note to tell Calvo that if the kheiron was buying his own foodstuffs, he needed to be reimbursed.

  “You going to buy that, dearie?” the vendor said. “Or just make love to it? Me can turn my back if you’re shy.”

  Smiling, Trueblood held out the notebook and asked its price. The Zeuxis market was always entertaining because Gods, they talked so weird here. Nobody could say when, how or why the speech pattern developed, but denizens of the city deliberately swapped their subject and object pronouns.

  “You want a book that size, Kepten?” the vendor said. “Because me has others, bigger or smaller. Just tell I what you like.”

  “I like this one,” Trueblood said, mindful not to mimic her. “How much?”

  “Because it’s you, me asks only five khesos.”

  “Because it’s you, I’ll give four.”

  The vendor scowled. “Don’t insult I, Kepten. Feel the quality of the leather.”

  As he haggled, Trueblood’s eyes kept track of Fen. He was at a toy booth now, buying something for his companion, a scruffy little boy of perhaps eight or nine. Plainly dressed. Barefoot. Purchases tucked in one thin arm while his other hand stayed firmly in Fen’s. Something about those linked hands made Trueblood’s chest fill up with longing admiration.

  He’s good with the young ones. More than good. Devoted to them. They’re the work he does best.

  “Look, Pé,” Lejo said.

  Trueblood turned back to see his friend beaming above the stray cat held in his arms.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “No.”

  “She’s been following me for an hour.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, she has no home and I could give her a great life.”

  “You already have three cats, which is three more than my father allowed you. Say thank you and be happy.”

  “Pé, who’s that with Fen,” Raj said.

  Trueblood looked toward the toy vendor but Fen and the boy were gone. He followed Raj’s pointing finger. Fen was by a produce cart now, talking to a man. Something about the fellow’s greasy appearance and tense demeanor made Trueblood abruptly hand over five khesos to the vendor and thank her. “Let’s go say hello,” he said to the twins.

  As they approached, the little boy shrank behind Fen’s body, squeezing between the kheiron and the vegetables.

  “Héjo, Fen,” Raj said, the eternal ambassador. Fearless at joining a crowd, ready with a sunny smile and extended hand. Able to take the social temperature of any situation and act accordingly. “Salu, I’m Raj Ĝemelos.”

  “This is Penton,” Fen said. “An old friend of mine.” He looked back at the child who’d practically climbed into a stack of pumpkins to disappear. “That’s Sennoma. A newer friend who chooses his acquaintances with caution.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Trueblood said, with a handshake for Penton and a quick smile for the boy. The latter was Lejo’s own specialty. He stepped up to the cart to look at the display of fruit, keeping the stray cat at his hip, casual and accessible.

  “Me knew your father,” Penton said to Trueblood.

  “Did you?”

  The wiry little man shrugged. “Everyone did. So, Fen, me’s got a
bit of news about Haize. That is, if me can speak freely in present company.”

  “Speak away.”

  “Who’s Haize?” Trueblood said.

  Fen paused, drawing a deep breath. “My former owner,” he finally said. “With whom I have some unfinished business.”

  “Me hears him is doing business in Aybar now,” Penton said. “Built heself a big house in the city and a bigger brothel outside the no-fucking zone.” His eyes darted sheepishly to Sennoma. “Excuse my Altynese.”

  Fen cracked his knuckles one at a time beneath his thumbs. “Who works for him?”

  “Officially, about a dozen men and women work for he. Him’s got his license posted by the door and never gives inspectors a hard time. Still, if you ask I…” Penton turned palms up to the sky and left the question dangling. Something about the gesture was a touch too dramatic. So deliberate, it was a signal. The extended palms trembled in the air, each finger making minute twitches. A small jingle in Fen’s pocket and some coins passed.

  He’s an addict, Trueblood thought. Between doses. Starting to crave. Soon to slip into unpleasantness. His information comes at a price.

  “If you ask I,” Penton said, pocketing the khesos, “the inside dimensions of the brothel don’t match the outside.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Trueblood said.

  “Pardon?”

  “I had the same problem with a hold in my ship. But go on.”

  “Me’s just saying. The building’s got enough missing space to conduct some illegal trade. Me has no proof of course, but Haize’s reputation does precede he.”

  “That it does,” Fen said.

  “So, me doesn’t know if you have business in Aybar?”

  “We might,” Trueblood said, and Fen looked at him.

  “We might?”

  “Mm.” He glanced up at the sun. “Anyway, I’m heading back to the ship now.”

  “I need to get Sennoma back to the orphanage,” Fen said.

  “I’ll go with you,” Lejo said. He had the little boy on his hip and Sennoma’s arms were full of the cat.

  Hands shook around, and Penton lingered a moment in Trueblood’s grip.

  “I’m sorry about your Da,” he said. “He was decent.”

  The correct pronouns made the simple words sound like a royal commendation. “Thank you,” Trueblood said, trying to imagine what kind of precarious existence it took to make bare minimum decency your highest praise.

  Penton gave Fen a vigorous back thumping. “When you find Haize, flay that cocksucker alive. Save a piece of his hide for I.”

  “Me will deliver it personally,” Fen said.

  “Fen, what were you buying at the market?” Trueblood put up a quick hand. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant at the granary booth, were you buying something you need to be eating?”

  That didn’t sound quite right either. Gods, it was like he was thirteen again and the monster was doing the talking.

  “Well, yes,” Fen said. “I don’t eat meat so I get protein from things like farro and amaranth. I was going to show Seven how to make it. Or I could make it myself, if it’s too much trouble for him to—”

  “He’ll make it,” Trueblood said. “Just show him. Then go see Calvo and get reimbursed for the cost.”

  “I don’t need to be reimbursed.”

  “Whenever you buy foodstuffs, you should get a receipt.”

  “It’s not a problem for me to buy my own.”

  “I know, but feeding you is the ship’s responsibility.”

  “All right.”

  “I kept my eyes out for kyrrh in the market,” Trueblood said. “But I didn’t see any.”

  “Neither did I, but I’ve got enough to last me a good while. Loaded up on ginger and lemon in the meantime. Oh, and I bought this.” Fen fumbled in his pocket and came up with a shark tooth. “For Seven to add to his necklace. A little token to make up for my picky eating.”

  “He’ll love it.” Trueblood hesitated, fanning the edges of his new notebook. “Lejo told me about the orphanage. For an hour.”

  Fen smiled. “He left the cat there.”

  “I had a feeling he would. Is Sennoma someone you rescued?”

  “During our last raid.” He exhaled roughly and drummed his fingers on the back of a chair. “Weird mix of feelings whenever I go to visit the kids. If I see a face I recognize, it’s both joyful and disappointing. I don’t want them to be there anymore.”

  Trueblood nodded. “Is there anything the orphanage needs?”

  “What they don’t need is a shorter list.”

  “Lejo wants to help,” Trueblood said. “And so do I. So make the longer list and we’ll see what we can do after we leave Aybar.”

  “Aybar?” Fen said. “We’re going?”

  “I didn’t mention it?”

  “Um, no. Why are we going?”

  “Three reasons. I have something to fetch and you have unfinished business.”

  “What’s the third reason?”

  “Because Lejo said so.”

  Fen fixed him with a sideways stare. “Lejo.”

  “Raj is my directional pilot while Lejo is more of a spiritual compass. His needle only points one way, toward the right thing to do. Sometimes it yanks him in that direction, hard enough to pull on me.”

  His hand rubbed an absent circle around his heart. Even after he said yes, Lejo’s insistence was a stubborn drag in his chest. His peripheral hadn’t sparkled this furiously since they left Valtourel.

  “Interesting,” Fen said slowly.

  “You can say weird.”

  Fen laughed. “It is a little weird, Kepten.”

  “I know. Lejo doesn’t often tell me what to do, but when he does, I listen.”

  The Kaleuche communicated with Nyland by messenger bird. Usually falcons, although it was a pure white pigeon that brought the news that their former boatswain had had a baby boy and was naming him Ikharus. Fen watched as the new father, Dhar, first staggered backward and sank onto a bulkhead, weeping into his hands. Then he and Trueblood threw arms around each other, yelling, crowing and laughing. The day’s ripozo was extended and that night, Dhar sat next to the kepten at dinner.

  Another morning, a raven arrived at the ship, heralding bad news: a majoro’s father had died. Everyone went about their business in subdued quiet while the bereaved sailor sat with Trueblood on the afterdeck. For a long time, he talked and the kepten listened. They stood and offered gelango, holding still with their foreheads pressed until the sailor let go. That night, he sat next to the kepten at dinner.

  He treats them like family, Fen thought, quietly observing how Trueblood handled the mood of his crew as a whole, as well as the individual caprices and crotchets. Constantly available and approachable without ever letting them take his solicitous nature for granted.

  How much of that is him? Fen wondered. And how much is his training?

  One afternoon, Fen went to the aftercastle to work on the charts. While he tried his hand at all the jobs onboard, assisting the pilot was fast becoming one of his favorites, both the task itself and the company. Raj drew first in pencil and Fen went over with ink. The work was challenging, but incredibly relaxing. They spent long hours at the big round table and sometimes at ripozo, Trueblood sat down with them, writing or sketching in one of his notebooks.

  The kepten’s study door opened and a red-faced minoro emerged, running the back of his hand across his eyes as he left.

  Fen moved toward the doorway. Trueblood was coiling up a length of leather and laying it in a drawer.

  “What was that hiding about?” Fen asked.

  “None of your business.” He shut the drawer and went to his desk. Gathering some papers into a neat pile, he looked up to see the kheiron studying him.

  “What are you staring at?” he s
aid, the little Alondran E sneaking in front of staring.

  “A very young leader.”

  The kepten’s eyes rolled. “Is it true kheirons age twice as fast as humans?”

  “Twice as slow, actually.”

  “Which makes you, what, sixteen in human years?”

  “Can we start over?” Fen said. “What I meant was you handle your crew well.”

  “Meaning the way you would if one of your pre-disciplined charm got out of line.”

  So much for starting over. “Well. No. One of my charm shoots his mouth off to me, he gets a fist in it.”

  “We do things a little differently at sea.”

  “Apparently.” Fen hesitated, then tilted his head in the direction of the bedroom. “I notice you don’t sleep in there.”

  Trueblood looked up, his brows tight together. “Strange observation.”

  The heat rose along Fen’s neck. “Only because I don’t sleep much. And once or twice I’ve been up. Walking around. And passed by…” Now his head inclined in the direction of the twins’ cabin.

  Trueblood’s forehead went soft and his hand made slow circles on his heart as he weighed his words. “What’s between I and the Ĝemelos doesn’t have a name,” he said. “I’ve slept in the same room as them since I went to sea. I sleep best between them.”

  “I don’t want you to explain,” Fen said, lying.

  “You’re right, I’m too young to be commanding this ship,” the mariner said, as if he hadn’t heard. “My father died before he could teach me everything he knows. Half the time I feel like an imposter. A fraud. The other half I’m just making shit up and copying what I remember and pretending I’m him. Pretending this is just temporary and he’ll be coming back later.”

  He got up and walked past Fen, over to the bedroom door where he rested his arm on the jamb. “Lejo says I don’t sleep in here because I’m waiting for later. He’s right.” He dropped his arm and turned around, pulling the door closed. “What I do during the day is what’s important. Where I lie down at night is none of anyone’s business. This is still my father’s room and I don’t belong in it. Not yet. Not until…”