by Aaron Galvin
Kellen watched Tieran look down on him and grin. “And this one here.”
Tieran knelt and extended an open hand toward him.
Kellen took it and felt himself pulled up and out. His muscles trembling from the cold and the fight, he collapsed onto the stony floor.
Tieran clapped him on the shoulder. “Good show, that. You done well for yourself in there.” He slapped Kellen’s cheeks to garner his attention. “You’ll do it again too, won’t you?”
Kellen nodded.
“Good boy.” Tieran pet Kellen’s wet hair. Whistled at his companions. “Need to find this one a proper coat. He’s earned it.”
GARRETT
Garrett looked on the Collins mansion with equal parts dread and fascination. The stonework intricacies alone boggled his mind. Lit torches cast their flickering lights against black-stained Crayfish emblems, carved near every window and doorframe, as if daring any who entered to forget who owned the mansion.
“Come along then, boys.” The master of Crayfish Cavern clapped Garrett on the shoulder. “I have a hunger for wines, cheeses, and the great tales of my son’s first hunt.”
Garrett didn’t pretend to care about the hunting portion, but the thought of food wrestled a groan from his belly. He watched as the hooded guards who accompanied them from the dock rushed to open the great wooden doors. The weight of them called a creaking echo Garrett swore others heard throughout the cavern.
August opened his hand invitingly toward the mansion.
Garrett ventured in. He noticed the carpets first; lush rugs of soft sea grass extending down the open hall. He hesitated to walk on it until Oscar burst ahead without so much as bothering to wipe his feet. Candelabras, with arms shaped liked octopus tentacles to hold the tallow candles, lined the long hall. Above, stone arches with draperies of deep crimson hung from rafter to rafter, almost like parachutes.
“Like those, do you?” August asked. “A salvaging crew of mine discovered them in an old trading shipwreck. I scarce thought they’d dry out so easily, but…” He shrugged gaily. “Good as new and priceless to boot. What are they again?”
“Chinese, 2nd century, sir,” said one of his attendants. “Of the Han dynasty.”
“Ah, yes, yes, of course. You’ll have to forgive me, Garrett,” said August. “When one acquires so many ancient relics, he can hardly be expected to recall all the dates and facts.”
Indeed, every nook and cranny of the mansion seemed a museum, to Garrett’s mind. Stacked paintings with golden frames leaned against walls. Decorative ewers of varied shapes, sizes, and colors that he dared not go near. High-backed chairs of polished wood engraved with sigils Garrett had never seen before.
Walking down the long hall, Garrett caught glimpses of every room, each more extravagant than the last. One room had nothing but pirate flags and weapons adorning the walls—daggers and dirks, swords, axes, and scimitars. The next room held guns and long rifles, pistols, and even a corner with stacked cannonballs.
“As you can tell, I’m quite the collector, Garrett,” said August. “I’ve always been fascinated by treasure. Even as a pup, I was always finding things to keep. Ah, here we are.”
Garrett followed August into a large dining area where Oscar slurped steaming soup at one end of a table of polished black wood. “An old sailing mast I had split down the middle and sanded down,” August added helpfully. At least twenty high-backed chairs lined the rectangular table, each bearing the Crayfish emblem, claws pointed up and open, as their head centerpiece.
Garrett watched older men stoke the massive fireplace. Above its mantle, he saw the same crest of interlocking Cs that Oscar had pointed out back at the Boston pier. Lady servants in drab, hooded dresses stood with their heads bowed near the table. What is this place?
“Do look up, Garrett,” said August. “You’re missing the best part.”
Garrett obeyed and gasped at the sight. He had seen geodes before, the largest the size of a basketball. None anywhere close to the scale he looked on now.
It’s bigger than the courthouse in town.
The dome-shaped geode ceiling gleamed deep violet. Light from the torches seemed to send endless waves of color across its crystals. Garrett near wept at the sight.
“Never seen anything like that in all your days, have you?” asked August.
Garrett shook his head. “No, sir.”
August barked a laugh. “I’ll never get over that. Did you all hear him? He called me, sir.”
“Aye, m’lord,” the attendants answered as one.
“Me!” August said again, as if they didn’t hear him. “A Selkie.”
“Aye, m’lord.”
Garrett heard August laugh again before ushering him toward the table. He had scarcely sat down before an attendant appeared with piping hot soup to place before him. It reeked of seafood, but Garrett spooned a mouthful despite himself. Briny and rubbery, he swallowed it down nonetheless, so as to not insult his hosts. Fortunately, more attendants placed rolls and cheeses next. Garrett plunged into them.
“Hungry are you?” August asked. “That’s good. Always like to see young lads eat. Makes you strong. Then one day, you wake up and look like me.”
Garrett chuckled as the whale of a man heaped bread and cheese upon his own plate.
“Wine,” August called and had his cup instantly attended. “Now, Oscar, my boy, regale me with tales of your epic hunt. I would hear how you crossed paths with Garrett.”
Garrett listened intently as Oscar relayed his story to August. Heard him complain about Lenny Dolan and whine of his mistreatment. He soon learned it had been Lenny that first found him and convinced Oscar of his worth.
Whatever that means. Garrett thought as he reached for his flagon to wash down more of the foul soup. He hesitated even as he brought the cup to his lips, seeing the rubies embedded in it. Garrett caught August watching him rather than listening to his son. Not wishing to offend, he drank down the sour liquid.
A servant took the cup and filled it before Garrett had a chance to place it on the table.
He continued picking at the food as Oscar droned on and noticed August slumping in his chair, one thrice the size of the others ringed round the table. Only when Oscar mentioned the Nomad at the Indianapolis Zoo did Garrett see a flicker of life return to August’s previously gay demeanor.
“A Nomad, you say?”
“Aye, father. A Great Hammer.”
“Hmm.” August stroked his jowls. “But how did a Nomad end up there? Garrett, did you see him too?”
“Y-yes.”
“And did he speak to you? Say anything at all?”
Garrett shook his head.
“Curious…” August’s gaze wandered. “Very curious.”
An attendant suddenly rushed the table. Garrett noticed her seashell-shaped earrings shimmering as she whispered to August.
The Crayfish’s eyes went wide. “Hide them both. Quickly!”
Garrett felt hands under his armpits as servants ushered him stand. What’s going on?
“Take your hands off me,” Oscar cried. “Father!”
“No time, son. We’ve no time. Hurry!”
A servant forcefully led Garrett around the table, toward a tapestry that took up nearly half the wall. Garrett noted the seaside setting, mermaids lain out upon the rocks with scaly tails, though he saw people too. Most dressed in hooded suits. They’re Selkies, Garrett thought.
“Father, let go!” Oscar whined as August dragged him toward the drapery.
“Open it,” August commanded.
Garrett watched a servant reach behind the tapestry. A second later, the servant’s hands flew over a dangling rope, tugging it down, hand over hand. Garrett heard squealing wheels.
The tapestry rolled upward.
A hidden entrance!
August flung the doublewide doors open, revealing a steep, spiraled staircase of stone.
Garrett swore he heard water somewhere far below. Augh. What is that s
mell? It hinted of gym locker room and rotted fruit. He also knew he would not risk descending the steps to find out. No telling how deep that goes.
“No time!” said August. “Quickly, now!”
Garrett heard laughter. Saw August’s face pale.
“Do you see what I do, Watawa?” asked a voice teeming with confidence. “It seems our presence here is unwanted.”
Garrett peeked around the Crayfish.
A pair of strangers stood at the end of the table, watching them. Their lean bodies, fierce demeanor, and tribal tattoos conjured Native American pictures Garrett had often looked at in history class. Still, though both had raven hair, black as pitch, their skin seemed too pale for Garrett to believe them Indians.
“Nomads…” Oscar said, his voice full of wonder.
“Only half, boy,” said the taller of the two strangers. “But enough to suffice.”
The Nomad with a lone eye cocked his head upon seeing Garrett. Muttered gibberish.
The other smirked. “My brother, Watawa, asks why the Crayfish would hide such a prize as this away?” His gaze shifted to Garrett. “Our greetings to you, Orc.”
“My name’s Garrett.”
The Nomad grinned, revealing a pair of dimples previously hidden. “And I am Quill. Tell me, how is it an Orc comes to sup with a Selkie slaver?”
“A guest,” August said merrily. “Only a guest.”
“And like to be a permanent one, if the tales I’ve heard of you are true, Crayfish.” Quill paced toward Garrett.
What’s he doing? Garrett stood, frozen, as Quill circled round him. Eyed him up and down.
“What do you think, brother?” Quill asked. “Is this Orc the treasure we’ve come for?”
Watawa shrugged.
“H-he’s not for sale,” said August.
“Sale?” Garrett asked. “Wh-what do you mean? What’s for sale?”
Quill smirked. “You have no idea where you are, do you, Orc?”
“Excuse me,” said August. “Uh, what did you say your name was again?”
“You heard me the first time,” said Quill.
“Ah, yes, well, I realize common courtesies are often lost on Nomads—”
Garrett heard Watawa mumble.
“Peace, brother,” said Quill. “Let the Crayfish finish. Surely this one is not so foolish as to insult his guests. Especially emissaries sent by No Boundaries.”
August swallowed hard. His hand reached for a chair to lean upon. “Did you say…”
Quill chuckled. “You’ve heard of our chief then, I take it.”
“A-aye.” August quivered. “Everyone’s heard of him.”
“Indeed,” said Quill. “Then you will know he is quick to reward those generous to him. Faster still to punish those defiant of his wants.”
Garrett watched August’s eyes flit between him and Quill.
“I-I can only give you what I own,” said August.
Quill laughed.
“What?” Garrett heard himself ask. “What’s so funny? What is he talking about?”
“The Lord Crayfish thinks we’re come to take you, Orc,” said Quill, looking to August again. “But that would only bring the Painted Guard upon us…”
Watawa mumbled.
Garrett watched Quill’s eyes find August. “My brother says you’ve already sent for them.”
“How can he…” August blinked. “Aye. The moment I heard the news. I-I want no trouble with my business.”
“What you want and the trouble you find is of little consequence to us,” said Quill.
“Wait,” said Garrett. “What’s this…Painted Guard…thing.”
Quill’s gaze fell on him. “Which of the five oceans are you from, Orc?”
“Five?”
“Aye. Which?”
Garrett looked to Oscar for the answer.
The Crayfish’s son scarcely noticed him. Too busy watching the Nomads, mesmerized.
Garrett found Quill staring at him, his eyes like piercing daggers.
“He’s not from the Salt,” said Oscar. “I found him ashore.”
“Son!”
Garrett felt cold as he watched Quill’s gaze narrow on Oscar.
“Did you? Where?”
Oscar opened his mouth to speak when Garrett heard a struggle outside the dining hall. A moment later, a girl in a cream-colored and hooded suit burst through the doors.
I know her. Garrett thought. Where have I seen her before?
“Chidi?” said Oscar. “How did you get—”
Garrett tensed as a trio of hooded guards came through the doors after her. He watched the girl nimbly dodge them, and run for Fenton. “Please, my lord!” She fell at Fenton’s feet, panting for air. “You must come quick.”
“Chidi!” said Oscar. “How did you get here? Where’s Henry?”
She was at school! Garrett remembered. In the office before Sheriff Hullinger took me to the jail.
Garrett thought the girl must have felt him staring. She glanced away the moment she saw his face, like one ashamed.
“A-at the dock,” Chidi panted. “He bids you come down…had a fight with…Lenny.”
“A fight.” Oscar’s voice perked. “I’ll come with you. I’d love to watch Henry beat the blubber out of the nipperkin. Though I expect to have some harsh words with Henry myself.”
Garrett heard Watawa mumble. He moved aside as Quill stepped past him, closer to Chidi. What’s he doing? Garrett wondered as the Nomad knelt beside her and placed his fingers under her chin.
Chidi’s lip quivered as Quill bid her look up.
Watawa mumbled again, yet this time Garrett swore his tone sounded different. Quieter. Thoughtful.
“Who are you, child?” Quill asked.
“That’s Chidi,” Oscar sneered. “She’s a runaway and Henry’s whor—”
“Watawa,” Quill said softly. “If that whelp speaks again…take his tongue.”
Garrett heard a blade drawn from its sheathe. He nervously glanced at Watawa, saw the one-eyed Nomad pointed a long knife in Oscar’s direction.
Oscar shrunk behind his massive father.
“Now,” said Quill to the girl. “Who are you?”
“Chi-Chidi, my lord.”
School…The front office! Garrett remembered. She was there when Sheriff Hullinger led me out.
“I am no lord,” said Quill. “Only an Unwanted. Like you…”
Garrett saw the Nomad look back at him.
“And you, Orc.”
Stop calling me that. Garrett thought to say. Seeing Watawa and his long knife made him keep his silence.
“P-please, sir,” said Chidi. “Please let me go. My owner will beat me if I delay.”
Quill nodded. Glanced at August. “You own this girl?”
August vehemently shook his head. “I hired her master to protect my son. He insisted she be allowed to accompany him.”
“Why?”
“To keep his bed warm, I shouldn’t wonder,” said August. “Look at her. Beautiful and dark. I should welcome her into my own bed if Henry would allow it.”
Dude. She’s standing right there. Garrett grimaced. He searched the faces of those around him. None seemed as disgusted as he at the way August spoke of Chidi.
“And this…Henry…” said Quill. “He would not allow it?”
“Wouldn’t hear of it,” said August. “No matter how much I offered for the girl.”
Garrett heard Watawa mumble again.
Quill nodded. “I should like to meet this Henry.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said August. “I’m throwing a dinner party tonight. Henry will be invited of course, as will all the buyers for tomorrow’s auction.” He hesitated. “A-am I right in assuming you and, uh—”
Garrett watched August lick his lips as he glanced to the other brother.
“Ah, um,” August wrung his hands. “Will you both do me the honor of attending also?”
“Aye,” said Quill, helping Chidi stand. �
�We should like that. I can hardly remember the last time I was hosted by a Crayfish.”
Garrett heard Watawa chuckle.
“Pl-please, sirs,” said Chidi. “My master—”
“Yes, yes, you must needs return to Henry,” said August. “Fenton.”
The grim-faced Selkie stepped forward. “Aye, master.”
“Do see Chidi down to the dock and…uh…” August reached behind him. “Take my son with you.”
“As you wish, master.” Fenton bowed away.
Garrett noticed both Nomads watched Fenton escort Chidi and Oscar from the room with great interest. Only when the doors had closed did they exchanged a look before facing the Crayfish.
“Might, uh, might I offer you both some refreshment?” August asked. “Some clam cakes? Perhaps a spot of grog?”
“No,” said Quill. “But we should like to spend some time alone with your Orc.”
It took Garrett a moment to realize they talked about him. “Me?”
Quill nodded. “My brother and I remain curious how an Orc calf came to this cavern. Especially one who can’t seem to recall which of the five oceans he’s from.” He glanced at August. “Of course, you don’t mind if we tour your home? Perhaps have a room to speak with him in…alone.”
August’s triple chin wiggled as he shook his head. “N-not at all. I should warn you, however, the Painted Guard—”
“I assure you we’ll be gone before they reach your cavern.”
Garrett looked to August for help and saw in the Crayfish’s face he would find none. Garrett glanced at where the hidden door lay. Wondered if he might reach it in time and slip through the doors, find a way to lock the brothers from following.
“Fond of tapestries, Orc?” Quill asked.
Garrett shook his head. He’s messing with me. Knows what I’m thinking.
“Uh,” August cleared his throat. “Perhaps you would be comfortable in the library. There’s a great hearth—”
“My blood runs warm enough, Crayfish,” said Quill. “I have little need for your fires. But a library…that I have always enjoyed. It will suffice our needs.”
“Very well.”
Garrett thought August clapped at the servants in such a manner he would do anything to rid himself of the Nomads’ company.
