by Cheree Alsop
He handed me a plate filled with dandelion greens, crisp shreds of another type of leaf, apples and peaches that had been cut into wedges, and strips of some sort of meat, all of which was covered in a thick, honeyed sauce.
Barnaby, the weapon’s smith I had met before, grinned, showing his golden teeth. “Don’t mind Seamus. He’s just thrilled we have something new to serve up.”
“Yes, I am,” the cook said proudly. “Nobody can say I don’t know how to serve the best pilfered meal in the galley!”
“Pilfered from whom?” I asked interestedly.
Barnaby chuckled. “From the Stasher that tried to betray us.” He pointed to the cook. “Seamus was kind enough to leave them some salted gull so they don’t starve on their limping way to the Gathering.”
“The Stasher tried to betray you?” Worry for Zyla made my heart speed up. I couldn’t believe I had slept through it. “Is everyone alright?”
Barnaby nodded. “We are, thanks to a fast-acting crew. Not a hair on a head was harmed.” He grinned. “But our stores are full and their meals of gull will remind them not to mess with the Circinus ever again.”
Seamus chuckled, sending his jowls swaying. “Unfortunately, they don’t have my years of experience turning such fare into something enjoyable for the palate.”
“Enjoyable?” Barnaby asked.
Seamus rolled his eyes. “Palatable, then. You try to make that stringy mess pleasant.”
The conversation was getting heated. I lifted my plate. “I’m just glad to eat a meal as fine as this. Thank you for your culinary expertise.” I nodded toward the tables. “I think I’ll take this time to enjoy it.”
“Please do,” Seamus said with a glowing smile. He gestured toward the busy room with a sweeping arm. “Take a seat and stay for as long as you’d like.”
I chose a table in the far corner where my back was protected by the wall and I could watch the crew. I wondered if I had always been so paranoid, but the feeling of knowing nothing had the unsettling effect of reminding me how alone I truly was.
The first few bites of Seamus’ meal made me realize how long it had been since I had eaten something decent. The food was truly delectable. The meat practically melted on my tongue while the greens provided an almost bitter welcome counterbalance set off by whatever was in the sweet sauce. I hadn’t been prepared for such fine food aboard a ship. I made a mental note to compliment the cook on my way out.
By the time I pushed the plate back and looked around the room, it was packed with crew members digging into Seamus’ fine meal. The sounds of joking, happy conversations, and the usual good-natured jostling of a group on good terms filled the air. Finally full, I sat back and enjoyed just sitting still in a position where the ache from my ribs and shoulder was minimal.
My attention shifted to a game of cards being played by the next table. There was a pile of assorted coins, gems, and even a jeweled knife blade in the middle, with half a dozen men and one woman sitting around it. Each held ten cards. On the two closest hands, I could see pictures of animals and various astronomical bodies. The woman had her cards arranged with animals on one side and the stars and planets on the other. The man’s cards that I could see were mixed. When he set down a picture of a raven along with two stars and a flying meteor, the others around the table groaned.
“My lucky day,” the man said. He pulled the pile toward him while the others threw down their cards.
“It was your lucky day yesterday,” a man with a dark yellow scarf around his head and tattoos on his cheeks growled from across the table. “I think your luck might be a little more than that.”
The man with his back to me shrugged. “Or you’re just losing your edge, Joss. Not my problem.”
Joss’ gaze narrowed. His eyes flickered to me, then back to the other man.
“We’ll see,” he said.
I watched as a man gathered and shuffled the cards, then dealt seven of them out. Each person looked at their hand, chose three, and set them face down on the table. They then randomly selected another’s hand of three and added them to their cards. The dealer finished handing out the last three cards so that they held their ten.
Joss looked from me to the man in front of me. I sat up straighter. I had a clear view of the woman’s cards, but not the man’s. I was about to shift to the right when movement caught my eye. The man cleared his throat and adjusted his seat. At the same time, he closed two cards in his left hand and slid them beneath the table toward the woman. Her hand was already there. With deft, swift movements, they switched cards and added them to their stack.
I fought back a smile and wondered how long the two had practiced. The smoothness of the action told of much experience. I watched the rest of the game and wasn’t surprised when the woman set down her cards to the visible dismay of the others.
“Nice hand, Jemima,” Joss admitted.
The rest of the crew gave up their bounty without argument.
I caught Joss’ attention after the next hand was dealt. He watched me closely with something akin to humor in his eyes. Keeping my gaze on the man and woman, I lifted my chin the moment the two exchanged their cards. Joss’ eyes widened and he stood.
“Hold it!” he yelled. He pulled a knife from his belt and pointed it at the man. “Ticker, what’s in your hand?”
Everyone watched with wide eyes when the man lifted his hand to show the two cards hidden underneath.
Joss’ knife shifted to the woman. “And Jemima? Are you his accomplice?”
The woman laughed, sounding not at all bothered by Joss’ accusations. “You caught me,” she said. She tossed the cards onto the table.
A groan went up from several of the others.
“You’ve been cheating this whole time?” a man with hoops through his ears demanded.
“Since we left the Garrington,” Jemima said.
Instead of the anger I expected, laughter followed. Ticker proceeded to dump a pouch of winnings on the table and didn’t flinch when the others gathered up their belongings. Jemima shoved her recently acquired stash forward to add to the pile.
“We had a good run. What brought me down?” he asked.
Joss lifted a shoulder and turned his gaze to me. “Someone with better eyes than you.”
Ticker glanced back at me. “You?”
I couldn’t help the smile that ran across my face at his incredulous tone. I indicated my empty plate. “I was just enjoying my meal and the game caught my interest.”
He rolled his eyes. “Remind me to sit with my back to the wall next time.”
Jemima threw me a warm smile. “It’s a wonder you can see with those things,” she said, indicating my goggles. “You should take them off. You don’t have to wear them with us. Our crew is our family.”
“Yeah, a family who cheats,” Joss said.
Jemima winked at him. “And we would have had everything if it wasn’t for him. You should be grateful.”
“We’re all grateful,” another man said. He looked at Ticker. “And you owe me my watch back!”
“I’ll get it to you,” Ticker replied.
Jemima hadn’t taken her eyes off of me. “Well, Orion? I’ve heard plenty about those eyes, but I haven’t seen them yet.”
Others in the room had risen from their tables and wandered over to see what the commotion was about. Interested gazes studied me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the attention.
“What do you have to lose?” Jemima asked, her tone encouraging. “They don’t look very comfortable. Jack has a keen hand at invention, but his aesthetics are severely lacking.”
I didn’t want to admit that the goggles were indeed tight. They put pressure on the sides of my head in a way I had learned to accept because they saved me from the blinding effects of the sunlight, but the galley had only a few small windows and they were on the far side of the room from where I sat.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” I told her, my words cautious. “But I don’t w
ant to scare anyone.”
“You’ll be fine, sweetie,” she said. “Go for it.”
At her urging, I slipped the goggles from my head. I kept my eyes closed for a moment. Up to that point, the crew had been friendly enough. Fighting together and surviving had definitely allowed me to settle in. I didn’t want to destroy that. But I refused to voice my fears to a room full of strangers. Instead, I sucked in a silent breath and opened my eyes.
Those closest to the table stepped back as the blue glow chased any of the remaining darkness from the room.
Jemima shielded her eyes with her hand. “That’s bright, sugar. Can you tone it down?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have any control over it. I don’t even know why it happens.”
“You don’t know why?” she repeated. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. It doesn’t make any sense.”
I fought off embarrassment at the suspicion in several gazes and went with honesty. “I woke up chained in a cage in the belly of a Solariat trading ship. Zyla helped me escape after the ships went down. I don’t remember anything before that.”
“Well that’s a rough go,” Jemima said with a sympathetic expression. “Solariat traders aren’t known for their kindness.”
“Tell me about it,” I replied.
Chuckles sounded around the room.
“Maybe you can use it,” someone suggested.
When I turned my gaze on him, the man flinched. I reached for the goggles I had set on the table.
“Wait,” Joss said. “Maybe Kendal’s right. There’s got to be a reason for it.”
I didn’t bother to mention the metallic tattoos on my chest. The way they were watching me, not everyone thought I was a crazy psychopath. They accepted my weird eyes. I wasn’t about to push it.
“Try this,” Joss said. He held up a card with the back facing me. “What card is this?”
“A seagull,” a skinny man on the other side of the table replied. He wavered where he stood as if he’d had too much to drink and blinked owlishly from the card to my bright gaze.
Joss rolled his eyes as the other sailors broke out into laughter.
“Thanks, Martin, but I meant for Orion to answer.” He drew another card and held it up. He shot a glare at the crowd on the other side of the table, which brought a laugh from them, before he turned back to me. “Alright, son. Try again.”
I studied the back of the card. It was obvious he thought my glowing eyes would allow me to the see the image on the other side, but they didn’t work that way.
“Concentrate,” Joss encouraged.
I humored him and focused on the back of the card as hard as I could.
“Are his eyes getting brighter?” Jemima whispered.
“Yeah,” a crew member replied. “A lot brighter.”
The others crowded closer. I wasn’t sure it was the type of attention I really wanted. I was about to turn away when something happened. I felt a moment of vertigo, and then my vision shifted. My gaze didn’t allow me to see what was on the other side of the card; instead, I suddenly saw completely through it to the man beyond. But my vision didn’t stop there. I saw through the man to his bones. When he moved, they moved. It was eerie to see the pieces that made up the man.
Joss must have read something in my expression because he asked, “What do you see? Can you see the back of the card?”
I hesitated, worried they would think me more of a freak than I already was.
“Go ahead,” Joss urged, his voice kind. “You can tell us.”
I focused my attention on the man behind the card. “You broke your arm once.”
I glanced up, willing my eyes to relax enough that his face came into focus. The surprise he felt was clear.
“I fell off the mast when I was eight,” he said. “Wore a cast for weeks.” His eyebrows pulled together and he asked, “How did you know that?”
I tried to think of a way to explain when a woman on my left side said, “He can see it with those eyes of his.”
Several of the crew stepped back. I put my hands on the table and was about to push away my chair so I could stand, but Joss held out his hand.
There was no sign of fear on his face when he said, “Which finger did I break last year?”
I shook my head. “I’m not going to—”
“Which one?” he insisted, holding it closer.
I let out a breath to calm myself and studied his hand. It was easy to see the healed fracture at the base of his ring finger. I pointed to it.
A grin spread across the man’s face. He held up his hand for everyone to see.
“Remember when we left port at the Gathering and I didn’t have the rope untied fast enough?” Joss met my gaze. “The Airborne Defense had caught wind of us and the Cap’n was itching to get us out of there. In the haste, I forgot everything and grabbed the rope like some scrub. Nearly cost me my finger.”
He ran a hand down his scarf to the blond dreadlocks that hung past his shoulders. The amazement on his face made his eyes practically glow. “This boy’s meant to be a healer.”
I stared at him. “A healer? I don’t know the first thing about injuries.”
He wiggled his fingers meaningfully. “But you can see it.” He waved toward the stern. “Docs out there are guessing. Imagine what they could do if they could see what they were healing!” He pointed at my chest. “You have that power, Orion.”
“I don’t know,” I began, but was cut off when another man shouldered his way forward.
“My leg’s been hurting something fierce since that last battle. Can you look at it?”
Without further preamble, he lifted his leg, dirty bare foot and all, and set it in the middle of the table next to my empty plate.
“Watch the ware,” Seamus scolded. He scooped the plate up into his ample arms and stormed away.
Nobody else appeared to notice the exasperated cook. Their attention was focused on the foot in front of me.
I had never been much of a foot person. Regarding the dirty sole, hairy toes, and chipped nails in front of me didn’t come close to changing that opinion. Nevertheless, I sat forward and studied the appendage.
My eyes refused to cooperate at first. I stared at the foot, willing my gaze to focus the way it did before, but it wouldn’t. I stared so hard a headache threatened to bloom between my eyes.
“Relax,” Joss said. “Pretend it’s just the card.”
I glanced at him.
He nodded encouragingly at the extremity. “Maybe you’re trying too hard.”
I looked back at the foot. As ridiculous as it sounded, pretending the appendage was nothing more than the card actually helped me calm down. It felt less important, as though the health of the man in front of me didn’t hinge on my ability to see through his body to his bones. The thought brought a wry smile to my face.
My vision changed, the vertigo swept through me and was gone in an instant, and then I was looking through the muscles to the bones of the foot on the table.
Talking had arisen while I was simply staring, but when I leaned forward to view the foot more closely, even whispers vanished to leave pure silence in the galley. The ting of Seamus putting away one of his culinary utensils sounded loud in the room.
“Quiet, Cook,” Barnaby shouted. “The boy’s trying to concentrate!”
“Shhh!” someone else told the weapons smith.
I ignored them and studied the foot with interest. The sight of the veins and muscles giving way to bones and ligaments was incredible. I had read a few books somewhere, at some time I couldn’t remember. Memories of pictures on a page with blue and red ink surfaced. The sketches were crude at best and in no way looked like the living tissue I beheld.
The man moved his foot slightly, no doubt growing uncomfortable at the awkward position his enthusiasm had put him in. Someone grabbed his arm and steadied him. I could only stare in amazement as the muscles and tendons shifted with the tiny movement. The pulsing of blood throug
h the vessels flooded the area. I could have watched the workings of that single foot for days.
“See anything?” Joss asked, reminding me of my task.
I cleared my throat. “Almost there,” I said.
I rose from the table and bent over the foot. With my hands on either side of it, I willed my vision deeper. To my relief, it complied.
I followed the toes to the ankle and paused. A small line split up the leg bone. It looked innocent enough, but was similar to Joss’ healed finger. I put a finger to it and probed it gently.
“How does this feel?”
The man nearly jumped off the table. “Like you stuck me with a poker!”
I relaxed my gaze and let my vision pull back. The bones, muscles, veins, and tissue vanished until I was looking at his skin. Bruising and swelling were visible along the man’s tanned leg up into the tattered hem of his pants.
“You cracked the bone,” I told him. “I’d ask Doc to wrap it. Try to stay off it until the pain lessens.”
The man stared at me. “You saw all that?”
I nodded.
His incredulous expression turned into one of gratitude, “Well, thanks, Orion. Now at least I know why it’s hurting.”
“Help him to Doc,” Joss instructed.
Two men ducked under my impromptu patient’s arms and helped him limp away.
Joss rolled his eyes when he met my gaze. “Leave it to Jasper to ignore a break.”
Others laughed around the galley.
“Hey, Orion, can you tell me what’s wrong with my ribs?” a young man asked. “They’ve been hurting me for weeks. I have to sleep sitting up, and the rest of me’s not too happy about it.”
“I can try to look,” I said.
Everyone gave way for him to reach the table. He pulled off his shirt to show loose wrappings around his chest that looked to have been there for days.
“You’ve already seen Doc?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how she would feel about me checking on her patients.
“Yeah,” he replied. “But she said there’s not much she can do.”
Keeping Joss’ advice in mind, I willed myself to relax and studied his ribs. My eyes adjusted faster this time. Within seconds, I saw the reason for the man’s discomfort.
