Stemming the Tide

by Rosie Scott

I grimaced. “I'm sorry.”

  “What? No,” Koby blurted with realization. “Apologies. I know you can't help the way you are or the changes that shapeshifting forced upon you. I promise you that I'm always willing to put in double the effort that you do, no matter how bad you get. I would drive myself insane if it meant being there for you. I'd hope you already knew that.”

  I did already know that, but it was always so reassuring to hear him say it.

  “Remember the hard times in Silvi?” Koby asked after I had said nothing. He laughed softly as if to relieve the tension in the air. “You were actively pushing me away, but I was a persistent bastard. You acted like you hated me, but I knew that wasn't true.”

  I took a long drag off my cigarette. “In my darkest times, I am filled with such self-loathing that I don't understand what I offer you other than inconvenience.”

  “We're kindred spirits,” Koby replied matter-of-factly. “We share our backgrounds and aspirations. Few people can truly understand the horrors of the underground, but we were there together. We don't have to talk about it. Just knowing you understand is enough. You are the most thoughtful person I've ever met.”

  I scoffed. “Compliment me all you want, but don't lie. You're the one who just brought up our hard times in Silvi. How thoughtful could I possibly be when I'm cruel to you?”

  “You were cruel to me, but it ate you up inside,” Koby pointed out. “Even when you are at your worst, Cal, you agonize over your mistakes and painful choices. Most people don't obsess over the decisions they make that affect other people, but you do. Guilt kills you. If you were truly heartless, you wouldn't care.”

  I saw Azazel's face. As was often the case, I imagined the utter heartbreak and hopelessness that would have tainted his handsome features when he realized we had left him behind. Guilt clogged my chest until I couldn't breathe; only when I inhaled lungfuls of ferris smoke did the stress dissipate.

  “Honestly, there's a selfish reason I like our friendship, too,” Koby admitted hesitantly.

  The self-consciousness in his tone piqued my interest. “What is it?”

  “You rely on me,” he said simply. “And I like that.”

  For some reason, that particular admission meant a lot to me. Perhaps because Koby admitted liking the same aspect of our friendship that I always believed would tire him.

  “It's not selfish to like being needed,” I told him. “Find me one person who doesn't like it, and I'll show you a liar.”

  “You're addicted to the feeling,” Koby teased.

  “How do you figure?”

  “You accepted every request thrown at you in the wildlands,” he replied with some amusement, rummaging through his satchel and pulling out a logbook. “This book is just for those requests, and the damn thing's already full!”

  I chuckled roughly. “Maybe I'm addicted to the feeling of being a disappointment with a list that long. When Cyrene first asked me to bring settlers and supplies, I said 'yes' while mentally shaking my head 'no.'”

  Koby laughed. “You just said yes because you wanted so badly to bed her.”

  “This was after she rejected me,” I protested.

  “Then you're truly beyond help.” After we laughed, Koby sobered and promised, “I'll talk to Kali about taking over the night shift, Cal. It's not like she won't jump at the chance.”

  Though I nodded nonchalantly, gratitude and elation overwhelmed me. “You won't miss helming the ship?”

  “I'm on the seas either way,” Koby reasoned. “Besides, I miss bullshitting with you more.” After he saw my smirk, he teased, “What? At least I'm man enough to admit it.”

  “Once again you hide your compliments within insults,” I mused dryly.

  Koby snickered. “It's the only way you seem to understand them.”

  Eighteen

  The delicious aroma of oiled mushrooms and onions wafted underneath the door of the captain's quarters like a much-needed distraction. While Koby and Hilly fornicated in his bed across the room from mine, I tried my best to read a book on Amora that I bought during our stop in Silvi thanks to Kali's suggestion. I was literate; I understood the words as I read them, but I retained none of it. I skipped ahead to the section on romantic love, hoping to find something sleazy, but no erotic depictions accompanied the studies of interpersonal relationships so I couldn't focus. When my stomach grumbled in reaction to the smell of well-cooked food, I tossed the book in the drawer of the table between the two beds and left.

  While walking down the long hallway to the galley, the ship didn't seem to rock at all. The ocean had been extraordinarily calm for the last few days, almost as if it were saving its energy for an outburst. Because we were a mere fortnight away from Killick, I tried not to think about what that could mean.

  The scent grew stronger as the first open archway leading into the galley appeared on my right. The glow emanating from it was soft and barely visible over the hardwood, indicating that whoever cooked within was Alderi since they worked in near darkness.

  I turned into the room. The galley stretched down the barque to my left, its only light coming from a magical lamp that hung on the wall separating the room from the hallway. The stars in the night sky through the two windows on either side of the cooking area refused to lend their glow to the ship's interior. A long bar split the galley in two, coming mere feet away from either end. Six stools lined it, fastened to the floor with metal brackets. Across the bar was the food preparation area surrounded by cabinets and secured barrels. A brick firebox was its centerpiece.

  Confirming my suspicions, it was Jaecar cooking in the kitchen. All manner of cooking tools and supplies lined the counters. Copper cookware and pewter silverware awaited use while something sizzled in a copper pan in the firebox. A few descaled fish were laid out on a cutting board, not yet cooked. Jaecar kept his hair back in a ponytail as he cooked, and beads of sweat glimmered on his dark gray face when he turned after hearing my arrival.

  “Calder,” he greeted with a smile, watching as I took the seat directly across the bar from him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for my meal,” I jested dryly.

  Jaecar laughed and turned to stir the pan's contents. “You'll get some. I'm making enough for four. Every time I cook it draws somebody out of the woodwork.”

  “I smelled mushrooms and saw how dark it was in here and thought it had to be you.”

  “That reminds me; you probably can't see in here.” A cream-colored alteration light grew in Jaecar's hand before he reached up, sticking the magical light directly to the wall to the side of the firebox.

  “I could've done that.”

  “Yeah, but you didn't.” Jaecar smirked back at me.

  I lifted on my stool to try to see what he was cooking. “Are these fish here just to look pretty, or are they part of the dish?”

  “They're part of it,” Jaecar confirmed with some amusement. “Why, did you think I would eat a mushroom-only meal?”

  “In a heartbeat. Your obsession is not subtle.”

  He laughed. “Mushrooms are the food of the gods, my friend.”

  “Which ones?”

  “All of them.”

  I leaned back on my stool. “Do you believe in the gods?”

  Jaecar shrugged, sprinkling a mixture of salt and spices over the raw fish. “I don't view religion as a matter of belief. I view things from the perspective of whether they're pertinent to my life. Whether or not the gods live, they are irrelevant to me.”

  “Because they have never helped you?”

  “They have never affected me for better or worse,” Jaecar clarified, turning the fish over to season the other sides. “Anytime I hear someone thank the gods or curse them, I don't understand how they made the connection. There are so many explanations for the things that happen in life, including coincidence. Why attribute it to some deity? We have no proof the gods ever existed save for the empty promises of our ancestors, and with them dead we can no longer tes
t their honesty.” He took the seasoned fish two at a time over to the pan before asking, “What do you believe?”

  “I don't know,” I said with some disappointment. “What you said makes sense. I've heard similar sentiments before. Sometimes I pray, but I feel nothing. How am I to know I'm heard if the results are mixed?”

  “Why do you keep praying if you don't know that it works?” Jaecar asked curiously.

  I was silent a moment as I pondered that. “In case it works.”

  “Do you remember your childhood in the kennel?” he asked next.

  My body went rigid. “Yes.”

  “Truly?” Jaecar glanced back from cooking. “Even though that was—what, two-and-a-half centuries ago?”

  I set my jaw and stared at the bar as my fingers grazed over my trouser pocket, feeling the cigarettes through its fabric. “That was the only part of my life I wished to remember until I found freedom.”

  “Were our sisters actually kind to you?” Jaecar questioned, his tone indicating disbelief.

  “No,” I said, slipping out a cigarette and my matchbook. “My first memory is being beaten until my eye swelled shut when I was five, but I don't remember why. The first time they assaulted me, I was eight.”

  Jaecar stopped stirring, but he didn't turn around. “Sexually?”

  I stuck the cigarette between my lips and lit it with a match. “Yes,” I replied low, my voice muffled.

  “Forgive me for being blunt, but why the hell would you want to remember those times?”

  “They were better than my reality as an adult.” I inhaled smoke until my lungs felt they would burst. “As a child, I hadn't yet given up hope. Had I known at the time that I would spend the next two hundred plus years as an unwilling whore, I would've lost it and committed suicide.”

  “Did you ever consider suicide at the brothel?”

  I laughed humorlessly. “Oh, yes. Nearly every day.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “At first, a lack of resources. I couldn't see well enough to steal from clients like other mates could, so I never had access to blades or paraphernalia unless someone gave them to me.”

  “And then?”

  I shrugged to downplay it. “Koby.”

  “I say this only as an expression, but thank the gods you two found each other.”

  I nodded jerkily and blew out another stream of smoke. “Speaking of the gods, how the hell did we manage to take a conversation about religion and make it about my past?”

  Jaecar chuckled awkwardly. “I was going to ask if our sisters taught you to believe in the gods at the kennel. I thought it might have to do with why you struggle with religion. But then things went in another direction.”

  “Ah.” I frowned with thought and said, “I don't remember being taught about the gods, but considering how many I know I must've been. I wonder why. I didn't need the knowledge. The sisters had my career as a mate set by the time I was ten.”

  “How do they pick children for that?”

  “Appearance. Stamina.”

  Jaecar made a gagging noise. I huffed with agreement.

  “Did they have breeders in Hazarmaveth?” Jaecar asked next.

  “No. Just mates.”

  “Were any of them dark-complected?”

  “Most of them,” I replied with some confusion. “We're Alderi. Koby and I were the lightest-skinned of the bunch.”

  Jaecar put a lid on the pan and turned to face me, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter. “All the breeders I ever saw in Quellden were your color,” he informed me. “And the queen's heirs? The same. Never in a million years would someone as dark as me be picked as a breeder.”

  “You're suggesting the queen is using selective breeding to weed out darker skin tones of Alderi,” I surmised.

  Jaecar nodded. “I don't know why, but I never saw an exception.”

  “That's...interesting.”

  “Isn't it? Do you want to know something else interesting?”

  Despite the subject, I smirked at his passion. “Sure.”

  “My second master—the one I traveled with—took direct orders from Queen Achlys. When we would roam the tunnels foraging for resources, the hunters in our group would catch some insects and fish in underground streams and lakes. There were many we would gather for food, of course, but the queen always wanted some rare creatures for her 'collection.' They were so rare, in fact, that the slaves tasked to capture them were given special equipment and taught alteration magic.”

  I'd never heard of slaves being allowed to know magic. “Why?”

  “There are creatures that live so deep in underground lakes they glow,” Jaecar explained. “Much like glowing mushrooms exist underground and not on the surface, bioluminescent creatures exist and are priceless. The hunters would have to use a combination of lures, traps, patience, and water-breathing alteration magic just to capture them.”

  “Did you ever glimpse these creatures?”

  “Yes. They were beautiful. Some of them glowed in an array of colors and were see-through. You could see their organs pumping and working. It was amazing.” Jaecar's eyes lit up as he spoke of it. “I wasn't allowed to know anything about them since I was only a forager, but I found out as much as I could when I could sneak a few minutes of questions in with the hunter slaves. One told me that creatures like this had to evolve to their surroundings. Many of them didn't have eyes because they used other methods to find their way in complete darkness. Those that did have eyes...well, do you want to guess what they looked like?”

  I hesitated, thinking of the eyes of the fish Jaecar cooked as we spoke. “I'd assume they looked like any other fish eyes. Big pupil, metallic iris.”

  “No.” Jaecar leaned forward like he revealed a secret. “They were black. Pure black.” He pointed at his own eyes that matched the description.

  A chill rolled down my spine. “What are you hinting at?”

  “A conspiracy, maybe?” Jaecar replied with a smile. “Queen Achlys hasn't been queen forever, of course, but she's been in power for hundreds of years and has started trying to control the skin tone of her people with selective breeding. What if our previous queens tried different methods of control? The history of the Alderi is not well-recorded because we as a race are notorious for loathing records, paperwork, and matters of the mind. That leaves it mostly up to debate, doesn't it?”

  “What's your theory?” Given his enthusiasm for this subject, I figured he had one.

  “My theory is that your eyes are proof of a history our sisters have tried to quell,” Jaecar replied. “I think the Alderi started on the surface like all other races. Something happened—war, threat of genocide, what have you—to convince our ancestors to start a civilization underground. Over thousands of years underground, much like those fish, we evolved. And you—” he motioned to my eyes again “—are proof that nature refuses to be silenced. Perhaps, after living for thousands of years on the surface and breeding here, the Alderi could adapt once more to the elements.”

  I said nothing as I smoked.

  Jaecar finally laughed, seeming somewhat embarrassed by his rant. “You think I'm crazy.”

  “Not at all,” I argued. “I think you're intelligent. So much so that anything I say could sound stupid in comparison.”

  “Did you have something to add?” Jaecar prodded. “Because if you think my theory has merit, I could talk about this all day with you.”

  After chuckling at his excitement, I said, “I was just going to point out that Quellden is the oldest underground settlement. If your theory is correct, that means that's the city our ancestors built right after this unknown catalyst. Its name—Quellden—literally means 'sanctuary of suppression.' It's an absurd oxymoron. It brings credence to your theory that our people ignore our own history.”

  “Right!” Jaecar clapped once with excitement. “See? I'm not crazy! I'm on to something! Do you study the meanings of names?”

  An ac
he clenched my gut. I looked down at the bar and said, “No. I once knew a man who did. You remind me a lot of him.”

  Jaecar must have sensed the sadness in my tone, for he suddenly was at a loss for words.

  “Uh...so,” I went on, clearing my throat, “is this why you are such an avid reader? Your quest for answers?”

  The awkwardness in the air subsided. “Yes,” Jaecar replied, turning to tend to the fish. “I don't always trust myths and legends, so I theorize about the forgotten parts of history and try to back up or disprove them through study. No surface texts exist on Alderi history alone, of course, but there are books written about the theories of others. Most interesting to me are the accounts of historical figures who claim the Alderi had a hand in ancient wars or events. I use those to try to piece together a timeline of when the Alderi moved underground and how the women oppressed the men.”

  “You don't believe Alderi men were always slaves?”

  “Why would I?” Jaecar asked rhetorically. “All people are naturally born free. It is the actions of others that restrain us. Perhaps that catalyst we spoke of was a civil war between the sexes. Maybe our ancestor brothers fought for freedom against our sisters generations ago and simply lost. Other races could've gotten involved. I don't know, but I want to know.”

  “What do you want to know?” Koby wiggled his eyebrows with intrigue as he walked through the archway behind me. My stomach dropped as I mentally pleaded for Jaecar not to mention anything about an Alderi civil war to Koby.

  Jaecar glanced back from cooking. “I would have to repeat a looong conversation to tell you, friend. In short? History. I want to know why the world's the way it is.”

  “Don't we all?” Koby took a seat beside me as I breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you making us?”

  Jaecar laughed. “Why do both of you treat me like the crew cook when you don't have the decency to give me the title?”

  “You're the crew cook,” I blurted.

  “Done!” Koby pounded his fist once on the bar. “You have the title. Make us some food.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Jaecar complained light-heartedly. “Have I ever told you guys that I love this crew?”