Wolflock opened his mouth to speak.
“Do not ask me things.” She breathed quietly. Her fists were clenched and her whole body was shaking.
“He won’t ask you anything,” Mothy said for him, causing Wolflock to bite back his tongue and pout slightly. “Now I think the three of us should clean up and get some sunshine. I hear the closer we get to Mystentine during Winter, the less sunlight there shall be!”
Soothed by a quick clean from the washbasins in their rooms and their nearly private purlieu at the aft of the ship.
The river air was clean and fresh, getting brisker by the day, and the few clouds above them only dappled the rejuvenating sunlight.
“I’m sorry she did that to you,” Nü finally said to Mothy. “She is a strange woman.”
“I think you mean wretched...” Wolflock mumbled darkly.
“You don’t have to apologise. You did nothing wrong. She forced herself onto me. I didn’t imagine she would be so strong,” Mothy chortled well naturedly, but Wolflock could see he was still shaken.
“Is she actually sick?” Wolflock asked without thinking, bursting to know the answers behind his friend’s assault.
Nü sighed and looked out over the water.
“Yes.” She said finally, “but it is not from the Seabug. She is suffering from another poison. Something I have never seen before. I’m not sure how though as no one else shows the same symptoms.”
Mothy was looking at her with those dewy eyes, telling Wolflock he just wanted her to keep speaking. This gave him the opportunity he needed.
“What were her signs and symptoms? And how were they different to the seabug poisoning?” Even if he had to hear a repetition of what he had already observed it would at least it was from someone who understood medicine.
“Her eyes are yellow, so are her nails and skin. Her teeth are rotted, but not stained and her breath is befouled. Her belly is hard and swollen but she is not with child. I doubt she could fall pregnant. Her vomit is mostly clear, but she has green and yellow bile in it. She is delirious, cannot stand straight and keeps talking about things good people don’t talk about.”
The last point caused Nü to seize up a little again.
“Like your father?” Wolflock offered, trying to be gentle.
“Aye... like baba...What woman openly forces herself onto a good man?”
Wolflock thought to himself that Nan Ji wasn’t what he classified as a ‘good man’, but he had learnt enough to not say this out loud.
“No person forces themselves onto another and stays a good person. I don’t know where she gets her ideas from, but her behaviour is unacceptable. I don’t know why the Captain hasn’t thrown her overboard yet.”
“I do not know either...” Nü sighed and then covered her mouth as if she’d said something horrible.
“It’s fine,” Mothy touched her hand and brought it down between them, “I think everyone on the ship has been thinking this for a few days now.”
“She has said other horrible things though. She comes from a land near mine, nearly the border of Xiayah and Uluken, but so does Haatji, and they are so different!”
“What horrible things has she said?” Wolflock probed.
“I should not repeat them... but she talks of her husband leaving her for... for...”
“She said her husband left her for a rancid slut,” Mothy offered gently.
Nü nodded and continued, “I have seen baba treat her for the last few days and it has been getting worse and worse. She talks of how the perfect woman is one that shows no skin and is only a slave to her husband, bearing him sons only. She talks about how some strange god I have never heard of wants only boys to be born and that girls are savage beasts that need to be kept reigned in for they have no true minds of their own!” The more Nü spoke the more anxious she seemed to get. “Baba... he... I can only make excuses for his belief that women are not as intelligent as men, but I feel that in his heart he holds anger towards the midwives who treated my mother when Didi was born. He does want what he thinks will make me happy, but he just...”
“He’s just a little off mark,” Mothy offered again, smiling, clearly hoping he would be the ‘mark’ Nan Ji would approve of.
“So you mean that your father is more flexible in his beliefs when it comes to your well being? But Parihaan is more rigid? In all honesty I do find her manner foul and her being quite putrid to all the senses. I wonder why she was left by her husband... what is this poison and where is it coming from? This requires some looking into...”
Wolflock didn’t realise he had started pacing and then walking away from Mothy and Nü. He became lost in his thoughts.
Mothy had known Wolflock intimately enough now to just let him pace. The world and time vanished for view as Wolflock pondered the mystery. He racked his brain for what possibly could be consumed to produce the signs and symptoms Parihaan displayed, but why would anyone drink something that apparently also killed them? Did she want to commit suicide? No. That definitely wasn’t it. Was she trying to go into a spiritual trance? Most likely not. From her frivolous and superficial demeanour she didn’t seem to be the spiritual type. As he walked around the ship, eyes fixed on a point no one else could see, he didn’t even hear Mothy say he was going to bed. He lapped the deck once more before he heard a familiar disgusting slopping noise.
Parihaan had arisen and was vomiting over the edge of the ship. But as Wolflock drew cautiously closer he saw in the darkness that she had a bottle with her. The splashing noise had actually been a bucket she had stumbled over and had spilled over the side of the ship. He could also see her drinking something she was drinking like a possessed woman. Perhaps this was a spiritual practice. The water in the clear bottle didn’t look particularly special, although it did seem to cling to the wall of the bottle like oil.
Wolflock refrained from calling out to her, choosing to just observe, but not hiding himself. She had nearly finished the bottle entirely when Geagle rushed up to her and snatched it away.
“Wait!” She cried out hysterically, scratching at it like a hungry cat.
“Yeh said that was the last of it!” He growled as if he was trying to keep his voice low, “what is this? By Houl this is strong.”
“Don’t tell,” she begged pitifully, clinging to his shirt for support. “Oh please don’t tell, Geagle-y. I’ll give you something extra special later...”
She curled against him, trying to be seductive, but Geagle snorted and pushed her away.
“I won’t tell, yeh fool. But yeh can keep yeh goods to ye’self. I’ve ‘ad my fill.”
Wolflock thought that may be the end of it, but as Geagle tossed the bottle overboard Parihaan went into a frenzy.
“NO!” She cried and nearly launched herself off the boat, “no! Give. It. Back!”
Geagle caught her and plonked her on her backside on the deck, getting cuts and scratches to his tree-trunk arms as he did so.
“Yeh should’n ‘ad it the firs’ place! Be grateful no one else is ‘ere to see! Now get ta bed afore I tell the Cap’in!”
Parihaan continued to tantrum as if Geagle had thrown her heirloom gems or firstborn child overboard. Wolflock had never seen a person behave so erratically savage. It made him feel incredibly uncomfortable with pity and disgust.
“Grogen!” Geagle called as Wolflock tucked himself away discreetly behind the centre mast. “Come give me a hand would yeh?”
Grogen chuckled darkly as he climbed down from the crows nest.
“Go put ‘er to bed, Geagle. I’ll man yer post.”
Geagle gawked for a moment in horror, but then slung the manic woman over his shoulder and carried her back to her cabin, grumbling all the way.
“Yer can come out, Mr Felen,” Grogen sighed and looked at the mast. “Sorry yer had to see tha...”
Wolflock slipped out from behind the mast and looked sheepish, “I need to work on my hiding spots...”
“Ain’t many places to ‘id
e on a ship.”
“What was that all about? What was so important in that bottle?”
Grogen sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“Ever heard of people drinking the stuff they soak medicine tools in?” he asked as if this would be hard to explain.
“Alcohol?” Wolflock was mildly astonished. People actually drank cleaning liquid?
“Aye... when yer drink it, it has other names. Booze, drink, grog. All the same stuff. Sometimes they add different stuff to it to make it taste better. I dunno. Tried it as a lad a few times when I first started on the ship. Made me mad. Like... I was gonna punch the Cap’in for telling me what ta do. I ended up brawling with another drunk and when I woke up the next day I felt like I was gonna die. My ‘ead was aching like I’d beat it against a rock all night and my body felt good and proper poisoned. Last time I touched the stuff. Much rather ‘ave a smoke wit’ the crew. Calmin’, quiet, funny. An’ I can still work. Just slower. Yer too young to try either though.”
Wolflock didn’t want to interrupt in case Grogen stopped and sent him to bed, but Grogen seemed to stop in thought for a few seconds too long.
“And that’s what Parihaan has taken? ‘Grog’ is her poison?”
“Aye. I believe so. Like I said. I only had it once in me life, but I’ve ‘eard stories of it ruinin’ marriages, careers, fam’lies and even killin’ folk. Cap’in doesn’t let booze on board though. Says it’s bad for everyone. Dunno ‘ow it got ‘ere in the first place or ‘ow Pari found it. Geagle seems to ‘ave thrown away the last of it though, so need not worry.”
But Wolflock was worried. Apparently this was the second time Parihaan had claimed to have run out of drinking alcohol and he wondered just how much truth could be placed in the words of a drunk.
Chapter 3. The Taste of Poison
The next morning Wolflock discussed his evenings events with Mothy over breakfast, but at the mention of drinking alcohol Mothy stopped smiling.
“Was it a clear round bottle?” He asked darkly.
Wolflock was quite astounded. He had never seen Mothy so stern before and he didn’t know his friend had it in him.
“Why yes!”
“Did it have the same symbol on the bottom that I have on my back?”
“I couldn’t see in the dark. Surely Parihaan wouldn’t be part of the slave trading organisation!?”
Mothy’s smile returned but it was bitter.
“The slavers liked their women subservient. If they were free or not, often they had superiority complexes. It wouldn’t surprise me if Parihaan had been influenced by them at one stage or another. They used to get some of us to make that awful stuff. Sometimes they’d force us to drink it and do terrible things... Sometimes this cult would show up and use it in ceremonies. Something about the red kind of booze being the blood of their god.”
Wolflock couldn’t help but scoff. “It comes from the earth like everything. If anything it’s the corrupted fluid of the Earth Mother.”
Mothy shrugged and ate his oatmeal (free from Tuiti fruit chunks). “Either way, Parihaan has only been acting this way overtly since the Seabug poisoning.”
“Yes... but she’s not particularly social anyway. It’s likely that she got extra attention from Nan Ji when she was ill and took it seriously. Now in her state she believes something that isn’t true...”
“She’s just a sad and lonely woman, Lockie. She’s got no more left now surely, so can we let this one go?” Mothy still smiled, but the topic had clearly made him quite sad.
“Yes. Yes of course,” Wolflock smiled and patted his shoulder. “What should we do today? I wanted to write to father and Myna, but then I’m thinking chatting with Haatji about the central East could be quite enlightening.”
“Oh! I heard they have dragon-like creatures with stone wings that protect them from sandstorms!”
*~*~*~*~*
Dear Father and Dear Myna
My apologies for combining this letter for both of you, but the information I have to write is neither confidential or exciting. There is an ill woman on the ship and she has been causing some strife, but I’ll get to the bottom of this and write more later.
Mothy is well now after the Seabug poisoning as I described in my last letter. I’m looking forward to us speaking with Haatji later about the central east and Uluken, which is where she is from. Yifi and Slavidus are nearly inseparable and our friend Nü appears to be quite fond of Mothy, not that I believe he dares to acknowledge it. In a way it is quite sweet, but I find it mostly fascinating how different people from various lands court.
I am curious about the process but I find myself writing lists of the topics I need to pursue in Mystentine when we arrive. I will require various fibres and liquids to test in different manners so I know what to look for when I use deductive reasoning in my future. And no. I still do not know what kind of career I wish to encapsulate my life with, but I do know what areas interest me. Perhaps I’ll make my own career.
Whatever happens though, I look forward to posting these letters the moment we touch upon land.
Blessed Be,
Your son and brother,
Wolflock
Haatji was happy to talk to the boys when they approached her over lunch on the deck. She was a slightly stocky lady with wise dark eyes and wore a full headscarf and long sleeved shirt and floor length skirt at all times. Sometimes she also wore a cloak over these. Apparently it was a habit she had not let go of. It reminded her of home and everyone wore similar clothes to protect from the heat, the cold and the sand. Uluken was renowned for glass making and sand was part of everyone’s lives. She said that she didn’t like men touching her because of trauma in her past, so the boys respectfully kept a slight distance. The more she spoke, the more Wolflock realised how the people in the central east were not like Parihaan or supporters of her beliefs about women in the slightest. They were kind, giving, community based folk who lived in a harsh land with less forgiving deities. Wolflock listened keenly about the history of Uluken and the war between the metal city and great mountain, but part of his mind was set to devising his scheme to finally see for himself if Parihaan’s drinking alcohol was finished or not.
He left dinner early that night, inhaling his supper of fish and biscuits, saying that he had to finish his letter to his family. He closed his door and slipped down the stairs. He had seen everyone at dinner (even Parihaan, who was sitting by herself more again) and knew that he had a few hours to experiment before anyone even thought to look for him. Carrying a fairy dust lantern down with him, the wooden boxes and musty barrels were illuminated by the golden white light. He pried open a few boxes but only found various cloth, rope, dried foods, trinkets and the new waxed sales his father had made to pay for his journey.
Finally towards the forward end of the ship’s hull he found barrels. Some filled with water, others with herbs, but no drinking alcohol. Not even medical alcohol. He had looked through every box and barrel and was about to give up when his gut wrenched him onward. He knew he was on the right track, but he was missing something. Perhaps what he was looking for was in Parihaan’s room. His instincts said no though. He began to double check the barrels. Then it struck him. Why would they keep water when they were sailing on a freshwater river? He leant down closer to the clear fluid and found that it was not water, but it had a distinctly strong smell that stung his nostrils. He touched it and it felt slightly thinner than water. Tasting his finger his tongue burnt and the strong flavour of fermented potatoes made him want to spit it out. How could anyone drink this?! He thought furiously to himself. It didn’t make any sense. But Parihaan was drinking it by the bottle. He replaced the lid. Geagle said all the alcohol had been thrown out, so why was this still here? Who was lying and why?
Wolflock cupped his hand and slurped a handful of the fluid down. It burnt all the way to his stomach and he doubled over coughing. How had Parihaan drained an entire bottle so quickly? Maybe he wasn’t drinking it faster enoug
h..
Wolflock put his lips to the top of the fluid and sucked as much as he could has fast as he could but it still burnt all the way down. Coughing and feeling quite sick, he put the lid back on the barrels and surrendered. He was completely perplexed as to why Parihaan would drink this foul beverage. Especially in the quantity she did.
As he leant against the barrels he heard footsteps. Surely they hadn’t come looking for him so soon!
He scrambled behind some boxes and peeked around. He then noticed how much the ship was swaying. He was worried he might topple over. But the person walking in front of him seemed to be upright and fine. He realised after a few seconds that it was Parihaan. She went to one of the barrels and pulled out a flask.
“You’re my friend, aren’t you?” She cooed to the barrel, dipping in her flask, “you’ll never leave me. You’ll always be in me. You’ll never reject me!”
Wolflock could hear her but he couldn’t comprehend why she was talking to the liquid. What an odd woman...
She threw back three flasks that she continued to refill, and then stumbled upstairs, proceeding to mumble about how unfair her life had been and how none of it was her fault.
He didn’t remember her leaving, but he wished that the ship would stop spinning. It was a horrible feeling and he tried as hard as he could to hold back his nausea. He was dizzy and felt too hot. As he slowly ascended the stairs to the crew sleeping quarters he held onto the wall, watching his footprints make perfect marks in the dust so few people walked through. Parihaan’s footprints were there too. Giggling at how he could draw pictures in the dust with the toe of his shoe, Wolflock barely registered when he heard someone cry out for help on the deck above him. The voice was familiar though...
He half crawled, but mostly stumbled, into the passenger hall and held onto the walls as the ship violently rocked. Finally he found the open room from where the noise came from.
The Case of Parihaan's Poison (The Wolflock Cases Book 4) Page 2
