‘Amazing thing, the siren,’ Becq said.
‘Yes, very,’ Yana said.
‘You wouldn’t think something like that could kill, would you?’
‘I guess not.’ Yana looked at the patterns in the sand, and at the thin strips of detritus that marked the changes of the tide. She walked with one foot either side of a line.
‘What’s on your mind, Yana? Come on, we’re close aren’t we?’
Yana sighed, stopped walking to sit on the sand. Becq crouched down beside her. To their right, the island curved out slightly, a knuckle of rocks protruding, slowing down the water.
‘A lot’s going on, Becq. My life is changing.’
Becq was silent, fiddled with a strand of her dark, blonde hair.
‘Jefry and I are having some major problems.’ Yana’s eyes focussed somewhere in the distance. ‘I had an affair, Becq. I slept with someone else.’
Becq looked across at Yana. ‘You had an affair?’
‘Jefry and I are very much over. Have been for ages. Oh come on, it’s not like I felt anything for him. It’s been over for months and months and the very sight of him makes me sick. D’you hear me? Sick.’
Becq said, ‘When did all this happen?’
Yana held her head at an angle whilst she drew her knees to her chest. ‘When?’ Becq said again. ‘Since we left Escha?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Who? Who did you sleep with? It wasn’t my father was it?’ Yana laughed. ‘Hell, no. Not him.’ ‘Manny?’ Yana’s face creased slightly. It was a mixture of pain and relief, as if she were about to throw up the admission. ‘Yes.’
Becq choked a gasp, wanted to be sick. She felt desire to strike out at her. She wanted to scream in the woman’s face. Instead, her head quivered and she looked down. A sense of betrayal filled her. Yana knew how she felt about Manolin.
‘I’m sorry, Becq. It’s not how it seems. It was nothing, just one night. I regret it was with him.’ She rested her hand on Becq’s arm.
Becq said, ‘Please let go.’
Yana released her grip. ‘I know you like him. I’m sorry.’
‘Did you enjoy it?’
Yana looked across. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Did you enjoy it?’ Becq said. ‘Was it good? No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.’ ‘I’m really sorry. We were drunk. He would’ve slept with anyone the way his mind was.’
‘Stop talking,’ Becq said.
Yana slumped back with a sigh, tilted her head up at the stars. Her hands were clasped over her stomach.
Becq stood up, stepped over Yana, marched back to the village. Tears streamed down her face, her eyes became hot. She walked towards Manolin, who was standing with the doctor outside his hut.
Manolin looked up from his conversation with Forb as Becq strode with some purpose across the beach towards him, her arms moving with jerkiness by her sides. Manolin said, ‘Hey-’
‘Don’t you give me that, you bastard.’
‘Hey, what’s this about?’ Manolin looked at Forb sheepishly.
‘You know perfectly well what this is about?’
‘I’ll leave you two alone,’ Forb said. He stepped sideways and up into his hut, took one last glance before walking in.
Becq focussed on Manolin. ‘You ... you slept with her, didn’t you?’
‘What?’ Manolin said.
‘You slept with her didn’t you?’
‘Look, Becq, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You slept with Yana.’
‘Please, keep your voice down.’ Despite the darkness, he could see her red eyes and the wetness around her cheeks. ‘Why?’ ‘Look, Becq ... Did she tell you that?’ ‘Yes, of course she did. What d’you think I’d make it up?’ ‘No, I... Look, I think that’s between me and her.’ ‘No, not when you go ruining other people’s lives. Not when you hurt other people?’ ‘Does Jefry know then?’ Manolin said. He glanced around in case the rumel was somehow nearby, the sense of paranoia all too sudden.
‘I don’t know,’ Becq said. ‘I hate you, Manolin. I hate you. I want you to know that no matter how much you think of yourself, you are the vilest man I’ve ever met.’
Manolin watched her turn and stomp down the beach to the rafts, and her feet slipped on the sand. She pushed the raft to her hut, climbed up inside.
Becq fell onto the floor of the hut in a rage of tears. She sobbed, into her blankets, lying on her side, and she drew her knees up to her chest. For minutes she vibrated with anger. When she found that she was too tired to cry any further, she reached inside her bedding and picked up the doll. She held it up and looked at it through stinging eyes. Then, she drew it close to her chest, inhaling deeply.
She lay there for some time hoping the repetitive surf would send her to sleep. Her eyes burned with her sadness. It was over an hour before she began to think rationally: that Manolin was not hers and had never been. He had hardly ever looked her way. Through never really getting to know Manolin, she had formed her own opinions of what he was like, what he wanted, and what he would do for her. She knew she was wrong. She knew that her relationship with Manolin was mainly in her mind. Perhaps that was why she was crying: the realisation that her fantasies were not real.
She believed Yana ought to have known better. Yana knew how she felt. Then, the woman did have her own problems, too. Perhaps she was justified. Becq realised that she was convincing herself that everyone else was right again. Her lack of self confidence, ironically, forced itself to the front of her conscious. She wondered what would be the case if they were all animals. Would everything be such a mess? If they were all hares, running wild on the island, would they have the same worries? Would they have created the same mess? Would hares run around hating each other, being jealous, angry, sad and falling apart? Do hares cry?
She didn’t think so. She thought of Arrahd. The god’s chubby little face materialised in her imagination. There he was, smiling. It was Arrahd’s belief that humans were the most sophisticated of creatures. An animal, if lucky on death, would be reincarnated as a human and have an opportunity to strive for spiritual perfection. She thought it rubbish. She would have given anything to be a simple creature, doing simple things, in a simple group. She thought Arrahd was wrong: being human, or rather one that could think, was a curse.
Then she smiled as she realised that some humans didn’t think. They simply went about their lives, not thinking, not appreciating Has-jahn. They woke up, worked, ate and went to bed, unconscious of the damage they did around them, because it didn’t matter if they killed too many animals, if they destroyed homes, if they ate too much, if they fucked too much. Who was that hurting? Maybe they weren’t animals after all.
Becq sighed. What did any of it matter? Here she was again, with no one to love her. No one to hold when it got cold. And she was getting older, nearly thirty. Who would marry her when she was old? She saw her future ebbing until she could no longer see it.
Yana climbed up into the hut and interrupted her thoughts. The woman sat in the doorway. ‘Becq, are you okay?’ She pushed back her hair from out of her face.
Becq’s head felt heavy, and she strained to look at her. ‘I think so.’
‘I’m really sorry, Becq. I want to do anything I can to help and make it up to you.’ ‘Would that make you feel less guilty?’ ‘No. I want to make you feel better.’ ‘Look, he wasn’t mine and never would be. You can have him if you want.’
‘No, that’s not what I want. I never wanted him in the first place, Becq. Please, you must understand that. I never wanted him. I don’t now, and I won’t ever. It was a mistake and the biggest mistake of my life. My relationship with Jefry is ruined and I’ll be going home alone.’
Becq reflected on the words, laying the doll beside her. ‘Jefry’s had a tough time, hasn’t he?’
Yana nodded. ‘I know.’
‘I was never that close to Arth myself. Jefry was, wasn’t he?’
‘Very. I know he keeps on visiting the site of the py
re. He spends some minutes there, then walks along the beach. He’s hurt, and I’ve hurt him even more. I’m selfish, I know, but it was all one drunken night. I can’t even remember it and I regret it so much.’
Becq was silent as she sat up. ‘Please forgive me, Becq. You’re the only person I can talk to. You’re the loveliest person I know. Don’t hate me.’ Becq looked down then up at Yana. She sat back, leant on her arms. ‘I don’t. I needed a reality check.’ ‘Thanks, Becq. Let’s go for a swim together tomorrow, then we can walk whilst the guys prepare to dive.’ ‘That’d be nice.’ Becq nodded, lay down again, in the vague hope that she would get some sleep.
Twenty
‘You know what substance they say is most like human blood?’
Gabryl announced as the ship cut over the surf. The horizon was grey. Salt and spray filled the air. ‘Nope,’ Menz said, leaning on the rail. ‘Seawater.’ Gabryl lifted his chin up as he said it. ‘Honest.
Seawater and blood are similar, biologically speaking. See-the sea’s in all of us, but I reckon my blood is closer to it than others.’ Menz would’ve been genuinely impressed had it been Gabryl’s first interesting fact.
‘Shouldn’t we’ve found one by now?’
‘Say again?’
‘A whaler. We’ve been in the right area, as you say, for nearly a week.’
‘Patience, Menz. How’re the girls?’
‘Oh fine. They’re below.’
‘That’s good. No real place for a woman when we have to do what we have to.’ ‘You forget who you’re talking about,’ Menz said. ‘You forget who’s in charge.’ ‘I know, I know. Old habits I guess.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I guess I don’t expect girls to be so angry as them two,’ Gabryl said. ‘Especially Jella . And Lula-ain’t she a delight? I can’t believe that someone so sweet as that can shoot as you say she can.’
‘Aye, they certainly can handle themselves.’
‘Now that’s another story entirely. I’ve been on some ships in my time, and there was always a bit of scurrying under covers. It was to be expected of so many men on their own, but when there’s so many men around, and still them women are playing around ... Well, it ain’t natural.’
‘They’re in love, Gabryl. That’s all there is to it. You’ve been at sea too long. In Rhoam, there was a lot of it going on. They’re entitled to a bit of love in this world, ain’t they?’
‘Such a waste though,’ Gabryl said. ‘Anyway, must keep focussed. These things don’t steer themselves.’
‘True, true. So, when’re we going to see a whaler?’
‘Should’ve seen ‘em a long time back, in all honesty,’ Gabryl said.
‘I’ve known this side of Has-jahn for years, and there’s always some around this time of year. Don’t see why we need one anyway.’ ‘It’s been explained before.’ ‘I know, I know. Just like to be sure, that’s all. Don’t like taking too many risks, especially when the weather’s this bad.’ ‘We got to find one. Ain’t no use doing what we’re doing without one.’
‘Look, how can you really be sure it’ll work?’
‘Basic ecology, Gabryl. Basic ecology. That and myths, but it’ll work. I trust Jella . She’s done her reading for years on this. Quidlo is a funny thing. Besides, Jella’s done her field research, too. She’s seen the thing close-up. She’s looked right at it and, to be sure, dropped a bit of whale meat near it. By all accounts she’s hardly ever been so scared, and she’s a tough nut.’
‘Yeah, she mentioned she’d seen it. How long ago was that?’
‘Couple years back.’
Gabryl nodded. He stepped back up to the wheel.
Menz patrolled the deck as if it was his own. Yayle was below, feeling sick. Allocen was somewhere within the ship’s shadows. Jella and Lula were spending time together. He didn’t like the increasing amount of time the couple spent alone. It was not right, he thought. They should be a team, because they could possibly lose their lives. It occurred to him that no one had really spoken in a group for the last couple of weeks. He hoped it was the solitude of being out at sea for so long.
Menz liked his daily chats with Gabryl. Both being men that had served in armed forces they could discuss travels, combats. Both men became proud, then, as time progressed, disillusioned. Despite all that they had given, neither really had a future, or a past that they had built on. They had no family, or wives. There were lovers, as they were only too willing to share, but there were only lovers. There were no children to tell such tales. They were hardened men. They did not like to admit they had avoided the real battles of life: starting a family, providing for children, being by their parents. Ironically, now it was all they could think about.
Menz leaned on the rails staring out to the horizon. The sky was still pale, patches of blue opening out ahead. His eyes settled into a trance, the movements of the boat forcing his eyes to be lazy. It was some seconds before he noticed a ship in profile on the horizon, heading towards the mainland. He stood up straight, turned to face Gabryl.
‘Gabryl, look-’ He indicated the ship.
‘I see it. Well done that man.’ Gabryl turned the boat so that it travelled in an arc to intercept the ship. It would be a few hours before they were upon it.
Gabryl looked up at the sails and saw that they had now as much wind in them as before, so he started the ship’s engines. The noise of the motors brought Jella and Lula up to the deck. Yayle and Allocen followed, the rumel looking a pale shade of his usual grey, the Qe Falta creature hidden beneath his black cloak.
‘Why’re the engines on?’ Jella asked, her white hair being aired in the gentle winds.
Menz indicated the ship on the horizon.
‘Finally,’ Jella said. She put her arms around Lula and kissed the side of her jaw. ‘Here’s the next hurdle.’
With the engines on it took less time then they thought to catch up with the other ship. As they came closer they could see it was indeed a whaling ship. The vessel was twice the size of theirs, with a long, flat deck to the rear, where large mechanisms leered over the side. There were pulleys, cranes and cogs, a system of ropes. Most importantly, there were carcasses of whales. The silhouettes could be seen from a long way off and soon the stench confirmed it.
Jella counted twenty men on board as they stood on the ship’s starboard side, staring in her direction. They were some fifty feet away and it was clear that Jella’s ship was going to cross in front of the whaler, whose deck was ten feet higher. She heard the other vessel’s engines die, in anticipation of a collision, and it turned away slightly. They were upon them surprisingly quick. She went below deck, returned with muskets and pistols. She handed them out, turned to Allocen. ‘Off you go.’
Allocen looked at her from the depths of his cloak. Men were looking down at them, shouting in a foreign language. The Qe Falta picked up a grappling hook that was linked to a length of rope, threw it up to the whaler, which was still moving. She watched his cloak air as he made his way up the rope and over the edge. Men on the deck of the whaler crowded around Allocen as he stepped out of site. Commotion followed.
‘Shouldn’t we ask them first?’ Menz asked.
Jella shook her head. ‘No risks.’
Then she heard the first screams and the sound of metal cutting air, then wet noises like fish falling on the deck. Pistols fired, metal struck metal. They stepped back as blood spilled over the sides and they stepped up to find shelter by the ship’s wheel. They looked at each other as they heard more screams and shouting. They couldn’t see anyone, but still the blood mixed with seawater dripped off of the side as the whaler knocked the side of their own vessel. Men were still firing. More screams. She could see the top of someone’s head, so lifted her musket and fired, then watched him buckle forwards. She couldn’t see anyone else, but she could certainly hear them. There were agonizing gasps as if they were undergoing surgery without anaesthetic.
Menz shook his head. The others were wide-eyed, shocked at
what the Qe Falta could be doing. They could hear his boots running along the deck, followed by another low moan. Then there was only silence.
Allocen’s figure peered over the edge of the whaler’s deck. He was no longer wearing his cloak, his antennae wafting in the crosswind. Blood soaked his clothing. He raised an arm, put up his thumb. Then he turned.
Jella looked at Menz.
The old rumel merely shook his head. ‘We could’ve at least asked.’ Then he stepped towards the rope.
That evening, they all sat around a table in Jella’s cabin. She insisted that they ate together, even Allocen. Lula sat next to Jella, and Menz, Yayle and Gabryl opposite. Allocen was standing by the cabin door, his hood drawn over his face. Sometimes, Jella could see the candle reflecting in the creature’s eyes.
‘So, we’ve got the whales,’ Gabryl said.
‘Yep,’ Jella said. She sat back, draped an arm over the back of the chair, sipped from her wine glass, then looked out the porthole window opposite.
‘Just straight there?’ Gabryl said.
‘Yep,’ Jella said. ‘Straight there.’
Gabryl ate tentatively at his fish meal before laying his fork on the plate. ‘This thing-it wants a whale?’ ‘I reckon so.’ ‘You ... reckon so?’ Jella said, ‘Okay, I know so. It’ll be like catnip.’ ‘Then we take it to Escha, right?’ ‘Right.’ ‘Sounds a good plan.’ ‘It is a good plan.’ She placed her glass down and regarded Gabryl.
She smiled then looked across at Menz then Yayle. Both rumel were staring down at their plates. They had already finished their meal. ‘It sounds too easy,’ Gabryl said. He wiped some sauce from the edge of his beard with his top lip. ‘Anyway, why do it this way, why not other ways?’
‘This’ll last longer. You see, a bomb will kill. They all die at once. It’s good and effective, but people recover. Wounds heal. Buildings are built again.’ She indicated Allocen. ‘The Qe Falta, like him over there, they had a series of suicide bombers years ago. Took out a few buildings, some people, but nothing much since. Those attacks are soon forgotten by those who’re unaffected.’
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