Page 5 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
Jewel stared at him with rebuke in his gold-flecked eyes. He was chewing a piece of fish, slowly, and when he was done, he said, “You will come back. You always come back.”
“The next time I come back,” Rake said, “I promise we will stay together. We’ll stay here, or if I must leave again, I’ll take you with me. In the meantime, I have a job for you.”
“You do?” Jewel’s face brightened a little.
“Yes. Learn all you can from the humans and their books. Then you will be smarter than me, and you can tell me everything you know when I come back.”
“I will,” Jewel said firmly. “I will be wiser than anyone.”
When Takajo returned, he cleared a space on one of the kitchen tables and spread out the map he’d brought. “TheWind’s Favorwas headed here. To the island city of Stragnoag. That’s where Captain Flay’s father lives, and where Flay must yield his cargo and make his report after each voyage.” Takajo lowered his voice. “Flay told me his father is a ruthless man, owner of many slaving ships.”
Shock vibrated through Rake. He’d been a slave to the Queens, a breeder with no ownership over his body, forced to couple with them at their will. He could not imagine the young, golden captain belonging to such a wicked family. But then again, Rake himself was very different from those who had spawned him.
“Flay’s father is also strict about timetables,” Takajo continued. “The captain was afraid to return. Afraid of what his father might do to him as punishment.”
“Then why did he take Mai and Kestra with him?”
“You know Kestra,” Takajo said grimly. “She wanted to go. Could not be dissuaded. I believe she wanted to care for him while he adapts to life without his hand. She loves him.” He shrugged. “Flay took a large share of the treasure left behind by the mermaid Queens. He hopes to appease his father with that. But I do not know if it will work. I tell you this so you can be wary of what you’re walking into. And be careful. I don’t know much about the places beyond Kiken Island, but a city like Stragnoag could be dangerous.”
“You sound like Lumina,” Rake said.
Takajo’s mouth twitched. “I have been spending much time with her. She and the boy and I—we enjoy each other’s company. I like to think that her caution guides me, and my strength supports her.”
“You love her,” Rake said eagerly, with interest. He enjoyed watching human affection and hearing about it.
Takajo, however, did not seem eager to discuss the subject. He cleared his throat loudly and glanced over at Lumina, who was placing dollops of filling into circles of dough.
“You will eat and rest a little,” he said roughly. “Memorize the route before you go. Here is a star chart I brought to help you orient yourself. And these are good landmarks to watch for—the reefs here, and these rocks.” He jabbed a brown finger onto the map. “Flay told me of a current that races along this way—it is too rough and fast for a ship, but Flay has seen sea creatures using it. Perhaps it will help you catch up with them faster.”
“I thank you.” Rake hesitated, and then he said quietly, “I have spawned many children. Most of them I never knew, and they’re gone now. But I have not been a real father for very long. I do not know what a father should do. Am I choosing right, leaving Jewel here?”
“I was a father once,” said Takajo. “For a short time, long ago. I believe a father protects his child. That is what you are doing—leaving him for a while so you can explore your history and his. Knowing the past could help not only you, but the other survivors of the Realm Below. Your people.”
“It is true,” Rake said. “To have a good future for my kind, we need to know who we are. I know the evil my race is capable of. But I hope to discover the good as well.”
THE CITY
3
TheWind’s Favorwas listing badly. Not surprising, really, since the ship had endured more attacks than usual from the mermaids before their eventual demise. It had also been buffeted by storms ever since it left Kiken Island. A big piece of the lightweight, impenetrable metal known asasthore, which fortified the ship’s hull, had ripped free during the last storm, when theWind’s Favorgrazed a sharp rock—and several small holes had been torn in the hull where the metal plate used to be.
Mai hadn’t been on deck when it happened, but she’d heard the hollowness in Flay’s voice when he spoke of it.Asthorewas incredibly precious, and to lose such a large piece was “bilge-rotten luck,” as Jazadri the first mate said.
No one mentioned the fact that Flay had been at the helm when the collision occurred, that he’d been steering with his one remaining hand, and that perhaps if he had let Jazadri handle the wheel, the accident might not have happened.
Mai blamed herself for not creating a viable substitute for his hand. Though she knew she shouldn’t feel guilty—after all, Flay’s residual limb wasn’t quite healed yet. Not ready for a replacement hand. There was no infection of the flesh, thanks to the care of Graves, the ship’s melancholy physik, and soon Flay would be ready to try a prosthetic of sorts. Mai was determined to design the best possible tool by then—something with a variety of parts that he could open up, fold down, or swivel aside depending on the task at hand. A multi-tool, as it were.
She bent over her worktable, squinting at two tiny pieces of metal. She had to notch them together precisely and then solder them in place, but the angle of the ship and its occasional heart-stopping bob over a wave made her work difficult. Besides that, she didn’t have nearly enough tools or materials available to do the job properly. It was enough to drive a person mad.
To make matters worse, her work area was also the only table in the galley. She could feel the cook’s annoyance pervading the air like the stench of stale grease. Too bad. She needed access to the fire, and she needed space to spread out her tools.
“Bone and brine, lass,” the cook erupted at last. “Are you going to clear out soon? It’s time for me to be making the noon meal.”
“You want the captain to suffer along with a piece of junk for a hand?” Mai replied.
“You’ve been changing the design for days, love,” the cook said, more gently. “When will you be satisfied with your work?”
“When he has a new hand the equal of yours or mine.” One bit of metal snapped between Mai’s fingers, and she screeched a curse. Frustration coursed through her, hot as the fire burning in the ship’s oven.
