Page 35 of Palaces and other Prisons
“I’m pretty sure when management said we needed to make nice with the locals. They didn’t mean getting into bed with them.”
They hadn’t made it to bed yet, but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Are you going to rat me out to management at the party and have me sent back to the platform? What difference does it make? I’m doing as I’m told, and writing his letters, and teaching them English.”
“I’m not going to say anything, but I don’t think it’s right. We’re going to be leaving when the boat comes, and you’re going to abandon your kids?”
That was a sticking point for him, and he was quite happy that Ul was also undecided about the egg and heir situation.
“That might be months away.” He was starting to hope it was longer than that. “We might as well make the most of it. I’m glad I volunteered and that I haven’t been stuck on the platform. I’ve enjoyed learning about this place. Haven’t you?”
“Sort of, it’s kind of backward. I miss technology and electricity, and I want to go home and see my family. Aren’t you worried about them?”
“I haven’t spoken to my family in a couple of years.” They’d had a falling out at Christmas because they believed Dawson should’ve bought them all expensive presents since he had a good job and money. They didn’t seem to understand how hard it had been to crawl out of the hole he’d been born into and how he had no intention of going back. So he explained that most of his money was going into savings, at the time he’d been looking at buying a place. His parents hadn’t been happy that he found stability and a good job, and had instead accused him of forgetting where he came from.
He wanted to forget.
Someone knocked on the door.
Dawson rolled his shoulders and smiled. “I guess it’s party time.”
It had been explained to him as a party, as it was the end of the year; however, it was also a time to remember losses and cast off anything you didn’t want to carry into the New Year.
So while there was a feast, there was also a ceremonial tossing of things into the bonfire that had been made over the last two days.
They followed the soldiers downstairs, and even though Dawson knew how to find the hall on his own, he was quite happy to have the soldiers with them, as there were so many people in the castle.
The main hall was filled with tables, and Dawson and Katrina were seated with the three people from the platform. Other tables were filled with the district councilors and their partners, important palace staff like the librarian and healer, and the one at the front of the hall was where Ul sat with krakke who he assumed were relatives, including Ul’s cousin and eldest child, who was next in line for the throne.
In the corner, a couple of people were playing music, which was almost drowned out by the noise of conversation and laughter. Everywhere he looked, decorations had been hung. Greenery and branches. Candles and lanterns.
“So the humans who live here were originally Vikings?” Mr. Healy leaned forward to make himself heard.
“Yes, they even have a whole bunch of books that were taken from British churches and such, so they must’ve got lost after a raid.” The librarian had read some of the history of the island to him; now that he had a better grasp on the language, he was enjoying things a lot more.
“And all these different mythological beings live together?” Mr. Healy pressed.
Dawson glanced around the hall, thinking the answer was obvious. The districts were represented by ogres and satyrs, humans and krakke. And they all seem to get on. Each offering society something different. “From what I can gather. How are the work parties going?”
Brett, the engineer who had volunteered along with Dawson and Katrina, nodded. “They’re going well. People are enjoying getting off the platform and doing something useful. They helped install some wells and repaired some of the damage that occurred during the collapse. There is talk of rebuilding the dock.”
“Is there any word about a boat coming to pick us up?” Katrina asked.
“All their attention has been on mitigating an oil spill and getting people off the ones that were at risk of collapsing into the sea. We are a low priority because we are safe,” Mr. Healy said. “They did say they will try to get everyone home for Christmas.”
Katrina slumped in her seat and took a drink. “That’s months away.”
For Dawson, it was far too close. He didn’t want to be counting down the weeks he had left with Ul.
“I know it’s no comfort, but things are pretty shit back home. We’re doing okay,” Brett said.
“He’s right. None of this is ideal, but we can’t do anything about it,” Mr. Ashcroft, the safety manager, added. “And nothing we do or say will get us home faster. We need to make the best of the situation.”
They all had family, wives, children, siblings, or parents to go back to, and who they were worried about. He didn’t wish ill on his family, and he doubted they wished ill on him, but they no longer saw eye to eye on anything. He had become the kindof person they griped about—the kind who had nice things and wanted more than just getting by. Yeah, his father worked hard, but he spent every cent and never worried about the future or his family. Dawson didn’t want to be sixty and still living paycheck to paycheck and freaking out about paying the heating bill or eating.
“Tomorrow, we have a meeting with the king to discuss further work parties,” Brett said.
The soldier stepped up to Dawson and leaned down. “The king is about to give his speech. You may translate, but keep your voice low.”
“What did he say?” Mr. Healy asked.
