“I’d have thought you would have at least heard something,” I said, over a breakfast of emergency rations.
“Not a thing,” he replied, though he looked deeply concerned.
“Well no one was hurt. So no harm done, I guess.” I took a deep breath and lowered my voice to avoid eavesdroppers. “What was that last night?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said tersely.
“Oh come on,” I snapped in a harsh whisper. “I would think someone whose job it was to travel the world would be a bit more open minded about various things.”
“Depends on the things,” he hissed. “Rape is evil, no matter where you live.”
I rolled my eyes. “He wasn’t forcing me. I thought I made that clear.”
Risk shrugged. “You haven’t seen the things I have. Humans might not be a picnic all the time, but at least they’re real.”
“Real? Last time I checked, the otherkin weren’t a figment of my imagination.”
“You know what I mean!”
I folded my arms and fixed him with a hard look. “No, I don’t. Please enlighten me.”
“Tch, they’re created. Just popped into existence. You know mages can do that shit too right?”
“Making a rock or a flame appear is a bit far removed from a living, breathing, sentient creature.” [8]
“So the celestials have more power to throw around, so what? You know some of them outnumber us now?”
“So? Last time I checked, we weren’t at war with any of them.”
Some of them are even our allies. Not that that had given them much preference in my classes.
“Not yet,” said Risk. “But it’s only a matter of time.”
I was starting to think this guy was either a serious pessimist, or else one of those doomsayer prophets. I shook my head. Either way, there’d be no getting through to him now. Once we were off the island, and I had faith we’d get off eventually, I’d be sure to show him the good of the world and its people.
After breakfast, I found myself sitting outside the minotaur’s tent, with the bull on one side of me, and Risk on the other, enjoying the island sun and watching the crew go about their morning business. On finding out what had transpired the previous evening, the mercenary had practically glued himself to my hip.
Every now and then, someone came to ask the bull a question, about supplies or about the previous night, but they never asked him to join in the work. No one spoke to me, barely even looking at me or Risk. By the looks in several pairs of eyes though, I could tell news of my dalliance had spread pretty quickly, but at least they were no longer openly leering at me.
“I suppose you know everyone on the ship, don’t you?” I asked, during a moment when we were alone.
“I suppose I do,” said the bull, after a moments pause.
“I was hoping to speak to some of the crew about their culture for my museum report,” I said. “It’s hard to talk to people when you don’t know their names.”
He looked down at me, searching my face with a hard look in his eyes, before turning away and scanning the campsite. “Well, you’ve met the captain,” he said, nodding in the man’s direction. “That’s all he is, by the way, The Captain. But you’ve got Theron, our navigator.” He indicated the grey-haired minotaur. “And of course, you know Skeever as well.”
“Yes,” said Risk, watching the oily man with distaste in his eyes.
“What does he do on the ship?” I asked.
“Good question,” said the bull. “When I first came on board, I thought he was the first mate, ‘cause he was the only one left over from the previous crew. I dunno, maybe he and the captain are fucking.”
Though it was obvious the minotaur was joking, his nose turned up at the mental image. I had to admit that the idea of the scrawny rat-tailed man involved with anyone in any remotely sexual context caused my stomach to churn uncomfortably. Even Risk was frowning.
“So what’s your job?” I asked quickly, to distract them.
“Security,” said Risk, as though it should be obvious.
I looked to the bull for confirmation, and he just shrugged and nodded.
“What about them,” I asked, pointing to a small group working together outside one of the largest tents.
“Galley crew,” said the bull, sounding thankful to talk about something else. “The big minotaur’s the cook. Don’t know his name, he only answers to Gramps. He’s the kind who would have been happy with you returning your dishes. Not so happy with you leaving them on the counter though.”
“What was I supposed to do?” I asked. “I couldn’t get into the kitchen to wash them.”
“What?” asked Risk, his head snapping around. “When did you go to the galley?”
“That night on the ship,” I said, though I was already mentally preparing myself for his reaction. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d take a walk and return our plates.”
“You were alone with him?” Risk seemed almost apoplectic. “He hadn’t even saved your life yet!”
“Nothing happened! Besides, it’s not like I went looking specifically for him,” I assured, but the mercenary clearly wasn’t listening.
“Had I not just finished telling you about them? In detail!”
“Risk, please.”
“Why do you think there are no human women on this ship, huh!” he demanded ignoring me. “Modern ships are awfully integrated now for there to not be a single one.”
“Well, you know, it’s supposed to be bad luck isn’t it? Women on ships?” I said, thinking about my encounter with the sandy-haired man the previous day.
“Oh, come on!” snapped Risk. “Do you really think all these guys are just that superstitious? You saw how those cows looked at you when you were up on deck.”
I looked up at the minotaur again, the question clear in my expression.
The bull sighed and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “There are some of us who have trouble controlling our… baser instincts. It’s no excuse of course, but it’s easier to just keep women off the ship.”
“You let me on.”
“Two passengers east to Nyuesi,” said the bull. “That’s all the job was.”
“If you’d known, would you have said no?”
He didn’t reply, and we lapsed into silence. I wondered if the professor had known any details about the Seacow and its crew beforehand, or whether he’d just called the port and offered the job to the first ship he could find that was already going east. I looked down at my feet and scrunched the sand between my toes. What would have happened if I’d boarded the ship alone? If Risk hadn’t been hired as my bodyguard, would I have made it to Nyuesi unscathed? I shook my head. It was pointless to think about it. Had Risk not accompanied me, the entire ship would have been destroyed, so my personal safely in this case was rather a moot point.
“You know,” I said, a sudden thought occurring to me. “You never told me your name.”
“That must have been romantic,” muttered Risk, under his breath.
“It’s Conon,” the bull answered, ignoring the mercenary.
Risk scoffed.
“What now?”
“It’s a fake name,” he said.
“And so is yours, so we’re even,” replied Conon.
“There’s a difference between having a codename and just lying,” snapped Risk.
“I didn’t realise it was a codename,” I said.
“You’d want it to be,” said Conon. “What kind of parent names their child Risk?”
“People in a consensual relationship!” Risk snapped back, but Conon didn’t take the bait.
“Would you ever tell me your real name?” I asked.
The minotaur took a deep breath through his nose. “Maybe one day.”
I let myself be satisfied with that.
A short time later, the captain approached, Skeever at his heels.
Ignoring us humans, the captain addressed Conon: “we�
�ll be taking some of the boats out soon. We’ll prioritise the galley storeroom, but I’ll be taking the engineers with me to examine the damage.”
“Aye, Captain,” said Conon.
“I will be leaving you in charge,” he continued. “Make sure the supplies are ready to be received.”
“Aye, Captain.”
I stood and timidly injected myself into a gap in the conversation. “I don’t mean to intrude,” I said, hesitantly.
“Hmm,” grunted the captain.
He stared me down as though daring me to continue my sentence. A younger Nina would have cowered, but I was long past allowing myself to be intimidated into silence.
“I just wanted to ask about our luggage,” I said. “I know it’s an inconvenience, but I was hoping if there will be someone returning to the ship soon, they might be able to get my trunk along with the other supplies.”
“And why would we waste boat space on something like that?” asked the captain.
“Well it’s got all my gear in it,” I said. “All my clothes and things. I don’t know how long we’ll be on this island but I’d rather not waste the crew’s supplies if I don’t have to.”
The captain seemed to think it over before eventually shrugging. “Alright, but you can come and carry it yourself.”
The iron plates of the ship groaned ominously as our lifeboat approached it. I knew the structure was just breathing, but it didn’t seem to help my feelings of foreboding any.
When the lifeboats pulled up alongside the ship, one of the crew swung a grappling hook up over the railing to get himself up first so he could lower a rope ladder off the side for the rest of us.
Being up on deck again was like reliving the entire terrifying affair. I hesitated at the railing as I took in the destruction. The main mast was down, splintered in the middle and lying across the deck. There were long gashes left in the wood by the serpent’s water jets and scorch marks surrounded the perfectly-round hole left by Risk’s gun.
We moved carefully, not wanting to risk any unnecessary movement or weight onto the listing side of the ship. The last thing any of us needed was for it to roll all the way over. If the ship fell onto her side, well, we might as well make the island our new home.
The human engineers were the first to go below and check on the damage to the engine room, returning later with notebooks overflowing with a list of things that would need to be done. They relayed their findings to the captain out of earshot of us, but there was no telling whether it was good or bad news, judging by the bear’s poker face.
Risk and I went below deck, heading straight for the guest cabin. The room was leaning sharply, and my trunk was on its end, along with the table and stools, pressed up against the outer wall, having been thrown against the bunks during the turbulence.
Being lighter than Risk, I stepped carefully into the room, working my way around the wall. I moved slowly, my bare feet almost soundless on the creaking floorboards, while Risk waited out in the hall. I could hear the crew going back and forth with crates of supplies from the galley and crew’s quarters.
Though my trunk wasn’t particularly heavy, dragging it back up the tilting room proved an exhausting endeavour. Once back with Risk I extended the handle and dragged it behind me as we went back up on deck. One of the crew helped me lower it down the side of the ship and into one of the supply boats.
“What are you looking at?”
Risk’s words made me look up. Skeever was standing not too far away, watching us intently. My bodyguard had his arms crossed defiantly over his chest and was staring the shorter man down.
“Nothing at all,” he said, the tone of his voice suggesting he was grinning broadly under his head scarf.
He all but scampered off, and a short time later we were in the lifeboats and heading back to shore.
“What was that about?” I asked Risk.
“Dunno.” His tone was flat and he didn’t sound happy.
Clearly something about Skeever bothered him. And quite frankly, I didn’t blame him.
Chapter 8:
The Interrogation
When we arrived back on shore, I went to get my trunk out of the supply boat only to find Skeever, the captain, Conon and two other burly minotaurs waiting for me. None of them looked happy.
“That’s a pretty fancy lock you’ve got on that trunk,” said the captain before I had even opened my mouth.
I didn’t know what to say to that. It was true the memory latch hadn’t exactly been cheap, although magical things rarely were, but it seemed normal to me to want to have a good lock on your personal items. Especially when you were travelling the world.
The captain crossed his arms across his chest and jerked his head at the trunk. “Open it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me woman. People don’t just shell out for that kind of security unless they’re hiding something valuable.”
“Or dangerous,” added Skeever.
“It’s just clothes, mate,” said Risk.
“Then you should have no problem showing me. Now open it.”
I started to protest. After all, all my personal items were in there, but the captain pulled a pistol from his belt and pointed it at us.
“I said, ‘open it.’”
No sooner had I run my thumb across the metal, did the latch click open. At the sound Skeever dashed forwards, pushed me out of the way and started to root through the trunk. He opened every draw and compartment, paying no mind to the carefully-folded items, and tossed the trunk’s entire contents like a salad as he searched.
“Ah-ha!” he exclaimed, pulling back.
In his hand he held my family ring. He handed it to the captain, who frowned at the insignia.
“Sterling.” He stated, then fixed me with a narrowed gaze. “Of the Sterling Trading Company?”
I glanced between Risk, who was looking under pressure, and the captain, then nodded. “My father is the director.” At this point, lying didn’t seem like the wisest decision. “Is there a problem?” I asked.
“If I’d known you worked for the Authority, I would have never let you on my ship.”
“I don’t work for my father,” I said quickly, though I didn’t really understand what was going on. “I’m an intern at the Pherasian Museum of Natural History.”
“I’m not interested in your cover story, woman!” he roared suddenly, making me jump. “I already have THIS!” He waved the ring in my face. “Now, tell me what the Authority has planned!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
The captain made an impatient sound with his teeth, then jerked his head at Risk. The two minotaur guards moved together, each taking hold of one of the mercenary’s arms. His fists clenched but he didn’t struggle.
I stepped forward reflexively, eyes wide.
“Got anything to say? No? How about you, then?” he asked Risk.
“It’s a complete coincidence we’re on your ship,” he said slowly.
What did that mean? Why would it be anything else? I had no idea what was going on.
The captain looked between us, seeming to come to a decision. “You take the woman,” he said, nodding at Conon. “Let’s see if their story sticks if you question them apart.”
“I already have, Captain,” said Conon.
“What?”
“I’d have told you as soon as it was light, but…” he trailed off awkwardly. “The night on the ship, she left her cabin and went to the galley. I questioned her there.”
“And?”
“Well, if she’s a spy for the Authority, she’s either the worst they have or the best. Either way, you’re not going to get the answers you want out of her.”
“So, you’re saying she either knows nothing, or she’s trained well enough to hide it?”
The minotaur nodded.
“Well try again. I don’t care what methods you have to use. Skeever’ll work on her boyfriend. I’m sure between us we can g
et something out of them.”
“Aye, Captain,” said Conon.
He wrapped an arm around my waist and threw me over his shoulder. He carried me over to one of the tents and tossed me into a corner. “Scream,” he ordered, his voice barely audible.
“What?”
“I said, scream,” he hissed, raising a threatening fist.
I shrieked in fear, my arms coming up defensively. But the blow never landed. My cry was punctuated by the bull punching his own palm. Next, he slapped his own thigh while simultaneously pushing me down, my yelp as I fell to the floor conveniently timed.
Conon knelt before me, his amber eyes boring into mine, the seriousness in his gaze clearly trying to convey something of great importance but I was too shaken to decipher it. Then he kissed me. Hard.
I gave a muffled objection as I tried to push him off. His hands threaded into my hair to keep my head still as he worked his mouth over mine almost violently, practically chewing on my lips. His fingers pulled at my hair, messing it and pulling strands free from my ponytail.
Someone moved outside the tent and Conon pulled back, his hands going suddenly to his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through metal hoops loud in the small space. I recoiled back into the corner of the tent my eyes wide and terrified.
“That’s enough.”
I looked over to see Theron, the ship’s navigator, standing at the entrance. His eyes raked over the scene, narrowing slightly as they landed on Conon.
“Captain says that’ll do,” he repeated, his tone firm.
“Yessir,” said Conon, redoing his belt.
“Come on,” said Theron as he took me by the arm and pulled me back out of the tent.
A gasp left my mouth almost immediately. Risk was hanging limply between the two minotaur guards, his head bowed. His shirt had been ripped cleanly in two and now hung uselessly from his shoulders. Down the right side of his torso there were a series of shallow cuts, trickling a thin trail of blood down his pale, clammy skin.
The Island of Wolves Page 8