“Dawn, are you all right?” Tildan asked. Dawn gripped her head with both hands. Dropping them, she looked up at her Uncle.
“Yes, I am fine. Bezel, please go on.” Her eyes showed red around the edges and it was obvious that her uncle did not believe her.
“I think I am finished Captain. I do not believe our guest is either stupid or a murderer in this instance.” He turned and sat down, holding his rum with both hands, fingers steepled in front of the glass.
“Then who did it?” she asked. “Maurence lies dead on the other side of that door. The crew is trusted. Cite was on deck a couple feet from you and Vonka. So, who did it? Me? I was in here, and the murder happened right outside that door. I should have heard something.”
“Well,” Tildan said, “Maurence was a mute.”
“Uncle,” Dawn glared at Tildan, “now is not the time for humor.”
“No,” Bezel responded as he looked at Dawn. “I do not think it was you, and there are others we can rule out right away. Vonka, Cite, and myself were all on the quarterdeck. Tildan was talking with Warton on the foredeck, planning the meals with the new supplies that had been taken on board during our stop on Stadia Isle. Tart and Puffer and the remaining crew were both tending duties on the main deck. We need to determine where Kytson, Jumper, Conald, Cutter, and Treat all were when this took place.”
“Jumper is accounted for.” said Tildan.
“Is he?” asked Bezel, “He was with you then, on the foredeck planning meals, of course. Silly of me not to remember that.”
“No, but he helped Warton and me drag Rogen from below deck.”
“Ah, yes he did. And before he assisted you with that, where was he?” Bezel asked. Tildan thought for a moment.
“I don’t know. Very well, we need to figure out where he was then too.”
“We can’t wait long,” Dawn said. “We need to figure it out quickly before the crew decides to outvote me and lynch our guest, leaving the real murderer free.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard. We just need to find the crewmember who looks exactly like our short bearded friend and that blood slides off without staining.” Tildan quipped as he rolled his eyes.
They were interrupted by a knock at the cabin door. Tildan stepped over and opened it. Cutter, the surgeon, was standing outside. Tildan opened the door wider so he could enter.
“What did you find?” asked the Captain. Cutter wore a fresh shirt and his surgeon’s apron was gone, but blood still stained his hands and arms, though he had tried to wash it off.
“Warton and I washed Maurence and wrapped him for burial. There was no struggle. It was one blow to the top of the head. There was blood on the ceiling and wall Maurence was facing. Maurence should have seen whoever it was. He was standing when he was hit, and one hit was all it took. I don’t think the murderer was short. Either that or Rogen clung to the rafters. But the spray doesn’t show any interruption in the blood. It is like the person who did this was invisible and flying and things would pass right through him like a ghost.” The doctor finished and wrung the towel he carried.
“Thank you, Cutter. Don’t repeat any of that to anyone, understand?” Dawn said.
Cutter nodded and Tildan opened the door so he could leave.
After the door closed, Dawn continued. “Tildan, talk to Warton, make sure he understands to keep quiet also. Bezel, you are in charge; I will be out shortly. I will want a constant guard on Rogen. It is possible a man with his power could have access to magic that could do this. I think it is obvious that we are dealing with some sort of magic here. He may have items that allow him to fool people’s minds and do the other things Cutter suggested. I want him stripped to his small clothes and searched completely, inside and out. He may also have items that allow him to call upon others to do this.” Cite tried to interrupt, but the Captain kept talking. She looked at Cite as she spoke. “I do not think he did this. Otherwise I would have already slit his throat and fed him to the sharks. But I have to take the precautions. If we do not find a killer in twenty-four hours, I will have to execute him. I can delay it for that long. I will tell the crew that out of respect for Maurence, we will mourn for that time. Dismissed, everyone. Let’s do this.” She gestured towards the door. Bezel nodded, set down his glass and turned to leave. Tildan reached for the door to open it when Cite interrupted again.
“Don’t I get my say? Didn’t you tell me I would get my chance? Please Captain, can I speak with you?”
“I think Bezel said all that could be said, I told you we would try and find who else could have done it. What else is there to say?” She waved at Tildan to open the door. As Tildan did so Cite concentrated and Dawn felt the words in her head, ‘Please, allow me to talk to you, privately.’ Dawn looked at Cite with wide eyes, then said, “Uncle, stay for a minute. I want to talk to Cite. Mister Bezel, thank you. See to your duties.”
Bezel left with a sideways nod to the Captain and another to Tildan, then a backwards glance to Cite. Tildan shut the door behind Bezel.
After a couple moments, Dawn spoke.
“How did you do that?” she demanded. Tildan looked back and forth between Cite and Dawn, confused.
“Please, allow me to speak to you alone.” Cite asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Dawn said. “If you can send me thoughts, you may be dangerous. You could be able to make people see what you want them to!” Tildan dropped his hand to his dagger that he had yet to remove after the ship left the dock. Cite looked at Tildan and back to Dawn, and knew he didn’t have any other choice.
“I can send and sometimes receive thoughts. I am a Mind Mage. Rogen told Tildan this when we boarded.” Dawn looked at Tildan.
“You told me he was a self-proclaimed prophet, not a man who can twist others’ minds,” she said to Tildan.
“I was more concerned with Rogen.” Tildan gestured at Cite. “This one doesn’t carry himself like someone you worry about. I didn’t know he could do all that.”
“I can’t!” Cite exclaimed, worried that he was about to be imprisoned also, or worse. “Well, I haven’t. I am not sure how far I can go. I know I can pick up strong feelings and sometimes thoughts. I can send my thoughts to others sometimes. It was only a couple of weeks ago it started. Before that I would only dream things that came true, and it was not as if that happened every night.”
“Anything else you can do?” Dawn asked.
“I can sort of move things with my mind, and when I am under attack I have made a knife out of mental energy. Twice.” He felt something odd from Dawn then, a bond of understanding coming from her, a kinship as he explained his abilities. “You are a Mind Mage, too?” he asked her.
“Me?” she laughed. “No, but I am no stranger to magic. Most of the crew knows, but we don’t talk about it.” Tildan put a hand on her arm and began to interrupt. “It’s ok Uncle, he would find out with his thought sensing anyway. Besides, if he is an enemy then knowing this may make him think twice before attacking me or anyone else.” She looked at Cite who was shaking his head. “Well, even if you wouldn’t, there are so few who know magic it will be nice to share a bit with someone who does. I am a Wizard. I am an elementalist that can see Ley Lines and draw upon their elemental magic. It is part of the reason I am the Captain of the Lady Luck. I used to travel with my father and help with winds and waves and such. I have become stronger with age, and life experiences sometimes allow me to draw on things I could not before.”
“A Wizard? You can call rain and lightning from a clear sky? Rain down fireballs? That sort of thing?” Cite asked, his words slurred a little as he spoke.
“Sometimes. I usually just suggest to the current weather, not control it completely. If I make something from nothing it fucks up the weather in the area for weeks to come. I try not to do that.” She smiled.
“Your father.” Cite hesitated. “I am sorry. I saw part of your thoughts. I didn’t mean to, but it came from you and I couldn’t help seeing it, it was
so strong.”
Dawn paled slightly and stepped back. “My family was killed. Tortured to death. Not just my father, all of them. Duke Malvornick had them taken because my father would not become an exclusive ship for his needs. I escaped using my magic. I think it made the Duke want me more than he wanted my father. I got back to the boat. My uncle fled with me on board. I used to be angry with him,” She looked at Tildan with a gentle smile, “but I know it is the only reason I am free now. It was the wise thing to do, and not let an angry girl go and die trying for revenge against a man who crushes thrones for his sick pleasures.”
“I am sorry. I don’t know what else to say,” Cite began, but Dawn interrupted.
“Don’t say anything else about it. That is not what we wanted to talk about. Why did you want to talk to me alone?” she asked.
“Oh. My abilities, the mind reading, I may be able to help find who killed Maurence.” Dawn and Tildan both nodded. As they realized the potential, their faces became grim and determined.
“But can we trust him?” Tildan asked his niece. “If he can read thoughts, or send thoughts, then why can’t he control people’s minds? How do we know he hasn’t already done that?”
“Uncle,” Dawn said, as Cite looked between the two. He felt weird; being spoken about as if weren’t in the room. They showed no fear of him or his abilities. That was unexpected also. “first of all, I don’t think anything can get through that thick skull of yours unless you let it. Second of all, why would he tell us he can do these things if he wanted to use them against us? Wouldn’t he have just made us think what he wanted? Or just wiped the minds of witnesses? But Rogen, or whoever looked like him, wanted people to see the Rokairn leave the murder scene with bloody hands. Now, shall we continue to discuss this, or should we find out who killed your best friend?”
Tildan nodded, his eyes brimmed with emotion. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand and stood to his full height, almost brushing the ceiling of the room.
“Alright Cite,” Tildan said, “go feel out the crew. Look for others also, because I don’t think one of our crew would murder Maurence. I am going back to my cabin to look after our prisoner.”
The three discussed things for a few more minutes before leaving the room. Cite went on deck, and Tildan went to cabin in the crew’s quarters. When the big man entered, Rogen’s first question was about the boy.
“Where is Cite?” Rogen asked. “Is he in any danger?”
“He’s up there trying to find the real killer,” Tildan answered. “As for being in danger, I am worried we’re all in danger until this little mystery is solved.
Tildan filled the Rokairn in on the details of the meeting in the Captain’s quarters.
“So you understand why I couldn’t let Cite in to see you,” Tildan explained to Rogen who nodded. Rogen was sitting on the bunk in Tildan’s cabin in just his small clothes, and Tildan sat on the only chair in the room that was beside a small writing desk.
“I trust the lad to find out who did it. Tildan, I am sorry about Maurence. I did not know him as well as you did, but I was coming to like him very much.” Tildan nodded. “So the boy told you about what he could do, did he?” Again, Tildan nodded. “Well, let me tell you about what I have seen him do. I have only seen it twice, but one time there were these bugs everywhere, and not your normal houseflies…”
Cite wasn’t sure how to go about proving Rogen’s innocence and finding the real murderer. He had to talk to the five crewmembers in question, but knew they didn’t trust him. He had considered asking Bezel to talk to them while he watched and tried to gather thoughts, but the crew didn’t like Bezel much either. Cite wasn’t sure if they would give Bezel the time of day, let alone have a conversation with him.
All of the crew, except for Tildan, stood on the main deck for Maurence’s eulogy. The dead man’s body lay on the gangplank wrapped in a clean white sheet, which was then tied around him so it would not come loose in the wind. The Captain was recalling the duties and services that Maurence had performed on the Lady Luck. She had pulled her hair into a tight copper bun, and she was wearing her red thigh length formal coat and her knee boots.
The Captain called upon each crewmember to say a few words. Cite could feel the men’s thoughts as they waited or spoke. Some didn’t care much for the olive-skinned mute, but spoke anyway. Cite was not sure if that made them a better or worse man.
The boatswain, Kytson, stepped forward to say his piece. The chubby man fiddled with his eye patch as he muttered about Maurence’s role on the ship. His mind revealed more though. As Cite concentrated, his mind loose from the alcohol and tobacco, he found his abilities digging deeper into Kytson’s mind. He had hated the mute bodyguard of the Captain. He compared Maurence to Rogen. Both were foreigners who weaseled their way into a job of which another man would be more deserving. The only reason Kytson was up there speaking was out of respect for the crew. He knew they needed this pitiful little performance so they could justify the death of a crewmember.
Kytson choked. Jumper put a hand on the man’s shoulder, thinking the boatswain was emotional. The boatswain squeezed his eyes shut, his fat ugly face wrinkled and his eye patch almost folded as he did. Cite could feel something trying to wrap around the tendril of his thoughts that snaked its way through Kytson’s head. Cite withdrew his touch and the man relaxed.
As Cite listened to the thoughts of the crew, he realized that it wasn’t much different than listening to someone talking to themselves. He didn’t get much choice about the subject matter. He knew he could dig deeper, but wasn’t sure if that would be dangerous to the men, or even to his own mind. There was a chance, if he delved too far into someone’s mind, that he could become lost or disconnected once he was surrounded by their thoughts. Cite decided that he needed to guide the thoughts of these men if he wanted specific information.
The last of the crew were speaking their piece. Cite circled the crowd as Puffer was taking his turn. Puffer muttered a lot and looked down. Cite focused on him and stumbled as he touched the young man’s thoughts. Puffer’s head was a haze of gray. Lances of color shot through it, but it was closed to the mind mage due to interference. Occasional thoughts would surface, like whales caught in a murky lake looking for a way out since they cannot see while submerged. Cite tried baiting the thoughts and luring them to the surface by dropping related pushes of thought into the boy’s head. It didn’t help, and Cite gained nothing from the drug confused mind.
When the boy finished with what he had to say, Dawn called upon Cite. He looked at her with surprise. Her face was stern, but as she caught his eye he felt her thoughts reach out for him. ‘Show them that you are not the enemy, speak with them on this.’ Cite wondered if the Captain had called upon him to also use the opportunity to measure and judge him. He shook his head as he decided that it didn’t matter; Maurence was a man whom he liked and called friend.
Cite stepped in front of the crowd, next to the body. He realized the fact, he was standing next to a person he knew, a man with whom he had spoken to and had shared camaraderie just a few hours ago. It was eerie. He looked at the men in front of him and almost took a step back with the force of feelings and thoughts rolling off of them. He looked from face to face as he sloughed through dozens of thoughts. Anger at circumstance, hate of Cite, fear of Rogen, boredom, glad not to be working, sex with the Captain, Maurence’s boots, something in someone’s nose, were just a few of the things Cite felt from the gathered men. The sailors stared at him, anxious because he stood there and didn’t say a word. Cite cleared his throat.
“I’ve been aboard this ship for twelve days. I’ve come to know a few of you, but not as well as I came to know Maurence. He lived silently in a world that yelled. That is why this man came to the sea. He knew this ship, he loved the sea, and he trusted each and every one of you. Maurence cherished the Captain and protected her, because she protected him. He adored Tildan who spoke with him constantly, sharing jokes and a bond of
friendship that surpassed family. Tildan asked Maurence’s opinion in ways that Maurence could answer. He listened to Maurence’s jokes and laughed with the man. I see many of your faces and know you think I am crazy to think a man that couldn’t speak would tell a joke, but he did. I would watch as he would point out something on shore to me or Tildan then gesture, as if to tell us, ‘Look, and see what could happen next’, the same way one of you would say to your friend, ‘What if Cite slips on the soap in the deck and falls?’
“Maurence came to this ship, this crew, and he found his fate and family. But he also gave more than he ever took.” Cite paused, the crew was had the look of jaded and bitter people who felt they were being given shit coated with sugar and told to swallow it. “My point is that this was a great man. He loved, laughed, and drank with each of you. He taught me to smoke a cigar, and then laughed as I puked over the rail. He laughed even more when I pointed out that the fish were eating my vomit.” Cite paused and a man in front let out a rough laugh, one or two even nodding as they remembered such memories of their own. “I will miss him. I will miss the chance of getting to know more of him.” Cite fell silent and stepped away, then stumbled as he heard a violent thought, only to be caught and steadied by Warton. Cite looked around at the gathered men, trying to sort through thoughts, looking for the man that sent that last one his way, the thought that said, ‘I killed him, and Rogen will die for it, then I will kill the rest for fun.’
Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One Page 19