I yanked it off and blinked, pushing hair from my eyes. In front of me on the long table sat a tall cage, and inside it was a hand-sized green bird with a dusky peach face and a curved beak. It hopped along its perch, opened its mouth, and screamed. Its round black eyes blinked at me as if it had no idea or didn’t care that everyone in the room (and possibly the entire ship) cringed.
“Ahh!” I leaned over to peer into the cage. “You’re loud!” I put my fingertip through the thin black bars.
“Be careful, he might bite,” Marcus said, standing right beside it. I hadn’t even noticed him. I looked up, and he was smiling. “I’m hoping you’ll train him to be quieter. Do you like him?”
“Yeah! He’s so colorful. He’s mine?”
“Of course he’s yours. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you!” I threw myself into the captain and hugged him. He wasn’t nearly as demonstrative as Estienne, but he never spurned my affection. He didn’t even care that there were others in the room—like Caligtiera, who still tended to lurk around the captain. I felt his eyes. I always felt his eyes.
Marcus hugged me then, patting my hair. I had grown, longer-limbed, and the top of my head reached the bottom of his chin. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder, then pulled away and put my face back near the cage. “What is he? I mean, what kind of bird?”
“A lovebird,” Marcus said.
I looked up, and the whole room was silent. Nothing but the sound of the food sizzling on their heated plates. Marcus held my gaze, and I tried not to blush. He never did anything just for the hell of it, but I hardly thought he’d be so blatant. Behind me Estienne said nothing.
So I said simply, “I love him.”
Marcus smiled. “I’m pleased.”
Estienne hugged me around the waist from behind, lifting me off my feet. “Now cut the cake!”
I laughed and pounded on his arms to set me down. The lovebird called, fast kind of shrieks, and I wriggled out of Estienne’s grasp toward it, placing my hand flat on the cage. The bird arched its beak and pecked at my palm.
“Dexter,” I said.
“Hm, what’s that?” Marcus said as he motioned the steward to bring over the plates of food.
“His name! I’ve decided.”
“Dexter?” Marcus said.
Everyone in the room chuckled or outright laughed until Estienne said, “It’s a great name for a bird. All of you shut up.”
I’d had a dog called Seamus, and I couldn’t remember where I’d gotten the name. Dexter must’ve been lodged in the same place in my memory, because it was an outrageous name for a thing that size, with that color. The little bird screeched at me, and it pierced all of our ears until I let him nibble at my finger again. His wings fluffed, and his head twitched, as if everybody outside of his world frightened or fascinated him.
I sat scraping chocolate icing off my plate and licking the back of my spoon. Everyone had left, even Estienne, who’d promised to give me his gifts in private instead of in front of everybody. I liked the sound of that. My other gifts included gameware, clothes, and a lot of certificate numbers so I could order things for myself and pick them up when I got to station next. It was a good haul.
Marcus sat with me in the quiet room, and even Dexter had calmed now that we were alone. I watched my new pet as he hopped from one perch to another in the large cage, occasionally flitting to the colorful, ropy toys that hung from the bars like streamers. He liked to pick at those with his crescent beak. I leaned on my elbows and put my nose to the cage, watching with the spoon in my mouth.
“I’m glad you like him,” Marcus said, on the other side of the long table. All the dishes and plates had been swept away already by the stewards. Nothing but the scent of food lingered in the air. “They say they die of heartbreak if you separate the pair, but it’s just an old romantic myth. These birds will take to human owners just as well.”
Dexter stopped his nibbling of the rope and looked at me, opened his beak, and yawned. He even had a tiny tongue. I grinned and set the spoon on the table. “You think he’ll take to me?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Marcus smiled.
I got up and went around the table and hugged his shoulders as he sat. “I had the best birthday. But I guess tomorrow is work?”
“Yes, next shift is work. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” He put his hand on my arm and lifted it from his neck, guiding me around so I could lean at the edge of the table and he could look up at me from his seat. He didn’t let go, just slid his hand down to hold me lightly by the wrist, his thumb caressing the pulse there. “Your learning and work over the past three years have been exemplary. Both Estienne and I are really proud.”
I quirked a smile at him. “Good.”
“I think it’s time you get the ship’s tattoo.”
I straightened. “Yeah?”
His hand slid up and he leaned forward so he could touch my chest above my heart. “Right there. But for that you’ll have to know the true name of my ship.”
“Isn’t it The Abyssinian?”
“No…we’re a pirate ship, aren’t we?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So it wouldn’t be smart to advertise the true name of my ship when I go to port, now would it?”
Of course not. I made a face for being so stupid. “I guess I just didn’t think about it.”
“Now you will. Because to everybody not in my network, we’re The Abyssinian. But to others in the Family, we’re Genghis Khan.”
“Family.” I chewed on my lip.
“That’s what we are.”
“Like that antialien group? The Family of Humanity?” The Hub called them terrorists, but I thought they were only protective of humanity. I’d done my reading.
“No, not them.” He looked up at me, serious. “Yuri, I want you to listen.”
When he said that it meant I better Remember. That it was for always if I wanted to stay here. More than just training; between him and me—his protégé. I’d looked that up too, and he hadn’t just taken me under his wing. He gave me another life. And even though he never said it directly, I knew he loved me.
“I’m listening, sir.”
His thumb still stroked my pulse. It almost made me sleepy, with my belly full of spiked punch and food and cake. Behind me I heard Dexter flitting about in his cage like a beating heart.
Marcus said, “Once you’re marked by my ship, you’re going to begin training as a geisha. You’re going to learn everything that Estienne knows and everything I can teach you as my protégé. Do you understand? You won’t be one or the other.”
I started to nod, but then shook my head. “One or the other?”
“Halfway between adult and child. Given certain things but sheltered from others. Restricted. You’re thirteen now. You won’t be restricted. You’ll no longer be a child, hidden away. You’ll be both geisha and protégé, you’ll know the most of anyone on my ship besides me. I’ve had others before, but none of them pleased me as much as you. None of them succeeded so well at this point. You’re my perfection, Yuri. You’re the future of my Family.”
It seemed to echo in the room, but that was just my own disbelief talking back at me. He was holding my hand. I would be Family, with the mark of his ship on my heart. The true name. And when he said it like that it meant forever.
I’d have everything, even Estienne’s name. Estienne’s other name. The name he wore when he wore the black. I’d know his mysteries.
Geisha, Marcus said. I said it too. I loved the way it felt on my tongue.
With my arms around the birdcage and Dexter screeching at me from the movement, I headed to Estienne’s quarters. It was up a deck, in that barricaded corridor, but my tags worked to open the doors. Once at his q I had to kick the hatch because I didn’t feel like setting down the cage. By then Dexter had quieted and just fluttered around from one corner to the other. Little bits of his bright green feathers drifted to the bottom.
“Exc
ited? Once I get you in my quarters I’ll let you out of this thing.” Maybe Estienne would let me release Dexter in his quarters. I had my mind set on sleeping here this shift, after Estienne gave me my presents, and I could grill him about the geisha duties. I made faces at the bird, and he tilted his head at me, then flapped and squawked when the hatch grated open.
It wasn’t Estienne at the entrance, but a girl. With an open shirt and low-slung pants, messy hair and a slender way of standing that gave attitude as much as it gave skin. She had dark eyes and thick lips, young in every way, but older than me. Estienne’s age. Her body and the hatch hid the inside of the quarters.
Her eyes flickered, and she said, “Est, it’s your boy,” and turned away to look behind her.
I felt my insides tighten. I wanted to hit her, just like that. Hard. For the way she looked at me and the way she called him Est. I thought about kicking, but at that point Dexter let out a long squawk, and the girl turned around, a hand to her ear.
“What is that thing?”
“He’s my bird!” I stuck my fingers through the bars on the cage door. “Should I let him out so he can shit on your head?”
Her lip curled, then Estienne appeared behind her, obviously in a hurry for something. He raked half his shirt onto his shoulder and blinked as if he’d just woken up. But not from sleep, I’d bet. The belt on his pants was undone.
“Yuri…did the captain send you?”
As if the only reason I wanted to see him was on Marcus’s orders?
“No, but it’s still my birthday, and you haven’t given me my presents yet.”
He and the girl exchanged glances—the kind adults gave when they had things to say that they thought should be kept from children.
Except I wasn’t a child anymore, even the captain had said.
“You can go,” I told the girl. Because I was Marcus’s protégé and even Caligtiera didn’t order me around.
Estienne lifted his chin at her, which made me mad. My words weren’t good enough? She moved then, zipped up her shirt, and edged by me (because I didn’t move and I was glad when Dexter screeched at her), off down the corridor with a small glance behind. I glared after her to make sure she went in the lev and disappeared, then I looked back at Estienne and shoved the cage at him.
Which wasn’t fair to do to Dexter, who flapped inside and protested sharply. Estienne stepped back, nearly tripping since I’d surprised him, and hurriedly set the cage on the floor. I walked in and shoved the hatch shut.
“So who was she?”
He pushed his hair from his eyes and straightened, patting the cage to reassure Dexter. He looked at me for a silent moment, then went to his desk where his bronze-and-black cigret case lay. He flipped it open and tapped out a stick, then struck the end with his fingerband.
“You sound jealous for a reason?” he said.
“I’m not jealous! I just asked a question!”
Dexter added to my voice.
“Dammit, Yuri, shut it down.” He pointed with the cigret. “And shut down that bird.”
“He’s not a comp.”
“These are my quarters!” Estienne yelled suddenly, his hand twitching as if he meant to open a blade. I froze, mouth clenched, until he came over just as swiftly and hugged me to his chest. “Sshh, all right,” he murmured, like I was upset. But I wasn’t. I stood there, still angry and just a little unnerved. He rubbed my back and kissed the side of my hair, stroking his cheek against it until I finally hugged him back. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” he said.
“I guess I interrupted.”
“Nah.” He let go and went to his bed. The sheets were kicked to the foot, the pillows shoved against the bulkhead. He sat and patted the mattress. “C’mon so I can give you your presents.” Now he smiled.
I wandered over, not too keen to sit where that girl might’ve been. But he grabbed my arm and pulled me down beside him, and it was so familiar here in his quarters that I forgave him the girl. Sort of.
“Is she your—girlfriend?”
His eyebrows rose and he laughed. “No. That’s just Taja. She’s a bedbug.”
I made a face. “Is she part of your geisha duties?”
His chin tilted. “No…and he told you, huh. About being geisha?”
Now I smiled. “Yeah. And you’re gonna teach me.”
I thought he’d smile back, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “First let me give you the presents.” He stubbed out his cig in the ashtray at his feet and went to one of his lockers behind a long strip of gauzy curtain, edging it aside. It obscured his hands in a crimson film. He came back with a thin gold-wrapped box, less than thirty centimeters and too narrow to house a knife. A fork maybe, but not an actual fighting blade. I forced myself not to frown in disappointment.
“Happy birthday,” he said, placing the gift in my hand and closing my fingers around it. Then he kissed me on the forehead.
“Thanks.” I smiled at him for that kiss. And forgave him a little more for Taja.
“Well open it,” Estienne said, shoving my shoulder.
I pushed a finger beneath the envelope of paper and ripped it off. The box was the same color. I lifted the lid, flicked away the top layer of silver tissue paper, and lying embedded there was a smooth black thing. Looked like two chopsticks stuck together. “What is it?”
“Take it out, I’ll show you.”
I lifted it out, set the empty box aside. The two chopstick things slipped apart a bit, yet they were connected by what looked like folded paper. So I spread it open and a painted image appeared on the delicate golden surface. A white face with black crescent eyes, wearing a long dress covered in colorful flowers.
“It’s a fan,” Estienne said.
“Oh,” I said. “Um. Thanks.”
He laughed, when I thought he’d be insulted. “For the geisha. Look.” He took it carefully from my hands, closed it, and stood in the center of his quarters. With a flick of the wrist he snapped open the fan and turned it face out, its curve covering the lower half of his face.
Now I smiled, because his eyes were bright.
Then he began to dance. In his party black with the paleness of his hair like the reflection of a sun. His eyes never quite connected with mine, a flirtation. He moved so fluidly it was as if the room danced with him, the walls and the curtains and the air that I breathed. All of them took turns to slide around his body as he gave me his back and his shoulders and the side of his face. The fan closed and opened like a gilded eye, in whispers. He held it sometimes like a shield, other times like an invitation, and when he was finally done, paused in front of me and bent at the knees with his eyes cast down, I wanted to lay my hand on the top of his head and pull him toward me. Because nothing that beautiful should go untouched.
I reached toward him, but he straightened, and my fingers grazed the air. He was smiling at me, but secretive, and held out the folded fan.
“You’ll learn,” he said. “And you’ll break people with a look.”
Break him, maybe? I took the fan. I stared into his eyes. “What’s my other gift?”
“Rascal,” he murmured, holding my gaze. Then he took my head in his hands, his fingers threading into my hair, and leaned down. My eyes shut, I didn’t know why, but I just breathed in, and it was Estienne everywhere. The imprint of his quarters behind my lids, the movements of that dance, and his fresh scent. He whispered into the top of my hair, “Go next door. To the right.”
I looked up. Our noses touched. “It’s in that q?”
“Just go,” he said, and released me.
I wanted to stay here. A heat had started at the base of my stomach, and it spread down. But when Estienne walked to his desk, the cool air in his quarters washed it all away.
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“No,” he said.
Sometimes I didn’t understand his games at all. So I got up and set the fan on top of the cage before I left.
My tags worked on the lock, not surpris
ing at all considering Estienne’s rein on this ship. I shoved the hatch open and stepped in, looking around. It was the same size as Estienne’s quarters, but unpainted.
Bo-Sheng sat on the bunk.
I squinted. It must’ve been him, even though his hair was finger-length short, and his face seemed harder. His cheekbones stood out more, sharp planes that angled sweetly against the tilt of his black eyes.
He stared at me and rose from the bed.
“Bo-Sheng?”
Stupid to ask. But I couldn’t believe it.
The heat that had melted in Estienne’s quarters started to spread again from the base of my belly. His shoulders had broadened, he was taller but not quite as tall as me even still, and beneath the gray mesh sweater, as he crossed his arms, long muscles drew a taut outline.
I grinned and engulfed him in a hug. I hoped he wasn’t still mad about our last conversation, which I barely remembered.
He didn’t return the embrace. Instead, he wriggled and pushed me back. “Stop it.”
I stared at him, clenching my jaw. First Estienne and now him? Playing these games?
He looked down as if I intimidated him. And for some reason that made me feel a little ashamed.
“Why’re you here?” I moved away and dug into my pocket, taking out the Red Star brand of cigrets that Marcus had introduced me to way back in the Camp. The rich scent filled the quarters in no time. Bo-Sheng still smelled like his cheap smokes.
“They told me it was your birthday,” he hedged.
“Oh.” I tried a smile. “It’s good to see you.” Even though you won’t even hug me. “They put you on that different shift, and we never crossed paths.”
He nodded a little, still didn’t look at me.
I blew out the smoke and tilted my head, resting my elbow on one folded arm. “What’ve you been doing?”
“Working,” he said. “Technician stuff. I’m sorry I never tried to, you know, send a comm or something.”
Cagebird Page 21