Arsha's cabin aboard the Triskelion was tiny but cosy. A scattering of wooden statuettes littered the top of her dresser, the tools she'd used to carve them now buried in one of the drawers. A half finished dress was draped over the back of a chair, the needle tucked into the middle of a seam, and books lay scattered across the floor around an unmade bed. On the desk in one corner sat the pieces of a harmonic she'd been trying to build, with Shani's help.
Arsha was sitting cross-legged on the bed, with her sending stone cradled in her hands. She concentrated and felt the stone respond. She held the image of Shani's sigil in her mind and let the connection come to life. Moments later a ghostly image of Shani's room appeared before her. The girl was sitting on her bed, surrounded by the pieces of whatever project she was working on. Her hair had been pulled up into a winding mass of braids that spilled down one shoulder.
“Hey sister. I miss you already. How are you holding up?”
“Missing you too. I really wish you were here right now,” Arsha said.
“I know. I'm sorry sweetheart. But your Dad insisted you had to stay with him, and I couldn't just go skipping out on school right now... Believe me, I thought about it. I really did.”
“No, it's OK. Its not your fault.”
“So, did you find out what all the noise is about yet?” Shani said. Arsha shook her head sadly.
“Dad's been... Weird. He's just in his cabin all the time. He's been going through all his old journals, looking up stuff for whatever he's doing now. Everyone else is just...” She shrugged, helplessly. “Like, Micah's acting like it's all no big deal like he always does, and Ilona's just...”
“Just being 'Lona. Yeah, I know. The more worried she gets, the more stone-faced she gets, as if that was possible. I think I nearly died the last time I saw her smile.”
“She smiles plenty. She's just... Quiet,” Arsha said.
“Babe, you don't have to defend her. I love 'Lona to bits, but she's not exactly sociable, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Arsha said, with a sigh of resignation.
“How are my parents doing?”
“They're fine, I think. I sort of get that they both know a little, but they can't talk about it. So everyone's just, you know, not saying anything. Milima's spending all her time working on stuff. Like, whenever she's not in the engine room she's cleaning something or fixing something.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Mum alright.”
“And Uncle Abasi's just, you know, quiet.”
Shani nodded.
“Hang in there kid. It'll all pan out. Your dad's an odd guy sometimes, but he's not, you know, crazy. What people say about him, it's all rubbish. He's one of the smartest guys I've ever met. And he always knows what he's doing, you know? Even it when it looks like he doesn't.”
“Yeah. I know. I just... I know there's stuff that he doesn't talk about. Things he keeps to himself. But this is different. He's different. You can see it, the way he's been acting. Whatever this thing is, I think it's really messing him up,” Arsha said, staring down at the floor as she spoke.
“He'll sort it out, Arsh.”
“I just wish I knew why. Why he's acting like this all of a sudden. Like, if I could just know what that sending was about. Even if I just knew who it was, maybe it would make some sense.”
Shani nodded, and seemed about to say something. But instead, her lips pressed into a thin line, as Arsha looked up at her, expectantly.
“What?”
“It's just...” Shani paused again, and then her shoulders fell a little. “You could find out. If you really mean it. About knowing what the sending was. There's a way you could find out.”
Arsha felt her stomach twist.
“How... How would I do it?” she said.
Her father's study had changed little over the years. She could still remember how his old mahogany desk, scratched and scarred by years of use, had once towered over her. The leather chair, a bed that was never made, and shelf upon shelf of books. Every wall was covered with them, carefully bound with hide straps to keep them from shifting with the movements of the ship.
Her father's library had always fascinated her. As she grew older she had begun to borrow heavily from his collection, diving into one book after another. The unfinished volumes would pile up in her room until she came staggering back with armful after armful, and the cycle began again. She couldn't say why she never seemed to finish any of the books she started. It just seemed like whatever she found behind those well worn covers was not what she was looking for there.
That would be her excuse, if her father woke; that she had crept into his room late at night in search of the book that kept eluding her. It was a poor excuse. She hoped desperately that she wouldn't have to use it.
She had waited in the hallway for hours until at last, one ear pressed to the door, she had begun to hear faint snoring from the other side. Her father often stayed up long past when anyone else in the ship had gone to sleep. Already a greyness was showing on the far horizon, glimpsed through the porthole in the corridor, and she was afraid that soon Abasi would be up and about. A lifetime aboard ships had made the captain a tenaciously early riser. With how late her father worked, she often wondered how the two had ever found enough time together to become such close friends.
She slipped into the room, easing the door closed behind herself. Her father had never even made it to the bed. He was sprawled in his leather chair, head to one side, a fountain pen dangling between his fingers. She looked around for her father's coat. Her hands were trembling as she checked each of the pockets in turn. His sending stone was not there.
Then she saw it, propped up beneath the lantern on his desk, gilded frame gleaming under the flickering ghostlight. A lump formed in her throat and she fought to swallow it down. She felt as if her heart might shatter her ribcage as she inched across the few scant yards to his desk. He was close enough to touch, faintly snoring. A little trail of drool had formed at the corner of his mouth. For one terrifying moment, she had to suppress an overwhelming urge to laugh. She reached out to lift the sending stone from the desk. Her hands were shaking so hard that the smooth stone nearly fell out of her grasp, and she barely caught it before it struck the desk. She heard a sudden intake of breath, as her father shifted a little in his seat and then settled again. Heart still pounding, she slipped out the door.
Out in the corridor, she leaned back against the wall and let out the breath she'd been holding. She pressed the sending stone deep into her pocket and stole away back to her bedroom, cursing her own curiosity.
As she was passing the main stairwell, a sudden sound froze her in place. One of the doors lining the corridor swung open and a tall figure stepped out. In the darkness, it took her a moment to realise it was Micah. He was mostly undressed, just a pair of loose pyjama trousers on.
“Mmm? Hey kid,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Hh... Hey,” she did her best to smile.
“Up early?”
“Couldn't sleep. I, uh, went up to the kitchen to get a drink,” she said, trying to sound as natural as she could.
He nodded.
“You?” she added.
He gestured at the door to the bathroom, just behind her.
“Oh.”
He smiled.
“I'd best get back to bed,” she said.
As she stepped past him, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Arsh... Are you doing OK?”
“How do you mean?” she said.
“With all this, I mean. Your dad dropping everything, all of us suddenly running off to a city past the veil. I know it must all seem... Rough.”
“I'm OK.”
She shrugged.
“You sure?”
Trying not to fiddle with her hands too much, she gave him a reassuring smile.
“I'll deal with it. I mean, Dad's gotta have a plan, right?”
“He always does,” Micah said. He sounded so confident, like he always did. It was enough to make her wish she believed him.
“Anyway. I should get back to bed.”
She smiled, and stepped away.
“Yeah. Nature calls.”
Micah nodded and slouched off towards the bathroom, as she ducked through the door to her cabin and pressed it closed behind herself.
Comments (1)
See all