Beyond

Day 17

The next time Haiv woke, his father was gone. The chartroom was empty. Only the table and chairs remained. From the floor, it even looked like Porter had taken all the maps out of the room. That made Haiv uneasy. Porter was so meticulous. He never moved his maps.

Experimentally, Haiv tried to move his hands and discovered that they worked again. His arms were still shaky, but they held his weight as he sat up. He still felt the faint sting of the lashes he'd received what felt like ages ago, but that pain paled in comparison to the persistent ache in his neck. Haiv let out a groan and massaged the muscles in his shoulders. The chains around his wrists clinked mockingly.

"Shut up," he muttered at them. "I'm not scared of you or the cap'n anymore."

The chains, thankfully, went silent.

Haiv's stomach chose that moment to growl about it's emptiness. How long had it been since he'd eaten? Hours? Days? Should he find Rodigan and ask for food? The thought made Haiv want to vomit. But he couldn't just sneak food from the galley or from the cargo hold. That's what got him in the brig the first time. But the pain in his stomach was so demanding. He wasn't going to just sit there.

Besides, what more could Rodigan do to him?

Not trusting his legs just yet, Haiv got on all fours and crawled across the wooden floor. Daylight shone under the door, which meant there would be a lot more eyes to see the only slave on board skulking out of the chartroom. When he reached the door, Haiv stretched a hand up and gripped the handle. Using that and bracing his shoulder against the door jam, Haiv pulled himself to his feet.

His head immediately started spinning.

"Woah," he said, teetering. He shut his eyes, bent his knees, and gripped the doorknob tighter. Gradually, his vision cleared. His legs seemed reasonably steady, so Haiv carefully turned the knob and opened the door a crack. He poked an eye into the slit and saw that there was no one in the passageway outside. He opened the door wider and stuck his head out.

The passageway was indeed empty. There did seem to be a lot of noise coming from on deck, however. He'd head to the galley then.

Silently, and with the dexterity of years of pestering Rodigan, Haiv stepped out of the chartroom. The clamor on deck drew his eyes. It looked like the entire crew was gathered. Everyone was shouting. What in Auru's name was going on?

Haiv tip-toed to the right, toward the crowd. His curiosity, for the moment, was more powerful than his hunger.

The attention of the crew seemed to be on whoever was standing on the poop deck, directly above Haiv's head. To not be seen, he kept to the shadowed part of the narrow passageway, hugging the wall. One silent step, then another. Everyone outside was too loud and upset to notice him.

Toes touching the line where the shadow of the deck above him gave way to daylight, Haiv stopped. There was a slight hush over the crowded pirates, but they weren't looking at him. Haiv strained his ears.

"Enough! We'll arrive within the hour. There's no turning around now. The next man to suggest it will be deemed insubordinate and thrown overboard."

The crew quieted further. The words sounded like something the captain would say, but that was not Rodigan's rough, angry voice. This voice was calm and strong. Reasonable. And horribly familiar.

"Why should we listen to you?" someone shouted. "You are not our captain."

There was a pause. Haiv listened intently, feeling a strange burning in his chest that he couldn't quite describe. That sounded like...but it couldn't be.