The Scholar's Tale (Original Fantasy)

Book II, Chapter 6

"There is a difference between trusting someone, and trusting them to do something. Look at my husband, for example." The Weaver Queen on the Clockwork King;

Jalil's eyes darted between me and his broken hand, mouth set in a grim line. 'You bloody...just hurt and break to get your way, eh? Are you sure you're you don't know how to find the Fleet? I could swear you were just returning home.'

'That would be far more scathing if you hadn't been part of it once. Say, why exile? Incompetence? It couldn't have been your hypocrisy-you're all drowning in it on those ships.'

'Oh?' His smirk was thin, his voice higher-pitched than usual. The pain was getting worse, not better. 'And what do you mean by that?'

'The Freed, for once. When you fail so grandly, or are so useless, they cut out parts of your brain. Freeing one from the burden of choice, I think you call it.'

'Don't be absurd.' His smirk was gone, replaced by an annoyed frown. 'Remaking wretches is nothing like threatening an accomplished officer-'

'Ex-officer.'

'-and explorer. Do you know why they sent me away, mage?'

'It couldn't have been that bad. You're still alive and thinking...well, debatably.'

Jalil rolled his eyes. 'Yes, I'm one of those poor fools who cannot break the world's laws on a whim. I could never match minds with sages like your kind...'

***

Somehow, we managed to get back to the Rainbow Burst without the whole inn dogpiling us. I'd seen it happen before, on other islands, when people wanted to break the routine.

Three had helped, admittedly. Some Skyfolk, birdlike features somehow stretched into grins, had tried to approach the bubble of silence while Jalil and I talked. Mharra had prepared to stop them, and even Ib had stirred, but Three had put one hand on each of their shoulders, and given the Skyfolk one of the coldest glares I've ever seen.

So cold, in fact, that the fire had been snuffed out in an instant, the windows had shattered, and the walls, floor and ceiling had frosted over. The Skyfolk had dropped like rocks, claws splayed and faces stuck in expressions of horrified shock. The innkeeper had complained about the damages, but Mharra had paid him, and Ib had eaten the frost. So, besides a few windows to replace and some patrons who'd probably stop frequenting, all was good.

'Don't you think they'll follow us?' I asked one of Three's selves as I walked up the steamer's ramp, the ghost walking on air by my side.

Three scoffed. 'I know you won't listen, but you've got to stop expecting the worst all the time, Ryz. It only encourages it to come after you. Besides...not everyone has the determination to hunt people down on the sea. Or a boat.'

I nodded. His "advice" was nonsense-why not expect the worst? Whether you did or not did not affect how it occurred, at least as far as I knew.

Slighted gods notwithstanding.

'I suppose...though, what was it that you did? One of those waves of fear I've heard ghosts cause?'

Three blew a raspberry. 'Their hearts didn't  stop, did they? I just lowered their bodies' temperature.'

One more reason, then, why the ship didn't have weapons. We already had two living-or, rather, thinking-weapons.

Still... 'That was cold, Three.'

The ghost half-laughed, half-groaned, clutching his face and spinning in midair.

Jalil ascended the ramp behind me and between Mharra and Ib. The former Lieutenant had protested to the grey giant walking behind him, much to Ib's confusion, or, perhaps, incomprehension. The ramp was a little too narrow for them to walk side by side, but they managed, though Mharra grumbled all the way up.

'It's absurd!' The boisterous captain insisted as we spread around the deck. Three floated close to a railing, creating the illusion of sitting of it. His two other selves were in the engine room, whispering sweet nothings to the ship he loved almost as much as Mharra.

'You think Ib would need to sneak up on you if it wanted you dead? Ha!' the captain threw his head back, laughing. 'Tell him how easily he'd die, Ib.'

The grey being shook its head, waving Mharra off with one hand. 'Please, captain. He is frightened.' Then, it turned to Jalil. 'I heard you tripped and fell on your hand, sir? Apologies-I wasn't paying attention.'

'No problem,' Jalil said bitingly. 'It's my fault for not watching what I was doing. So clumsy.'

Ib nodded, the sarcasm passing right over its head. 'You should be more careful, then. In the meantime...before the captain treats you properly, would you like me to make a cast?'

'A cast?' Jalil seemed ready to burst into disbelieving laughter. 'You...you think I'd let you anywhere near my body?'

'Please,' Ib said. 'I assure you, I am not dirty.'

Mharra shook his head, heading to the door leading downstairs. 'Forget it, Ib. Just make sure he doesn't trip and fall on his other hand while I'm away.'

I frowned at Jalil as soon as the captain left. 'Would you mind forgetting your little mysterious grudge against my friend?' and I had such ground to stand on when it came to secrecy, too. 'It's getting a little tedious. Wouldn't you rather share your problem with us?'

Jalil shook his head, looking frustrated rather than scared or contemptuous. I cannot, Yldii. I could not if I wanted. No man of the Fleet could, except obliquely. A safety measure, after we washed our hands of it.'

Resisting the urge to boggle at him talking about Ib like it was either a dumb animal or not here at all, I wracked my brain for a way to forge trust between us.

Well...my power had grown. I had healed myself before, though never others, and it always hurt.

There was probably a metaphor in there.

One of my hands darted out, covering Jalil's broken one. He grunted slightly at the touch, then gasped as I remembered the hand being healthy and whole.

It was not a gasp of relief. His bones were forced into their proper places by magic, and, by the time he was on his knees, tears streamed down his face.

'Dammit, Ryzhan!' Mharra protested as he made his way back on the deck. 'Just had to show off, didn't you? Who lost his patience, you or him?'

***

As Three's selves took away the dishes, Jalil glanced between me and Mharra, hands clasped on the table in front of him.

'The Fleet cannot be found,' he said bluntly, then held up a hand at our expressions. 'Do not misunderstand. I am not praising their ability to hide. I've no love for them. They cannot be found because, unless they are in Midworld, they are in the places between places, sailing the tides of possibility itself. But...exiled though I might be, I am not isolated. I was banished because I explored without being ordered to do so, buf they were fond enough of me to leave me a way to reach out to them.'

Jalil pinched his forehead with two fingers, tearing away a strip of flesh with a sound like ripping paper...and no blood. A gleaming azure sphere nestled in the wound, and Jalil pointed at it.

'Perks of service. I might be the cousin in the attic, but I'm still family. And...I'm tired of this half-life of mine. If they kill me for bringing the thing to them, at least I'll die remembered.'