The Sound of a Siren's Call

19.) Above Deck Realizations

The stairs weren't by any means wide enough for two people, but the Kiserites made it work. My hands were twisted behind my back, and I was practically being drug up. The last man was at the top of the stairs when we started up. He disappeared, and our pace picked up. My legs were sore, but I forced them to keep up. My body wasn't going to magically hurt less if I face planted.

I blinked in the sunlight, and it dawned on me how dark the room had been, even with the lights. I squinted and stumbled into a line spanning across the huge deck. It took my breath away how big the whole thing was. The captain's cabin had to be a sprawling expanse of rooms. I got the feeling that the room we were all kept in wasn't considered big by the crew's standards.

My attention was immediately drawn to a new man. I'd never seen him before, but I recognized the bearing, his shoulders squared, his chin high. He walked with the swagger of a man who placed great value on having a swagger.

His lips moved and his nostrils flared. He kept making over-exaggerated movements. Castor initially kept trying to sloppily fingerspell what the man was saying, but a man stood behind him and pinned his armed behind his back, successfully cutting me out of the conversation.

He stomped over to Castor and leaned so their faces were inches apart. Castor held his ground even as the man's temple bulged as each vein throbbed, looking like malnourished snakes. Castor stood stiff, and everyone turned to look at the two.

Castor didn't budge. He stood, stiff like a statue. And he was talking, looking as calm as though he was in a completely normal situation.

When I looked at him, it struck me how much like the soldiers I'd seen from when the king had decided he was going to crack down on piracy once and for all. I'd been about six at the time.

They'd looked like him almost exactly. Pale and foreign, even though they were technically from the same country as me. That didn't endear me to them or them to me. We'd always been closer to Kiser than Regno, if only by an unspoken agreement.

They'd had that same hard look. At the time, they'd looked so old. Even the ones that I knew were young by all standards but mine. To a six-year-old, the ten years between some of us had been some time away.

They'd all looked so stiff. And my father suddenly decided I had to see his homeland. At the time I didn't notice the connection. I only got to see them for a day before we were speeding up the coast to a small fishing town that barely made it on any map of even the local area.

Now there wasn't a fishing town to run to. There weren't my father's stout legs to hide behind.

And I was so, so much older and I knew so much more. I focused on the present. I forced myself to focus on his pursed thin lips and his scraggly mustache. Then, I forced myself to watch Castor's stony face. I couldn't understand anything either of them said, but from the reactions of the men around me, Castor was holding his own. But the more they talked, the more enraged the mustached man became.

And all that time Castor remained expressionless. It was as though he hadn't just made them drag him up the stairs.

I marveled at the drastic shift. He'd been fairly stoic when he was around Juniper too.

The only time I'd seen him be unpredictable was when he was around me. First when he'd kept staring at me. Then when he offered me his hand. Then when he put up a struggle earlier.

It didn't add up.

Except it dawned on me that it did. My blood froze and I looked at him in a new light. For the first time he caught my eye, and I wanted it to just be a confirmation that my imagination was making something out of nothing. His gaze flicked to my lips and then he turned away again.

I wanted to crawl into a hole. He couldn't like me. The last time someone had liked me, I'd told my father and their family promptly found a reason to move away. And I hadn't regretted anything.

He was nice enough and he wasn't ugly. But I didn't reciprocate the feeling. Just like I didn't with Castor now.

I couldn't focus on the man's jabbing finger anymore. How did I deal with it all?

My father wasn't here to make all my problems go away.

The man moved over to me. Castor said something and his eyes narrowed.

They shoved Castor next to the man. He was spelling, his signs stiff and overly precise. I could tell he was way behind the man's speech. He kept signing long after the man's mouth had stopped moving, but I barely paid attention.

Most people picked up on the fact you don't have to say each letter after they've had to spell a few words. Castor remained stalwartly firm in conveying each letter.

It seemed a waste that it was all "yes" or "no" questions that I could answer with a simple nod.

He wanted to know if I was really a siren. I skipped the long explanation and nodded.

He wanted to know if the other siren was my friend. That one gave me pause, but eventually, I nodded in affirmation. I was too tired and too dazed to lie.

They asked if I'd been traveling with the Navy.

He asked if anyone could interpret better than Castor. Castor dutifully conveyed each message to me, even as he was answering it on my behalf.

Eventually, he waved his hand and he was done with us. Someone gripped my arm and held me in place as everyone else filed back below deck. Then they led me to the captain's quarters.

The man who'd lead the interrogation followed me in and closed the door behind him.

I looked straight ahead. "Juniper," I signed, already rushing towards her.