Inti's Watcher

  Peter poked at his new black eye. He didn't know how he’d gotten it, since he’d been hit on the brow, but the ravens had assured him a black eye had been expected.

  He looked up as Razan came into their group area and said a brief greeting before going back to his eye.

  “How does your head feel?” Razan asked, heading to the kitchen.

  “Like I hit it real hard on a pole,” Peter answered. “Did you get all the buttons?”

  “We did,” Razan said with a bow. “And then we left Nali alone in the boat. Which she doesn't know how to handle.”

  “I'm sure she appreciated that. What happened with Kaliana?”

  “I decided we’d helped the Diamonds long enough and asked Nali to bail her.”

  “Oh.” Peter couldn't say he approved, but he understood.

  “Sophie is here, but Captain Marie chose to stay,” Razan added, preparing a tea. “Separating was a good idea; we’re the first group to have pushed all the buttons, although a few aren't far behind.”

  “Nice,” Peter said absently, looking over as Sophie’s door opened.

  She came out, back to wearing shorts and a camisole and nothing else. Her nose was bright red, and would undoubtedly be peeling in a day or two, but the rest of her skin was normal. It seemed wearing real clothes in a contest was good; who could have guessed.

  Flashing a smile, Sophie walked over to the table and reached out to poke Peter’s face. He swatted her hand away before she touched him, pulling his hat down to cover his black eye.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked with a grin.

  “Not really,” he answered. “Mostly it just feels weird.”

  “I've never had a black eye,” she said. “It certainly looks interesting.”

  “If you wish, I would be happy to provide you with one,” Razan said, his voice calm and polite.

  Sophie stuck her tongue out at him, then promised she’d return the favor.

  Peter looked between them. Sophie was watching Razan for a reaction as he took a sip of tea. Peter remembered the annoyed glare Razan had shot him and Grace the night before when they’d announced their presence, and wondered what precisely their relationship was at this point.

  Razan set his cup down. “You need to drain the blood out of your face before it hardens. Would you like me to make the cut?”

  “Make the what now?” Peter asked, bringing his thoughts back to the present.

  “A small cut at the bottom of where the blood is collecting,” Razan explained. “Drain the blood so your eye doesn't turn as dark.”

  “Uhm… Sure. Nop said I couldn't have a raw steak, so…”

  “What good would uncooked beef do?” Razan asked, pulling a clean knife out of a drawer and checking the sharpness.

  Peter tried to come up with something, and failed. “I don't know, it’s just what’s done.”

  “My brother said it pulls the blood out through the skin, and the meat being cold makes the swelling go down,” Sophie said.

  “Interesting,” Razan said. “Stabbing Peter in the face sounds more fun.”

  “Yeah, could you not phrase it like that?” Peter asked.

  Razan grinned, spinning the knife between his fingers. “Impossible.”

  Marie debated going straight to sleep upon getting home, but she knew Louis would be cooking. The draw of food was strong. The draw of being with her people was also strong.

  After washing the sea salt off, she dressed and walked into the group area.

  The children under her care were playing five finger filet. They looked up the moment her door opened, Peter guiltily holding the knife in the air. Sophie had a few stab wounds on her left hand, and Peter somehow had a cut on his face. Razan looked whole, but he wasn't excused.

  With a sigh, Marie changed direction to sit down at the table with them. She motioned for Peter to continue. Looking faintly embarrassed, he quickly tapped the knife point between each of his fingers, went backwards, and handed it to Razan. Razan moved slower than Peter, more deliberately, and finished safely. He flipped the knife in the air, catching the blade between two fingers, and offered it to Marie.

  “Hopefully no one minds us putting marks in the furniture,” she said dryly, putting her left hand flat on the table.

  “I’m sure they won't,” Sophie said. “If they did, they would have said something already.”

  “True.” Marie stabbed the knife point between her fingers. She knew she wasn't the best at this game. She’d mostly participated while drunk, which didn't help her skill, and while sober she usually had enough intelligence to avoid stabbing at her fingers on purpose.

  Truthfully, she’d only joined this game to see how good her crew was at it. She finished her round and passed the knife to Sophie.

  Sophie leaned forwards, eyebrows furrowed with concentration as she viciously stabbed between her fingers.

  Marie put a hand on her wrist, stopping her. “Lightly, child. Tap the table, don't aim to put a hole through it.”

  “Oh, sorry,” the thief said, starting again. She finished without drawing blood and handed the knife back to Peter.

  Having lost his nervousness, he stabbed the knife between his fingers with impressive speed and handed it to Razan. The samurai again went slowly and deliberately, and handed the clean weapon to Marie. Going quickly, she made seven clean taps before the blade hit a knuckle.

  She cursed, handing the knife to Sophie.

  “Are you all right?” Sophie asked, trying to see the wound.

  “I am,” Marie answered, holding the cut tight. “This isn't the first time I’ve lost this game.”

  Suddenly nervous, Sophie gripped the knife at a slight angle and stabbed. She hit a finger on her third tap. With a squeak of alarm, she flinched both hands back.

  “A good attempt,” Marie told her as the knife was passed to Peter.

  Peter again went quickly through the motions, leaving no space for error but making no errors. He finished, handing the knife to Razan.

  Razan went slightly faster this time, but he clearly didn't have the practice Peter did. He passed the knife back to Peter.

  Altogether, the men made six rounds between them before Razan slipped and almost cut a finger, pulling back at the last moment.

  “Well done, cowboy,” Marie said, getting to her feet. “Oh, before I forget; how’s your head?”

  “Fine now, thank you,” Peter said with a nod. “They gave me painkillers about an hour ago.”

  “Very well. Carry on,” she said, unable to keep a slight frown off her face. If they noticed or not she didn't check, instead heading straight for the door.

  She was getting worried about Peter’s daily use of painkillers. Yes, he’d needed them when he arrived, but then he’d never stopped taking them. Surely his bones had healed by now. If he was still in pain, that was bad. If he wasn't, that was worse.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Marie shook her head as she got to Windward’s door. It opened for her, which was nice of it. Sometimes it didn't, and she had yet to figure out the pattern.

  Louis was, as expected, cooking something in the kitchen. He turned and smiled, motioning her closer. She walked over and leaned against him, looking into the pot he was stirring.

  “Chicken?” she guessed.

  “Pork,” he said. “Extra spicy, just for you.”

  “While I appreciate that, I doubt Ebba will,” she said with a smirk.

  “She’s not joining us,” he said in a low voice, his fingers tightening on the spoon. “She shouldn't have joined the contest, but then Nali wouldn't have joined, and I couldn't have gone by myself, so…”

  Marie moved to lean on the counter so she could see his face.

  “Has she told you?” he asked quietly.

  “Not in detail,” Marie answered. “She said her arm felt frostbitten and her vision was fading.”

  “That’s not the half of it,” he said. “She gets headaches, stomach aches, her joints hurt, her kidneys hurt, her lungs don't work properly, her intestines don't work properly, she can't sleep, and so on and so forth. Used to be they'd fix it and she’d be fine for about a year. Now it’s been hardly six months. She acts fine and refuses help and there’s nothing I can do.”

  Marie put a hand over his. “She is very independent.”

  “She’s not, she just doesn't-” Louis stopped, glaring into his pot. “She doesn't trust humans.”

  Again, Marie waited, knowing it was best to not say anything.

  Finally Louis sighed, turning the stove off. “The rostari have whole medical textbooks with her as the main subject. Most of what they know about human pain and how our brains react to any given drug had her as the first person they studied. They perfected their sleeping drugs because she spends so many nights unable to fall asleep on her own. Any substance they want to see the effect of, she takes. Anything Irik suggests she agrees to immediately. I can hardly get a full ‘do you need anything’ out before she snaps at me.”

  “Jealousy?” Marie guessed.

  “Not… fully. I love her; not being able to help without her taking it as an attack hurts.” He smiled faintly. “Thank you for not reacting badly when I tried to help.”

  She smiled back, teasing, “Most of my pains were caused by you. Least you could do was fix things.”

  For a moment he silently stirred his pot, and Marie realised too late that that may have been too far.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally managed.

  “I didn't mean… I was thinking of the time you decided three-day-old oysters ought to be edible,” she told him. “Or when you insisted there weren't termites in the floor, and I nearly fell through.”

  Louis pointed at her with his spoon. “I refuse to take blame for someone who jumps on a plank of wood to prove it’s rotten.”

  “I'll admit that wasn't one of my wiser ideas, but it proved I was right.”

  He smiled again. “And those oysters by all accounts smelled fine.”

  “They looked green,” Marie countered.

  “Well at least I only ever poisoned us with bad food once.”

  “Aye, and that’s your fault for trusting me to cook in the first place.”

  “I still don't know how you managed to turn so many fish into charcoal,” Louis said in a hollow voice.

  She smiled. “Simple, I can't smell when something is burning. Things in pans go from looking fine to being on fire in moments.”

  “They don't,” he informed her, giving his pot a final stir before taking it off the stove. “But that’s why I am more than happy to cook for you. Could you get two bowls, please, love?”

  “Certainly.”

  The following day, Sophie finally asked permission to paint her walls. She spent all morning in the group area deciding which of the incredibly beautiful views she’d seen to cover her walls with. Marie looked over the photographs and said the Sahara sunrise was a good one, then left. Razan came in and pointed out Sophie had four walls, and so could choose four photographs.

  That opened a whole new world of decisions to be made, as there had to be a theme. Did she want them all to be of similar colors, or of the same hour? The horizon had to be in the same place, obviously, but did she want a whole half of every wall to be taken up by sky, or less?

  Razan had opinions, and Sophie in general found herself agreeing with them. He had good reasons for all his suggestions, to the point Sophie wondered if she would have been able to decide without him.

  After lunch, Razan pointed out that Marie and Peter weren't likely to object if Sophie suggested painting one of the long walls in the group area. Peter passed through as they were arguing about what colors to paint with, and agreed their group colors should be the only ones used. However, rather than agree with Sophie that orange should be the base and blue-green the drawing, or agree with Razan that the opposite would work better, he suggested both long walls should be painted, with each wall being reversed in colors.

  And then he left, having nothing to suggest in the way of what style of painting it ought to be. Sophie and Razan agreed it must be consistent, but that was the only thing they agreed on. Marie came in again and watched them argue for a bit as she made herself tea, but said nothing.

  They eventually agreed plants made good subjects for large murals, and that silver would be a good color to add for outlines and details. Sophie was arguing the merits of rose vines as Razan insisted on cherry trees in bloom when it finally came time for them to leave for the report.

  They already knew they’d won the contest, but Sophie didn't know where any of the other groups had placed. She wanted to know where the Diamonds landed, as well as the Stars and Seabirds and Foxes and Bees and… Well, everyone.

  As they approached the crowd of people waiting for the report to begin, Innoka came towards them. She took Razan’s hand, saying a greeting, and he smiled as he replied. And Sophie suddenly felt hollow inside.

  She took a step back, then hurried to their group’s usual place for watching reports, her cheeks burning.

  In general, she liked Innoka. She was sad Innoka was leaving in two days. They hadn’t spent a great amount of time together, but they got along well. It had been amusing to watch everything Razan had done to get Innoka’s attention and favor.

  At this moment, though, Sophie couldn’t wait for Innoka to be off the ship. More than anything, she wanted her gone.

  Marie walked up, paused, and frowned as she inspected Sophie’s eyes. “Hmm.” She turned, scanning the crowd, and stopped when she saw Razan talking to Innoka. “Hmm.”

  For some reason, Sophie felt her blush intensify.

  “Don’t worry, child, things will change soon,” Marie said, moving to face forward again.

  Sophie glared at the floor. “I’m not a child.”

  “Careful, thief,” Marie said softly.

  “Sorry.”

  “Patience. Above all else, patience.”

  “How?” she asked, looking up at the person she trusted most.

  Marie sighed. “Relax. Focus on something else for the time being. Wait for the right time to act; don’t force anything.”

  “Right.” Sophie stretched her arms, trying to relax.

  At that point the announcer’s voice called that the report was about to begin. Peter wandered over and stood at Marie’s side. Just as a map of the buttons’ locations was put on the wall, Razan walked up and stood, as usual, next to Sophie.

  Sophie looked at Marie for help, but only got another sigh.

  Razan had expected to be called a traitor in the review, but the announcer had done much more than that. The Foxes had fallen into twelfth place, all because of him. How dare he and Nali bail Innoka, what with this being her last contest here? There apparently had been bets going on if he and Nali would fight, but no one had bet that they’d conspire together to betray two groups.

  Also, the Diamonds had fallen into sixteenth place. The announcer cursed the Bees for having damaged their boat, praised Marie for offering Kaliana a place on Drifter’s boat, and called Razan and Nali horrible people for asking Kaliana to bail.

  After the review, people kept glaring at him, keeping their distance. Razan wasn’t sure if he ought to be worried about that or not. Annoyingly, those people were around Innoka, wishing her well, so he couldn’t talk to her. He leaned against a wall, prepared to wait.

  To his surprise, after a while Nali came up to him. They bowed politely to each other, and he waited for her to speak.

  Nali glared at him halfheartedly. “Asani is of the opinion that, if we are going to be condemned as outcasts together, we may as well be friends.”

  “A noble opinion,” Razan said flatly.

  “It will not happen unless you cut your hair,” she stated.

  “Never.”

  “As I expected.” She smirked and walked away.

  Razan watched her, debating. It was unthinkable for a samurai to have short hair. To cut it would be a show of dishonor, which he suspected Nali knew. His long hair showed his status and identity; it wasn’t just something he could remove.

  But if Nali knew this, then if he did cut his hair, she would be the one in the wrong for any future clashes between them. He had cut her hair in battle; perfectly acceptable. To cut his own hair as an apology would make it impossible for her to act like she held a grudge against him. Given his captain’s relationship with others in her group, he suspected there would be many times in the future when he and Nali would be asked to work together. Having her be disgracefully responsible for any tension between them would be perfect.

  And if he cut his hair now, some might see it as a sign of repentance for having harmed the Foxes or Diamonds.

  He hated the idea. He absolutely hated it. But it was now or never. Besides, his hair would grow again.

  Grimacing, he left the wall and went to find Peter.

  The cowboy was with Grace and Juan, joking about how his first experience on a boat had gone. They stopped as Razan walked up, watching him expectantly.

  Razan bowed. “Forgive the interruption. Peter, would you join me as I-” He stopped, growled, and took a deep breath before he could bring himself to continue. “As I cut my hair.”

  Peter blinked. “You want a haircut?”

  “I do not know styles and such of short hair,” Razan said, avoiding answering the question. “I need someone with experience in those matters to help.”

  At this point Juan was scooting away, and his movement made Razan realize a huge, dangerous grin was spreading on Grace’s face. Her hand shot out, and she grabbed the small man’s forearm in a death grip.

  “I can help,” she said. “I think everyone getting haircuts is a grand idea. We should go now, and I will make sure you all get proper haircuts.”

  Juan whimpered.

  Peter looked at her. “I don’t need a haircut, do I?”

  “Poncho, you’ve needed one for a while now,” she informed him, clamping her fingers around his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everyone is still presentable at the end of the night. Off we go!”

  Juan whimpered again as she walked purposefully towards a room, still gripping his arm.

  Now dreading what was about to happen for multiple reasons, Razan followed.