The navigator, p.23
The Navigator, page 23
"What are you talking about?"
"You – you're not a girl." The man sniggered. He shifted his body, trying to stand up, but instead, he fell back down into the grass, landing on his butt. "You're a sprite aren't ya? A nymph. A nereid. Well, whad'ya want with me?"
"Nothing. What would I want with you? You're drunk."
"What?" The man rolled over onto his side.
The surrounding grass rustled from the wind.
Petal watched as the man tried to stand once again, but he was still too unbalanced. He keeled over within a few seconds.
"You're drunk. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You're ruining your body."
"What . . .er. . .what? Ashamed? Ashamed of what?" The man giggled.
"That you're so drunk you can't even stand . . .or talk." Petal looked away from him, down toward Skrae. She could still hear the music.
"So?" The man pointed at his gaudy tunic. "That's my job. I'm Skrae's town drunk. Pleased to meet you - little fairy." He sat up and bowed to Petal.
"I'm not a fairy."
"Then you're a brownie, right? Or a pixie? Some kind of island gnome? Definitely not a girl." The man let out a beer burp. "I can tell. I can tell who's a girl and who's not a girl. I know those kinds of things."
"Just leave me alone."
"Oh yeah, leave you alone, eh? Haha, you definitely want to be left alone. That's for sure."
"What does that mean?"
"There's a party down there. Hard to miss it. Everyone there is having fun, but you'd rather not have fun, eh? You'd rather be angry or depressed bout something."
"Screw you."
"Maybe you don't know how to have fun then?" The man finally stood up. He stretched out his arms and belched again. "Well I'll show ya. Here, have a drink, little fairy."
He reached into his tunic and tried to hand Petal a flask of whiskey.
"I'm thirteen."
"So?" He hiccupped, "I had my first bottle when I was just a wee one."
"It shows. And I hate alcohol. Look at you. Trying to give that to a child."
"Ya ain't a child." The drunk staggered back and forth for a second. "Bah – wha ever ya say, little nymph. Will ya help me up there?" He pointed up the hill.
"Why?" Petal followed his hand. "What's up there?"
"It's ah. . .I drank too much - got the spins, ya know? There's some medicine up there for that. Come with me. I'll show you."
"What medicine?"
"Shaman's breath. Cat's eye." He wiped his chin. "Come. I'll show you."
He began to stumble his way up the hill on all fours.
Petal watched him drunkenly charge over the crest like a dog. He then stood up, waving for her to follow.
After hesitating for a moment, she slowly made her way after him.
***
The rest of Quill's dance with Lhan was somewhat of a blur. As she strutted her way up and down the dance floor to a succession of different melodies, Lhan and a few other men in the crowd continued to hand her drinks. She guzzled each of them without a thought. By the time the band reached another interlude, she felt dizzy. She plodded her way over to one of the stools by the windows and sat down. She then closed her eyes and rested her head against the back wall for a moment, trying to take in deep breaths of the fresh, cool sea breeze that was flowing in through the open windows.
"There you are. Looks like you've been having fun," someone spoke the words directly into Quill's ear.
"Huh? What?" Quill shot forward and opened her eyes. She looked over to her left and realized that Styvers was sitting on a stool right beside her.
Styvers looked the same as before. He wasn't wearing a tunic - he was still in his Yong-style fisherman's smock. He gave Quill a crabbed smile and then returned to his drink.
"Styvers?" Quill reached over and hugged the old fisherman like he was a giant teddy bear. "What are you doing here?"
Styvers watched Quill hug him, perplexed by her exuberance. He shrugged, chalking it up to the alcohol.
"Fuck – am I too old to enjoy myself? Can't just have a drink and listen to some music like everyone else?"
"Hahaha." Quill's face was beet red. "No you're not too old. I'm just happy to see you. I expected you to be fishing or something."
Styvers nodded, now only listening to the band. His eyes wandered across the tavern until they came to a rest on Lhan. He watched as Lhan waited at the bar, trying to bark out a drink order to a preoccupied barman.
"You know he ain't right for you."
Quill leaned into the old fisherman. "Who's not right for me?"
"The guy you were dancing with. The man you were with on my boat - the big ox."
"Lhan?"
"Yeah, you're not good for him."
"The fuck does that mean?"
"Whoa - sorry - came out wrong." Styvers shook his head. "I mean. . .he wants a woman who will be at home. He wants a quiet, stable woman. A wife."
"So what?" Quill drunkenly seesawed in her seat. "I'm not wife material?"
"Fuck woman! He's a big oaf. You're a sly, little shrew. You're too smart for him – ya know that. What are ya going to talk about? Whatd'ya have in common?"
"I don't know," Quill mumbled. The room was spinning.
"Exactly. And I can tell he don't like stress. He's a cool one - ya know? What he likes will bore the shit out of you. You want challenge and you ain't gonna find that with an ox. He don't want those things. He wants peace and quiet."
Quill tried to mull over Styvers's advice, but her mind was awash in alcohol.
"I like peace and quiet too. I don't like being shot at by pirates or being lost at sea with feral children."
"If you liked peace and quiet ya'd have stayed back on dry land." Styvers chuckled. "You came out here for the excitement. Every dry foot does."
"No." Quill leaned against the wall, trying to regain her balance. "I came out here because I couldn't. . .No. I'm not talking about that now. I'm going to have fun tonight."
Lhan weaved his way through the crowd, over to the two of them.
"Just remember what I said. I'm older and wiser than you are, little shrew. You'll realize I was right sooner or later."
Lhan stooped over and he and Quill briefly kissed. Afterward, he realized he was standing next to Styvers.
"Styvers!" He grabbed his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"
"Can't an old man have a drink without it shocking everyone?" Styvers stood up from his stool. "I'm going back to the boat to sleep this swill off. You two stop by tonight to get your things. I'll be setting sail tomorrow, so if you don't get em, I'm keeping em."
"Sure." Lhan helped Quill to her feet. She leaned against him for balance.
Styvers made a gruff nod and then jostled his way out of the tavern.
Lhan and Quill returned to the dance floor. The two of them danced the night away in a fugue.
***
"Come on little sprite, we're almost there!" The drunkard called. He picked up his pace and continued to stagger through the shadowy landscape.
Petal didn't speed up, plodding behind him as they meandered their way farther into the Isle. The sun had just set and now the countryside was drab and dark. She couldn't see much around them.
"Where are we?" Petal paused next to a high tuft of grass. The man was now out of view, completely veiled by the darkness.
"We're here!" The man giggled like a little girl.
Petal waited in place for a moment. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. She and the man were standing at the very edge of a large, planted field. It was full of tall, thin, green stalks that had been spaced into neat little rows like corn.
The man gestured to the stalks, excitedly. He slipped between them, disappearing into the wall of foliage.
Petal followed.
As she walked into the crops, the strange plants brushed against her face and shoulders. Many of them towered over her, nearly seven feet tall. The whole field had a skunky aroma that seemed familiar.
Petal stopped walking after she got a few feet into the crop field. The strange plants surrounded her - she could see nothing but their leaves and the starry night sky. She held her hand up to one of the plants and crinkled its leaves. She tried to remember what type of crops they were.
"You see!" The man popped out from the darkness.
"Stop that! Where are we!"
The man plucked a trio of leaves off one of the plants and quickly rolled them in his hands. He then motioned for Petal to take a sniff of the wad of crumbled up plant matter.
Petal let the strong odor invade her nose. She then stared at the drunken stranger, trying to place the smell.
"It's. . . soma?"
"Hehe." The man nodded. He reached into his tunic and produced a little cob pipe. "Sacred soma. This field's for Skrae's shaman – but he won't mind if we sneak some – it's a Jurga!"
"You led me here so you could smoke drugs?"
"Huh?" The man shoved the wad of crushed leaves into his pipe.
"Why did you take me here!"
The surrounding soma plants rustled. Petal looked around. She couldn't see more than a foot in front of her.
"You want your fortune told, right?" The man dug around in his tunic once again. This time he pulled out an antediluvian lighter. "Everyone says you're going to the Seer."
"How do you know that?" Petal scanned the shifting plants nervously, now acutely aware that she was alone, in a dark, isolated place with a total stranger.
The man took a tiny puff on his pipe, trying to light the soma. He got a big lungful of smoke and began to cough, leaning over like he was going to throw up.
"Oh . . .ewww. . .ah. ..this's why it's supposed to be dried and cured. So harsh right off the stalk." He slowly stood up and then spit on the ground. "Ya want some too, little fairy?"
"No!" Petal snapped. "How do you know I'm going to the Seer?"
"You're Khan Rho's daughter. It's the talk of the town. The little nereid with a crown of fire."
"I'm NOT his daughter."
"Well." The man puffed on his pipe. "Ya want me to tell you your fortune? I'm better than the Seer. She'll just talk to you in riddles. My mum taught me better."
"You're a fortuneteller?"
"No." The man lowered the pipe from his lips. "I'm just a tanner . . .and a lonely drunkard."
"Urgh! I'm leaving."
Petal stormed off, flailing her arms to bat away the surrounding stalks of soma.
"Hey now!" The man called after her. "Ya didn't let me read you!"
"Don't."
Petal turned back for a moment. She couldn't see the man through the soma field.
The drunkard chuckled to himself. He put his arms up to a soma stalk and started to dance with it like it was his partner.
After Petal left the field, he sang aloud to his leafy audience.
♪♪ Ah, what did I just see?
A little child or fairy?
Gonna wander down the Southern Sea?
Meet that soulless man stuck in the ice?
Well he ain't very nice. . .
He's going to send you up into the sky,
So that all those memories die . . . ♪♪
- 43 -
Quill slowly opened her eyes. She was down in the hull of Styvers's ship, lying on one of the cots in the main cabin. Her head felt cloudy and compressed, like someone had been pressing down on her face the entire night. She couldn't remember how her night had ended, or how she'd gotten back to the boat.
Tiny slivers of light poked inside of the ship from a gap where the ladder came down from the main deck. The dim sunlight was enough to make her eyes sting and water.
Quill sat up on her cot and tried to remember what had happened. She realized her tunic had slipped off while she was asleep. It was now draped around her waist, leaving her upper body exposed. She hastily wrapped her arms around her breasts while scanning the dark cabin to see if anyone had seen her.
Lhan was lying in a heap next to her, snoring.
Petal was sitting on her cot, wide awake. She gave Quill a taunting smile.
Quill looked away from her, slightly ashamed. She scanned the cabin floor for her clothes. She peeked back over at Lhan, trying to gauge whether the two of them had sex the prior night. She bit her lip, unable to remember.
"You didn't do anything." Petal smirked, seemingly able to read her thoughts.
Quill went scarlet. "What?"
"You and Lhan. You didn't have sex. I was here when the two of you came back last night. You both just lay down and passed out."
"Yeah, I remember."
"Uh-huh." Petal peered up the ladder. Someone was walking on the main deck. She could hear their footsteps.
"Anyone awake down there?" Styvers called.
"Me."
Styvers leaned over the crest of the ladder, blocking out the sun.
"Ah, the fire lily. Go wake up the ox and the shrew. Somebody is waiting for you on the docks, and I'm ready to set sail and leave this Isle."
Petal climbed onto the main deck while Quill tried to wake Lhan by shaking him.
Lhan's body was a big, stiff sack. He didn't react to Quill's jarring.
Quill quickly gave up on subtlety and punched him in the shoulder.
"Oww," Lhan groaned without opening his eyes. "Wha – what's happening?"
"We're being kicked off the boat." Quill rubbed her temples. Her hangover had chosen to manifest itself as a splitting headache.
"Whose boat?" Lhan rolled over. The dim ambient light was blinding to him. Tears welled up in his eyes, making him sneeze.
"Styvers's boat. You don't remember coming back here?"
"I don't remember anything after my third mug of mead." Lhan stretched out his limbs like a cat. "Except that you're an awful dancer."
"Hey." Quill put one hand on the ladder and tried to use the other to block out the sun. "I'm an excellent dancer, thank you."
"Well not last night. You were all over my toes. I think a few of them are broken."
"I don't know how to do old nomad jigs." Quill climbed up to the main deck. "And you kept feeding me drinks until I was incoherent."
"Aw - I was kidding. Come on, Quill. . ."
***
"Have a bit much to drink, did we?" Styvers studied Quill's eyes. They refused to adjust to daylight.
Quill looked like a zombie. She was unnaturally pale and covered in a cold sweat. Her lips looked yellow as bile.
"The Isle's mead does funny things to people," he sniggered.
Quill turned away from Styvers, staring out at Skrae. The town bobbed up and down from the choppy, morning sea. The constant motion made her feel even more nauseous. The quaint town looked like it just weathered a hurricane. Heaps of trash and sleeping bodies littered its streets. The fires from the Jurga were still smoldering, making the air over the village appear gray and foggy like that over a battlefield.
Mamnon was standing at the edge of town, next to the docks. His giant, unflinching presence made him look like a statue.
"Thanks for letting us sleep here, again." Quill extended her arm for a handshake. "And thanks for taking us here. We appreciate everything you've done for us. I hope we meet again."
"Yeah, yeah," Styvers huffed. "You cost me my entire catch. If we meet again, I hope ya can pay me back for it."
Quill crinkled her nose, wondering if that was Styvers's idea of a fond farewell. He picked up the gear strewn across the deck, as Lhan made his way up from the cabin.
For some reason, Mamnon was not in a cheery mood this morning. He looked miserable. He gruffly told Lhan to wait for the girls in Skrae, and then led the two of them all the way back to Oask in silence.
Quill didn't mind the lack of conversation. Her mind was still swimming from her hangover. The hike up the surrounding hills was unbearable, as she had to walk straight into the rising sun. The direct light stabbed into her weary eyes and her legs trembled on the uneven cobblestones. She still felt drunk and uncoordinated.
Mamnon tried to slow down to match her pace, but eventually became fed up. Both he and Petal trotted ahead, shrinking into far off specks, while Quill struggled to keep moving forward.
Oask looked much the same as it had the day before. A sleepy medieval village. By the time they arrived, Quill's head had mostly cleared from the grueling walk. She and Petal dawdled in the village, waving at the playing children, and exploring a hayfield on its outskirts.
