Tome of the Undergates

‘Bury the dead.’

A stale wind swept across the deck. The feathers in Kataria’s hair wafted across her face as she stared down into her cup and swirled the liquid thoughtfully.

‘Good coffee.’

‘Mm.’

In the brightness of the morning, Kataria couldn’t help but notice a sudden change in Lenk. He was not a large man, standing only about as tall as herself, far shorter than most of his kind. Yet, today, as the sun gnawed at his back with hungry golden rays, he seemed smaller than he had been the night before. . diminished, somehow.

It was no mere physical change, nothing that sleeplessness alone could account for. He had changed so subtly that no one but she might notice. He stood slightly less straight, his back a little more crooked. His silver hair that had once gleamed bright and flowed in the breeze like liquid metal now hung limp and grey at his shoulders, still even as the wind tried to goad it into movement. For all that, though, his eyes had lost none of their lustre. They were still blue, still hard.

Still cold.

‘Lenk,’ she whispered.

He turned on her swiftly, a beast sensing danger, and her breath caught in her throat as he levelled his gaze at her. His eyes glimmered with an intellect not his own, flashing with a hard and stony presence for but a moment. When she blinked, his stare was softer, but no less wary.

‘Last night. .’ she continued, unintimidated.

‘You couldn’t sleep, either,’ he finished, nodding. ‘Frankly, if I broke wind as much as you do, I’d have a difficult time breathing, much less dozing off.’

‘That’s not what I was going to say.’

He sighed, and diminished further, something leaving him with the force of his breath.

‘I know.’ His voice was weaker now, closer to a whimper than an answer. ‘I know what you want. I know it every time you stare at me.’

‘I don’t mean to.’

‘Yes, you do. That’s simply how you ask for things. You stare.’ When he looked back up at her, his eyes quivered at the corners, stars sparkling against red-veined whites. ‘But it’s far too early for that sort of thing just now, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘For what sort of thing?’ She strained, with no small effort, to conceal the indignation in her voice. ‘Talking?’

‘About what you want to talk about, yes,’ he replied sharply. ‘So, kindly indulge me when I ask you to simply keep your peace today.’

‘Keep my. .’ Her face twisted into an expression of incredulousness. ‘For how long?’

‘Hopefully,’ he turned from her and began to trudge away, ‘until one of us is dead so that it no longer matters.’

She watched him go for a moment, venom boiling on the tip of her tongue. Moments before he stepped out of earshot, she struck, like a spitting asp, and hissed at him.

‘And will it be you who kills me?’

He stiffened and, in a sharp, shallow breath, he was restored. No longer diminished, he turned on her, standing as tall as he could, wiry muscles tensed and eyes bright with anger. She forced herself not to recoil as he stepped towards her, boots heavy upon the deck.

‘What was that?’ He had no growl or snarl to his voice, no passion or anger.

‘You heard me,’ she responded swiftly. ‘By walking away from me, you’re putting my life in danger.’

‘Stop this.’

‘Are you just going to pretend that last night didn’t happen? ’ She took a challenging step forwards. ‘Are you going to hope it was a bad dream? That it won’t happen again?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sure you can live with that, but I can’t.’

‘Stop.’

‘I remember what you did last night.’ She continued unabated, despite the rigidity of his body, the narrowing of his eyes. ‘I remember you screaming at yourself, screaming at me. Now we’ve got a chance to find out what’s going on inside that thick head of yours and you don’t even want to spare a moment to talk about it for my sake, let alone yours.’

‘Kat-’

‘Lenk.’ She took a step closer, peering intently at him. Her hand trembling, she reached out to lay it upon his shoulder. ‘What happened to you?’

The answer she received was unspoken. Beneath her hand, beneath the fabric of his tunic, she felt something stir in his bones. Even as the sun hissed, steadily climbing, she felt a sudden chill coursing through her fingers.

‘That’s enough.’ His own hand was up in a flash, batting hers off his shoulder. ‘If I don’t want to talk about something, you’re in no position to question me. Over the past few days, I’ve been stabbed, slashed, punched, pummelled and smashed by various people and things without the luxury of pay or anything more than a bowl of beans and the complaining of the people I somehow manage always to find myself surrounded by.’

She blinked and he was face to face with her, his breath frigid against her lips. Her own lungs seemed to deflate under his gaze, her eyes refusing to look away from his. She wanted to blink, she craved any reason to close her eyes, praying that when she opened them again, his eyes would be dotted by black pupils.

But she could not blink. As he stared at her, she was forced to stare back into two orbs of pristine, pupilless blue.

‘Listen to me when I say,’ he whispered harshly, ‘that I have earned the right to walk away from you.’

And with a turn that cut the wind, he was off, stalking across the deck. She stared at him; though he was no longer diminished, no longer so small against the day, he did not appear whole, either. He walked with his back straight, but his hair still hung limply upon shoulders that were heavy with some unseen burden.

Though she had spoken to Lenk moments ago, she was unsure who now walked away from her.

A mass of people were congealing at the railing. She spotted her own companions amongst them, huddled about the dark shape of Captain Argaol. Quietly, she began to move towards them, rubbing her arms as she went to nurse circulation back into her skin.

It hadn’t been so cold a moment ago.

‘Damn,’ Denaos grunted, looking up accusingly at the sky. ‘What happened?’

‘What do you mean?’ Asper asked.

‘It was warm,’ Denaos muttered, stamping his feet. ‘Now it’s colder than a whale fart.’

‘Do. . do whales fart?’ She cocked a brow.

‘Everything farts; it’s what makes us human.’

‘But whales aren’t-’

‘That’s why their farts are cold,’ he snapped. The tall man glanced up as Kataria elbowed her way into the huddle, his eyes darting from her bare arms to her bare midsection. ‘Not that I’ve any particular grievance with it, but are you sure you wouldn’t like a cloak or something?’

‘I don’t need anything,’ she muttered, not looking at him. Her stare was distant, though the corner of her gaze occasionally flickered to the silver-haired man standing beside her. ‘It’s not that cold.’

‘Not that cold?’ Denaos shivered at the very words. ‘It feels like I’ve just sat on an icicle and twisted.’

‘She said she’s not cold,’ Lenk spat, glowering at him. ‘Shut up.’

While a number of scathing retorts leapt easily to mind, ones he was certain would leave the young man fumbling for his stones, Denaos opted to clamp his lips together. Something between his and the shict’s stare confirmed the wisdom in that.