‘We’ll, uh, need to wash the sheets as well,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Can you stand for a minute?’
Corthie remained motionless, then placed a hand on the wall and pushed himself up. The cramps in his guts flared, and he almost doubled over in pain, then managed to stagger to the room’s only seat, a small wooden stool, where he sat. Sohul stripped the bed of its sweat and vomit-soaked sheets, and dropped them into the same pile as the soiled clothes.
‘I’ll get some clean bedding for you before lunchtime,’ he said, ‘in case you need to sleep this afternoon.’
Corthie wanted to punch him. Who did he think he was, treating the great Corthie Holdfast as if he were a child? Shame filled him at the thought, and he started to cry, sobbing into his hands as Sohul stood awkwardly by his side.
‘I know things seem grim at the moment,’ the mercenary said, ‘but they’ll get better; I’m sure of it.’
Corthie clenched his fists.
‘Do you, uh, want any breakfast?’
He shook his head.
‘Maybe later,’ Sohul said. He picked up a clean shirt and passed it to Corthie. ‘Put that on, and we’ll let the room air for a bit, yes? I’ll take care of everything else.’
Corthie stared at the shirt for a moment, then wiped his face with his hand. He had wept so often in front of the lieutenant that he no longer felt any shame in it.
‘There’s a jug of cool water sitting waiting for you in the galley,’ Sohul said. ‘I put a few slices of lemon in, just as you like it. Come on, there’s a good fellow.’
Corthie pulled the shirt over his head and stood, swaying and leaning against the wooden wall. Sohul opened the door, and Corthie staggered through into the main section of the river boat, a long, narrow room with benches, a table, and a small galley kitchen. Vana was sitting on one of the benches, and the smell of her cigarettes and coffee almost made Corthie throw up again. She gave him a look as he sat down.
‘Stinking out the boat again?’ she said, her nose crinkling as the odour of vomit drifted into the room.
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Sohul, as he closed the door, a great bundle of sheets and clothes in his arms. ‘The shutter’s open and the smell will go away soon.’
Vana shook her head. ‘I’m starting to get used to it.’
Corthie stared at her as Sohul walked past with the bundle and disappeared into another cabin.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said; ‘it’s your own fault. You’re ill, and yet you continue to drink like a fool. If you had been remotely disciplined, you might have recovered by now. Instead, you look, and smell, like death.’
‘Shut up,’ he muttered.
‘And in all this time,’ she went on, ‘we’re no further forward in finding my sister, or yours. Are you not ashamed?’
‘I feel more shame than you could imagine.’
‘Then do something about it. Get fit; look after yourself. Perhaps even stay off the alcohol for a few days? You’re behaving like a child. If Aila could see you now, she’d probably wonder why she’d ever bothered with you in the first place.’
Corthie clenched his fists and glared at her. She swallowed, and edged back along the bench.
Sohul came back into the galley and filled a mug with water. He brought it over to the table and placed it in front of Corthie, then sat and lit a cigarette. Corthie unclenched his fists and sat back on the bench, his head spinning.
‘We can’t go on like this,’ said Vana. ‘Something has to change, and soon, otherwise…’
Sohul glanced at her. ‘Otherwise what, ma’am?’
She bit her lip. ‘Otherwise, I’m leaving.’
‘You can’t leave,’ said Corthie.
‘Really; is that right?’ she said. ‘Are you going to stop me?’
‘I might.’
She raised an eyebrow at Sohul. ‘Did you hear that, Lieutenant? Corthie says he’s going to physically hold me here against my will. Are you and Van going to let that happen? And what about Naxor? Is he a prisoner too?’
‘No one here is a prisoner,’ said Sohul, ‘but we’re all on the run from the authorities and it would be advisable for us to stick together.’
‘You’d get caught if you left,’ Corthie said, ‘and then you’d talk; tell them where we were. We can’t risk it.’
Vana smiled, but said nothing.
Sohul glanced between the two of them, the lines around his eyes betraying his anxiety. Corthie took a sip from the mug of water, wondering why the mercenary had stayed. His headache started to ease a little, but his stomach cramps and general aches and pains remained. He felt the same way as he had imagined ill people felt, but having never been ill in his life, he wasn’t sure.
The door to the outside deck opened, and Naxor walked into the galley. He seemed to notice the silent tension, and he stood for a moment, glancing at where the others were sitting.
‘The water’s still hot,’ said Sohul, ‘if you were wanting coffee.’
‘I’ve already had some today, but thank you, Sohul.’ He walked over to the table and pulled off his coat. ‘Nothing to report this morning,’ he said, laying it over the back of a chair. ‘Kin Dai’s bustling, but no one is out looking for us.’
‘Thank you, cousin,’ said Vana.
Naxor sniffed the air.
‘Corthie was sick again,’ Vana said; ‘all over his room, by the smell of it.’
Naxor sat and lit a cigarette. ‘I’m not cleaning it up.’
‘Sohul has already done it,’ she said. ‘He seems to enjoy playing nursemaid to him.’
‘I don’t hear you complaining when he makes dinner,’ Corthie said. ‘The fact is that you demigods are nothing but lazy, expecting the mortals to do all the work. You’ve had servants everywhere you’ve lived, haven’t you? Minions scurrying about after you, wiping your arse.’
Vana smirked. ‘So says the man who can’t clean up his own sick.’
‘Steady on,’ said Naxor; ‘there’s no need for any of
