Then, suddenly, Infidel and my knife were back above the surface of the water. She was wrapped in the tentacle of an enormous squid, at least sixty feet long. A second tentacle held the soggy, sputtering form of Reeker.
Infidel raised her knife to stab at the tentacle that held her, but stopped herself before she thrust the blade down. The dragon blood had been washed off by her plunge into the bay. As the last bit of pink water ran down the handle, I faded once more, invisible even to myself.
The squid’s tentacles gingerly placed Infidel onto the wrecked roof of the Black Swan. She was, yet again, buck naked save for a ring of ruined leather that had once been the too-short skirt. Aurora rushed to her side, snatching up the half-charred flag of the barge and draping it over Infidel’s bare shoulders before Reeker had recovered enough to ogle her.
“That was really damn impressive,” Aurora said. “But… who was up there with you?”
“What?” asked Infidel, running her fingers through what was left of her hair. The longest bits were only a few inches long.
“For a second, I thought I saw someone else clamped onto the dragon’s snout with you. Were my eyes playing tricks?”
Infidel turned pale. “I thought I saw… I thought…” her voice trailed off. “It was just some poor sailor. He… he fell.”
Menagerie dragged himself up onto the roof, human once more. The squid tattoo that had once been dark black upon his neck had faded to a barely visible gray-blue outline.
He collapsed against what was left of the mast, staring up toward the still bubbling volcano. “I guess the king’s dragon hunt has been cancelled.”
Infidel shook her head as she, too, looked at the raging mountain. “I don’t think so. Greatshadow has just been suckered. Those ships were decoys; I’ll stake my life on it.”
“You’re probably right,” said Reeker, wringing water from his hair. He looked at Menagerie. “So, anyway, I quit. I’m done with dragons. Infidel can be the third Goon.”
“You aren’t quitting,” said Menagerie. “You signed the contract.” He tapped at a section of cursive text on the left cheek of his buttocks. “Didn’t you read all the terms? You’re in this until Greatshadow’s dead, or you are.”
Reeker sighed, then muttered something underneath his breath.
“Hur hur hur,” said No-Face.
Infidel laughed as she contemplated Menagerie’s skinny ass. “I guess that’s one way of discouraging people from studying the fine print.”
CHAPTER SIX
My old sailboat had come to rest in the tangled branches of a mangrove thicket half a mile away. The gaping holes in the hull would never allow it to return to the bay, but as a tree house it possessed a certain charm. Menagerie had spotted it in the aftermath of the dragon strike, as he’d flitted over the area in his vulture form, surveying the damage. He’d quickly singled out the most likely places to look for survivors, then he and the other Goons had set forth to help who they could.
Infidel was never afraid to lend a hand to anyone in need, but she declined to take part in the rescue mission. I couldn’t blame her; she looked completely wiped out after her fight with the dragon. She found Relic’s gnarled staff among the shattered planks of the Black Swan and used it for support as she limped across the rubble in search of my boat. She was sweating, her face pale and feverish. Her invulnerable skin didn’t burn, but, like anyone, when she got overheated, she could feel sick. It didn’t help that the sun had come out with a fury, its tropical rays turning the humid atmosphere over the churned up bay into a pressure cooker.
At midday, while Infidel still searched through the mangroves, I noticed the Wanderer ships returning. They sailed back into the bay in droves, once again forming a boat city, held together by ropes and ladders instead of docks and gangplanks. River-pygmies were now thick in the bay as well, an entire flotilla of canoes searching among the shattered ships and buildings.
The eruption of the volcano had finally subsided. The once verdant southern slope of the mountain was black now, cloaked with smoke and steam. A shower of fine charcoal ash rained down on the bay, coating every surface.
Infidel was grimy as a miner by the time she found my boat. The once white flag she was wrapped in was now mostly gray. She was all alone as she climbed into the branches. I wondered if Relic had possibly survived. No one had seen the hunchback since she’d tossed him from the crow’s nest.
My place was even more of a trash heap than usual. The piles of books had all toppled. The towers of bottles and jugs had turned into a carpet of broken glass. Infidel dug through the rubble until she’d found the thin cotton mat that served as my bed. She yanked it free of the debris and tossed it onto the deck outside. She located a few stained blankets and draped them in the branches, forming an umbrella to provide shade and shield her from the drifting ash.
She toppled onto the bed face first, her body completely slack. She lay motionless for half a minute until she raised her hand to the back of her neck, running her palm along the uneven stubble of her scalp. She groaned, a sound mixing weariness, frustration, and despair.
Then, she fell silent. After five minutes, I could hear her muffled snores. She slept like a corpse, her slumber undisturbed by the tossing, turning, and mumbling that normally characterized it. Hours passed; eventually the long day drew to an end and still she slept, without a single muscle twitching.
The ash rain had finally stopped and the stars were slowly emerging when there was a loud crunch in the debris beneath the boat. Infidel didn’t stir as the sound repeated itself; something large and heavy was walking around.
Someone called out, “Infidel?”
Infidel remained face down and immobile, her voice muffled as she replied, “Mwuh?”
“Infidel, it’s Aurora. Where are you?”
Infidel rolled over on her side.
“Go away,” she said, without opening her eyes. Her voice was feeble and scratchy.
“I want to talk,” said Aurora. “I brought you some food.”
Infidel’s unbruised eye cracked open slightly.
“Monkey?” she asked, the faintest glimmer of hope in her voice. River-pygmies sold monkey meat stuck on bamboo reeds, deep fried and served with a chili sauce. Infidel loved the stuff, though I’d never cared for it.
“Sea beans, some whale jerky, and a coconut,” said Aurora.
Infidel rolled over on her back, her brow furrowed. She seemed to be caught in an internal debate, weighing her hunger against her desire not to have company. At last, she sighed. “Come on up.”
She scooted into a seated position against a mangrove branch, tugging the flag she was wrapped in like a towel higher up her breasts as Aurora climbed onto the boat. Despite the devastation of the day, the night was coming to life with the chirps of frogs and birds. Off in the distance, a troop of apes howled as they scrambled through the canopy. The air was still thick with the smell of putrid water mixed with smoke. All along the slope of the volcano, remnant blazes danced. I felt a sense of longing, looking up at the mountain. It was impossible to say what ancient ruins had been wiped out by the eruption. On the other hand, the forest fires no doubt cleared away the tangles of vines that hid many a lost wonder. I wished I could go up on the slope later this week to scope out the newly revealed terrain.
Aurora sat down on the deck, cross-legged, dropping a large canvas bag in front of her. “I found you some more clothes. I have to say, that idea about a team of tailors following you around sounds like a good idea.”
Infidel shrugged. “There aren’t many people in the world with skin tougher than their clothing. I can be hell on a pair of pants.”
“How did your skin get to be so tough?”
“You aren’t supposed to ask stuff like that in Commonground,” said Infidel.
