Once more J'role was forced down under the water by his father.
When next he came up for air, J'role was screaming.
His mouth moved wildly, his tongue out of control. Screeching and screaming and babbling and cursing, he launched himself toward his father, slamming into him. The two of them splashed through the water and J'role forced his father toward the wall.
Bevarden's face contorted in terrible pain, and he tried to grab his ears to protect himself from the sounds. But the tangled rope kept his hands from his head. So he shook his head wildly back and forth.
Without thinking, J'role slammed his father against the wall. He screamed into his father's face. His father shut his eyes, opened his mouth into a wide O, cried out. Tears ran down his face.
So weak. So weak. And each time J’role thought the words, the creature in his mind whispered, “Yes."
The words built themselves into a steady rhythm, and soon, with a matching rhythm, he slammed his father against the wall. An exciting pleasure ran through him. He did not mean to do it, but it all happened nonetheless. Screaming with the creature's voice, he grabbed his father by the throat and smashed his head against the wall with a sharp crack.
He did it again and again until splashes of blood radiated onto the wall, forming a scarlet frame around his father's contorted face. Suddenly his father's eyes opened wide, startled.
He tried once more to speak, looking directly into J'role's eyes, but not a word came out.
Finally he heaved in a sharp, dry breath.
Then stillness.
Immediately J'role pulled his hands back. He saw his father's blood swirling around him in the water, and he screamed and screamed, clawing at the ropes, desperate to disentangle himself from his father's corpse. The cords grew tighter and tighter until he realized he was strangling himself.
"Yes," the creature said, the words crashing through his thoughts even as he struggled.
"Yes. Let yourself die. Kill yourself now. How can you go back? How can you go back to that young girl? Think about what you have just done!"
The creature's words made more and more sense.
How could he have …?
He tightened the rope around his neck, felt the harsh burn against this flesh. "Yes, yes.
Take your life. End it!"
J'role's strength withered away as continued to strangle himself. Dizziness came next, and finally he had trouble seeing. When the darkness closed around him he splashed into the water, aware only of drifting in the water, happy at last that it would finally be over.
Hands grabbed him.
"J'role!" Releana shouted.
The creature whined like an angry cat.
She was in the water with him, uncoiling the rope from his neck, from around his body.
He was confused. Disappointed. Finally he would have been-able to let all the pain go.
Why was she here?
When she had removed the rope from his body, she looked at Bevarden. J'role thought for sure she would scream or push him away. But she did not know he had killed bus own father. She said, "J'role, I'm sorry. But we can't take your father's body with us. We don't have time."
He nodded, too stunned to do anything but listen to her instructions.
Was it obvious? Wasn't it written Across his face? How could she not see?
But the two of them climbed out of the water and worked their way up the passage. They reached another one and turned right, running now on the edge where the floor and wall met. On and on they ran, leaving Bevarden's corpse behind, though J'role did not feel any more distance from the body no matter how far they traveled.
They raced through the ship until they found an open window that led out onto the tilted balcony right outside. They were near the bow of the Breeton now, and not much of the ship remained above water. Around it a terrible undertow had formed. If they tried to dive in and swim to the Chakara, they would most likely be sucked underwater. And now the Chakara was beginning to pull away, its crew probably desperate to get their ship away from the undertow.
"J'rolel, Releana!" he heard Captain Patrochian cry, then saw her on a mid-deck of the Chakara waving her arms. J'role and Releana ran down the side of the Breeton, leaping over windows and doors. As they reached the bow the captain swung a rope over from the Chakara. J'role stretched as far as he could over the edge of the bow and caught it. He had only just fixed his grip when the Chakara's movement pulled him off the Breeton. He stretched out his hand and grabbed Releana by the wrist, and the two of them swung out into the space between the ships. They swung swiftly to the Chckara, where the sailors grabbed J'role and pulled him and Releana over the railing.
All remained silent a moment, then Releana said, Am sorry, J'role."
He said nothing. For once glad he had no choice.
A t'skrang from the Chakara approached. "Scuse me lad, but we fished an ork out of the river. Captain Patrochian said you might know who he is. Now I know you can't talk, but can you signal us what to do with him? We'll be hanging the mutineers, of course, but we really don't know if this one was involved."
J'role looked past the sailor and saw Garlthik, bound just as his father had been. With his one good eye fixed on the J'role, the ork smiled his toothy smile. The look clearly said,
"Whatever you decide, lad. It's all been rough, and I'll take whatever you give me." J'role knew that-with a nod or two to the right questions he could condemn the ork to death.
Hadn't the man plotted the murder of nearly everyone on ship?
Including Bevarden.
J'role glanced at Releana. Better not to form ties, he felt the thief magic tell him. You don't know who you might have to kill next.
Garlthik had warned him of this during the initiation. The lesson was well taken.
He looked once more at Garlthik, knew he had more in common with the ork than anyone else on the ship. He shook his head, and to everyone's surprise, including Garlthik’s, he pointed at Garlthik and shook his head. Then he walked off alone, clutching his forehead, looking- for someplace safe to fall asleep. Some place where he would be safe from the memories.
27
"Am I doing this the right way?" his mother asked. The creature purred in response.
J'role felt something slip into his head, slick and oily, and it slid through his thoughts.
Although only a small child, an astounding insight came to him: he had always had one place of privacy. His thoughts. His mother had bartered that off
He would never be alone again.
"We owe you our thanks!" said Borthum, leader of the dwarven envoys from Throal. He raised his mug high, and all at the table did the same. The Chakara's captain, a t'skrang with a white stripe running over his head and down his back, was hosting them in his stateroom. The guests included the captain of the Chakara, Releana, Captain Patrochian, and seven dwarfs from Throal. The dwarfs wore loose, square-cut clothes covered with spirals that wound around each other in fascinating patterns. On their feet were thick shoes with pointed tips that curved up. Their long beards were braided and flat as boards.
On their heads they wore round hats, each inscribed with symbols that J'role, of course, could not understand. Some wore earnings.
They were friendly, and not at all suspicious of J'role, though he sat glum and unresponsive throughout the dinner. He had tried to avoid the meal, but Captain Patrochian insisted he accept his hero's honor. He was afraid that too much protesting would raise suspicions, so he'd agreed to come.
But J'role couldn't think about food. All he could do was keep trying to prevent the memory of his dead-murdered- father from entering his thoughts. He was convinced that someone at the table already knew what he had done or else would figure it out by looking at him and catching a chance gesture that revealed too much.