Alkimiya - A Fantasy Mystery Series

SIXTEEN - Of Mages and Magic

Captain Inglehart's crew consisted of fewer people than Zenetra expected. There was Wallis Pilluck, the sixty-year-old crotchety healer. The man who had dropped his onions at the sight of Mimi was Nibbs, the cook. Then there was the deckhand, a one-armed former military man named Delwyn, and the steward, a mute by the name of Lothar who was never without a book. A teenage mucker called Raoul had the light olive-toned skin of a Marzhanian, murky gray-green eyes, and large, flat moles on his face and neck.

As the mess hall was compacted into Nibbs' tiny kitchen area, mealtimes were divided into two shifts. After resting in Sickbay for most of the morning, Zenetra found herself sitting across from James and Raoul at lunch and watched, stomach churning, as the young men shoveled stew into their mouths. Though they consumed large portions with every bite, one could hardly describe it as eating. Food barely touched their tongues.

"Aren't you hungry?" asked James after returning with his second helping.

Zenetra blew on her spoonful of stew. "I like to chew first."

Raoul, half out of his seat to ask for another heaping of stew as James had done, reconsidered his actions. He blushed as red as a tomato and went to Nibbs with meek enthusiasm.

"Now why'd you go and say a thing like that?" asked James. "Raoul's a nice enough kid."

"I didn't mean to shame him."

"Well, you did." Swirling his spoon around to cool his food, James added, "You should eat more so you don't faint again."

Everyone aboard Sunray had learned of her condition by midmorning. Zenetra chose not to take the anti-anxiety medication Healer Pilluck had given her, as she was fine so long as she did not see how high they were flying, but carried the little bottle in her pocket as a precaution. It confused her as to why being on an airship caused such stirrings of fear when being nine stories high in Commissioner Fokle's office created no such distress.

Zenetra let her spoon rest in her half-eaten bowl of brown stew. The rounded part of the metal utensil sank below chunks of carrots, potatoes, and juicy cubes of seasoned beef. "Are you shaming me now?"

"No. It happens more than you think. I hurled for three days straight on my first flight." There was a moment of silence as James bit into his buttered bun. Mouth full of doughy bread, he continued just as bluntly. "You have bags under your eyes. Rough night?"

She considered retorting that he himself looked and smelled better, a backhanded compliment if there ever was one, but refrained. There was no reason to gain the ire of someone she would never see after the search and rescue operation was completed.

Tearing apart the rest of his bun with nimble fingers, James pressed harder. "So? You gonna spill? I promise not to tell. I'm good at keeping secrets." He stuffed a piece of the torn bun into his mouth. "Also, Commissioner Fokle and Captain Inglehart made us all sign an obscene amount of paperwork. Some of it was for you."

"How thoughtful of them." Zenetra picked up her spoon and took another bite, intent on ending the conversation.

James did not take the hint. He slid his long arms across the narrow table and rested his hands on either side of Zenetra's elbows, effectively trapping her in the conversation.

She let out an impatient sigh. Filling her spoon with stew once more and assuming the governor's visit was already in the morning print, she told James about the night before. "I was up late drinking with my father and Governor Ewald."

James' head snapped back as if he had been slapped. His arms folded in toward his body. He sat across the table in abnormal silence, brimming with judgment and wearing a glare that could turn a person to stone. "I don't know whether to be angry with you or laugh at your naivety."