shook his head. He didn’t.
“Then one day, the world just... came apart. It’s like I’ve fallen asleep and I can’t navigate my way out of the dream. There’s just ocean out there, and tiny fragments of the world I once knew.”
“I never knew a world, but I envy you for it.”
“I know where we can go to get supplies. A cave, not far from Brighton, but well hidden. All the tobacco you could want. And drink too. Wine, spirits, beer. Anything!”
The Mariner paused, tempted. The mention of wine had turned his stomach and itching had begun throughout his system. He shook his head, sad and uncertain. “Nothing’s changed, Absinth. We are incompatible.”
The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. The Mariner jumped, sure in the notion that the old man meant the bullet for him, but instead he pointed it at Grace and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through the Tasmanian devil’s back, severing her spine. It was so quick she didn’t even have time to yelp. Grace collapsed, her breaths laboured and weak, her eyes confused and in pain. They rolled up to the Mariner, begging for her master to take the agony away.
Not like this
, her eyes pleaded.
Not out of the blue
.
And slowly, too slowly for any conscious being to tolerate, she died, losing her grip on the world.
“We
weren’t
compatible,” Absinth beamed. “But
now
we are!”
The Mariner slowly nodded, looking at his new shipmate, a member of the crew through dead-devil’s boots.
“And now we are.”
9
TWO MEN ON THE SEA
A BSINTH AWOKE WITH A SORE head. There had been a fair amount of drinking, a celebration to have survived the island and its cursed Oracle.
He’d tried to convince the Mariner that they should take his ship, a faster modern vessel, but the Mariner had insisted that they use the Neptune. “Only she can find the true Oracle,” he’d said.
So instead they had simply plundered Absinth’s, grabbing his alcohol, tobacco, bullets and bread. He had a good feeling about this union. The Mariner was crazy, and badly damaged, but he was also sharp. He would get Absinth to all the places other people couldn’t. And those are the places where riches are found. Who knows, perhaps they would even find this ‘
true
Oracle’ of his?
They had drunk and sung together beneath the stars and thanked the heavens they were still alive.
So why, when he’d fallen asleep outside, did he now awake somewhere below deck? He was in one of the galleys, his arms and legs shackled to the wall.
“This used to be a prison ship. You told me that.” The Mariner had been sitting in the shadows opposite, waiting for Absinth to awake.
“What’s going on?” the old man slurred.
“Since you told me, I’ve begun hearing them. Sometimes I can hear them crying out for food, other times they’re being whipped. Always screaming. I think most of them never got where they were being taken. They’re still here somewhere.”
His eyes roamed the dark room, as if emaciated ghosts lurked in every shadow.
“I didn’t need you to tell me it was a prison ship though, I knew it all along. I knew. This is my prison. I don’t know why, but it is.”
Absinth looked at the Mariner, and, not for the first time, wondered who he was. “The Oracle slipped up because she didn’t know who you were?”
The Mariner slowly nodded, “She couldn’t guess my name because I don’t even know it, so when she took the memory of Claude having killed Isabel, she thought it safe to tell you. There was no Claude in the room. No danger.” He shook his head and coughed out a brief chuckle. “She was a trap, Absinth. A lie. When we met, I told you I was looking for an island, circled by a protective force, on which all the answers could be found. You’re the one who spoke of an Oracle. I think now, that was all bullshit. That woman up there, the coral, the eels around it, even that whole island, all just a decoy, another distraction to keep me from
“Then one day, the world just... came apart. It’s like I’ve fallen asleep and I can’t navigate my way out of the dream. There’s just ocean out there, and tiny fragments of the world I once knew.”
“I never knew a world, but I envy you for it.”
“I know where we can go to get supplies. A cave, not far from Brighton, but well hidden. All the tobacco you could want. And drink too. Wine, spirits, beer. Anything!”
The Mariner paused, tempted. The mention of wine had turned his stomach and itching had begun throughout his system. He shook his head, sad and uncertain. “Nothing’s changed, Absinth. We are incompatible.”
The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. The Mariner jumped, sure in the notion that the old man meant the bullet for him, but instead he pointed it at Grace and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through the Tasmanian devil’s back, severing her spine. It was so quick she didn’t even have time to yelp. Grace collapsed, her breaths laboured and weak, her eyes confused and in pain. They rolled up to the Mariner, begging for her master to take the agony away.
Not like this
, her eyes pleaded.
Not out of the blue
.
And slowly, too slowly for any conscious being to tolerate, she died, losing her grip on the world.
“We
weren’t
compatible,” Absinth beamed. “But
now
we are!”
The Mariner slowly nodded, looking at his new shipmate, a member of the crew through dead-devil’s boots.
“And now we are.”
9
TWO MEN ON THE SEA
A BSINTH AWOKE WITH A SORE head. There had been a fair amount of drinking, a celebration to have survived the island and its cursed Oracle.
He’d tried to convince the Mariner that they should take his ship, a faster modern vessel, but the Mariner had insisted that they use the Neptune. “Only she can find the true Oracle,” he’d said.
So instead they had simply plundered Absinth’s, grabbing his alcohol, tobacco, bullets and bread. He had a good feeling about this union. The Mariner was crazy, and badly damaged, but he was also sharp. He would get Absinth to all the places other people couldn’t. And those are the places where riches are found. Who knows, perhaps they would even find this ‘
true
Oracle’ of his?
They had drunk and sung together beneath the stars and thanked the heavens they were still alive.
So why, when he’d fallen asleep outside, did he now awake somewhere below deck? He was in one of the galleys, his arms and legs shackled to the wall.
“This used to be a prison ship. You told me that.” The Mariner had been sitting in the shadows opposite, waiting for Absinth to awake.
“What’s going on?” the old man slurred.
“Since you told me, I’ve begun hearing them. Sometimes I can hear them crying out for food, other times they’re being whipped. Always screaming. I think most of them never got where they were being taken. They’re still here somewhere.”
His eyes roamed the dark room, as if emaciated ghosts lurked in every shadow.
“I didn’t need you to tell me it was a prison ship though, I knew it all along. I knew. This is my prison. I don’t know why, but it is.”
Absinth looked at the Mariner, and, not for the first time, wondered who he was. “The Oracle slipped up because she didn’t know who you were?”
The Mariner slowly nodded, “She couldn’t guess my name because I don’t even know it, so when she took the memory of Claude having killed Isabel, she thought it safe to tell you. There was no Claude in the room. No danger.” He shook his head and coughed out a brief chuckle. “She was a trap, Absinth. A lie. When we met, I told you I was looking for an island, circled by a protective force, on which all the answers could be found. You’re the one who spoke of an Oracle. I think now, that was all bullshit. That woman up there, the coral, the eels around it, even that whole island, all just a decoy, another distraction to keep me from
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