Part 2 (1/2)

On the other hand, it certainly was going to be easier to be with him than with that barbarian and his hairstyled companion.

”h.e.l.lo,” I said upon first meeting him in our quarters. He had taken the higher-hung hammock and was seated in it, swinging back and forth gently, just shaking his head. ”Problem?”

He looked at me and, upon closer inspection, I noticed that his skin was peeling. Odd condition. ”I don't believe you're here.”

”Ah,” I said, not quite sure how else to respond.

”And I'm not here either,” he continued.

”Ah,” I said again.

”I am simply an antihero thrust into an enforced heroic situation not of my own making.” ”I can certainly sympathize,” I said readily, and I could. However, I was becoming equally convinced that this fellow was a lunatic.

”I'm Apropos.”

”I'm completely irrelevant,” he replied.

I stared at him blankly for a moment, and then slowly closed my eyes and cursed under my breath.

Then I opened them and forced a smile. ”It's my d.a.m.ned name. What's yours?”

”I am called... Doubting Tomas.”

That was an easy name to believe, although I would have been inclined to switch the letters and make him ”Touting Dumba.s.s.”

”All right,” I said. ”I suppose that's marginally better than 'Apropos.'”

Tomas glowered at me. ”I do not belong in this world,” he told me.

I nodded. ”I know exactly how you feel.”

He stared as if I were an idiot. ”You couldn't possibly. You'reof this world.”

”To be fair,” I pointed out, ”it certainly seems as if you're of it as well.”

”You know nothing.”

There was so much I could have said. But then I realized the utter pointlessness of engaging in an extended debate with the fool. So I smiled and simply said, ”One thing I do know: This conversation is over.”

Whereupon I turned over in my hammock and promptly fell out as the sling swung out from under me.

I hit the floor and lay there as the annoying Tomas guffawed slightly, but offered no other comment.

Without a word, I hauled myself back to my feet, balancing myself on my left as best I could, and pushed myself back into the hammock. It swayed violently once more, but the second time I was able to hang on, albeit ungracefully.

I drifted off to sleep and dreamt of Sharee and Mordant. Sharee, who I had thought would be staying with me because she perceived some sort of greatness within me. Mordant, who I had convinced myself was some sort of reincarnation of my mother. Both gone now. Both gone.

No reason for them not to be. After all, wasn't that what everyone in my life did? Leave me, sooner or later?

I took that self-pitying att.i.tude and, even in my sleep, clung to it with as much dedication as I'd hung on to the hammock.

I had no idea what to expect in terms of sea travel. I had never been on a boat in my life, and I had always heard that those who were new to such transport could have some trouble with illness.

I did not have some trouble. I had an excruciating amount of trouble.

We set off and immediately it felt to me as if the entire world was incessantly rocking. I was grateful for the absence of mirrors because, by all accounts, my face was such a repulsive shade of green that rumors began to float around the s.h.i.+p I was some sort of leper (which, for no reason that I could determine, seemed to amuse Doubting Tomas no end). The hammock swayed with the boat, which did nothing to improve my disposition. I started lying on the floor. That wasn't much better. From time to time I would emerge upon the deck, lean over the nearest railing, and be sick into the sea. My discomfort provided endless amus.e.m.e.nt for the experienced sailors, who walked with confidence, swaying in perfect synchronization with the boat. Every so often one would clap me on the back and say, ”Don't worry!

You'll get your sea legs soon enough.”

I didn't see how acquiring new legs would stop me from hanging over the edge of the boat and heaving into the sea.

After a while I ceased vomiting for the simple reason that I had nothing left to vomit, short of heaving up internal organs.

And then, days into the voyage, as I hung over the railing and contemplated simply throwing myself overboard to terminate my misery, I heard a repet.i.tious thump from behind me that I recognized quite readily. It was the sound of someone moving with the aid of a staff. I managed to lift my head in time to see a man approaching me. He was tall, with thick red hair and bristling beard, and he was wearing what I recognized as an article of clothing called a ”kilt.” It was red plaid, and he wore a crimson cloak about the shoulders of his thick white s.h.i.+rt, trimmed around the edges with red fur. His staff was ornately carved with images of what appeared to be dancing goblins cavorting its length.

”Ye got a problem, laddie?” he inquired.

I managed a nod, and the world seemed to bob and weave mercilessly, even though the water was remarkably calm. I dreaded the notion of our hitting even a mild squall. G.o.ds only knew what it would have done to me.

He had a pouch hanging on the front of his kilt, strategically positioned over his manhood. He reached into the pouch. I wasn't sure why, and the gesture was disconcerting, because I didn't want to think what he was about to pull out and show me. I was hardly in a position to leave the immediate area, though.

A moment later he extracted a vial with a blue liquid. He looked at it as if to double-check the contents, then strode over to me and extended it. ”Drink it,” he said.

Now, of course, I had no idea who this fellow was. A total stranger was offering the always-suspicious Apropos some sort of liquid pulled from the general vicinity of his crotch. For all I knew, it would kill me on the spot.

Which is why I took it from him and downed it immediately. That should go to show you just how little affection I had for life at that point. There are few creatures walking the surface of the earth who are more eager to stay alive than me. So if I was so uncaring of life that I was willing to risk throwing it away by swallowing a blue fluid from a total stranger, that alone should tell you a lot. By way of a stray thought... why do we say that, I wonder? ”Total stranger.” Those words always seem to go together. As if someone could be a partial stranger. Or a half stranger. He's completely unknown to you, except for that torrid weekend you spent in a cabin in the Elderwoods.

Then again, I have had lovers who turned out to be not remotely what I thought they were. And there have been those who called me ”friend” who had no inkling of the true depths of darkness and resentment that resided within me. Perhaps we're all strangers to each other in a way, and the only thing that makes someone a ”total” stranger is that they haven't yet had the opportunity to betray you.

All that flitted through my mind as the blue liquid burned down my throat, and then suddenly there was an easing of the ache in my stomach and the world seemed to clear. I blinked several times, scarcely able to believe it.

”Good fer what ails ye, eh?” He smiled, displaying large, crooked teeth. He patted his pouch, a gesture that I couldn't help but think he'd best not repeat in mixed-gender company. ”Feeling better?”

”I am...” I admitted, surprised at the sound of returning strength to my voice. I couldn't believe how quickly the stuff had worked. ”I am! Yes! Thank you. I... I wish I'd run into you earlier. I could've saved myself days of suffering. What do you call that stuff?”

”Just a little home brew. Frankly, ye looked like a lad who deserved a break from his sufferin'. Ah'm glad Ah could help.”

I had to listen carefully to all he said, for his accent was so thick (far thicker than I'm conveying here) that it was all I could do to comprehend. I stuck out a hand. ”I'm Apropos.”

”Ronnell,” he replied. His arm was brawny, his shake firm.

”Whereabouts are you from, Ronnell?”

”Ach,” and he shrugged his broad shoulders, ”Ah like t'think of muhself as a citizen of the world. It's not where ye've been that matters. It's where ye wind up, ye know what Ah'm sayin'?”

Oddly enough, I felt I did, and nodded. ”Will I need more of that stuff?” I asked.

”The dose Ah gave you should last ye about a week. We're supposed t'be at sea fer four weeks, so I'll be happy to supply ye wit' refills.”