Chương 554: Chapter Five Hundred and Thirty-Nine - Our Separate Ways

"Did you want to come with us?" I asked. It was probably... definitely a little premature. We hadn't agreed that we'd be going out to visit that island yet, but I was going to try to convince my friends to go and check it out, at least. Still, if we did go, maybe Celiga would want to come? The old grenoil chewed on the end of his pipe while eyeing me carefully.

"If you had asked me just five years ago, I'd be packing my bags," he said.

"Do you have something else planned?" Awen asked.

"No," he said.

"But neither do I have the energy of a young tadpole. I... appreciate your visit. It's been some time since I was able to enjoy teaching some history, even if it's on such a strange subject."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"You seem like the kind of person that would make a good friend!" Celiga Duport-Percier Dreams: To leave a legacy in the art of History that he can be proud of. Desired Quality: Someone who will listen.

"I'm sure," he said.

"I have a few accounts to settle here, in Deepmarsh." he reached over and touched a stack of papers on one of the end tables nearby. He chuckled.

"Actually, I think your visit cleared the cobwebs a little. I've been drinking myself towards an early grave. I still have a bit of kick left in me, and I intend to aim that towards a few backsides."

"I see," Caprica said.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"You might be better off sending that kick towards the Harpy Mountains. I can't imagine it'll come out well here," Amaryllis said.

"Good point," he said.

"Maybe I will make one final trip after all. Call it a last big vacation and an early retirement. That'll wag a few tongues, but I think the people that have it out for me might back off on hearing it." I wasn't sure what was going on, or what they meant, but I did get the feeling that our time here was coming to an end. I thanked Celiga, then took the dishes he had laying around to his kitchen... and since no one was looking, I blasted the place with some Cleaning magic.

His sink was so messy, and there were old cobwebs all over and a layer of dust on his shelves. The historian was starting to look like history. Or at least his home was. We thanked him at length, then made our departure, which is when I turned towards Caprica and Amaryllis to ask.

"What was that about, in the end, about kicks and stuff?"

"Oh, that," Caprica said.

"It seems like the old historian wants to go out with a bang, as it were. I imagine that he's stumbled across a lot of inconvenient facts. Some of these he likely published which earned him the trouble he's in now, the forced retirement and such. But I imagine he's kept just as many secrets to himself."

"And now," Amaryllis continued.

"With no career to maintain, and the community turning against him, he has nothing to lose. No more bridges to burn. It would be impossible to publish those ideas here in Deepmarsh, but in the Harpy Mountains, well... a new book appears, published by a famous historian after he fled the persecution of one of our rivaling nations; a book filled with salacious indelicacies that skewers the decadent foreign nobility. I'm sure it would sell... sensationally." She grinned.

"Especially if, now that he is beyond the reach of his rivals, he rakes them over the coals. They'll seethe."

"Oh, that's, uh, not very nice," I said.

"The world of academia isn't very nice, Broccoli," Amaryllis said.

"I'd rather deal with pirates than academics. At least the pirates only stab you." I pursed my lips, but didn't say anything about it. I supposed Celiga was allowed to do that kind of thing, if he wanted to.

"What about the island?" I asked.

"I'm down for that," Calamity said.

"Big ol' mysterious island sounds neat, and I've never seen the sea from up close before. I heard there's fish in there, and fish are delicious."

"I have, and I believe that you have yet to learn of the fear and respect even a sea deserves," Desiree said.

"But yes, I would also like to take part in this voyage. A fortress that took flight one fine stormy day seems like an interesting story." Bastion cleared his throat. We all turned to look at him, but his gaze was fixed on Caprica... or the back of Caprica's head, as she was very pointedly not looking in his direction.

"I'm somewhat well-read when it comes to cartography, and I couldn't help but notice that the coordinates to this island that historian Celiga gave are very much to the west of here." Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"Far to the west, yes," Amaryllis said.

"About four day's flight, assuming the winds aren't counter to us."

"Four days west, which is about four days of flying in the opposite direction as Sylphfree," he said.

"We never came to any specific agreement with regards to when, exactly, I'd be returning to Sylphfree," Caprica said.

"It was implied," he said.

"Implications only matter in flirting, and you weren't flirting with me--unfortunately--you were pressing me to return home," Caprica said. She crossed her arms and raised her princessly nostrils up. I clapped my hands.

"We should talk about it over supper!" I declared. Food had a way of bringing people together, and maybe that's what we needed? I wasn't afraid to admit that I was afraid of losing my friends. If Caprica left, then so would Bastion, and that would leave a big hole in our crew, wouldn't it? I made a mental note to talk to her later, once we were back at the Beaver. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the issue was postponed by talking about food, at least for a little bit.

There was an argument brewing amongst my friends, with two camps. One was headed by Amaryllis, and the other, surprisingly, by Awen. Amaryllis wanted to find a nice harpy restaurant. She said that there had to be one somewhere in the capital city, and that at least there we'd be able to eat normal food. Well, normal harpy food. Awen's camp was more about trying out some of the local stuff, since we were here.

We'd tried some grenoil things in Port Royal, but not frequently, and this was the biggest city in the nation. They had to have some really good cooks and great local dishes too! I was happy to eat anything--well, I guess I'd like to avoid bugs. Unfortunately, the grenoil really did like their bugs. Oh, and I also needed to avoid meat because buns weren't great at handling meat. But! Other than that, I was sure whatever food we found would be amazing.

So, I stayed out of the argument, and cheered on both sides to keep their morale up. That earned me a huff from Amaryllis, which I considered a win. We mostly just ended up walking around, getting lost in the big building we were in, then stopping by the first food place we found, which happened to be a slightly-pricey restaurant on the topmost floor of one of the buildings.

It was fusion cuisine, which really just meant that the place was run by a couple, one a grenoil, the other an ostri, and they were trying to remake local foods with a bit more of a spicy kick to them. It was a bit of a lot of spice for me. My Canadian palate was more... sugars and sweets, and less desert spices and what might have been insect meat. If I didn't ask, then I would never know and it would be fine.

I still tried a bit of everything, and was impressed by Awen's ability to eat food so spicy that just smelling it made my eyes water. Calamity put on a brave face, but he was crying by the end. We lingered there a while, watching the sun start to dip through the windows. Deepmarsh was still lit with that heavy golden glow that came before dusk, and for a moment, it was peaceful. The tension that had been brewing between everyone seemed to mellow, just a little, under the comfort of a shared meal.

Eventually, we paid our bill--thanks to Caprica's bottomless royal purse--and stepped back out into the streets, full and a little tired. The kind of tiredness that comes after a long talk and a lot of thinking. We made our way back to the Beaver Cleaver at an easy pace, our bellies full and our minds still half-occupied with spices and quiet thoughts. Deepmarsh's corridor-streets were quieter now, the day's bustle dimming into the soft murmur of evening.

By the time we reached the ship, the lights were on inside and the gangplank was lowered, as if the Beaver had been waiting for us, just like always.

"Hey, Caprica?" I asked, stepping up beside her. She glanced over, one eyebrow raised.

"Do you think we could talk later? Just the two of us?" She didn't answer right away. For a second I thought she might say no, or do that royal thing where she pretended I hadn't said anything at all. But then she gave me a small nod.

"I'd like that," she said.

"Later tonight?"

"Perfect," I said, even though my stomach twisted a little. I wasn't sure what I was going to say yet, but I figured I'd come up with something.