Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One (22 page)

“I am sorry. I don’t know what else to say,” Cite began, but Dawn interrupted.

“Don’t say anything else about it. That is not what we wanted to talk about. Why did you want to talk to me alone?” she asked.

“Oh. My abilities, the mind reading, I may be able to help find who killed Maurence.” Dawn and Tildan both nodded. As they realized the potential, their faces became grim and determined.

“But can we trust him?” Tildan asked his niece. “If he can read thoughts, or send thoughts, then why can’t he control people’s minds? How do we know he hasn’t already done that?”

“Uncle,” Dawn said, as Cite looked between the two. He felt weird; being spoken about as if weren’t in the room. They showed no fear of him or his abilities. That was unexpected also. “first of all, I don’t think anything can get through that thick skull of yours unless you let it. Second of all, why would he tell us he can do these things if he wanted to use them against us? Wouldn’t he have just made us think what he wanted? Or just wiped the minds of witnesses? But Rogen, or whoever looked like him, wanted people to see the Rokairn leave the murder scene with bloody hands. Now, shall we continue to discuss this, or should we find out who killed your best friend?”

Tildan nodded, his eyes brimmed with emotion. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand and stood to his full height, almost brushing the ceiling of the room.

“Alright Cite,” Tildan said, “go feel out the crew. Look for others also, because I don’t think one of our crew would murder Maurence. I am going back to my cabin to look after our prisoner.”

The three discussed things for a few more minutes before leaving the room. Cite went on deck, and Tildan went to cabin in the crew’s quarters. When the big man entered, Rogen’s first question was about the boy.

“Where is Cite?” Rogen asked. “Is he in any danger?”

“He’s up there trying to find the real killer,” Tildan answered. “As for being in danger, I am worried we’re all in danger until this little mystery is solved.

Tildan filled the Rokairn in on the details of the meeting in the Captain’s quarters.

“So you understand why I couldn’t let Cite in to see you,” Tildan explained to Rogen who nodded. Rogen was sitting on the bunk in Tildan’s cabin in just his small clothes, and Tildan sat on the only chair in the room that was beside a small writing desk.

“I trust the lad to find out who did it. Tildan, I am sorry about Maurence. I did not know him as well as you did, but I was coming to like him very much.” Tildan nodded. “So the boy told you about what he could do, did he?” Again, Tildan nodded. “Well, let me tell you about what I have seen him do. I have only seen it twice, but one time there were these bugs everywhere, and not your normal houseflies…”

Cite wasn’t sure how to go about proving Rogen’s innocence and finding the real murderer. He had to talk to the five crewmembers in question, but knew they didn’t trust him. He had considered asking Bezel to talk to them while he watched and tried to gather thoughts, but the crew didn’t like Bezel much either.  Cite wasn’t sure if they would give Bezel the time of day, let alone have a conversation with him.

All of the crew, except for Tildan, stood on the main deck for Maurence’s eulogy. The dead man’s body lay on the gangplank wrapped in a clean white sheet, which was then tied around him so it would not come loose in the wind. The Captain was recalling the duties and services that Maurence had performed on the Lady Luck. She had pulled her hair into a tight copper bun, and she was wearing her red thigh length formal coat and her knee boots.

The Captain called upon each crewmember to say a few words. Cite could feel the men’s thoughts as they waited or spoke. Some didn’t care much for the olive-skinned mute, but spoke anyway. Cite was not sure if that made them a better or worse man.

The boatswain, Kytson, stepped forward to say his piece. The chubby man fiddled with his eye patch as he muttered about Maurence’s role on the ship. His mind revealed more though. As Cite concentrated, his mind loose from the alcohol and tobacco, he found his abilities digging deeper into Kytson’s mind. He had hated the mute bodyguard of the Captain. He compared Maurence to Rogen. Both were foreigners who weaseled their way into a job of which another man would be more deserving. The only reason Kytson was up there speaking was out of respect for the crew. He knew they needed this pitiful little performance so they could justify the death of a crewmember.

Kytson choked. Jumper put a hand on the man’s shoulder, thinking the boatswain was emotional. The boatswain squeezed his eyes shut, his fat ugly face wrinkled and his eye patch almost folded as he did. Cite could feel something trying to wrap around the tendril of his thoughts that snaked its way through Kytson’s head. Cite withdrew his touch and the man relaxed.

As Cite listened to the thoughts of the crew, he realized that it wasn’t much different than listening to someone talking to themselves. He didn’t get much choice about the subject matter. He knew he could dig deeper, but wasn’t sure if that would be dangerous to the men, or even to his own mind. There was a chance, if he delved too far into someone’s mind, that he could become lost or disconnected once he was surrounded by their thoughts. Cite decided that he needed to guide the thoughts of these men if he wanted specific information.

The last of the crew were speaking their piece. Cite circled the crowd as Puffer was taking his turn. Puffer muttered a lot and looked down. Cite focused on him and stumbled as he touched the young man’s thoughts. Puffer’s head was a haze of gray. Lances of color shot through it, but it was closed to the mind mage due to interference. Occasional thoughts would surface, like whales caught in a murky lake looking for a way out since they cannot see while submerged. Cite tried baiting the thoughts and luring them to the surface by dropping related pushes of thought into the boy’s head. It didn’t help, and Cite gained nothing from the drug confused mind.

When the boy finished with what he had to say, Dawn called upon Cite. He looked at her with surprise. Her face was stern, but as she caught his eye he felt her thoughts reach out for him.
‘Show them that you are not the enemy, speak with them on this.’
Cite wondered if the Captain had called upon him to also use the opportunity to measure and judge him. He shook his head as he decided that it didn’t matter; Maurence was a man whom he liked and called friend.

Cite stepped in front of the crowd, next to the body. He realized the fact, he was standing next to a person he knew, a man with whom he had spoken to and had shared camaraderie just a few hours ago. It was eerie. He looked at the men in front of him and almost took a step back with the force of feelings and thoughts rolling off of them. He looked from face to face as he sloughed through dozens of thoughts. Anger at circumstance, hate of Cite, fear of Rogen, boredom, glad not to be working, sex with the Captain, Maurence’s boots, something in someone’s nose, were just a few of the things Cite felt from the gathered men. The sailors stared at him, anxious because he stood there and didn’t say a word. Cite cleared his throat.

“I’ve been aboard this ship for twelve days. I’ve come to know a few of you, but not as well as I came to know Maurence. He lived silently in a world that yelled. That is why this man came to the sea. He knew this ship, he loved the sea, and he trusted each and every one of you. Maurence cherished the Captain and protected her, because she protected him. He adored Tildan who spoke with him constantly, sharing jokes and a bond of friendship that surpassed family. Tildan asked Maurence’s opinion in ways that Maurence could answer. He listened to Maurence’s jokes and laughed with the man. I see many of your faces and know you think I am crazy to think a man that couldn’t speak would tell a joke, but he did. I would watch as he would point out something on shore to me or Tildan then gesture, as if to tell us, ‘Look, and see what could happen next’, the same way one of you would say to your friend, ‘What if Cite slips on the soap in the deck and falls?’

“Maurence came to this ship, this crew, and he found his fate and family. But he also gave more than he ever took.” Cite paused, the crew was had the look of jaded and bitter people who felt they were being given shit coated with sugar and told to swallow it. “My point is that this was a great man. He loved, laughed, and drank with each of you. He taught me to smoke a cigar, and then laughed as I puked over the rail. He laughed even more when I pointed out that the fish were eating my vomit.” Cite paused and a man in front let out a rough laugh, one or two even nodding as they remembered such memories of their own. “I will miss him. I will miss the chance of getting to know more of him.” Cite fell silent and stepped away, then stumbled as he heard a violent thought, only to be caught and steadied by Warton. Cite looked around at the gathered men, trying to sort through thoughts, looking for the man that sent that last one his way, the thought that said,
‘I killed him, and Rogen will die for it, then I will kill the rest for fun.’

The Captain stepped forward and finished the service. The gangplank was lifted so Maurence’s body slid into the waiting sea. The shroud was weighted and sunk when it hit the water. Most of the crew was back to work before it was out of sight. Warton and Dawn stood at the rail long after the others left. Bezel had the wheel and Cite stood to one side, trying to figure out how to go about the business of saving Rogen.

Dawn turned her head up and kissed Warton on the cheek. After a few words from her, the man headed to Tildan’s cabin to relieve his father of watching Rogen. Dawn turned and noticed Cite watching her. She looked around to check and see where her crew was, and turned again to look at Cite. Her green eyes met his blue ones and he felt the push of a thought as he studied her face.

‘Can you hear me?’
he felt her voice ask in his head as he opened his thoughts and let his mind relax. He nodded even as he sent a single word answer back to her to match his nod. He received a blend of words, images, and feelings that he was learning to translate to a more understandable form.

‘It is good to find someone else who can,’
the next series of images confused Cite and he could only vaguely translate it to mean the ability to use or touch,
‘magic. For so long, I have been alone in this.’
She continued to push the language at Cite. It was like catching balls of cotton thrown into the wind by a young child. Cite had to reach out with his mind to snatch thoughts out of the space between them the things she was trying to make him understand. He reached out with his mind and pushed into her mind to make it easier.

Dawn gasped and arched her back, and rose to her tiptoes. A few crewmen looked over, worried. Cite realized what he did and, with a surge of fear and regret, released her. She almost collapsed to the deck and the crew heard her cry, “No!” Again, a few made a move to go to her side, but she stopped them with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head.

“I’m fine, just upset over the day’s events,” she told them and they returned to their duties. She looked back up at Cite and with a small wave of her hand, invited him back into her head.

Cite felt the insistent push of her thoughts again as his abilities sought out minds to explore. He felt her welcome, not as a friend or lover might, but as he thought a business invitation might feel. Using care, he wrapped his thoughts around hers, enveloped her psyche and held it with his. He could see her sigh, relieved that it was much less intrusive this time.

‘I can hear you now. I’m sorry about that thing before, I’m still learning,’
he said into her head.

‘Well this is certainly much less brutish than what you did a moment ago.’
She saw his face flush and the contact waver.
‘Don’t worry about before. Let’s worry about what is in front of you today. Can you still hear my thoughts if I am not looking at you, or am facing away?’

‘Yes. It sometimes seems to help if I see you, but I think it is just for me to place your facial expressions and body language with the thoughts and feelings I am getting,’

‘Good, because I am turning away before my crew thinks I am some lovesick girl fawning over the friend of a murderer and lynch me also.’
A surge of worry and fear ran from Cite to Dawn. She turned away and raised her chin into the breeze. He turned also, pacing.
‘Sorry, not also. You will save Rogen.’

The images he received were of her swooning in a gingham dress at the sight of Cite, then of her being hung from a yardarm by her men, Rogen swinging next to her, Tildan dead on the deck, and Warton tied to the mast. Laughter swam through the whole set of images and feelings, as she found it amusing. Because she knew in her heart that they would really try to do this, but he saw she had little fear as a second set of images showed her standing over her whole crew who were unconscious and beaten. Tildan, Warton, Bezel, Rogen, and Cite stood behind her. Each sentence he translated was a series of emotions, images, and scenes that crossed and overlapped each other in a weave that created a tapestry of one thought.

Cite tried to send precise images and feelings back to her. He did not want to overwhelm her or frighten her. He was gaining control of this ability, but the thoughts of someone who was trying to communicate was as hard to control as someone who was blocking it. She pushed more than he wanted into the thoughts and when he thought to her, she grabbed anything and pulled it into herself. He had to dole it out in small bits or risk his mind slipping and sliding into hers, like a drunk man might slip and slide into the waiting and hungry ocean on a greased boat deck.