Page 23 of New Storm Rising
“No reason.”
Then he pulled a little black book out of his pocket, and noted something down.
I got a feeling that the future of Fizzlewiz & Co would be…interesting.
***
About as interesting as our journey was turning out to be.
“Grg! Blaaargh!” Panting, I slumped back into my seat, away from the window. “Just kill me,” I requested from any of the other passengers who might be feeling merciful. “Please, just kill me!”
“Request denied.”
Ah, I forgot. Merciful? Ha! I was travelling with Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
“I just don’t understand why this is happening,” I moaned. “I feel dizzy and nauseous, and I get these weird cramps in my abdomen that feel as if there’s a chipmunk chewing at my navel! What the heck is the matter with me?”
Mr Ambrose and Karim exchanged a look—then they cast a glance at the other passengers, who were watching the scene with interest.
“I,” Mr Ambrose stated, “could not possibly say.”
“How much longer till we end up wherever we’re going?”
“Five minutes less than when you last asked five minutes ago.”
“Oh, how…wonderful.”
I dived towards the window again.
Thus, our journey continued. Now, I could spin a marvellous tale, telling you all about the perilous voyage through mountains and valleys, forests and deserts. I could recount how we outran tribes of bloodthirsty Indians, bravely fought off outlaws, had a drunken brawl in a saloon, and duelled a desperado at dusk. I could tell you all about it.
Except I won’t. Because it never happened. Or maybe it did? Honestly, I had no bloody clue! It’s a little difficult to pay attention to little things like bullets, brawls and bandits when all your focus was on the way the vomit was expelled from your stomach.
But then again…
We hadKarimin the coach.
If we really did encounter bandits, all I could say was…RIP.
I only wished I could RIP as well. It would have been preferable to the way I was currently feeling.
At least there was one good thing about all of this, though. At long last, I had realized what was wrong with me! I had realized why I felt so abominably nauseous! Really, I wanted to kick myself for not realizing it earlier. It was so obvious! How could I not have seen it sooner?
I was carriage-sick!
It only made sense, really. If I suddenly had developed a propensity to feel seasick, it would only be logical to also feel carriage-sick. After all, the bumping and swaying of the carriage bore significant resemblance to a dingy dancing on top of the wild ocean waves. This, at least, gave me a glimmer of hope! As soon as we arrived, it would all be over, and I would feel normal again! No more nausea! No more dizziness! No more…ravenous desire to eat ice cream and mustard on toast?[9]
Carriage-sickness was weird.
“Are you all right?” I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder and experienced a rush of gratitude. If only we were alone in this bloody coach. Then he could hold me, and warm me and—
“I think the stupid idiot is falling unconscious from all the vomiting,” Mr Ambrose’s voice, perfectly cold and uncaring, suddenly came from behind me. “What a useless fool! I’m going to have to grab him, or he’ll fall out of the carriage and I shall have to pay for the funeral.”
An arm slid around my shoulders and held me tightly.
Was it weird I loved this man for insulting me?
Oh, heck, so what if it was weird? From this moment onward, weird was the new awesome! Now all I had to do was to endure, and soon I would be rid of my carriage-sickness.
