Page 4 of Odder Still
He holds his ornate, silver cane with the poise of royalty, and the gentle swinging motion he gives it as he steps looks nearly as flamboyant as it must be practical. The sand rustles beneath his weight the way no ground ever has beneath mine. Each time he lowers his foot, it thuds. Even his breath has a sound, the tiniest billow, barely recognizable.
I move to his side. With each of my silent motions, the alone and the lonely creep up over my shoulder, reminding me that I will never be more than a ghost, a thing to be kicked down and kicked out and forgotten, not permitted to find purchase.
“Now for my questions,” I say.
He startles, then composes himself quickly. “May I pose one of my own first?”
“If you must.”
He plants his cane ceremoniously in front of him, the breeze licking at the curls that dance beneath the edges of his cap. “Do you have a name?”
I don’t know whether to be suspicious or flattered. “Rubem…” Two titles pull at me, the Veneno surname I’d chosen for the rivers and the Murk-given full name my mother helped me craft. But both places had spit me out. When I return, it’ll be to the little strip of nothingness that sits between them. “Rubem of the no-man’s land.”
“Rubem. A delight to make your acquaintance.” His soft smile rides on a knifepoint. “I am Tavish K. Findlay.”
Findlay. His name makes the parasite warm against my neck. I can’t tell which of us draws up my memory of the flier. “You’re from Maraheem.”
“Aye. What of it?”
“I need to get there, by road, if possible.”
“Well, you might have a bit of trouble with that.” He points his cane toward the wind and lapping waves. “Maraheem is a city of selkies, as this town once was, but unlike any of our more mundane residences, this one is anunderseapinnacle of wealth and technology. The most high-tech, airtight metropolis of metal and glass you’ll find this side of, well, anything.”
My chest feels raw with a mixture of hope and despair. An underwater city. Just reaching it seems such a big task; my fire nearly wavers. So much to do, so little energy.
As though in tune with my mood, the wind kicks up, brushing at the little braids around my face and slipping a few over my shoulder. The clouds release a splattering of rain, so light and useless it might as well be mist, with none of the gracious concealment a dense fog would provide.
I scowl, scooting back into the cleft of the boardwalk stairs, both for its shelter from the crying sky and the cover its shadows offer. But I can’t hide from all my problems the way I can from the rain. The parasite’s body still weaves into my neck muscles—still waits to inflict me with unwanted emotions, to force its own desires upon me.
I expect it to react to the thought, but it stays as dormant as before my escape. Somehow that’s more eerie. It’s waiting, and I don’t know why.
“Findlay Inc. is in Maraheem, isn’t it?” I try not to sound desperate, and the question comes out with a bit of a growl instead. “They do aurora research of some kind?”
Tavish joins me beneath the stairs. “Findlay Incorporated,” he says, pronouncing the title with something so firmly between pride and sarcasm that I can’t tell where one begins and the other ends, “is the largest and most shining corporation within Maraheem, run by my mother, Raghnaid Findlay. We’ve owned the northern auroras for generations. We’re the only place conducting aurora research this side of Alkelu—with all the technological boons to show for it.”
The parasite tingles to life in a burst of heat, its confusion and distaste so thick it overlaps into mine. “Wait, you’re saying youownthe auroras.”
“Aye.” Tavish’s brow tightens. “Is that not how it works where you’re from?”
“Never.” The mere thought of it feels more foreign than the eternal grey sky.
He seems equally confounded. “Don’t yours latch to stationary creatures? Can you not just uproot the entire host? Or buy the land beneath it?”
“If you want the Murk Council to wring you alive. All the auroras in Manduka live there, and they belong equally to the swamp as a whole, the same with any tree or beast.”
“Butyoudidn’t live in this Murk, Rubem of no-man’s land?”
It’s not a barb, the way he says it, like that fact is one of a million and not the defining cog that’s spun my entire life into this position. But even a caress hurts an open wound. I respond to the ache with a bitter laugh. “I suppose I could have snuck into the Murk and stolen one.” Seeing how that’s technically what I did. “But I never wanted one for myself.” The irony of that isn’t lost on me.
Now it’s Tavish’s turn for a humorless bark. “Pardon me, but that’s shite. Everyone wants an aurora. They’re symbols of wealth and power which activelycreatemore wealth and power.”
“When I was placed in a position of wealth and power for a short time, all it brought me were enemies. The only thing I want now is a quiet life with my pets lounging across the deck and a bottle of wine beside my rocking chair.”
Tavish’s features shift in a way that’s just beyond my ability to read, something tender around the edges. “You’re a wee bit odd, Rubem of No-Man’s Land.” His tone contains all the confusing softness of his expression.
I put on a wry smile for no one but myself. “I get odder the more you know of me.”
“How intriguing.” Tavish hums. “But if that was your last question, I really, genuinely must be—”
