Page 13 of Trapped By Claws
I found Mama in the study adjacent to the captain's quarters. That's where Mama usually was these days, hunched over maps and books as she struggled to pull any scrap of meaning from ancient texts that had no bearing on anything we were doing except for the fact they were about fae who stole humans or similar topics like portals. Lately she'd been obsessed with stairways in the air, the grounded and ungrounded ones and all their dangers and possibilities those portals held.
The study itself was small and dimly lit by a single oil lamp set in a rotating case and hung from the ceiling by wires. A little flame flickered, providing a surprising amount of light considering its size. The walls were lined with shelves that came up to my waist, and then the walls were plastered with maps, their edges yellowed and curled in. Old books and cases of scrolls filled most of the shelves, along with a few dark-stained chests. Precious little light flowed through the single porthole, but a bit of a breeze eked in. The heavy, musty scent of old paper and older leather with the strong scent of sailor's tobacco and a musky cologne that hadn't been used in ages filled my lungs. It left a dry but not unpleasant taste in my mouth.
A large table sat in the center of the room, fastened to the floor. Stacks of papers and books filled most of it, but a shiny brown teapot sat on the right corner near Mama's right hand along with a squat cup of now-cold tea.
Captain Hosvir had been smitten with Mama since the day we walked into the shipyard. Not that he would admit it to me. But he seemed to love talking with her and had many questions about these portals. Sometimes I wondered if there was something on this island that he wanted to find as well. He wasn't here at the moment, but that tea set was one he'd brought out on our second day at sea. He'd excused it by saying sometimes he enjoyed a nice cup of tea himself. And slowly that had turned into a mid-afternoon exchange between Mama and the captain. If Mama wasn't too busy.
There was no sign of the captain's cup, and Mama was especially focused on the pages in front of her. The tea in her cup hadn't been touched either. Nor had the little slice of seedcake that had slid off the plate and partially under a large faded volume.
Sighing, I stepped inside. "Mama," I said, holding the plate of bread and stew. "I know you haven't eaten today. So you need to eat dinner. All right?"
Mama nodded without looking up. Her thinning auburn hair was now more than half silver, and her eyeglasses sat low on her nose. One lens had cracked months ago. A simple enough fix, except she wouldn't spend a cent on anything that didn't bring her closer to finding Erryn. Her ragged green shawl had been drawn up over her bony shoulders and wrapped tight around her frail frame. She'd become so much more haggard and worn over the past few years, shrinking to little more than a shell of herself. Some days she refused to eat at all. Months and months of fruitless searching had carved deep lines in her face and sapped her strength and vitality.
I cleared my throat. "Mama," I said, louder this time. "I have to insist. You need to actually eat something."
"Just put it down," Mama said without looking up.
I moved the books aside and set the steaming bowl of stew down. The fragrant scent of cod, corn, lentils, and spices filled the air, accented by the warm yeasty scent of honey-and-salt rye bread.
She didn't turn her head or glance at it.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Mama."
She shook her head. "I'll get to it when I get a chance. I need to focus. There's something here—something that might give us the answer. I've translated the proper runes for activation. We may be able to use it."
Unlikely. Mama had learned many incredible things, but none of them had ever really helped to find Erryn.After we reached this oracle and dealt with the sorrow of learning yet again that there was nothing to help us find Erryn, I needed to talk with Mama about settling down again. We couldn't keep on doing this. But that meant Mama had to make it until then.
"Mama," I said again, firmer this time. "Have you eaten anything since yesterday? You didn't touch your tea. You need to eat something."
Another shake of the head, her focus on the page before her and the possible connections she was drawing from texts that had nothing to do with Erryn.
I squared my shoulders. "I'm not leaving until you take at least a bite of stew. You're being ridiculous." I said it with a tone, knowing that that would at least get a reaction from Mama.
Oh, did it ever.
Her gaze snapped to me, her eyes watery and bloodshot from hours of poring over texts. "You think it's ridiculous for me to look for your sister? Don't you care about Erryn, Philomena?"
I kept my chin up. "I do. But I also care about you. And you're going to be worthless or dead if you don't eat something."
"Don't take that tone with me, young lady. I said to leave it here," Mama said, her tone sharpening. "You don't need to patronize me. I will eat when I need to eat."
"Except you don't! You're so focused on finding Erryn that you won't even spend fifty coppers to get your lenses fixed." The words were sliding out, and I regretted it almost as soon as I realized it was happening. But it was too late. I kept my gaze steady, already regretting my next words. "It's been years. We may never find her! We can't keep living like this."
"She could still be alive." Mama hugged the shawl tighter around herself. Her thin brows pinched together. "Nothing is more important than finding Erryn, Philomena Ophelia Lyster. I would have thought you would understand by now. Your sister has not been found. We do not rest until she is found. We cannot give up on her! She's counting on us."
I gritted my teeth, my muscles tensing. There was so much I wanted to say about this, but I choked it all down to focus on what was important. "That doesn't mean you should starve yourself. If you really care about finding Erryn, the least you can do is eat."
"Don't you dare disrespect your sister's name like that." Mama's voice shook. Her face had gone pale. "I—I can't believe how callous you are about her sometimes."
I bit my tongue. Arguing further would make it worse. "Just one bite. All right? Then I'll leave."
Mama's mouth pinched. She picked up the piece of seedcake, tore off a small piece, and placed it in her mouth. "There."
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I forced a smile though. "Good enough." It was hard not to see Mama's decision to eat the seedcake and not my stew as personal. But at least she'd eaten something.
Mama mumbled something under her breath as she sat back down. She didn't even glance at the bowl of stew.
My heart clenched. Bile rose in the back of my mouth.
