Page 19 of Palaces and other Prisons
Feeling a little braver, Dawson touched one of the freckle circles. “What is this? What does it mean?”
They had so many books in the library, but they couldn’t read what he wrote and translate it into their words. But the Bible was written in Latin, not English. And the English that had been spoken a thousand years ago was not the same as the English of today. For all he knew, the language Ul spoke was closer to what the Vikings had spoken.
Ul didn’t speak as he motioned for Dawson to continue.
“Why, I don’t understand. What is the point? I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Also, my feet are freezing. Do you not feel the cold?”
He glanced up from the water to see Ul watching him.
“Am I some kind of oddity? Am I the mythological being here? If humans have myths of your people, do your people have myths of mine? Do you tell stories about the Vikings who ended up here?” He kicked at the water, wondering how long Ul planned on standing in the cold sea.
This little island was avoiding the troubles that much of the rest of the world was experiencing. But how long would that last? How long until humans realized it existed and came to explore?
“I’m running out of things to say. Do you want me to describe the sky?” He pointed at the clouds and the darkening sky. “Or would you like me to complain about the gritty sand and the cold water?” He shrugged. “It makes no difference what I say, does it?”
Ul faced him. He tapped Dawson’s ear with one tentacle and shook his head as he spoke. He continued talking as his tentacle tapped Dawson’s chest. Every time they touched skin to skin, his freckles changed color. Perhaps Ul didn’t turn yellow. And perhaps he was excited because he was beginning to understand what Dawson was saying.
Ul kept talking. His tentacle remained on Dawson’s chest. The suckers moved against the cloth of the tunic. Unable to resist, Dawson lifted his hand and placed one finger against a sucker. The sucker moved, kissing the tip of his finger like a little mouth.
Dawson pulled his hand away, not sure what to make of the thought or the sensation. It wasn’t horrible. Should he try again?
The king continued to talk, his voice no louder than the waves lapping around their calves. And since he hadn’t pulled his tentacle away, Dawson lifted his hand to boop another sucker.
He glanced up to catch the freckles turning from pink to dark blue since they were no longer touching. “You have a very melodic voice, but I don’t know what you’re saying or what you’re trying to tell me.” He touched another sucker, liking the way it moved against his fingertip. “And I probably shouldn’t keep doing that.”
The tentacle tapped him harder on the chest as Ul continued to speak. He was missing something important, even though he felt the gap and sensed the expectation. Ul wanted him to understand. It was like Ul was telling him the answers to all his questions if he listened hard enough.
Ul tapped him on the ear again and shook his head.
Was he not supposed to listen?
“I know you are expecting something from me. But I’m not sure what. And it’s frustrating. You want me to listen to you speak, but I can’t use my ears?” He touched his own ear. The tentacle tapped him on the chest. “What? I don’t listen with my heart.”
Perhaps the pointed ears on Ul’s head were only for decoration, or perhaps they weren’t ears at all. Maybe Ul’s ears were in his chest, or he heard vibrations like a snake or something.
Two of Ul’s back tentacles reached around and covered Dawson’s ears. Panic lodged in his throat, not sure if he was about to be drowned or have his neck snapped, only that the words were muffled and he was aware of the suckers moving against his skin like a lover’s lips.
Thank fuck he put underwear on beneath the tunic; otherwise, there’d be a very unfortunate tent forming on the beach. It felt wrong to be hard while standing in cold water with octopus tentacles on his head and neck.
Ul’s lips continued to move.
How the fuck was he supposed to understand anything now?
The tentacle on his chest tapped again.
Dawson drew in a breath and exhaled slowly, trying to release some of the frustration. He needed to remember he was talking to…listening to…a king. And if he fucked up, everyone on the platform would suffer.
The freckles on the king’s face were pink, and when he spoke, his lips revealed pointy little teeth. Dawson couldn’t hear the words, and maybe that didn’t matter. Was that the point? If he couldn’t hear with his ears, what was he supposed to be doing with his heart?
With no words to focus on, all that was left was the tone of Ul’s voice and his expression. Once again, he was struck by the deep sadness…the need to be understood.
The tentacles that had been covering his ears wrapped around his wrists and brought his hands to Ul’s pointed ears. He didn’t have a third hand to place over Ul’s heart.
Ul smiled and brought one of Dawson’s hands to his chest, using his own hand to cover his ear.
Dawson didn’t need to be told to talk. “I think I get it. You don’t learn a language by listening to the words. You’re listening for something else. Yet when I was naming the fruit, you copied my words, and I copied yours. Were you playing along?” Helicked his lower lip, tasting the salt spray on his skin. “My feet are freezing, and my cloak is now wet. It’s also getting dark, and I don’t want to die getting back up the cliff.” He shivered as a wave slapped his knees. “Can we go in?”
Ul’s tentacles fell away, releasing him. He dipped his hand in the water and ran it over his head.
