The Stolen Child (23 page)

She took a long, slow breath and tried to collect herself.

“Come on,” Milima said, gently.  “Lets get you
back
to bed.”

She just nodded.  She felt exhausted by the day, by the dinner, and by the effort of fighting everything.  There simply wasn't any strength left in her.  They came to the door of the room where she had woken up
just a few hours ago
.  Her room, now.  It was a strange thought.

“Not going to try to tuck me in?”
s
he muttered, sourly.

“Would you want me to?” Milima asked, with a joking look in her eyes.

“Hardly,”
s
he muttered
.
 

Milima smiled as Rachael opened the door to the cabin.  She stopped in the doorway and forced herself to smile back, just for a moment,
before she closed the door.  It took all the strength she had left in her just to undress and crawl beneath the covers.  She looked up at the starlit sky, barely visible through the narrow porthole, and tried not to think about how badly she had wanted to say 'Yes.'
 

Morning
light crept in through the port-hole
.  
Rachael watched it cr
awling
down the far wall of the bedroom.  She'd spent most of the night tossing and turning, the sheets too warm, the
mattress
too soft
.  
Sick of lying in bed with only her own gnawing anxiety buzzing away at the back of her brain, she finally
pulled the covers aside and got to her feet
.  Sifting through the clothes that Arsha had left in her cupboard, she found a practical looking pair of brown trousers and a plain white tunic.
 

Feeling less conspicuous than she had in the brightly coloured silks she'd been wearing yesterday, Rachael decided that she might as well try to find something to eat.  She slipped out into the corridor and made her way up towards the mess hall.
 

At the doorway she paused.  Sitting at the table, facing towards the cooking range, was a man she didn't recognise.  
He was
dark skinned and
heavy-set
,
with
a tight mat of
silver-grey hair.  
His hands, folded on the table in front of him, were large and muscular.
 
He was leaning forward over the table, listening intently as Milima's voice came from across the room.  From where she was standing Rachael couldn't see the woman, but she could easily hear how agitated she was.  The man at the table didn't seem to have noticed her, and Rachael stayed put, not moving a muscle as she listened.
 

“
...and maybe we wouldn't be in this mess if you didn't follow every order
damn
Rishi gives you without question.”
 

When the man spoke, his voice was cavernously deep, a soft rumbling tone, like mountains moving.
 

“We did the right thing Milima.  Rishi wasn't the one who covered up a prediction, and he didn't open a Seed in the middle of London.  At least the girl is safe with us now.”

She heard the clatter of a pan being slapped down on the iron cooking range.
 

“Even though
the
man who's supposed to be our friend still won't tell us why she's so important,”
Milima snapped.  For a moment the man
at the table
said nothing.  The sound of clattering cookware ceased.
 

“Abasi what is it?”
Milima said, her voice quieter, but no less angry, like the sound of a knife being sharpened.
  “What are
n't
you saying?”

The man glanced away for a moment.
 

“Do you think we should just hand her over to the Guild?”
he replied.
 

“Seven, Aba, you know I don't.  The damage is done now.  We're responsible.  And that poor girl… She's been through hell.  You can see it in her eyes.”

Rachael's throat felt dry, but she forced herself not to make the slightest movement.
 

“So she stays with us,”
Abasi said.
 

“You're still not answering my question.  Why did we ever go chasing off after this girl in the first place?”

“Someone had to.  Guild doesn't know what she is.  
And
Lord Bhandari knows all too well.”

“And what exactly is she?”
Milima said, her soft tone becoming, if anything, even sharper.
  “I expect all this secrecy from Rishi, but not from my own husband.”

From his expression, it almost seemed as if the man was unable to speak.  As if the words had simply caught in his throat.  There was something in his eyes, like sadness, or even fear.  Then she heard Milima's voice, trembling with concern.
 

“Oh Abasi, no.  Of all the things for you to get caught up in again...”

“It was my choice,”
he said, firmly, but with an unmistakable catch in his voice.
 

“The hell it was,”
Milima hissed angrily.
  Rishi had no right, dragging you back into that madness.  He knows damn well what you went through.”

As the woman spoke, she stepped forward across the room, now in Rachael's view.  Her anger was written plainly on her face.
 

“Melaku, love, it was my choice,”
the man said, heavily.
 

“Don't do that,”
Milima snapped.
  Don't use that name just because you know I'm angry with you.”

“You never let me use it any other time,”
Abasi said, the words curiously soft for a man with so heavy a voice.  As she watched, Milima's expression seemed to melt.  The woman stepped forward, leaning over the table to kiss the man on his forehead.
 

“Almost never,”
she said with a smile.  Then she seemed to take notice of something.
  “But I don't think Rachael wants to hear us talk about that,”
Milima added,
laughing
.
 

The man quickly looked up,
masking his alarm with a
cheerful
expression
.
 

“Good morning Rachael,” he said.  “How are you feeling?”

Not really sure what to say, she just shrugged.
 

“I'm Abasi
Bira
,” he said, standing up to walk around the table towards her.  “I'm the captain of this ship.”

He offered his hand.  She took it, her tiny fingers entirely enclosed in his grasp, but his touch was
almost too
gentle, as if he was afraid he might break her.  
His skin was rough and calloused.
 

“Rachael, if there's anything at all you need,” he said, “don't hesitate to ask me, OK?”

“Sure,” she nodded.

“
Well,
I should go check on our course,” Abasi said, turning to nod
to
Milima
as he left.
 

“
So,” Milima said, getting to her feet, “Do you feel like you could manage some breakfast?”
 

“
I guess,” Rachael said.
 

She
took a seat, feeling all too much like an intruder in someone else's home.  It was strangely quiet,
just the sound of Milima humming softly as
she bustled in and out of a larder on the far side of the
room
.  
Soon a bowl of yoghurt and an open jar of honey were set down in front of her
, followed by a mug of tea poured from a large pan that was simmering away on the stove.  Then Milima poured another tea for herself and sat down across the table from her.
 

Cautiously, Rachael mixed a little honey into her yoghurt and started to eat.  She kept expecting Milima to say something, but
the woman just sat in silence, sipping her tea and staring off into the distance.
 

“
You not gonna ask how I'm settling in or something?” Rachael said at last.
 

“
I don't know.  Do you feel very settled right now?” Milima said, taking another sip of her tea.
 

“
Not really,” she mumbled, staring down at her plate.
 

Milima just nodded, without saying another word.
 

As the woman drank her tea, Rachael toyed with her spoon, and listened to the distant hum of the engines.
 

“
Honestly,” Milima said, watching her from over the rim of her mug, “if it was me in your position, I'd be looking for the first chance to get off this boat.  Even out here in the middle of nowhere.  It's easier to be lost on your own terms than on someone else's, right?”
 

Rachael scowled, and sipped her tea, trying not to meet the woman's eyes.  The taste of cinnamon, liquorice, and a host other spices flooded her mouth.  For a moment she gagged at the sweetness.
 

“
I know you don't have much reason to trust us,” Milima continued, “and I don't expect that you should.  After what you've been through recently, I can't imagine trusting anyone comes easily.”
 

“Jesus, could you not?” Rachael growled.  She could feel herself losing her cool, but she was past caring.  “Stop trying to pretend like you know what I been through.  Like you ever had to sleep in the rain or dig food out of rubbish bins cause you're so
hungry you'd eat the first thing you found.  Like any of my life even matters to you.”
 

Her voice rising to a shout, Rachael slammed her cup down so hard that it spilled, throwing the contents across the table.  In silence that followed, she heard the slow drip of the tea splashing on the floor.
 

She was fuming, staring the woman right in the eyes, feeling her hands shake against the tabletop.  Milima looked back at her with a strange calmness.
 

“
Shouldn't I care?
”
s
he said.  “
Suppose you're right.  Suppose I've never known anything like the hardships you have.  Should I not care about the things you've been through, just because they've never happened to me?”
 

Rachael searched the woman's eyes, not even sure what she was looking for.  Some sign that she was being lead on, that it was all a trick to win her trust.  Some glimmer of a lie.  As Milima stared back at her, she saw only a stillness.  Calm, patient, and kind.  At last, Rachael looked away, unable to hold the woman's gaze any longer.

“
Sorry about the mess,” she mumbled.
 

“
It's fine,” Milima said.  She saw the hint of a smile as the woman stood up and went to get a tea-towel.  As Milima began to mop up the spilled tea, Rachael found herself staring down at the table.  The woman stood up and went back to the counter, where she began filling a bowl in the sink.
 

“What's it mean?”
Rachael said, over the sound of the pouring water.
  “That mark, around your eye?”

Milima
turned to look
at her with a thoughtful expression.

“It means I was a soldier,”
s
he said.

“You were a soldier?”  
Rachael's eyes narrowed.
  “Did you fight in a
ny
war
s
?”

Milima nodded.
 

“I'm from the Herdlands,
Rachael
.  
It's all we've ever known
.”

Before Rachael could ask what
the woman
meant by this, she heard a movement in the hall and then Arsha appeared in the doorway.  She was noticeably subdued as she entered the room.  Her hair was a mess and she looked as if she hadn't really slept.
 

“
What can I get you to eat, love?” Milima asked as she set a mug of tea down in front of the girl.  Arsha shrugged, face mostly hidden as she lifted the mug in both hands and took a large gulp.  Rachael began to eat a little more of her yoghurt, as Milima brought another bowl out for Arsha.  The girl picked up her spoon, but seemed to do little more than push the contents of the bowl around.
 

Rachael
scraped her bowl clean
, whilst Arsha ate barely half of what was in front of her before pushing her
bowl
away.  With a tutting sound Milima scooped up the girl's leftovers.  Though she said nothing, Rachael couldn't help but notice the quiet look of concern in the woman's eyes.

“
Arsha, love, how would you like to show Rachael around, give her a proper tour of the ship?”
 

Arsha looked up at Milima with a puzzled expression.
 

“
I've still got chores,” she said.
 

“
Oh don't worry about that.  I'll see to the dusting today.  
You look after our guest.”
 

Rachael tried not to think about how much the word 'guest' chafed at her.  The sneaky voice in the back of her head reminded her that knowing her way around the ship could turn out to be very useful.
 

“
I'd like that,” she said, “if it's alright with you.”
 

“Sure,” Arsha
said, with that same thin smile.  
“
We can start down in the hold, I guess.
”
 

The hold was enormous, and incredibly dull.  Rachael looked out over the rows of wooden crates and barrels covered in netting and saw nothing of interest.  
Still, she
decided she would have to come back later and look
for hiding spots, or something useful in the cargo.

The hold occupied the front half of the ship, whilst the back half was divided into decks.  The lowest deck seemed to be the sleeping quarters
, eight cabins lining a narrow corridor, four to a side, with the bathrooms and laundry near to the back of the ship; the
stern
, as Arsha insisted on calling it.  
Staircases at either end lead to the decks above
.  As they made their way up
what Arsha referred to as the 'aft stairwell'
, Rachael noticed that the two bedrooms furthest back seemed larger.