The Unwanted Brothers Read online

  He saw Watawa perk then, leaving the books he’d been searching and striding toward his brother, muttering.

  Quill gave a reply in the same foreign gibberish before rounding on Garrett again. “Tell us more of this dolphin-lady. Was she old, or young? Did you catch her name, by chance?”

  Lie. Garrett thought, disliking the way the brothers looked on him, especially Watawa. The Nomad’s lone eye squinted and his lips moved as though he intended to speak, yet no sound came out.

  Quill pressed him. “What was her name, Orc? Tell us true.”

  They’ll know if you lie. His conscience whispered to him. “Wilda,” Garrett said then, noting his answer pleased the brothers.

  Quill leaned forward. “And were there others like her at this . . . zoo? Any like you?”

  Garrett took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I saw a shark-man,” said Garrett to the same pleasing recognition in the brother’s faces. “He broke through his tank to get to me.”

  Quill chuckled. “And what did he look like? What type of shark?”

  Garrett thought back to the darkened exhibit, the flat panel of acrylic and the giant inside. “A Hammerhead . . . a big one.”

  Quill grimaced. “And his skin? Black?”

  Garrett nodded. “How did you know?”

  Watawa again leaned toward his brother, whispered.

  Quill muttered gibberish back. “My brother wishes to learn how you knew the girl in the Crayfish’s dining hall . . . Chidi was her name. What do you know of her?”

  “I-I don’t know her.”

  “Truly? She seemed to know you.”

  Garrett shrugged. “I-I’m pretty sure I saw her once at my school, but—”

  “Your school is on the Hard?” Quill asked. “Ashore?”

  “Yes.”

  Quill leaned back on the couch, his demeanor ponderous. “And your home . . . how far is it from here?”

  “Why?” Garrett asked. “Could you take me there? Will you take me home?”

  “No,” said Quill. “But you will tell us how to get there.”

  Garrett felt Watawa’s lone eye focus on him again. He swallowed hard, suddenly cold, and in his heart, knew full well the Nomad brothers would not be denied an answer.

  5

  LENNY

  Lenny sat upon an uneven boulder, his legs and hands outstretched. He had the odd thought he must resemble a table, tipped on its side with its legs facing straight out. The wooden stocks binding his wrists and ankles limited his mobility. Lenny fought his bonds to stretch his back. He guessed it had been near an hour since Henry sent Chidi to fetch Fenton.

  They’ll be back soon. Lenny knew. Pop tried his best, but even his delay’s not gonna stop what’s coming.

  Lenny glanced up and found Henry staring back, confirming his suspicions.

  Henry had scarcely moved since sending Chidi away. He had raged a little while after, but no amount of obscenities, taunts, or demands stirred Declan from Lenny’s side. He sat next to his son even now, stroking the head of his pet sea otter that nestled its head against him.

  The two Dolans had scarcely said three words to one another since the fight. Lenny didn’t know where to begin. He also knew Declan would say little, and less with Henry so near. Not for the first time, he cursed Henry’s smarts in demanding Declan separate Lenny, Paulo, and Ellie. All had their earrings removed to keep them from devising a story to back one another for when Fenton eventually returned too. Now, without his earrings to mind-speak, Lenny found himself alone with his thoughts.

  He hated it.

  Ever since seeing Chidi and Henry, a single question ran circles in his mind. Where’s Racer?

  His conscience warned he already knew the answer. Lenny refused to accept it. He envisioned various scenarios where Henry only cared about recapturing Chidi. That the crazed Frenchman might have allowed the others go free.

  If that’s true, why does Henry have a bundle of sealskins with him? Lenny’s conscience argued. He recognized the makes of all three suits—two Lions and a Leper. One of those was the marshal’s from the jailhouse. Lenny recalled. The Leper suit though . . . could that be Wotjek’s? Lenny couldn’t remember what kind of suit Zymon Gorski wore.

  Racer made it, he convinced himself. Him and the Kenyan boy, Allambee. They’re out there. Free. He tried again to stretch his back from the cramped position the stocks forced him to hold.

  Lenny growled when the pain refused to go away.

  Henry chuckled. “Uncomfortable, nipperkin? Hmm? You will be soon. Once Fenton arrives.”

  “Maybe he’s not coming,” said Lenny.

  “He will,” said Henry. “Sooner or later, he will come. The Crayfish owes me.”

  Declan snorted. “For what? Cause the story I heard is you abandoned Master Oscar to chase down your girl instead.”

  Henry’s lip curled. “Monsieur Oscar promised to double my fee for helping capture the Orc.”

  “Uh huh,” said Lenny. “Oscar promised to free me too.” He rapped his knuckles against the wooden barriers holding him prisoner. “Guess I should get up and swim outta here, huh?”

  “You are only a slave,” said Henry. “Stupid of you to believe him.”

  “When ya got nothing, Henry, what do ya got to lose?”

  The Frenchman frowned. “There is always something to lose. Something to take.”

  “What’ve you ever lost?” asked Lenny. “Besides the gold Oscar promised ya?”

  A shadow crossed Henry’s face. “The Crayfish will pay me.”

  “Uh huh,” said Lenny. “I’ll remember ya said that when he knifes ya in the back.”

  Henry waved away Lenny’s words. Then he stood and backtracked toward the docks, muttering in French.

  Lenny waited until he gauged Henry out of hearing range. Then he elbowed Declan. “Pop.”

  Declan glanced up from his pet otter. “Hmm?”

  “Thanks . . .” Lenny sighed. “For saving me earlier. From Henry.”

  Declan’s brow furrowed. “Why ya thanking me for? Like I done ya a favor or something.”

  “Ya did, Pop. Henry would’ve killed me if not for you stepping in.”

  “Might kill ya still,” said Declan. He pushed the otter away and looked Lenny full in the face. “I’m not always gonna be there, pup. What do I always tell ya, huh? You’re never gonna be big, Len, so ya gotta be—”

  “Faster or smarter if ya wanna survive,” Lenny finished. “I haven’t forgot.”

  “Then ya didn’t listen too good.” Declan looked around to see if anyone listened. He leaned close, whispering. “You did it, didn’t ya? Let those others go. Chidi and Racer. They got to ya somehow? Made ya feel sorry for them, so ya turned them loose, right?”

  “I did what I thought you would’ve.”

  Declan frowned. “What ya didn’t do was ya job. Remember the last thing I told ya before ya left, or did ya forget that part too?”

  “I remember,” said Lenny, his voice rising. “Told me to catch the girl and bring my crew back safe.”

  “So why didn’t ya?” Declan’s tone rose to match Lenny’s. “Why can’t ya ever just listen to me, Len?”

  “I dunno. Why didn’t you tell me the truth, Pop?”

  “About what?”

  “Marisa Bourgeois,” said Lenny. “You told me that you’d heard of her before in the trade towns. That loads a catcher crews had been sent for her and all of them came back empty-handed. But Fenton said it was a fake hunt.” Lenny sighed. “Why’d ya lie, Pop? Why not tell me the chase was . . . fake? Just something to make Oscar feel—”

  “Important?” Declan said quietly.

  “Yeah . . .”

  Declan shook his head. “You told Henry when ya got nothing, ya got nothing to lose.” He looked Lenny dead in the face. “But when ya got nothing, ya got nothing to give either, son.”

  “I don’t understand, Pop. What do ya mean?

  Declan went on. “All these years down here, only thing I could give y
a was advice. Prepare you, best I knew how, for what’s out there, swimming the Salt. Master Collins made you a captain.” Declan paused to compose himself. “You think I’d take that dream away from my boy?”

  “But Pop . . .” said Lenny. “Why didn’t ya at least tell me ya knew Marisa? That you two had met.”

  Declan cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know her. Never even heard of Marisa Bourgeois before you were sent out.”

  “Why’d she have a picture of ya then?”

  “Picture?”

  Lenny nodded. “Found it in a notebook we lifted off her. She drew it.”

  Declan scratched his head. “No. That don’t make sense, Len.”

  Tell me about it. Lenny thought, his mind swimming with questions. How could she draw Pop’s face if they’d never met? He looked to Declan, remembering the minute details Marisa had captured in her portrait. Unless you’re lying to me again, Pop.

  Lenny didn’t think Declan was. Then again, he hadn’t doubted his father’s words ever before either. The questions continued to rage in Lenny’s mind until he saw Fenton marching through the square at the head of a column of slaves, all brought to witness the punishment to come. Taskmasters surrounded the group, ensuring none slipped away. Familiar faces blended amongst the crowd—catchers Lenny had known all his life, including Paulo’s mother. The others he assumed worked in the Collins’s mansion; those who had learned it best to keep their heads down after a lifetime of whippings for anyone daring to look others in the eye.

  Lenny cursed upon seeing the white sheen of a Harp suit to Fenton’s right. Its bearer grinned eagerly, near skipping to the stocks. Oscar. Lenny sneered.

  “Endrees,” Declan said to his otter. “Go home.”

  The animal scampered away as the throng approached.

  Lenny honed on Chidi, bringing up the rear, noting she refused to meet his eye line. I don’t blame ya, Cheeds. He wished to speak his mind. Ancients know I’d never believe ya meant to get caught.

  Henry fell in beside her, his earrings flashing.

  Must be yelling in her head. Lenny figured when Chidi winced. He sighed and listened to the quiet shuffling of feet as the horde spread around him to witness.

  Fenton stopped well short of the stocks, Oscar a shadow by his side. “Where is your crew, Captain Dolan?” Fenton asked.

  Declan rose to speak for his son. “Henry demanded they be separated, boss. Worried they might talk to one another.”

  Henry shoved toward the front. “They would have. All slaves are liars.”

  “I’ll determine the truth here,” said Fenton. He glanced at the taskmasters closest to him. “Bring me his crewmates.”

  Lenny watched them scurry off to do his bidding. He turned back when hearing Fenton address the crowd.

  “Life in the Salt is harsh for our kind,” said the old overseer. “And fear our constant companion. We gather here on this Blue Monday not only to give thanks for our Lord Master’s protection and the Salt life he gifted us, but as a reminder of the penalties for disobeying him.” Fenton narrowed his eyes at Henry. “Captain Lenny Dolan informed us you abandoned your mission—”

  “Lies,” Henry spat.

  “A point Master Oscar agreed with.” Fenton finished.

  Lenny nearly choked. Oscar stood up for me?

  Oscar was nodding in Henry’s direction. “He also called me a fool. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that slight, Henry.”

  Fenton looked at Henry too. “What say you to these claims, sir?”

  “I admit it,” Henry said. “I called the little Crayfish exactly what he is . . . a fool.”

  “Fenton!” Oscar grit his teeth. “Are you going to let him call me that again?”

  Think he just did, boss. Lenny thought to himself, hiding a grin. In the slave crowd, he saw others stifling their own surprise as well.

  Fenton cut through the tension in the air. “Master Henry,” he said. “I remind you, Master Oscar is your employer—”

  “No,” said Henry. “His father is. And the Crayfish has yet to pay me what’s owed.”

  Oscar crossed his arms. “You don’t get paid for abandoning me. What if the others had killed me after you left? What then?”

  “I would not be here,” said Henry. “But you are alive and well. The girl I was hired to catch has been captured. So too was the Orc you hired my services for. He and others also.”

  Lenny heard a collective gasp from the crowd, whispers of an Orc in Crayfish Cavern. He saw the catchers amongst the crowd look on him with newfound respect. A few of the older ones, Paulo’s mother included, shook their heads.

  “Silence!” Fenton commanded, thwacking his waist-high, razor shell cane on the cavern floor.

  Henry shouted over him. “I will not be silent. I will be paid.”

  “You abandoned your charge.” Fenton reiterated.

  “Oui,” said Henry. “To reclaim Crayfish property that your nipperkin captain set free!”

  The crowd parted as the taskmasters returned with Paulo and Ellie, escorting them to the center where three repurposed masts had been erected in a line. Chains and shackles dangled from holes in the tops of each.

  Paulo glared at Lenny as the taskmasters took hold of his wrists and shackled him to a mast. A taskmaster pulled the chain taut, raising Paulo’s arms over his head, forcing his belly against the wooden pole. Another taskmaster repeated the procedure with Ellie.

  Lenny grimaced as he looked on his crewmates, chained only a few feet apart from one another. It should be me there. Not them.

  Fenton called everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Master Henry, you have made quite the accusation, sir. I assume you have proof of your claim?”

  Henry shoved Chidi forward. “Tell him what you told me.”

  No. Lenny thought, watching Chidi stumble. She picked herself up and met his gaze, the whites of her eyes already red from weeping before she looked away. Chidi muttered an inaudible response.

  Henry grabbed Chidi by the hair, yanking her to her feet. “Speak up, girl. Let them all hear what the son of the great Declan Dolan did.”

  I’m a stone. Lenny repeated to himself as he listened to Chidi confess how she became free of her bonds at the Indiana jailhouse. That Ellie had been in on the plot and he the mastermind. He watched his friend’s face turn scarlet as Chidi mentioned Ellie and Lenny suggested Paulo was too stupid to keep such a weighty secret and their reasoning for keeping the brute ignorant of their plan.

  Henry smirked at Lenny all the while.

  Lenny put an end to it when he interrupted Chidi’s continuing confession. “Boss Fenton! She’ll say anything Henry tells her too. Look at her. She’s shaking.” He leveled his gaze on Chidi. “Tell them, Cheeds. Henry gonna beat ya if ya screw up your lines?”

  Chidi’s face melted in shame.

  Lenny was unmoved to take back his words. Sorry, Cheeds. He thought to himself. We’re not on the Hard no more. Gotta look out for ourselves down here.

  Fenton looked to Henry. “I’m inclined to agree with Captain Dolan, sir. Forgive me, Master Henry, but your slave certainly seems terrified of you.”

  “Ask Ellie then,” said Henry.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Ask . . . Ellie.”

  “Very well,” said Fenton. “What do you say of these charges, Ellie?”

  Ellie placed her forehead against the wooden mast. Her shoulders heaved, chains rattled.

  Fenton’s bushy eyebrows raised. “Ellie . . . did your captain order you to free your crewmates?”

  Come on, Elle. Lenny willed her. Back me up.

  “No,” she said to Fenton’s question. “It was Racer who hit me.”

  “Liar!” Henry cried.

  Lenny sighed in relief. When he looked up again, he caught Paulo glowering at him. He knows what I did. The look told Lenny. That Ellie’s lying to protect us all.

  Oscar was laughing at the ongoing proceedings. “Did you honestly expect a slave to admit herself gui
lty, Henry? Now who’s the fool?”

  The Frenchman traipsed to the whipping masts, his right hand drifting into his Selkie pocket. “Remember what I promised you, Ellie?”

  Lenny straightened when seeing Henry draw his coral dagger free of the pocket and raise the blade above his head. A cracking sound rang out before Henry could stab Ellie and the end of a leather whip wrapped around his wrist. The whip strap turned taut, yanking Henry off balance. He pitched backward, losing the grip on his dagger. Lenny followed the whip’s end to its source.

  Declan Dolan held the whip handle, his face stern as he stared down his adversary.

  Fenton called out to his taskmasters. “Seize him.”

  No! Lenny’s heart fluttered. Not Pop.

  His panic melted when the taskmasters instead took hold of Henry. The Frenchman fought unsuccessfully to free himself of their grip, snarling and raging.

  Fenton ignored him, looking to another instead. “Ellie,” he said quietly. “What did Henry promise you?”

  Ellie’s voice cracked as she spoke. “That if I didn’t agree with Chidi, he would . . . he would skin me like he did to Racer.”

  Lenny reeled at the admission. He imagined the innocent young catcher as he had last seen him at the jail, his eagerness to follow the plan and gain his freedom. Lenny’s thoughts drifted to Henry at the Indiana jailhouse, peeling the suit off the dead marshal, Richie Caspar. His stomach twisted at the notion Racer endured the same end. Lenny fought down the urge to retch and give Henry a point to argue his guilt.

  Fenton looked to Henry. “Is this true?” he demanded.

  “Aye,” said Henry. “I killed the boy. Is it not a penalty for runners to die?”

  “I decide the penalties where my master’s property is concerned,” said Fenton. “Guards. Escort Master Henry to his quarters until Master August decides to what is to be done with him for murdering one of our slaves.”

  “Murder?” Henry struggled against his captors. “No. Justice . . . and I have not been paid for my efforts.”

  “Should Master August decide to compensate you,” said Fenton. “Then you will be paid after the auction tomorrow.” He looked to the guards. “Take him away.”