⇤First ←Prev Archive Next→ Latest⇥
Part 7: FAMILY TIES
Four sets of paperwork. Four signatures, shaky but similar enough. Maira asked Ham to work on the ship while she brought Argyle’s copy of the title deeds back to the house. Salem and Annalise followed along, struggling to match her stride.
She thought about her father, about the ship. So he’d gifted it to her, had he? A chance to strike out on her own, but always under his shadow. You can hate me for it, he’d said; well he hadn’t been wrong about that! She felt her fists clenching, creasing the paperwork Argyle had kept pristine for who-knows-how-many years. Maira forced herself to breathe. She looked back, slowing her pace so her siblings could catch up.
‘We thought we were gonna lose you!’ Annalise said, clinging to her arm. ‘And you’ve just come home again – how long are you staying for?’
Maira stopped; behind her Salem rested his hands on his knees and panted to get his breath back – he was not the athletic sort.
How long would she need to stay for? There’d be some work done to fit a morse code relay, and they might need to do some work to hide the light running gear. But broadly, the Fallen Star was in good condition, ready to fly. Did she really need to stay?
Then again, a bed at home again – soft covers, her own room, the grounds to wander and time to wander them…
She shook her head. She’d given up the luxury of being a Deanfleet for good reason. Several good reasons.
‘I’m staying just as long as it takes to fix up the Fallen Star,’ she said, resuming her quick pace.
‘Not even a day longer?’ Annalise whined. She floated along in Maira’s wake, clinging to her sleeve. ‘We can take you down to the docks, the amusement arcade just got a new Cannibal Hunters cabinet and the guns shoot real ball bearings!’
‘That’s morbid,’ Salem said. ‘You could come to the Council Chambers, get set up with a privateering license – be official, y’know?’ Maira shook her head.
‘Much as that would make things easier, it’s not the life for me,’ she said. And, she added privately, I’ve barely got the coin for breakfast, let alone a privateering license.
‘But why not?’ Salem asked. He had to do an awkward skipping run to keep up – Maira relented and slowed down again.
‘The Fallen Star was a smuggling ship back in the day,’ she said. ‘All the stories about Captain Deanfleet and the Fallen Star? Swashbuckling, treasure hunting, and fighting government ships. If I brought it back to the skies as a privateer vessel, it’d be… like treading all over dad’s legacy, d’you see?’
‘Dad’s legacy is a bunch of stories he never had the sense to cash in on himself!’ Salem snapped. ‘What’s so important about that?’ He fixed Maira with a defiant look. It quickly withered as she shot him a cold glare.
‘You really are an Administrator, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘What’ll it be? Dinners of steak and veal every night while the people down there starve? Who cares about legacy when you get yours today, right?’
‘Look, it’s true that some Administrators weren’t great, but the process has gotten-’
‘The process! The process is, Administrator families train up their kids to ace the tests and then act like it was just good luck that they got in!’
‘What about the benefit positions? They go to disadvantaged families, and they often turn out to be-’
‘Like the one that went to dad? They pardoned him and they gave him an office and they chained him to the damn desk! He didn’t want this life!’
Maira stopped abruptly, pulled back by Annalise’s grip on her arm. She and Salem had stopped walking; both looked pale, Salem with fury, and Annalise looked like she was about to burst into tears.
‘...You didn’t know, did you?’ Maira asked. She gritted her teeth and slapped her forehead. ‘I’m sorry guys – dad did well for himself here, but he never had the heart for it.’ She wrapped her arms around them, embracing them in a quick hug.
‘I’m sorry Salem,’ she continued. ‘I shouldn’t disparage you, I know you’re thinking of the family legacy – more than I am, really. You’re gonna be a great Administrator come Spring – remember to be a good person too, though, please?’ Salem stared, defiantly angry – but then he softened. He nodded, gripping Maira tight around the waist and burying his head in her shoulder.
‘I’ll try,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry I got angry. I just… he’s gone, and he never shared that part of his life with us, and I’ll never get to know why.’
It’s because he tried that once, Maira thought. But she said nothing, and ruffled Salem’s hair and smiled. She turned to Annalise.
‘I’m sorry I yelled,’ she said. ‘I’m sad dad’s gone too. Are you okay?’
Annalise sniffed, but nodded, burying her nose in her sleeve.
Salem let go, wiping his eyes, and suddenly distanced himself, trying to appear every part the unaffected young man.
‘Let’s get back to the house,’ Maira said.
It was dark now, the stars glittering in the sky. The hole in the clouds over Deanfleet manor lent a million pinpricks of light to the darkness, making it a pleasant dimming – over in Bolthead they knew it was night when the clouds went from stormy grey to thunderous black. For Maira it was like stargazing through the eye of a storm.
She opened the door – no footman announcing her this time – and was greeted by blessed silence.
‘The guests will have gone,’ Salem said. ‘I’ll go to the kitchen – we can have hot chocolate.’ He coloured a little at that – embarrassed to still be seen enjoying hot chocolate – and further when Annalise leapt on him to announce, ‘I know where mum hides the marshmallows!’ in a stage-whisper.
‘I remember where it is,’ Maira said with a smile. ‘I’ll meet you there when I’m done talking to Argyle.’
As Annalise steered her brother towards the kitchen, Maira slipped back into the side room. The chairs were still arranged in neat rows, though now all were empty. Argyle still sat at his desk, going through some paperwork with a pair of glasses perched on his magnificent nose.
Maira’s bag was sitting across two chairs. It was unzipped; Maira paused as she regarded it.
She turned to Argyle and handed him the ownership papers. He looked them over briefly and nodded, satisfied.
‘And the copy for the registry?’ he asked. Maira patted her jacket, where the inside pocket was.
‘I’ll give it to Salem before I leave,’ she said. ‘He’s going down to the council chambers tomorrow, he can drop them off.’ Argyle nodded, permitting himself a satisfied smile.
‘Then I can put off going until the Law Society dinner on Wednesday,’ he said, and chuckled. Maira chuckled too, then pulled a chair up and sat, suddenly serious.
‘Argyle,’ she said. ‘Who’s been through my bag while I’ve been gone?’
Argyle started. He took off his reading glasses and packed them away carefully.
‘I can tell you no one has looked in your bag while I have been in here,’ he said. Maira nodded, seemingly satisfied.
As he clicked open his glasses case, she said, ‘and when did you leave the room whilst I was at the junkyard with Ham?’ The glasses case clicked closed.
‘Well I couldn’t say exactly what time-’
‘Argyle.’ Maira leaned forward, folding her hands on the desk, ‘Between my leaving this room after the will reading, and my returning to it just now, how many times were you out of this room? And who was in the room on those occasions when you left?’
Argyle sweated like a guilty witness. He grimaced and groaned, and eventually said, ‘I was out of the room twice. Once was to go to the bathroom, and once was to fetch some paperwork your mother left in the office. Both times she was in the room when I left – the first time with some aunt or another, I don’t remember.’
‘Thank you Argyle,’ Maira said, leaning back. ‘Do you know if anything was removed from the bag?’
‘No I don’t!’
‘I’ll check and let you know. No further questions.’ Argyle sighed and sat back.
‘You’re very unpleasant sometimes, Ms Deanfleet,’ he said. Maira shrugged as she rifled among her possessions.
‘Comes with the territory, I suppose. Had some quartermasters who could lawyer words like nobody’s business; you quickly learn to interrogate every sentence when it’s your pay on the line.’ She moved coats, checked under her tunics and trousers, but nothing was missing. All was as it should be.
‘Nothing’s been taken,’ she said. ‘We don’t have to turn this into a detective story. Thanks Argyle.’
Argyle nodded, mopping his brow.
‘What were you worried about?’ he asked. He jumped out of his seat as Maira brought out a pepperbox pistol and pointed it at him.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not loaded,’ she said. She pressed a button, and the revolver sprang out into five barrels in a line, splayed out over a wide angle.
‘Yeah, it’s actually a real bugger to put back together,’ she continued, withdrawing it and closing her hand around the barrels. They clicked back into place. ‘There used to be a mechanism for it but the lever broke. And I think the spring’s gone for it anyway.’
‘Why would someone steal that?’ Argyle asked.
‘Oh yeah, it’s a terrible gun. You’ve gotta load every barrel individually, it takes forever! But it’s small, and it’s five shots people don’t know you have. Or one shot five people don’t know you have.’
‘No, I mean-’
‘I know what you mean, Argyle.’ Maira grinned as she tossed it back into her back. ‘The main reason someone would want to steal it is: it’s one of dad’s guns.’
‘Dorian Deanfleet owned that?’ Argyle gasped. Maira nodded.
‘He packed it into my luggage when I first left. I didn’t find it until I’d gone through three security checkpoints, he always knew how to hide things! Since then it’s saved my life a couple of times, and despite everything it’s still a decent gun.’
‘But why would anyone steal it?’ Maira shrugged.
‘You’ve seen this family – they argue over who should’ve got the curtains. If they found out I had a gun that’d never officially been given to me, imagine the legal case over that! Better they don’t know about it.’
‘Well it sounds to me life he gifted it to you some years ago,’ Argyle sniffed, putting his glasses back on. ‘So far as I’m concerned, no case to answer.’ He glanced up at Maira and smiled as he bent to return to his reading.
‘Thanks Argyle,’ Maira whispered. She picked up her bag and left.
The kitchen was under the stairs and down the hall. It was a cramped stone room mostly taken up by an ancient wooden table which was never not cluttered with the day’s ingredients and crockery. And now, with three large mugs brimming with hot chocolate and overflowing with marshmallows.
Maira laughed as she tried to drink it without spilling any. Cream dotted her nose and the warmth and sweetness made her feel tired, but the mood at the table was good, just the three of them. It had been so long since she’d seen them – they’d been so young when she left. Had she ever just spent time with them before? She couldn’t remember. For a moment the bitterness overwhelmed her, but she looked over at her siblings and her smile grew. She pulled the papers out of her pocket.
‘Last bit of official business,’ she said, handing them to Salem. ‘Mr Administrator sir, may I ask you to file these at the Council Chambers tomorrow morning?’
‘Sure thing,’ Salem said, and pocketed them. ‘But I’ll have to charge for the service,’ he added, sticking out his tongue.
‘Oh, there’s a charge now is there? And what’s the charge, admin boy?’
The table was suddenly silent, Salem seemingly reluctant to say. But he glanced at Annalise, who gave a mute nod of support.
‘Tell us a story about dad?’ Maira looked shocked.
‘A… you want me to? Why?’
‘He told you lots of stories,’ Annalise said between sips of hot chocolate. ‘We never heard about his pirate days.’
Maira paused. She stared into her mug as she wracked her brains for a story with some meaning behind it. Finally she hit upon one.
‘Alright,’ she sighed, rolling her eyes in mock-exasperation. ‘I suppose I can tell you one – if only because I simply must have those papers filed tomorrow! How about: Captain Deanfleet and the Gaze of the Emerald Queen!’
And so, hot chocolates half-finished and forgotten, the night turned onwards to the next day as Maira told the story as best as she could remember…
Dorian Deanfleet and the Gaze of the Emerald Queen will be added at a later date, as part of this story. Check back folks!