Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 23: The Battle of the Phaethon

Jewel of Stonecroft:

I have to say it in small pieces. To take it all in.

Cedric and are not alike. He's a scholar. An ordained priest. I'm a kitchen girl. A farm creature. He, almost thirty. I, almost twenty. He is kind. I am not. Never wanted to be.

In the barn in St. Martia when we touched, difference didn't matter. When he was inside me, difference didn't matter. When I lay atop him, difference didn't matter. When he lay atop me. The differences? Didn't. Matter

I needed. He needed. Not just pleasure. I wanted to be loved. Touched. Cared for. So also, Cedric. We had that in common. Needs of the flesh. Needs of the heart.

We both feared to meet eyes afterwards. Would he push me away? Dismiss me as something done with? And would I scowl for my weakness? Perhaps I'd turn ice. Or cry. Or mutter 'well, that's over'.

We didn't. We didn't do those things. None of it.

No, we set about the tasks of the society. Composing an orison to Hecatatia. Holding hands. Worked. Like in Gaol. The saint heard me. Us.

Ah, I've been so very weary of wanting. Of hating. Of being empty. Since forever I've chewed on old hates, cold angers. Sitting to feast from my poisoned plate.

Feeding your soul on rage? Same as feeding a dog on bread. Oh, it thinks it is full; but it is starved, ready to fall dead. That has been my feast in Infernum since childhood.

And Cedric? For years he'd been a hermit shut with his books, gnawing the memory of his lost Beatrice. At last daring to be free... he finds himself sealed in a tomb. Trapped at once with her glowing spirit and her tortured flesh, debating theologics when what he needed was to scream.

What a cruel place is the Middle House, to put that kindly man to agony worthy of Infernum.

So we had that in common. Our feast time in Infernum. And our hope to get out.

Together, why not.

The day of the air battle I sent Perry through a window. He scuttled up the side of the directable, perching atop, keeping low. While I sat in the control room, eyes closed, seeing through Perry's thousand facets. I recited what I saw.

"No flying men yet. Don't see Barnaby. Either his hiding orison worked, or he's tumbled off the ship. But there is another directable above us. Like Michael said."

'How high above?" That, from Val.

I tried to guess. "Sixty feet. Maybe more."

"Matilda, think you can hit that with our special arrow? Straight up from the top of this directable?"

"You're insulting to the pride of my bow, not to forget the honor of my Silenian blood and my papa's training. Also you wound my-"

"Right," interrupted Val. "Get up the ladder before the fliedermenchen show. Shoot that ship. Jewel, keep watching. Cedric, be ready to-"

"Uhm," I interrupted.

"What?"

"There's a third directable to the south. And a fourth to the west. They're far away but moving closer fast."

"Shit," said Val. "They aren't taking chances. Matilda, go take out the ship above us. Cedric, when you hear thunder, then move us fast. Northeast is best."

"They will pursue. No doubt cutting us off."

"I'm going to make a distraction that will confuse things. It'll probably put me out of the fight. Everyone, get to it."