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36.1: EXPECTATION MANAGEMENT (part 1)

In which a welcome reception is not exceptionally welcoming.

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Harriet sniffed back a tear as she huddled again in the corner of the hold. Rupert was no longer next to her, but was instead sitting with Eugenia, their heads bent together as they muttered to each other, every so often throwing glances at Harriet. Harriet tried to ignore them, but it was hard. She tried to focus on her meal, but nibbling on a stale chunk of bread was hardly the most diverting exercise. After a little while she gave up on it, pocketing the rest. They were now three days at sea, and she had been slipping Juggalug the remains of her rations whenever she could. The bald sailor's watch had gotten more lax the further north they sailed, as though he could sense the morale of the prisoners weakening.

Harriet missed Juggalug. What she wouldn't give to have the little banshee snoring in her ear. And more than that, she missed Rupert. She had only just got him back as, well, him and already he wasn't talking to her. And this time it was far worse than when he was a doll. Then, he couldn't talk to her. Now, he wouldn't.

She hadn't meant to upset him when she questioned the fairy-dust. She was just trying to make sure he didn't set his hopes on a rumour—on a child's lullaby, no less. But Rupert was stubborn, and Eugenia was not helping. Harriet could hardly blame the vampiress for hating her, but the fact that Rupert was siding with her... that did hurt.

Harriet wiped away another tear. Stop being so pathetic, she told herself. You've barely known him a week, for Day's sake. A few nights ago he was ready to kill you in your bed! All of which was very true, but it somehow didn't make Rupert's rejection hurt any less.

Harriet was almost thankful when the door banged open and "Swabbin'!" the bald sailor barked. She scuttled out in front of the others and positioned herself near to Juggalug's cage, ready to seize her moment. Rupert went to the other side of the deck with Eugenia. Harriet told herself she didn't care.

She started to swab. Within half a minute she was sweating. It really was very hot. Noticeably hotter than yesterday, which had been noticeably hotter than the day before. The nights, too, had become shorter and shorter as they sailed north. Yesterday, when the ship's bell had tolled for the evening meal ('meal' being a generous description of the gruel they'd been served) and they'd been sent belowdecks again, the sun was still high in the sky. It was very unsettling. Harriet's body didn't seem to know when to eat or to sleep. It had apparently compensated for this by feeling both hungry and tired all the time.

Speaking of which... Harriet peeked up to where the bald sailor was making his rounds. She spotted him on the far side of the deck, where he had stopped to lean against the gunwale and pick at his fingernails. A quick glance around showed that no one else was paying attention to her. Harriet seized her chance. Hopping to her feet, she darted over to where Juggalug's cage hung.

Juggalug was a sorry sight. The half-banshee didn't even look up at her arrival. Ears drooping, he hunched at the bottom of the cage. Even when it rocked with the ship's motion, Juggalug just let himself slide to and fro on the cage floor.

"Oh, Juggalug," Harriet whispered. "You poor little thing." Slipping the bread out of her pocket, she broke it into pieces and deposited them through the bars. "Here you are. Eat up, Juggalug."

The banshee didn't move.

"Come on, Juggalug," Harriet entreated. "You have to eat something. You're getting awfully skinny."

Juggalug gave a dejected peep.

Harriet's eyes slid to the bars. Excitement stirred in her breast. "Juggalug?" she whispered. "I said, you're getting very skinny."