The Promise of the Child

Part 9 (updated daily)

'You can't swim at the Point.'

'The Lesser Point, they said.'

'Still—'

Drimys pushed his plate away, leaning back and staring at the vaulted white ceiling of the dining room. 'You don't think the boys were just trying to impress you?'

Lycaste glanced at both men and shrugged. He'd done little more than pick at each of the many courses of his supper, relieved and yet disappointed that only two guests had arrived after all. 'They told me they saw Jotroffe out there again.'

'Now there's an odd creature,' said Impatiens, leaning to cut into the vast block of fruit-studded cheese in the middle of the table. 'Even looks strange, doesn't he?'

Lycaste could only agree. He'd met the man many times, usually when he was out walking, though the hermit appeared to take care never to make a habit of trespassing, despite the boundaries of Lycaste's land being exceedingly poorly marked. Jotroffe was extremely short, like a child, willowy and slender, though almost certainly not young; anyone who spoke to him could see that. His face was deformed, unfinished somehow, like seeing your reflection in a small concave mirror. His speech, though understandable, took a very long time to form, the words following each other with an agonising slowness that could snare unwary travellers into a whole afternoon's conversation.

'The last time I saw the fellow, we talked about the weather for most of the morning,' muttered Impatiens, spreading the cheese carefully onto a biscuit, 'then finished with a good long session on whether walnuts were superior to cashews. His eventual opinion? After all that? That they were "most assuredly of equal merit". Astonishing.'

'It was "optimum fingernail length" when I met him at the port,' said Drimys, burping gently into his hand. 'No more than three inches of white among polite society, I'm reliably informed.'

'Was he always like that?' asked Lycaste, still regarded as an outsider by most residents of the Province despite having lived by the beach for almost twenty years. He looked at his own long nails, polished and clipped that evening in expectation of Pentas's arrival.

'Ever since I've known him,' Impatiens said. 'They say he bored the crew of a ship from Brindisi into throwing him off here, but he won't ever tell you his own story. That I'd wait all day to hear.'

Lycaste stirred the remaining food on his plate with a long fork, mushing it all together. 'Do you think he's just trying to get home?'

'I can't imagine they'd want him back,' Impatiens said and rubbed his whiskers, apparently remembering something. The eyes in his great, gnarled face lit up. 'Did you see what those boys gave me today?' He stood, walking into the next room and producing a brace of fish from a basket. 'I don't recognise them.' He slapped them on a salver in the middle of the table, a large iron hook still fastening the catch together. Lycaste thought they looked like the deep-sea creatures sometimes caught in Mersin, all teeth and eyes.

'What did you give them?' asked Drimys, pulling one from the hook and peeling its lips back to see inside its mouth.

'They owed me.' He took the remaining fish from the plate and stretched its fin back to expose the spines, letting it flop back into place. Its wide, pale eyes were frozen in a startled expression. 'Might be worth something up in Karaoz.'

Lycaste detected the onset of merchant-speak, laying down his fork and folding his unused napkin carefully. Soon they would be discussing pounds or ounces or similarly opaque things, the stuff of grown men to which Lycaste – who had never really understood trade at all having inherited everything when he came of age – felt hardly able to contribute. As far as he saw it, his gardens grew plenty of whatever he required, from delicate cuts of grown meat to fruit, plastics and metal ores. If anything needed to be bought for the house the helpers did it, leaving Lycaste written receipts of trade that he barely looked at before they were filed away in a cupboard somewhere.

He went to the wall and rang a small bell on a chain to let the birds know there was work to be done. Those two would talk all night, forgetting Lycaste was there entirely.

'It must be deeper out there, at Lesser Point. Could be as good a place as any to start,' Drimys was saying.

'Start what?' Lycaste asked, ringing the bell again. Something about Drimys' expression had caught his attention.

'The fish only grow large enough at the Points,' Impatiens said, lifting one of the creatures from the platter again and miming a little dance, wriggling its fins. Both of them began to laugh.

'What are you talking about?'

Impatiens and Drimys fell silent after a moment, considering him. 'You wouldn't like it,' said Impatiens, putting down the fish.

'Like what?'

He turned to Drimys, who was avoiding eye contact as he refilled his glass. 'Shall we tell him?'

Lycaste was losing his patience. He pulled on the bell a few more times and waited for an answer.

'How strong is your boat, Lycaste?' Drimys asked, glancing up finally.

He looked at them both, uncertain if they were playing a joke on him. The two men appeared serious enough in the dim light. 'It hasn't fallen apart yet. Why? Do you want to take it out?'

'It can hold three, can't it?'

'I think so.'

Impatiens glanced at Drimys again. 'I say we take him along – it's his boat.'

His friend and business partner looked unconvinced.

'Look, Lycaste –' Impatiens gestured for him to sit '– we've come up with a sort of adventure. Use of your boat, if you grant it, should in fairness get you a place on the crew.'

'We never discussed who's captain,' said Drimys suddenly.

Impatiens frowned. 'I think you'll find we did. I've a much greater knowledge of the coastline.' He turned his attention back to Lycaste, shaking his head. 'Anyway, it's Midsummer. There's a lot of fish about. That means those sharks should be back.'

Lycaste stared at them, unsure again. 'All right.'

'It'll be dangerous,' said Drimys, sitting forward.

'Yes,' said Impatiens, 'but we're going to take precautions, we're going to plan this down to the smallest detail.'

'Plan what?' asked Lycaste, exasperated. He looked at their expectant faces. 'You mean to catch a shark? The way the boys catch fish at the Point?'

'Exactly.' Impatiens raised his blond, tangled eyebrows. 'You can be armourer.' He glanced back at Drimys, who was shaking his head. 'Chief armourer,' he added.

'But nobody's seen one for a year or more,' Lycaste said, knowing that might not be true. 'You think they're out there now?'

Drimys pointed at Impatiens. 'Like my most esteemed partner said, it's Midsummer. They're out there.'

Lycaste stuck a finger in his mouth, worrying the nail. 'I don't know about this.'

Drimys smirked at Impatiens as he arranged his cutlery. 'I told you he'd say that.'

'Why do you need my boat?' Lycaste asked. 'Can't you use Ipheon's?'

'His needs mending,' Impatiens admitted sheepishly, looking at his empty plate. 'Just think – we'd be famous. People would come from miles around to see!'

'Why would I want people to come from miles around?' The idea terrified Lycaste more than any shark could.

'I forgot – you get that sort of attention already. But we have a business, Drimys and I. We're gentlemen of prospects. It would be excellent publicity, at the very least.'

Lycaste met Impatiens' eye, something he rarely did with anyone. 'I don't need more people at my door.'

Impatiens nodded solemnly, his gaze flicking to the table. 'You won't even lend us your boat?'

Lycaste rose from his chair. 'Excuse me.'