The Misadventures of Anna Cabbot

Hello, Goodbye

Carson was sure that whenever — if ever — they reached calmer waters he'd still feel like he was trapped on the giant teacup ride from hell. It could be worse (he could have hurled; so far he hadn't) but it was nauseating enough to catch a glimpse of the horizon out of the window only to have it roll away. It would be easier to deal with if it had a rhythm, like a song.

His insides twisted again, and he made himself look at the pair on the bed. Anna lay on her side, one foot on Nigel's leg where he sat propped against the wall, both of them sound asleep. On the floor at the foot of the bed stood a lantern made of driftwood with seaglass windows. Its handle was made of a reformed eight pound cannonball. Anna'd had to slough off the iron to work with everything else, and in hindsight, the effort to do so might have been what made her nose bleed. She'd all but collapsed after.

Regardless, the lantern was finished.

Edgar hopped from wherever he'd been hiding to the lantern, perching on the metal ring at the top and ruffling his feathers.

"Yeah, she made that, you overgrown pigeon," Carson murmured fondly. He leaned back, relaxing as much as he dared with the ship still pitching wildly. Nigel had assured him they wouldn't drown, though Carson had yet to put down his sealskin.

The horizon slid by the window at an unholy angle and he swallowed heavily. He turned his whole head away this time, and noticed the lantern emitted its own faint glow. It reminded him of muted gold.

Sweet Jesus, he had to be delirious. He hadn't slept a whole lot lately, and there was constant low-level unease simmering in his belly. Hell, he'd also been shot recently. He tried not to think too hard about that.

The ship rolled again and Carson swore he heard something above him crack. He pulled his sealskin to his neck and braced one foot better on the bedframe. Nigel's words were a constant loop through his head.

"Carson."

He tucked his chin, rolled his shoulders, and looked at Nigel.

"Is she still sleeping?" Nigel rasped.

"Out like a trout."

"That's...an interesting phrase."

"I'm an interesting man."

Nigel wrapped a hand over Anna's ankle. "How does a selkie become friends with a necromancer?"

"They go on an adventure to find a missing river." Carson smiled wryly.

"I still don't know how I was grabbed," he said. "There wasn't anything unusual about that night. I'd even won at bingo." He paused, then added, "I highly doubt any of the Murdocks or anyone who works for them would have betrayed me."

There were several loud bangs, multiple cracks, and some yelling that filtered down from above them. Nigel looked unconcerned. Carson's shoulders crept toward his ears.

"You know the Murdocks?" Carson asked, more to drown out anything he might accidentally hear than keep the conversation moving. Small talk didn't seem to be Nigel's thing.

"They're good people. I know the twins better than I know any of them."

"Jamie and Thom are twins?"

"Fraternal." Nigel's eyebrows rose. "You know Jamie and Thom?"

Carson sprawled a little, then nearly tipped off his chair. "Shit." He glanced at Anna to make sure he hadn't accidentally woken her. She was, in fact, drooling on the pillow. "Yeah, we know Jamie and Thom. Well, Jamie more so than Thom." He flailed a hand in Anna's direction as Edgar moved from the lantern to Carson's knee. "What can I do for you, you underwhelming chicken?"