Riven Isles

16 | New Moon (part 2)

            "What did you mean by saying he was 'cashiered', Simon?" I ask.

Simon sighs in that way that makes it clear that he has no interest in telling me. In fact, it's that way that implies that since I don't know it, I must be utterly dimwitted and therefore, he doesn't expect me to understand his explanation, anyways. I grit my teeth.

"Simon," I repeat.

"It is Mr. or Professor Woods to you."

"Don't be difficult, Simon," Dr. Oswald scolds.

"It's a military term," Lydia says. "I'm not sure of the meaning, either. You wouldn't think me dull for not knowing military terms, would you?"

Simon sighs again, this time in a kinder fashion. "It is public degradation. A ceremony to humiliate and shame military deserters. It isn't exactly surprising that he endured it; what's surprising is that I've never heard that he did. I used to hear everything about..." His eyes flicker to me and he stiffens, carrying on, "Henry Avery was a known deserter, yes, but I don't recall records of him ever being caught, much less publicly punished, besides being, supposedly hung. I saw him in a cell when I was a boy, but there are no records of even that. There are records to say he was hung, and nothing more."

"How can you tell, then?" I ask. "And why do you think you should know everything about him, anyways?"

Simon closes his book. "It's obvious, isn't it? His sleeves have been stitched on with red thread; you can see where they were torn off. And all the proud insignia of His Majesty has been stripped. I imagine his sword would have been snapped in half, too. The one he carries must be a forged replica, or perhaps the same hilt and guard with a new blade."

I wait for him to continue, to answer my second question, but he stands up. The doctor and Lydia stand with him.

"Wait a minute," I protest. I stand up, too, in front of Simon. "You're very observant Simon, Mr. Woods, and it's really fascinating that you know all this military stuff. But how do you know it? You study diseases. And you don't really come off as a military man, no offense."

"Oh, step aside, Walter. I have work to do. If you must know, I have military ties, and keep up to date with the Praedoran navy for personal reasons. All right?"

I nod and let him pass me. Lydia says something bitter about her situation and dismisses herself to the cabin up the stairs, at the other end of the hall. She kindly takes Simon's books with her, at his polite request.

I walk at the professor's side, with the doctor in front of us. Simon doesn't like me, no, and as I look at him, I can see him fighting with himself not to attempt to get rid of me. His hand twitches by his thigh. There's a tic to his eyelid. That's okay. I don't really like him, either.

At least I'm not a prick about it.

"So, you have family in the navy?"

"That's none of your business," he snaps.

"Well, you said you have ties."

"Walter, leave him alone," the doctor orders. Obediently, I bow my head and shut my trap in respect for the doctor.
I fall back a little, trailing them up the stairs and putting together my own (possibly over-suspicious, and quite unevidenced) theories on Simon. When one doesn't answer a question, it indicates an uncomfortableness around a subject, and in Simon's case, I instinctively feel as though I've struck a nerve. The doctor, I think, must know all the sensitive details of Woods, hence why he so promptly and efficiently shut down my askings. Perhaps Simon is his patient, and they have a confidentiality agreement around the subject of family.