Gareth and th Lost Island (11 page)

“Pilot, these are our passengers: a professor, a
doctor, and a butler,” she said, pointing at each of them in
turn.

Tralnis shook his head in amusement and held his hand
out to shake the pilot’s hand. “Enough of that silly formality, my
name’s Tralnis. What’s your name lad?” he inquired in a friendly
voice.

“I am the pilot of the Glorious Dawn,” the red
skinned male replied.

Before Tralnis could ask again what the man’s name
was, Gareth put a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder to stop him. “Pilot
is a Roehus. In their culture, people don’t have names like we
think of them. They believe that a person is constantly growing and
changing. Not to mention that everyone always presents a different
side of themselves depending on the situation. To a Roehus, a
permanent name doesn’t make sense to them. They use descriptors, or
refer to themselves by their position,” Gareth explained.

Pilot nodded his head, happy to meet a human who
understood his people’s beliefs. “The tall passenger is correct. At
this moment, I am ‘the pilot of the Glorious Dawn’. When I holiday
with my parents, I am ‘the son who has returned for a visit’,”
Pilot clarified.

“Gods, that a mouthful,” Tralnis observed dryly.

Pilot gave Tralnis an indulgent smirk. “It’s actually
quite a bit easier in our language,” he chuckled.

Gareth nodded his head in agreement. “He’s right. In
his language, ‘the son who has returned for a visit’ sounds like
this,” he said before making a clicking noise with his tongue off
the roof of his mouth followed by a stuttering “T” sound.

“You have excellent pronunciation, professor who
speaks the people’s language,” Pilot complimented.

The last of the crew to show up was a member of the
reptilian race known as the Scaled Ones. Over the millennium, the
Scaled Ones had learned to walk upright and now had only a tiny
tail, since a longer one would have thrown off their balance. Their
long snouts had flattened making their vocal apparatus similar to
most of the other sentient races. They were so close in shape to
Humans that under a cloak it would be impossible to tell them
apart. This particular Scaled One had light green scales over most
of his body. The scales on his brow ridges were yellow streaked
with brown. He wore only a dingy pair of loose fitting, linen pants
and a soiled, leather apron.

As soon as Henry saw the Scaled One, he shifted his
right foot back, and raised his right fist up, ready to punch. A
low growl of warning came from deep in his throat, while he gave an
open lipped smile to show all of his sharp teeth. Henry squinted
his eyes in pure hatred for the creature standing before them.

The Scaled One took an involuntary step backwards
before he caught himself. “You better get your pet on a leash!” he
warned, trying to make himself sound tough.

Izzy spun around, and glared at the Scaled One
herself. “Egite! What the hells is wrong with you? These are paying
passengers!” she scolded him.

Egite lowered his head just slightly to acknowledge
he had heard Izzy. “I am sorry. I’m just not used to slaves being
allowed to threaten people like that. It reflects so poorly on
their master’s ability to control them. Chims are just mindless,
smelly beasts after all,” he hissed.

Elizabeth silently cursed Egite’s disregard for
anything even resembling good manners. She knew there was going to
be a fight, and didn’t blame the Chim one bit. The Scaled Ones had
been invading the jungle island of Chimia for centuries. The
reptiles would often go on raiding parties where they captured as
many Chims as they could. The Scaled Ones would then feast on the
old and infirm. The rest they sold as slaves.

The person who stepped forward to fight Egite
genuinely surprised Elizabeth. Gareth maneuvered himself in between
Egite and Henry, his hands balled into fists. He was visibly
shaking from the barely contained rage he was feeling. Gareth’s
advancement on the Scaled One was halted by Henry gently placing
one of his long hands on Gareth’s arm. The Chim’s dangerous posture
had melted into a much gentler one. Whispered hoots and clicks made
Gareth take in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Gareth relaxed
his hands, and took a step back so he was shoulder to shoulder with
Henry.

“Speak like that again of my friend, and I won’t
listen to him telling me you aren’t worth the trouble. Next time,
I’ll introduce your smirking face to my boot,” Gareth promised
Egite, his eyes telling everyone that he meant to back up that
promise.

Egite turned to look at Elizabeth while pointing an
accusing finger at Gareth. “Did you hear him? He threatened me, a
member of
your
crew. What are you going to do about it?” he
demanded.

Elizabeth was very tempted to let Gareth beat the
holy hells out of Egite, but the Scaled One did have a point. He
was
a member of her crew. “Professor Mintel, I promise I
will keep Egite away from you, and your friends for the duration of
the voyage,” she offered.

“That’s it?! That’s all you are going to say?!”
ranted Egite. “Either that filthy beast stays here when we take
off, or you fly without me,” he said, giving his captain an
ultimatum.

‘
Never mind the professor, I might kill the idiot
myself,
’ Elizabeth silently fumed to herself. What she said out
loud however was, “Egite is the ship’s cook, so unless one of you
would be willing to fill his place, we are going to have to come up
with some sort of compromise,” she stated, each word leaving a bad
taste in her mouth.

Tralnis started to chuckle, and then laugh out right.
When he got himself under control, he faced Henry. “What do you
say, old chap? You are always complaining that cooking for just
Gareth and I isn’t challenging enough for you,” he inquired. Henry
tilted his head while he thought about things, and then gave his
employer a closed mouth smile. Tralnis turned back towards
Elizabeth. “There you have it. Henry would love to take up the
cooking duties,” he stated. After a moment he added with a smile,
“Henry was top of his class at the Dragonheart School of Culinary
Arts.”

Even Izzy had heard of the Dragonheart Culinary
School. Chefs from around Hadronus competed for the chance to learn
their skills there. “Henry’s got my vote,” she said cheerfully.

Sheldon and his two permanent companions had arrived,
carrying a crate that would require at least two strong humans to
lift. He had overheard the offer Tralnis had made on behalf of
Henry. The Ur said something that sounded like a boulder bouncing
down a mountain side. The eyestalks twisted to look at each other
before the right one announced, “For once, the three of us agree on
something. The Chim stays.”

Egite couldn’t believe the crew was turning on him
like this. He spun around, and gave Pilot a pleading look. “Come on
friend, you aren’t going to stand for this, are you?” he
begged.

“Barely adequate cook, my people have a saying
perfect for situations like this,” Pilot told him. After pausing
for effect, he translated the old Roehussian saying into Trade. “Do
not let the cargo ramp hit you on the ass on your way out,” he said
with a smile.

Pleased that the confrontation ended positively for
her ship, Elizabeth scowled at Egite. “You have 20 minutes to get
your belongings off of the Glorious Dawn. After that, I’ll have
Sheldon toss you, and everything else in that filthy nest of yours,
overboard,” she stated calmly. Without a word, Egite spun around,
and stormed up the stairs to the crew quarters.

Izzy held out her arm, offering it to Henry. “Let me
take you to the galley, Henry. After you give it a look over, I
want you to write up a list of what you think we need to make it a
place worthy of your talent,” she stated formally, grinning the
whole time.

Tralnis handed over the 5,000 IRD Marks to Elizabeth
who promptly handed it to Izzy.  They had long ago learned
that the more bubbly personality of the younger sister got them
better deals at the local markets and bazaars when they purchased
cargo.  The last time Elizabeth had tried to buy cargo,
the wool seller had run screaming into the night.  In his
defense, Elizabeth had been in a bad mood since her prosthetic arm
had been malfunctioning. The sight of a scowling woman with
horrible scars and spinning claws on the end of her mechanical arm
would probably scare just about anyone.

Izzy stopped by the galley to find out what Henry
needed to bring it up to his standards. She found Gareth in the
galley helping their new cook try to get the kitchen in some sort
of working order. Gareth had taken his burgundy jacket off, and
hung it on a hook set in the wall usually used to hang pots and
pans. He had rolled up his sleeves, and had grime up to his elbows.
With rag in hand, he violently scrubbed one of the numerous filthy
pots piled up next to the sink. Henry had the door to the ice box
open, and let out a low, mournful sounding howl.

“I already told you, I have no idea what that
thing
is at the back.  My suggestion is to grab one of
those glass jars over there, put the
thing
in it, tighten
the lid as if your life depended on it, and give whatever it is to
Tralnis to see if he can identify it,” Gareth said.  

Henry snorted and grunted a few times.

“Hells no! I won’t do it for you. It might touch
me,” Gareth replied, clearly unnerved by what they had
discovered.

Fighting hard to keep her lunch down, since said
lunch had probably come from the ice box, Izzy stepped into the
galley.  “Hello, Henry… Professor,” she called out from the
doorway.  

“Please, call me Gareth.  You’re not one of my
students,” Gareth requested.

Izzy wondered how many of his students were women
who signed up for his classes just to ogle him while he taught.
 “As long as you keep calling me Izzy,” she countered.
 Remembering why she was there in the first place, she said
“I’m off to the trading bazaar and wanted to see if Henry had a
list put together of what he needs.” Henry nodded his hairy head,
and pointed to two sheets of paper held down on the table by a
clean pot.  Izzy picked up the papers, and frowned when she
tried to read it.  “Sorry, Henry, but I can’t read Chimmish,”
she stated.

“It’s not Chimmish.  Henry just has really
lousy handwriting,” Gareth told her.  

Henry hooted in his own defense.  

“Okay, I’m sorry. I meant lousy
footwriting
.
 How many times have I told you your penmanship goes to the
hells when you use your feet?” he asked.  

Henry snarled something Gareth refused to translate
for Izzy.  

Considering what he said was accompanied by a rude
hand gesture towards Gareth, Izzy could guess what the gist of it
was.   “Izzy, if you would like, I could go with you and
translate Henry’s chicken scratches for you,” Gareth offered.

Izzy gave Gareth a small curtsy, and replied, “I
would be honored, Gareth.”

Gareth washed his hands and arms in clean water, and
dried them off with one of the few clean rags in the kitchen.
 When he was done, he tossed the rag at Henry who caught it in
midair.  With a practiced flick of his wrist, Henry sent the
rag flying back to hit Gareth in the face.  Izzy laughed at
the playful way the two friends interacted.  Gareth put the
rag carefully down on the table, and grabbed his jacket.  He
took the papers from Izzy’s hand, and stuffed them in his
pocket.

Izzy used the walk to the bazaar to learn more about
the handsome professor.  “So what’s the story with you and
Henry?  You looked like you were going to tear Egite apart
with your bare hands when he said all those rude things,” she
inquired.

Gareth smiled while he thought back on his long
friendship with Henry.  “Henry was my first friend.  We
met when I was only five years old, and I lived in an orphanage on
the bad side of
Pigshit
,” he said, using the other name for
University City.  “Even in the IRD, Chims are treated like
second class citizens. Henry lived in the same ghetto, only a few
blocks from the orphanage.  We would meet every day at the
park, and switch off between playing and him teaching me Chimmish.
 After a few weeks of being friends, some older kids in the
neighborhood got together, and decided it would be fun to take out
their aggressions on a tiny Chim.  They knew that the police
would believe them instead of Henry if he were to fight back, so
they thought picking on him would be safe and easy.  After
school one day, they waited in an alley by the park to ambush
Henry,” he said, his jaw tightening as he remembered that day.

“Go on,” Izzy suggested, riveted by his story.

“I was with Henry when they skulked out from the
alley.  I knew Henry wouldn’t fight back, so I stepped in
front of him and told the bullies they would have to go through me
first,” Gareth stated.

“What happened then?” Izzy asked.

Gareth gave her a crooked smile.  “We got our
asses well and truly kicked is what happened,” he told her.
 “Lucky for us, one of the city guard saw the beating, and
stepped in before it got too bad.  I got sent to the clinic,
and the bullies spent a weekend in jail,” he said.  “For the
next five years, the odd band of bullies would wander into our
neighborhood, and try to pick a fight with Henry.  With each
passing year, their insults became worse and worse.  I knew
what it was doing to Henry to not fight back, so I stepped in every
time. Like every time before it, we got beat up.  At least we
got beat up standing side by side.  Henry is the hairy brother
I never had,” Gareth stated.

“That’s both the most horrible, and yet beautiful
thing I’ve ever heard,” Izzy said, her voice full of emotion.
 The Morgana sisters placed a lot of value on family sticking
together. Wanting to change the subject to something she hoped
would be more cheerful, she asked, “So how did you meet
Tralnis?”