Chapter7
“What are those?”I asked.
“Restraints,” Flag-Staff said.“So long as you don’t move, they won’t bite.Hard.”
What looked like a double-headed Moray was delicately placed on both of my wrists.Brother Al hissed at this, and they hissed back.
We were marched out alongside other prisoners.Eddie and Vic were walking alongside us, busy arguing, again.The whole hallway here that led to the courtroom was made of that same cerulean blue stone.
“Guys,” I hissed.
“Stacey!”they both said.
“Thank God you’re okay,” I said.
“I was so worried,” Eddie said.
“I wasn’t,” Vic said.“I knew she could handle herself.”
“Really?”Eddie asked.
“Can you twostop?”Brother Al snapped.“This is not the time or place.”
We marched along in silence.
“I think we could take them,” Eddie said.
“They have our ship.Both ships,” Brother Al said.“I don’t think there’s a way we could get out of here without swimming to shore.Some of our more dead members would likely be skin and bones by the time we hit the surface.”
“Do you all know what’s happening?”Vic asked.
“A mass trial,” Flag-Staff said.“Come.Don’t gawk when we enter the chamber.The jury already thinks you’re incompetent land-apes.”
A set of double doors crafted from what looked like giant oyster shells opened and a sound like a thousand screaming cats greeted us as we entered.After a while, the shrieking stopped; the countless Aquans in the wide audience chamber seemed satisfied, their gills flapping appreciatively as they stared down at us with some petulance.
“Hear you, all who are present,” Flag-Staff called, and another Aquan near him spoke in their language.It sounded like croaking.“The trial for our prisoners now begins.”
Another Aquan, with an elaborate head-fin like Flag-Staff’s, came down from one open sea-shell in the corner of the oval room.He began to croak, gesturing at us fiercely.
“He says—Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I present to you the unlawful intruders.These are the land-dwellers who dared to dip a toe into our waters.Their fates are in your webbed claws.He is now asking you each to respond to the charges.The question is posed as follows: Be you land-dwellers?”
Flag-Staff went around to each of us, asking the question.We each nodded in turn.Some of the other crew members from the previous ship were here—in particular, there was one man who was mostly a skull with skin over it.He blinked and stammered at the question, before finally shrugging.
“I dwell in dirt,” he said.“Mostly.Look, I was just passing through.”
Another translator croaked something to the audience, and they all began to hiss, their gill-flaps on their necks opening and closing madly.
“Oh, dear,” Flag-Staff said.
“What?”I asked.
“That he embraces the dirt—oh, what a travesty.He’ll be first to burn, if it comes to that.”
Another series of croaks.Our prosecutor seemed to gesture at all of us and then stepped forward to me.In unsteady, broken English, he asked me: “Move your hair.Are you presenting yourself as the Moon-Kissed?”
I bit my lip for a minute, and then two, and then paused.
“Yes,” I said.
