‘Who are they?’ she asks Ris. Her voice is like glass, a clipped lyrical lilt. She looks worse for wear right now, and her frame is lean, too gaunt.
‘Some of the crew,’ Ris says lightly, then addresses me. ‘Do we have any of the jellyfish soup left?’
My hands sting with the memory of chopping up those things. ‘A couple of servings, perhaps.’
Sinigang slinks into the room, soft wet fur dampening the ends of my trousers. Damnation, that otter-cat.
He watches as the woman cautiously takes the cup of tea she’s offered. It’s strange, as though I can see the warm glow of her reviving on her skin. For a moment she’s anything but poised, greedy in her imbibing. I’ve looked at bottles and bodies that way myself after many a long journey. Then she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and smiles. Sinigang looks at the baby, and twitches his nose.
The woman looks at Sinigang, cocking her head to the side. Eventually she reaches out a hand to stroke him, and he hisses.
‘I’m not some common hybrid, madame.’
‘Your otter-cat speaks?’ she asks, retracting her hand in shock.
‘Annoyingly, yes,’ I chime in.
She stares at Sinigang, and he narrows his eyes at her. Sinigang’s a snarky bastard, but he seems uneasy around Hanan. He swishes his tail, eyes furtively flicking from her to the baby and back again. Something washed up in that storm, but I’m not sure what manner of thing we’ve found.
Biba has followed the noise to the captain’s quarters and stands in the doorway, staring at our new guest. She looks at each of us in turn and cautiously enters the room.
‘This is my daughter, Biba,’ Ris tells Hanan.
‘A princess,’ Biba whispers, eyes widening.
Ris laughs. ‘She seems to think you’re a princess.’
Biba furrows her eyebrows and stares at the baby.
‘Careful, love. She’s very small and not yet well again,’ Ris says, gently guiding Biba away from the child.
Biba pulls away and touches the child, hands placed gently on either side of the baby’s face. She wriggles and begins to burble, an unmistakably contented sound. Even at this distance I can see she is a more normal colour.
‘What did you do?’ Hanan asks, her voice full of wonder rather than reprimand.
Something strange happens. The lamp flickers bright and then snuffs out in an instant. The room fills with light smoke from the wick. Then in the gloom, there appears to be an afterglow. A soft halo of light that flares even when I close my eyes. The silhouettes of Hanan, Biba, the child, and Sinigang are outlined for just a moment.
I startle, edging forward to relight the lamp. ‘What was that?’
Hanan and Biba share an incomprehensible look, and I search for Ris. Her face is inscrutable as she also tries to understand what has passed between them.
We go on with the ritual of niceties, letting Hanan eat and rest while we gather on the quarterdeck. The undead crew have everything under control, and the storm has settled as quickly as it came on, almost as if it was conjured and died with Hanan’s arrival. A shudder runs down my spine. The touch of magic?
After a few hours, Hanan is strong enough to make her way onto deck and reluctantly leaves her daughter in the crib. She is fed and dressed and looks far better.
‘Are you the captain of this vessel?’ she asks, addressing me. I nod. ‘This is no Seaguardian ship.’
I examine her body language. She’s quite pretty, lean as a spear and all angles; not dainty or delicate, despite her fine speech. She looks us all in the eye, not like the stewards who look somewhere over our shoulders.
I lean back, arms crossed, and she’s staring at my chest. I’ve accidentally pulled down the opening of my shirt, and she can see the brand.
Hanan’s hand jerks towards her thigh. ‘You’re outlaws.’
‘Not all of us,’ Isagani protests.
‘And what about your captain?’ she asks, turning away from me.
‘He’s a good man,’ Ris insists. ‘Despite his body count.’
