* * *
'Sy
* * *
A man is standing in front of me. He looks like Elete. For all the life in me... he is Elete.
No. That can't be right, not at all. Elete is in Radia. He may not be in his bed, but puttering around with his projects in the Poet Hall is his usual method of rebellion, not signing up with a bunch of pirates and... it's just not possible, no. Still. That has to be Elete. Not a brother, not some other Xaillyndesse. Elete himself. In fact, I am so convinced that I go ahead and address him as I usually would. "Elete?"
The man raises an eyebrow, no recognition showing his eyes. "I do beg your pardon? You are the leader of your boarding crew, yes? I am the ambassador on this ship. My name is Elessandre von Karkavosta du Trelainte d'Nda se-Tulowneh." He bows, doffing his hat with a flourish that almost makes Julia chop his arm off.
It doesn't really matter what he says his name is - the bow, the tone of voice, the stress on manners, the condescension, and especially the way all of the prior things make me hate him all add up. It has to be Elete.
I just have absolutely no clue how.
Diyn decides to get his word in on the subject. He is indeed Eleth-travente Xaillyndesse. You are making no mistake. I of all beings would be able to see the truth in him.
Are you sure? I think he can't be, but...
He is Elete. Diyn pauses. And maybe something else, too, but... he is definitely Elete.
At this point, I can do nothing less than verify directly from the source. My mind reaches out to the Poet Hall. Elete?
The response takes a moment, and is very groggy. ...'Sy? Yes? The poor thing, he sounds like he needs more sleep. He's obviously feeling terrible.
I'm just... checking that you're in bed.
I am. What's wrong? There's something wrong, isn't there?
Nothing's wrong. Why aren't you asleep?
...You woke me up. His tone is so cross and childlike that my reply is automatic.
That's no excuse! Now go back to sleep!
The man in front of me has a rather dubious expression on his face. He must be awaiting a response. He's probably also wondering at my cross, distant expression. Most people who haven't dealt with the Armed do.
"My apologies. There's been a bit of a mix-up. I am Jhe h'Akribastes Tesynnodai Akribastes, Judge of the Empire of Crux Radia, and you and your crew have trespassed on our waters. You have also set up an ambush utilizing a Chetharian vessel that was obviously not accquired through acceptable means. Ordinarily, you would all be dead by now, save one for questioning." My my. The man is getting paler by the moment. Good, that means that whoever-- whatever he is, he's taking this seriously.
"He was countering you with Poetry," says Julia. "From what I could tell, he countered all of the Armed on board single-handedly. His last bit of writing was to ensure their livelihoods, which explains the lack of corpses on this deck rather well."
The man blinks. "Poetry? Oh, nothing as fancy as all that, surely. I'm a story-spinner, but--"
"You shut up." I am just as tired of this man's pompous attitude as I am the real Elete's. No, however impossible it is, I think I may actually be more tired of this man than I am of Elete, and I've known Elete for most of his life and this man for only two minutes. I suppose that's impressive. "We'll sort this out in Radia. You're all under arrest. Jhe Camden? I suppose you can ensure that he works no further Poetry against us?"
Camden's brow crinkles. With all due respect, sire, I worry at how much power he might have, especially since it's a wild, untrained power. Reinforcements might be in order.
Done. I make the request for any of our Armed with strong Poetic abilities to grab some level-headed Poets and get here at once. Mixed do come in handy at the strangest times.
Out loud, he says, "Of course. I'm sure he's quite a reasonable fellow, aren't you--" Camden tries to remember the man's unreasonably long and complex name.
"Ales." The Captain grins. "His name's Ales!"
'Ales' pouts. "Captain Jules, I told you not to call me that in front of those who aren't the crew."
I raise an eyebrow. "Jules?"
The Captain waggles his eyebrows, which for some reason seems far more obscene a gesture than it should be. "Aye! Captain Zhienor Furiste d'Dragani du Barista von Karkavosta the Seventh, Unspeakable Terror of the Forty-One Seas, or just Jules for short! And don't mind Ales, he just has his particulars, he does. Fancy lad."
'Ales' looks pleadingly at me. "Elesse. It's Elesse for short, Elessandre is my proper name, and by no means is my name Ales."
"'But he'll answer to it in bed, he will!" The Captain cackles. I shudder. 'Ales' opens his mouth to voice some sort of protest. I am tired of this nonsense.
"Everyone shut up or we'll start clipping tongues." I look up. Our support squad has arrived - several Mixed that could be spared from guard duty, plus five Poets. It's strange to feel all that Poetic concentration focus on one man on board - especially on a man that is so like our Poet King. "Let's be off, now. Keep a small detail behind to get this boat... wherever it needs to be." I wave my hand with the dismissive statement. I hate boats, I hate water, I hate being here, and for all I care they can sink this damned thing. "Make sure to round up any stragglers left below-decks, and search the thing for any evidence of further wrongdoing. Call in more reinforcements if necessary."
Katherine pats my arm. I look down at her. She smiles up at me. See? This was so much fun!
I scowl in reply. With that, we leave, the Captain protesting as we vanish. "Hey now, this be the Kraken! It be my ship what I stole fair and square--"
* * *
I have Camden oversee the prisoners being filed into the cells. Once they're behind the wards there's little to worry about. After I request for the Captain and Elesse (or whatever his name really is) to be put into their own separate cells for extra security's sake, I leave Katherine in the nursery. I give the caretakers an extra scowl, which makes them look even more sheepish for losing track of my Advocate. (You would think they would expect this sort of behavior from her by now, and learn to counter it.) Then I leave for the Poet Hall.
I'm a little alarmed by just how much I'm rushing towards it. It's as if I'm worried about what I will find. The Poets within have a certain amount of alarm to them that merely feeds mine. No, I don't want to be asked if I need anything or if they can assist with any of the operations 'in this tense time'. "I'm here for Elete." I make my way to his room.
It's become a Shenanigan nest. Somewhere underneath the blanket of purring fur and feathers, Elete lies, a pale specter of a man.
For a moment, I can't tell if he's breathing. Then he opens his eyes. They focus immediately, which I hope is a good sign and not some sort of pre-death clarity. "Tesynnodai? What is going on?"
A sort of relief comes over me as I kneel by his bed. I stroke his hair back from his forehead. He's so cold. "I didn't drown. Elete, this is silly. We can't just leave you here to die."
He frowns. "'Sy, please stop wasting your time on me. I am a dead man soon, and there's no need for trouble--" he cuts himself off at the sight of my glare.
"You listen to me, h'Logos. I will waste my time on whatever it is that I deem appropriate, and you've no power over that." He flinches. "Now. If you're going to die there'll be a body. And then we'll bring you back. You're making a big show of things, aren't you? That's all this is, right? Because I'm not playing your games anymore."
He looks so sympathetic. He lays his hand on mine. His fingers are thin, and his touch is ice. "I'll miss you too, 'Sy. But you can do nothing to stop this."
I shake my head. "Elete, the ship was full of pirates. We don't know what happened to the Chetharians on it. There was a Poet with them who even Diyn swears is you. He's just like you. Longer hair, and a bit stupider, but that's really the only difference."
Elete raises his eyebrows. "I'm honored to be spoken so highly of. Nevertheless I've no answer for..." He shakes his head as his words drift. Then his head falls back onto his pillow. His eyes look blindly into the distance. I snap my hand to his neck to feel for a pulse. There's a sluggish weak thud of a heartbeat still in him, but I don't know how long it will last. "It's coming," he exhales in a hoarse whisper.
"What? What, Elete, just tell me what's going on and how we can fix you!"
"Everything's coming along... just fine. Talk to your new friend who is my match." His voice is a reedy whisper, an old flute in bad need of repair.
I close my eyes and shake my head. "Why, is he our replacement Poet King you told me of? Is that why I should just give up on you?"
"Oh? No... no, he'll not be... he's no h'Logos." Elete's chuckle sounds like it should be easing up from the chest of a doddering, withered ancient - not a man in his prime. "He'll be important for your future. Mine matters not."
"I'm not listening to you! Damnit, Elete, tell me how to fix this!" I pound my fist into his bedframe. A few Shenanigans squeak and scatter away.
Elete smiles up at me, and the expression hurts me in a way that I can't quite describe. "It's beautiful to see you fight this hard to preserve something that must be destroyed. It's something I've never seen burn in you quite this strongly. You've inspired me so much, Tesynnodai. I'm sure you'll do just fine on your own."
I wish I could say: and with that, he died. It would almost be better that way, better than his breaths easing, his eyes closing, his vitality fading as he sinks back into an uneasy sleep. There would be a finality if he just died now, and I feel guilty for thinking so. But he lingers. He lingers, and as long as he does, I will want to fix him. I will feel guilty every time I am away from this bedside. It will always nag at the back of my mind.
Still, I leave him. I leave my dying friend who is so set on being helpfully unhelpful. I have so very much to do now, and no time I can set aside for the vigil here.
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