Chapter 9
Dawson expected to be thrown in a mediaeval-style dungeon, complete with rattling chains and damp walls. So, he was surprised when the soldiers directed them up a winding staircase. After a few steps, he realized they were being taken to the tower. Which was probably still a prison.
He debated saying something to Katrina, but while the soldiers didn’t understand the words, they might understand the tone, and at the moment, Dawson wanted to remain on their good side. He didn’t know if it was deliberate or not, but the soldiers assigned to them appeared to be human.
Was the blue-skinned tentacle king trying to make them feel at home? Or was it accidental? It didn’t feel like the kind of thing that a king would do by accident, but what did he know about kings or mythological beings of any kind?
But if this island was part of the collapsed mythological world, why did humans live there? Unless they weren’t human and were something else entirely.
They didn’t have pointy ears, so they weren’t elves, nor did they have fangs the way he expected vampires would. It was another one of those things he couldn’t ask anyone.
A soldier opened a heavy wooden door and indicated for them to go in.
It was not a damp cell, but an entire chamber, with a fire going in the hearth and food set out on a table. What the hell was going on?
He turned to the soldier, who watched him with a steady gaze, as if expecting him to do something stupid.
Dawson quickly ran through his options, of which there were only two.
He either went into the nice warm chamber and had something to eat and drink, or ran down the stairs like an idiot, only to be caught by the other guard a few meters away.
He supposed there was a third option—jumping out the window.
But he didn’t want to escape. He wanted to learn more. This is what he’d volunteered for.
So he smiled and stepped through the door. “Thank you.”
Katrina sighed and then followed him. The door closed behind her. Dawson waited for the click of a lock, but it never came.
“So,” Katrina said. “Are we guests or prisoners of the squid king?”
“Both? I think? I also don’t think he’s a squid. Their tentacles on their back seem to have suckers, which makes them more like an octopus.” He remembered all the times he’d eaten pickled octopus and fried calamari and decided never to mention it in case it was taboo.
“I’m glad you’re paying attention to the important things.”
“We’re supposed to be learning who these people are, so of course I looked at them.”
“The king is missing part of his arm tentacle. He did his best to keep the arm hidden under his cloak, but I saw the bandage, which means it’s a fresh wound.”
“You think he was injured during the collapse?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Great. He’ll be thrilled to learn that human scientists were responsible.” He sat on a stool at the table and unlaced his boots. He wriggled his toes, and his socks felt rather stiff after being worn for the last two days. “What do you make of all the humans around?”
Katrina shrugged and sat on the other stool, taking off her own boots. She also took off her socks, wrinkling her nose as she did. “I’d kill for a bath.” She glanced around the room. “Do you suppose they have a toilet?”
“I hope so. Pissing out the window isn’t going to win us any favors.”
She laughed, but he was serious. They were in another country, Felloi, and they didn’t know the rules or customs or language. And they’d entered illegally. Or did that not matter because Felloi had entered their world?
He sniffed at the jug and then poured himself a cup. These cups were metal, unlike the wooden ones carried by the soldiers. He took a cautious sip. It was something beer-like, though it had been watered down.
“You’re brave.” Katrina got up and padded around the chamber, peeking behind the curtain. “There’s only one bed.”
“Maybe they think we’re together?”
“You can sleep on the floor,” Katrina said with a grin.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” He got up and carried his beer over to look at the bed. It was large. Big enough for them both. “Don’t worry, you’re not my type.”
Katrina snorted. “Men don’t have a type after three beers.”
“It will take more than three beers to get me interested in a woman.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that why you were studying the soldiers?”
Dawson rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. Were you not a little curious about the tentacles and the dude with the hooves?”
“I’m curious how the king is walking around and doing stuff so soon after an amputation. What kind of medical treatment do they have here?”
“Until we learn whatever language they speak, none of that matters.” He took another drink, unsure how to negotiate for the platform.
Or even if that’s what they were supposed to do.
Management probably hadn’t expected anyone to be arrested, or maybe they had, and that was why they had to sign the waiver.
What if a boat came while they were trapped in the castle? Did that mean they would be stuck there forever?
Katrina had disappeared behind a screen that was painted with an ocean. “I found the bathroom.”
Dawson joined her and pressed his lips together.
It was less of a bathroom and more of a steaming metal bathtub, complete with metal tentacles coiling beneath instead of feet.
A metal pipe snaked into a stone alcove.
He followed the pipe and found himself staring at what appeared to be a very long drop toilet.
He lifted the wooden seat. The hole was too small to allow for escape.
“Make sure you put the seat down,” Katrina said from just behind him.
Dawson did, and he closed the lid. Next to the toilet were two rags and a pitcher of water. At least they didn’t have to share butt-cleaning cloths…if that’s what they were.
“Do you want the first bath?”
She bit her lower lip as if tempted to say yes. “I’ll flip you for it.”
“If I had a coin, I’d agree. You bathe, and I’ll have something to eat and poke around a bit more.
” He stepped around to the other side of the screen and walked around the bed to examine the two piles of what he thought were blankets at first glance.
Why supply a bath without towels? He lifted the first item.
It was about one square meter and fairly soft.
“I found a towel. I’ll flick it over the screen for you. ”
“Thanks. This water is fucking hot and kind of slippery. It might be scented?” She made a few gasping noises, which Dawson assumed meant she was getting into the bath. At least she wasn’t wasting any time.
He picked up the next item. It was a shapeless beige tunic, similar to the one the soldiers wore, except theirs were trimmed with some kind of knotwork. The same knotwork but in different colors… Did that define their rank? They wore their tunics belted to carry their sword and knife.
Their clothing had no belts.
The last item was a cloak made of the same beige material, though thicker.
The clasp was made of simple leather, much the same as the ones on the soldiers’ cloaks.
Though he’d noticed that a few had metal clasps.
The king’s had been silver with pearls and some kind of pink gem.
The last item of clothing was made of thinner cloth, and while it was longer, it had no sleeves.
Was it for sleeping in? Given that he’d seen no one wearing one, that seemed like the safest bet.
“There are clean clothes, but no underwear. We might need to wash our socks and underwear after I’ve had a bath.”
“Okay,” Katrina called.
Both tunics appeared to be the same size, so he flicked one over the screen for her, then made his way back to the table to sample some of the food while he waited.
His stomach grumbled with anticipation. The soldiers had shared their rations, which meant everyone had eaten less.
He was surprised that they’d shared…and that he hadn’t been tied up.
Nothing screamed that they’d been taken prisoner. Yet he was on edge.
All those fantasy books had not prepared him for stepping into another world. Or perhaps it had, and that was why he’d volunteered. The books had made him curious, and he knew enough to observe and to try not to offend.
The food on the table was fancier than soldiers’ rations—and what they’d been eating for the last four days on the platform.
The meat and fruit were fresh, not dried, though there was a selection of dried fruit and nuts.
He took a piece of bread and spread what looked like butter on it, only to find the butter was in fact some kind of soft cheese when he took a bite.
It wasn’t terrible, just not what he expected.
He added a piece of the sliced meat and ate it like an open sandwich, which was much better.
He was on his second cup of beer when Katrina walked over, wearing the tunic and the towel twisted around her head. “Are we supposed to wear this tomorrow?”
“I guess.”
“Does this mean none of them are wearing underwear?”
Dawson lifted his hands and shrugged. He was not about to admit that he’d already wondered that. The soldiers were definitely going commando under their tunics from the way things moved. Especially the satyr, as there had been rather a lot of movement.
“FYI, that’s not butter; it’s cheese. So far, I haven’t died from eating anything.”
“Food poisoning takes a couple of hours. Maybe I should wait to see what happens to you.” She frowned, and Dawson didn’t know if she was joking or being serious.
He made himself another sandwich with the fresh bread, cheese, and meat, figuring that if he was going to be sick, the damage was already done, and he might as well enjoy a full stomach.
Katrina watched and poured herself a drink. “Do you think they’re doing okay?”
“The water situation should be sorted.” He wanted his bag of things back, but it was probably being examined, and until he was able to answer questions, he assumed it was gone, which meant no toothbrush or razor. “The food… I don’t know. How good are you at learning a language?”
“If we’re immersed in it, we should be able to get by in a few weeks, but fluency takes years.”
If humans had water, they could go days without food, but they didn’t have forever to find a solution to the food problem. “We don’t need to be fluent to beg for food.”