Chapter 23 #2
The main hall was filled with tables, and Dawson and Katrina were seated with the three people from the platform.
Other tables were filled with the district councilors and their partners, important palace staff like the librarian and healer, and the one at the front of the hall was where Ul sat with krakke who he assumed were relatives, including Ul’s cousin and eldest child, who was next in line for the throne.
In the corner, a couple of people were playing music, which was almost drowned out by the noise of conversation and laughter. Everywhere he looked, decorations had been hung. Greenery and branches. Candles and lanterns.
“So the humans who live here were originally Vikings?” Mr. Healy leaned forward to make himself heard.
“Yes, they even have a whole bunch of books that were taken from British churches and such, so they must’ve got lost after a raid.” The librarian had read some of the history of the island to him; now that he had a better grasp on the language, he was enjoying things a lot more.
“And all these different mythological beings live together?” Mr. Healy pressed.
Dawson glanced around the hall, thinking the answer was obvious. The districts were represented by ogres and satyrs, humans and krakke. And they all seem to get on. Each offering society something different. “From what I can gather. How are the work parties going?”
Brett, the engineer who had volunteered along with Dawson and Katrina, nodded.
“They’re going well. People are enjoying getting off the platform and doing something useful.
They helped install some wells and repaired some of the damage that occurred during the collapse. There is talk of rebuilding the dock.”
“Is there any word about a boat coming to pick us up?” Katrina asked.
“All their attention has been on mitigating an oil spill and getting people off the ones that were at risk of collapsing into the sea. We are a low priority because we are safe,” Mr. Healy said. “They did say they will try to get everyone home for Christmas.”
Katrina slumped in her seat and took a drink. “That’s months away.”
For Dawson, it was far too close. He didn’t want to be counting down the weeks he had left with Ul.
“I know it’s no comfort, but things are pretty shit back home. We’re doing okay,” Brett said.
“He’s right. None of this is ideal, but we can’t do anything about it,” Mr. Ashcroft, the safety manager, added. “And nothing we do or say will get us home faster. We need to make the best of the situation.”
They all had family, wives, children, siblings, or parents to go back to, and who they were worried about.
He didn’t wish ill on his family, and he doubted they wished ill on him, but they no longer saw eye to eye on anything.
He had become the kind of person they griped about—the kind who had nice things and wanted more than just getting by.
Yeah, his father worked hard, but he spent every cent and never worried about the future or his family.
Dawson didn’t want to be sixty and still living paycheck to paycheck and freaking out about paying the heating bill or eating.
“Tomorrow, we have a meeting with the king to discuss further work parties,” Brett said.
The soldier stepped up to Dawson and leaned down. “The king is about to give his speech. You may translate, but keep your voice low.”
“What did he say?” Mr. Healy asked.
“That I am to translate for you.” At what point would management decide to start learning the language? When that happened, they would have no need for him to be here, and they’d probably want him to return to the platform or start doing manual labor on the farms with other people…
His chest tightened at the thought of being ordered away. Ul would not be happy with that, but how could Dawson disobey his boss?
Ul stood, and silence fell, and even the music stopped. Dawson rested his elbows on the table and leaned in so he could keep his voice low. He gave a translation that was mostly vibes and guesses and much abridged.
“He’s welcoming everybody to the palace, especially those who have traveled from the furthest district, and acknowledging that it has been a troubling couple of months.
” He watched Ul as he talked. He was dressed in very fine clothes tonight, and a silver and pearl Crown glittered on his head.
There were jewels around his forearm and his neck, and there was no mistaking who he was.
Even without the bling, he would recognize Ul.
“Oh, he is reminding everyone that while the island is largely unaffected, the rest of the world is troubled and that it will be some time before traders can leave the shores to establish new relationships.”
“They know this isn’t their world? Did you tell them?” Brett asked.
“I didn’t need to because they could taste it in the water.
” He didn’t mention that some of them felt magic was off because, like him, they’d struggle to understand the use of magic anyway.
How did magic make water flow through the pipe and out of the now useless taps?
And what did it matter if he had told Ul they were now in a different world?
Wouldn’t it be obvious when a boat arrived to collect the platform workers?
“He’s talking about the platform now and how we have been stranded here and how it is their job to make strangers welcome the same way they did hundreds of years ago when the Norsemen arrived. ”
Ul glanced at him and smiled. For a heartbeat, Dawson thought the king was going to say something about him. But he didn’t, not specifically.
“He’s thanking us for teaching them the language of this world, and for helping with repairs.
” He didn’t quite understand the next bit.
It was something about endings and beginnings.
“Everyone is invited to throw wishes on the fire… Oh, that is where everybody writes down either something they are hoping for or something they want to leave behind and then throws it on the fire.” He didn’t add that some people threw small carved representations.
Ul had explained the protocol of the evening to him.
For which he was glad, because this was a formal event and fucking up a ceremony was not a good look.
“The king and his family will lead the procession out to the bonfire, the councilors will follow next, then us as honored guests, and finally everyone else.”
Servants came around with charcoal sticks and slips of paper for the tables, and Ul invited everyone to take a few moments to craft their Samhain wishes.
Even though Dawson had known this moment was coming, he still hadn’t decided what to write. He guessed that the other four humans at his table were wishing to go home. That wasn’t his desire.
Was he too afraid to admit what he really wanted?
Or was he worried that people would laugh because how could someone like him be with a king?
Was it even possible?
It would mean giving up everything back home and the life he had known.
He had moved so many times and started over so many times that the idea wasn’t as terrifying as it probably should be.
Not only that, but eventually, when the world got over the shock of the collapse, perhaps there would be a need for someone like him on the island.
Although there were better-qualified people, and maybe they would come eventually, but for the moment, he was the human advisor to the king.
Until the boat came.
He couldn’t hope that the boat never arrived because so many people did want to go home. But he could hope for a reason to stay.