Robin Hobb - Mad Ship

As she closed the door, Brashen shut his eyes. He'd made the right decision. And they had made the right decision. They both knew it. They had agreed that it was better this way. Better. He wondered when it was going to get easier.

Then he wondered if it would ever get easier.

"There's two of US." Paragon divulged the secret to her as he held her in his hands. She weighed so little. She was like a doll stuffed with millet.

"So there is," Amber agreed. "You and I." The rasp moved carefully over his chest. It reminded him of a cat's tongue. No, he corrected himself. It would have reminded Kerr Ludluck of a cat's tongue. That long-dead boy had liked cats and kittens. Paragon had never had one.

Paragon. Now there was a name for him. If only they knew. The secret he held slipped from him again. "Not you and I. Me and me. There's two of us."

"Sometimes I feel that way myself," Amber replied easily. Sometimes, when she was working, he felt like she went somewhere else.

"Who is your other me?" he demanded.

"Oh. Well. A friend I had. We used to talk a lot. Sometimes I hear myself still talking to him, and I know how he would answer."

"I'm not like that. There has always been two of me."

She returned the rasp to the tool sling. He could feel her do it, and felt the shift of her weight as she searched for something else. "I'm going to use sandpaper now. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

She went on as if she had not interrupted the conversation. "If there are two of you, I like both. Keep still now." The sandpaper worked back and forth against his chest. The friction made heat. He smiled to her words because they were true, even if she didn't know it.

"Amber? Have you always known who you were?" he asked curiously.

The sandpaper stopped. In a guarded voice, she replied, "Not always., But I always suspected." She added in her normal voice, "That's a very odd question to ask."

"You're a very odd person," he teased, and grinned.

The sandpaper moved against him slowly. "You are one spooky ship," she said quietly.

"I haven't always known who I was," he admitted. "But now I do, and that makes it all easier."

She set aside the sandpaper. He heard the clink of tools as she rummaged for something else. "I have no idea what you mean by that, but I'm happy for you." She was distracted again. "This is an oil pressed from seeds. On ordinary wood, it swells the fibers and can erase a scratch. I have no idea what it will do on wizardwood. Shall we try a little and see?"

"Why not?"

"A moment." Amber leaned back in his arms. Her feet were braced against his belly. She wore a safety line, but he knew she trusted more to him. "Althea?" Amber called up to the deck. "Have you ever used oil on wizardwood? For maintenance?"

He felt Althea stand. She had been lying flat on her belly, drawing something. She came to the railing and leaned over. "Of course. But not on painted surfaces like the figurehead."

"But he's not really painted. The color is just… there. All through the wood."

"Then why is the chopped part of his face gray?"

"I don't know. Paragon, do you know why?"

"Because it is." It was odd. When he tried to tell them something about himself, they didn't listen. Then they pried into things that were not their business. He tried again. "Althea. There are two of me."

"Go ahead and use the oil. It can't hurt. It will either sink in and swell the wood, or it will stay on top and we can wipe it off."

"What if it stains?"

"It shouldn't. Try a little bit and see."

"I'm not just what the Ludlucks made of me!" he burst out suddenly. "There is a me I was before, just as much a part of me. I don't have to be whom they made me. I can be who I was. Before."

A shocked silence greeted his words. Amber was still in his hands. It shocked him when she reached out and set her gloved hands on either side of his face. "Paragon," she said quietly. "Perhaps the greatest thing one can discover is that you can decide who you are. You don't have to be whom the Ludlucks made you. You don't even have to be who you were before that. You can choose. We are all creatures of our own devising." Her hands traveled over the high bones of his cheeks. When her hands came to where his beard began, she tugged it playfully, on either side. It could not have been a stronger reminder of the human elements in his makeup. Yet it was as she had just said.

"I don't have to be what you want me to be, either," he reminded them both. His hands closed around Amber. Such a trifling toy she was, a creature made mostly of water enclosed in a bag of thin skin. If humans ever grasped completely how fragile they were, they would not be so cocky. With one hand, he casually snapped her safety line.

"I want to be alone now," he told her. "I have something I want to think about." He lifted her over his head and he felt her stiffen in his hands. Her sudden realization that he could dash her down into the water brought a smile to his lips. She knew now what he had finally discovered. "I have choices to consider," he told her. He swung her over his head and held her steady until she grasped the railing. When he knew she was secure, he let go of her. Althea was there, grabbing hold of her and pulling her onto the deck. He heard Althea's low question, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Amber said softly. "Just fine. And I think Paragon is going to be just fine also."

Dawn and daylight were always two different things in the Rain Wilds. The rising of the sun meant little until it was high enough to clear the lush canopy of the Rain Wild forest. Reyn Khuprus watched the first thin trickling of light through a gap between mud and crystal. The wizardwood log at his back, the fallen section of thick crystal dome that had sheltered them and the mud that surrounded them now bordered his world. He half-crouched and half-leaned against the wizardwood block. The fallen arch of ceiling dome overhead had protected them from the falling debris, but the rising muck and water had found them. The fallen section had acted as a partial dam. In its shelter, the thick mud had only flowed in thigh-deep on him, with a layer of chill water on top of it. He held Selden in his arms, sharing his scant body warmth. Despite all, the boy was asleep. Exhaustion and despair had claimed him.

Reyn did not wake him now. The pale light was a false hope. It came from a small crack far overhead. Although much of the building's constructed dome and ceiling had fallen in, the thick layer of roots woven through the soil still supported the earth above them. Only one small, root-fringed crevice admitted the daylight. Even if he had been able to claw clear of the muck and debris that surrounded them, they could never reach the tiny hole to escape.

As he watched the light gain strength, he knew with despair that they would try. The boy in his arms would wake. They would dig their way out and stand on top of the wizardwood log and call for help. But no one would hear them. They would die here, and it would not be swift.

He hoped Malta's end had been faster.

Selden stirred, lifting his head from Reyn's shoulder. The shift in his weight woke new pain in Reyn's back. Selden made a questioning sound. Then he set his head back down on Reyn's shoulder. Helpless, silent sobs shook the boy. Reyn patted him with a muddy hand and said the useless, inevitable words. "Well. I suppose we should try to get out of here."

"How?" Selden asked.

"We'll have to dig this gap bigger and shove you out of it. Then you'll climb up on top of the log." He shrugged. "From there, we'll have to figure out what to do next. Call for help, I suppose."

"What about you? You're stuck in pretty deep."

Reyn tried to shift his feet. The boy was right. The flowing muck that had flooded the chamber last night was settling. From his thighs down, he was engulfed in a thick porridge of earth and water. It gripped his legs heavily. "Once I've got you up there, I'll be able to dig myself out. Then I'll join you on the log." The lie came easily.