-- a lot of truth.” Chenda said.
Fenimore added, “He's not a citizen of the Republic either, that's why he's second around here. He can't show his face above decks when we dock in the West. But he's twice the airman I am, and that is the truth.”
Verdu shrugged a little in agreement, and Chenda saw a slighter, echoing shrug in Fenimore's own frame. The phenomenon started to amuse her and she giggled.
Fenimore looked her over and said thoughtfully, “I think it's time you told us about your truths and your lies, Chen, and start with why we aren't calling you Chenda Frost.”
Chenda froze, her eyes wide. Not wanting to answer directly, and hoping to stall until she decided what to say, she asked, “How did you know who I am?”
“I picked your pocket in the wheelhouse and read your travel documents,” he said shamelessly, pulling her papers out of his own pocket and holding them in the air. “But I read the papers at the terminal yesterday. They all say the woman named Chenda Frost is dead, died in a fire. Whereas you fit the description of the deceased, and you look half dead, I reasoned you must be Chenda Frost. No?”
Chenda nodded.
Verdu narrowed his eyes and looked at Fenimore. “Oh, brother, are we in over our heads again?”
“It's hard to say.” Fenimore said again. “I'll wager five that we are.”
Verdu observed Chenda. He tilted his head to one side, which tilted Fenimore's as well, and said, “No bet. She's got the look of a votary about her. We're certainly in trouble.”
“Oh, Verdu, poor form,” Fenimore tsked. “Let the lady tell us herself what she's about.”
Two pairs of eyes, gentle but expectant, settled on Chenda. “I don't know what to say," she whispered. “I don't know what I should say.”
“We're not the law, and we're not confessors set to judge you or absolve you. Our interest is mere curiosity. We just want to know why you've come to the Brofman ,” Verdu replied plainly. “And what level of danger we can expect.”
“Let's start with your face," Fenimore offered. “Who roughed you up?”
Chenda pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to take up as little space as possible. She felt exposed, but decided to answer honestly. “Ah, that's an easy question. The man who murdered my husband. Turns out he was a thief as well, and broke into my bedroom, looking to steal something from my husband's things. He attempted to kill me.” Chenda looked each man in the eye, “He died trying.” Her gaze made it clear that there would be no more conversation on that subject.
Fenimore, and by extension, Verdu, looked surprised. “I see. The body in the fire was his. But why let everyone assume you had died in the house? If what you say is true, why didn't you come forward?”
“Candice and I think that Daniel, the man who attacked me, wasn't working alone. Someone has been trying to kill us for a couple of days now.” Chenda rested her chin on her knee. “The newspapers in Coal City may say I'm dead, but it's only a matter of time before someone figures out I'm still breathing. If someone was watching Daniel closely, or my house, they already know.”
Now that Chenda was talking, the words flowed out. “It's kind of liberating, having someone try to kill you. Or maybe it's just that my options are now keep moving or die trying . I was always so scared before. I didn't fit in with the orphans I grew up with. I was always too shy with the holy sisters. I did what I was told and followed all the rules. I don't think it helped me to be a whole person.”
Chenda looked at Verdu. “Your guess about me was right – I am fervently devoted to my mission, and may the gods save anyone who tries to stop me.”
Kingston's voice drifted in from the corridor. He switched from singing a bawdy song to whistling as he entered the galley and plopped his ample self into the chair next to Chenda. Under his arm, he had a large canvas sack.
“Let's take a look-see, eh?” He
Fenimore added, “He's not a citizen of the Republic either, that's why he's second around here. He can't show his face above decks when we dock in the West. But he's twice the airman I am, and that is the truth.”
Verdu shrugged a little in agreement, and Chenda saw a slighter, echoing shrug in Fenimore's own frame. The phenomenon started to amuse her and she giggled.
Fenimore looked her over and said thoughtfully, “I think it's time you told us about your truths and your lies, Chen, and start with why we aren't calling you Chenda Frost.”
Chenda froze, her eyes wide. Not wanting to answer directly, and hoping to stall until she decided what to say, she asked, “How did you know who I am?”
“I picked your pocket in the wheelhouse and read your travel documents,” he said shamelessly, pulling her papers out of his own pocket and holding them in the air. “But I read the papers at the terminal yesterday. They all say the woman named Chenda Frost is dead, died in a fire. Whereas you fit the description of the deceased, and you look half dead, I reasoned you must be Chenda Frost. No?”
Chenda nodded.
Verdu narrowed his eyes and looked at Fenimore. “Oh, brother, are we in over our heads again?”
“It's hard to say.” Fenimore said again. “I'll wager five that we are.”
Verdu observed Chenda. He tilted his head to one side, which tilted Fenimore's as well, and said, “No bet. She's got the look of a votary about her. We're certainly in trouble.”
“Oh, Verdu, poor form,” Fenimore tsked. “Let the lady tell us herself what she's about.”
Two pairs of eyes, gentle but expectant, settled on Chenda. “I don't know what to say," she whispered. “I don't know what I should say.”
“We're not the law, and we're not confessors set to judge you or absolve you. Our interest is mere curiosity. We just want to know why you've come to the Brofman ,” Verdu replied plainly. “And what level of danger we can expect.”
“Let's start with your face," Fenimore offered. “Who roughed you up?”
Chenda pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to take up as little space as possible. She felt exposed, but decided to answer honestly. “Ah, that's an easy question. The man who murdered my husband. Turns out he was a thief as well, and broke into my bedroom, looking to steal something from my husband's things. He attempted to kill me.” Chenda looked each man in the eye, “He died trying.” Her gaze made it clear that there would be no more conversation on that subject.
Fenimore, and by extension, Verdu, looked surprised. “I see. The body in the fire was his. But why let everyone assume you had died in the house? If what you say is true, why didn't you come forward?”
“Candice and I think that Daniel, the man who attacked me, wasn't working alone. Someone has been trying to kill us for a couple of days now.” Chenda rested her chin on her knee. “The newspapers in Coal City may say I'm dead, but it's only a matter of time before someone figures out I'm still breathing. If someone was watching Daniel closely, or my house, they already know.”
Now that Chenda was talking, the words flowed out. “It's kind of liberating, having someone try to kill you. Or maybe it's just that my options are now keep moving or die trying . I was always so scared before. I didn't fit in with the orphans I grew up with. I was always too shy with the holy sisters. I did what I was told and followed all the rules. I don't think it helped me to be a whole person.”
Chenda looked at Verdu. “Your guess about me was right – I am fervently devoted to my mission, and may the gods save anyone who tries to stop me.”
Kingston's voice drifted in from the corridor. He switched from singing a bawdy song to whistling as he entered the galley and plopped his ample self into the chair next to Chenda. Under his arm, he had a large canvas sack.
“Let's take a look-see, eh?” He
Similar Books
