“Kafira’s fanny. You look like crap,” she said.

He grabbed a towel and threw it around his waist and then stepped over to look in the hanging mirror on the cabin wall. He did look like crap. He looked thin and pale and weak. His cheeks were sunken and his face was pasty white. Most grim of all were his eyes. The whites of his eyes no longer deserved of that name. They were beyond bloodshot. The blood vessels had completely ruptured and every bit of surface outside of his irises was solid, uninterrupted red. He felt unsteady. His knees wobbled slightly.

“What day is it?”

“It’s exactly one week since anyone on the ship has seen you. That’s what day it is. Have you eaten anything in the last week? Have you had a drink, and I mean of water?”

Terrence looked over at the nightstand—at the pitcher of water, now empty, and drinking glass, now lying on its side.

“I had some water…earlier. Yesterday, I think.”

“Bloody hell, Terrence. I can’t believe you’re doing this again.”

“On a first name basis now, are we?” he asked.

“Don’t give me that crap. Who took care of you last time?”

“You’re not my sister.”

“No,” she agreed. “And you’re not your sister either, so shut the hell up. Get some clothes on. I’m going to get some water.”

Yuah picked up both the pitcher that had held drinking water, and the pitcher that matched the wash basin in the corner of the room and left the cabin. Terrence quickly moved the tiny blue bottle to the ammunition pouch of his pistol belt. The dressing maid returned after a few minutes with both pitchers full of water. She took the first and filled the glass from the nightstand, handing it to Terrence. The second pitcher she poured into the matching washbasin on its stand. Then she left once again. Terrence drank the water in the glass and then washed his face. Yuah entered again, this time with a plate containing a crumpet with jam and a glass of milk, both of which she handed to him.

Terrence sat down and ate, though this made his stomach a bit upset. Yuah stood over him and watched as he downed every single bite. Then she pulled a small brown bottle from her pocket.

“Lie on your back,” she ordered. “I nicked this from your sister.”

She pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured a little bit of the liquid within into his right eye.

“Owe, dammit! Are you trying to blind me?”

“Shut up. This is a healing draught,” she said, pouring more into his other eye. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, asking if I’m trying to blind you, when you’re rubbing that crap into your eyeballs.”

“What do you know about it?”

“I know it all,” she said. “Go ahead. Ask me anything. White Opthalium. Visio. See Spice. Made from rare enchanted lotus blossoms and blue fungus from Southern Enclep, whipped together with a little bit of witch-doctor magic. All designed to take you away from your problems in the real world.”

“How do you know all that?” Terrence sat up.

“I did my research a long time ago. Someone had to take care of you, you know.”

“Yes. I remember. So why did you take care of me… then, I mean?”

“I had quite a big crush on you then, not that you ever noticed.”

“Why would I notice? You were a skinny little kid.”

“Yes, well…”

“So why are you helping me now?” he asked. “Do you still have a crush on me?”

“Don’t you wish? You’re important to this expedition. Whether you believe it or not, your sister needs you.”

“Are you going to tell her about this?”

“Are you kidding me?” asked Yuah. “She would be right pissed if she found out about this. Not to mention, half the colonists would want to pack it in if they found out you were off your trolley.”

“You think I’m mad, then?”

“Yes, I do,” she said.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “I’m all out. I didn’t even realize we had left port. I was planning to go back and get more at the marketplace.”

“That’s for the best then. Your sister wants to see you. She was trying to find you this morning and couldn’t. When I went to get her healing draught, I told her you had food poisoning, and wouldn’t be about for a few hours.”

“Thanks,” said Terrence.

“Come over to her cabin and I’ll draw you a bath. You need it. Then you can shave and have something more to eat and whatever else.”

“What about Iolanthe?”

“She was just leaving to go up to the observation deck and meet Lieutenant Staff. I doubt she’ll be down for hours. I think she’s going soft for him.”

“Iolanthe? Don’t be stupid. She’ll never go soft for anyone.”

“I don’t feel good,” said Senta.

“Too much wine?” asked Mrs. Marjoram, pointedly.

“I think I’m going to overflow.”

“Not in here,” said Miss Dechantagne, sternly.

“Why don’t you go up on deck and get some air, Pet,” said Zurfina.

Senta got up from her chair and found that her legs were decidedly wobbly, her Vision was wiggly, and the two helpings of trifle in her stomach were not getting along with the toad-in-the-hole. She started for the door, but found her feet making an inexplicable turn toward the wall. One of the waiters took her by the shoulders and guided her back on track, opened the door for her, and closed it once she was in the outside corridor. It was a short trip from Miss Dechantagne’s cabin to the main deck, which was a good thing; because Senta didn’t think she could have made it much further. She grabbed hold of the railing and walked twenty or thirty steps until she came to the steel dragon, still in his animal carrier box. She sat down on top of it, and scooted down so that she could lie back across it. She closed her eyes on the bright myriad of stars looking down upon her.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, but eventually she had the feeling that someone else was there with her. She opened her eyes to see a pasty-faced man with a very round face and horn rimmed glasses looking down at her. His hair was slicked down and oily looking and he had a pinched expression on his face that made his mouth look unnaturally small. She looked at him for several moments and he looked back and blinked several times.

“Hello,” said Senta.

“Hello,” he replied. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know.”

The man smiled without showing his teeth. His smile reached from his chin to the middle of his nose. His eyes, magnified by glasses, stayed the same. He had no facial hair or sideburns, but he had several small cuts on his face as if he had injured himself while shaving. His suit was charcoal colored, and slightly shabby; something that Senta wouldn’t have noticed a few weeks before.

“Do you want to try getting up?” he asked.

“Alright.”

Senta sat up and immediately threw up at the man’s feet. Most of the vomit splattered across the wooden deck, though a bit of it ended up on his shoes and pants cuffs.

“Gawp,” said the dragon within his carrier.

The man’s mouth twitched to one side, but all he said was, “Feeling better?”

Senta nodded.

“Good,” he said. “We should get you somewhere where you can get washed up. Do you know how to get to your cabin from here?”

“No.”

“Then, I’ll take you to my cabin.”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“You wouldn’t want anyone to see you with vomit all over your shoes, would you?”

Senta looked down and, sure enough, she had gotten vomit on her own shoes too. The man took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. She was still pretty wobbly. He began to walk slowly along the deck, pulling her along with him.

“Gawp,” said the dragon, louder.

They went in the doorway just behind the one through which Senta had exited, and walked down the corridor. Senta started to feel a little better. At the end of the hallway, a set of narrow steps led down to the lower deck. Senta didn’t really want to go down, but the pasty-faced man had her hand firmly in his.

“Senta!”

Senta and the man both turned to see Miss Lusk walking down the hallway toward them. Though she was the shortest of the women that had been at the dinner party that evening, Miss Lusk was almost the exact same height as the oily-haired man. Her hat, which was a large straw affair covered in pink chiffon with a flower accent, made her seem a bit taller than him.

“Where are you going, Senta?” asked Miss Lusk.

“We were just going to get her cleaned up,” said the man. “The poor thing got sick on deck and lost her dinner.”

“Good evening, Mr. Murty,”

“Good evening, Miss Lusk.”

“It was very kind of you to help out with a sick child.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he replied. They stood looking at each other for a very long moment. Senta looked from one to the other.

“Well, we’ll go on and get the child cleaned up,” said Mr. Murty.

“I think I should take it from here.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to take the child below.”

“Wouldn’t be appropriate?” he asked. “Why not?”

“Taking care of children isn’t a man’s job.” Miss Lusk took Senta’s other hand and pulled until the child had both arms stretched out in either direction.

“I really don’t mind. I love children,” said Mr. Murty.

“You’ll make quite a father one day, I’m sure.”

“Let me take her.”

“I’ll take care of her,” said Miss Lusk. “I am a woman.”

“Yes, I keep forgetting,” said Mr. Murty, letting go of Senta’s hand. “Um, what with your, um, mathematics skills and all.”

“Good night, Mr. Murty!” Miss Lusk hurried down the hall with the girl in tow.

Miss Lusk led Senta forward and then down a different set of narrow stairs. They went quickly down three flights and then up the corridor a short ways to a door, which Miss Lusk unlocked and entered, pulling the girl in after her. It was a small room, only half the size of that in which Senta and Zurfina stayed. It held a single chair and a single bed. The red-headed woman set Senta on the mattress and had her lie back.

“Didn’t your mother tell you not to talk to strangers?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well, she should have. Somebody should have.” Miss Lusk bit her lip. “You are an orphan, aren’t you?”

Senta nodded.

“Zurfina should be watching out for you. And stay away from Mr. Murty. Do you understand? Mr. Murty is not a good man.”