CHAPTER SIXTEEN - PICKLED SURREALISTS AND TADPOLE ROYALISTS

Tanner's voice was a hoarse mumble, strangled a little by awkwardness and the general whiplash of going from a strained day with her mother, to... whatever this was. The woman was light, her bag was less so, and Tanner honestly wasn't sure how much of the woman's body weight was made up of alcohol. Her nose looked like some sort of strange growth, not so much a natural structure as... something which doctors hummed and hawed over with furrowed eyebrows. This was a growth of Furrow-Eyebrow Physician levels - several ranks above Bored-Physician, and admittedly, several ranks below Frightened-Physician. Anyway. Tanner grumbled at the woman, who was shambling beside her like some sort of water balloon filled up with (apparently) very good wine.

"You're breaking the law."

"Hrmph?"

The woman appeared to have lost the capacity for speech.

"The law. Golden Door. You're breaking it. Public intoxication and potentially obstructing the flow of business along the docks."

"'is nighttime, very large woman. It hardly counts."

Swollen eyelids slowly cracked open, revealing hazy, bloodshot eyes that reminded her faintly of overfilled grapes. Goodness, she had been indulging - there was an air of profound disarray about her, and her breath stank to high heaven. The front of her blouse was stained a thick, unpleasant red where she'd dribbled wine over herself, and... no, her face had actually fallen into her own chest, she'd burped up a little wine, and as a consequence, there was a bizarre abstract shadow of her own face on her blouse. Two versions of this woman, Marana, staring at her at once. And somehow the abstract, melting, shifting wine-outline was more pleasant to look at. Tanner's jaw clenched.

"It counts."

Marana suddenly twitched... and her voice rose, becoming significantly more impressive, almost commanding.

"How dare you, young woman. The Judges of the Golden Door? In Fidelizh? Tonight? At this moment in time? In this cosmic position? At this stage in the planet's convoluted rotation? Right in front of my wine? Nonsense. I won't hear any more of this, not without my lawy-"

She slumped, and heaved up a ruby-red comet of wine down into the water, where it landed with a nauseatingly thick splash. Tanner stared at the woman, old enough to be her mother, bent double and vomiting unsteadily, hiccuping and snorting like some sort of feral hog, and... right. Judge. Had a duty to do in situations like this. She had a point - it wasn't a big deal. Public intoxication that didn't involve harming anyone was a minor, minor offence. At worst, small fine, and being hauled off to sleep things off. It wasn't a crime because drunkenness was offensive to the judges, it was a minor offence because it could lead to worse crimes. It aggravated matters. And Marana, lying alone on a dark dock... no, no judge could see that as anything but a recipe for trouble. She'd had to handle one case like this, once. Couple of months ago. Had to acquaint herself with the law on alcohol, and the general tone of it was exasperation, not judgement. It was a minor offence, which allowed the judges to haul drunks in for a quick nap somewhere safe. Less a matter of punishment, more a matter of prevention. And right now, she was preventing Marana from falling into the river.

Hauled her up by the back of her coat, practically carrying her the rest of the way, along with her bag and her wine.

"Come on."

"Flurgh?"

Goodness, didn't know someone could sound outraged and indignant while choking on a mouthful of wine-vomit. Tanner frowned... carried her the rest of the way, before setting the bag down, helping Marana lean over the side, and slapping her firmly on the back to dislodge some of the matter. Didn't actually seem to be much matter in her, honestly, mostly just wine. How dismally unhealthy. Marana gurgled slightly... and Tanner hauled her up again, brushing her shoulders off for good measure. Could drag her indoors, just set her down in a cabin, but... no, no, official Golden Door policy was to monitor extreme drunks, make sure they didn't choke on their own vomit. Nuts. Night was too cold to let her lie on the deck, so...

Now, in most circumstances, being required to surrender her cabin to some middle-aged drunk would annoy her. Reasonably so, really. But... Tanner was a judge. Judges didn't get annoyed at this sort of thing, they just did it, it was required of them, expected. By doing it, she did what she was meant to. She satisfied her vocation, and... yeah, just hauling her towards the entrance to the lower decks was enough to get her cycles rotating all over again, her routines were whirring. Her face flattened, and she could feel her judgely instincts kicking in. Professionalism sank over her mind like a shroud, no, like a very large warm towel. She was covering herself in a warm towel and dragging a middle-aged souse to the nearest cot - any judge would do the same, they'd just need to make more trips, on account of the bags and the wine. For Tanner?

Eh. Marana weighed less than an ammunition crate, and Tanner was practically carrying those for fun.

Her progress was interrupted by someone cackling.

Ah.

Right.

Sailors. Well, more accurately, hunters. One of the older veterans was leaning against a railing, and... ah. It was the half-bandaged one, with the fused fingers on one hand. The one who'd decided to make her feel slightly uncomfortable back in Fidelizh, and had been thwacked rather solidly with a handspike for her trouble. Not by Tanner, of course, she was much too nice for that. Much too nice. And nervous. And professional. Speaking of being professional - the hunter wasn't. She was laughing her proverbial arse off, snorting messily as she did so.

"Nice haul, big lady. Nice haul."

Her voice suddenly dropped, and... oh, she was doing an impression of Tenk the Ravager from the Annals of Tenk. Surprised they even got theatrophones out here. Either way, she snorted like an ape, grunting like a gorilla, frowning like a particularly morose fish.

"Ug, big lady take old lady below, ravage till sun rise, ug."

Tanner looked at her flatly. The hunter's grin widened, straining her bandages.

"Ug, big lady stop in city, come for women, come for gold, come for wine. Big lady come, lock up daughters, lock up wives, hide and hope she no find you. Ug."

Tanner sighed. As Tanner, she was flustered and grumpy. As a judge, she was professionally detached. Spent eight bloody years honing this.

"She's a passenger. Just had a little too much to drink."

Marana gurgled.

"No, didn't..."

Tanner shushed her.

"She did. I'm taking her below-"

"To ravage every orifice, ug."

Tanner's brows furrowed. Not dignifying that.

"To make sure she doesn't choke on her own vomit. If you see the captain, could you tell her she's arrived? Sorry for the trouble, hope you have a good night, miss."

She wished she had a hat to tip. As it was, she nodded professionally and clumped away unsteadily, the weight of the bag, the wine, and the wine-filled-bag-of-a-woman making her slightly... well, she wasn't finding her heavy, just finding her awkward. Didn't like carrying people, they were much too squishy, and might possibly vomit on her soon enough. Plus, Tenk? She liked the theatrophone play, but she wasn't the biggest fan of Tenk, he was a simplistic character, she much preferred Princess Yallerilli, she was significantly more nuanced. But, uh, she didn't imagine the hunter was particularly concerned with Tanner's opinions of popular theatrophone productions. Shame, Tanner liked the Annals of Tenk, there was something irresistibly fun about the adventures of a burly barbarian, where all the gore was simulated by someone punching a bag of chicken livers in front of the microphone. Very visceral. Deeply unpopular amongst the elderly. Highly popular amongst the young. She glanced down at the middle-aged souse in her arms - wondered if she was a fan. Wondered if it would be fun to try and get a theatrophone into her cabin, then to play that one episode in the gore-pits of Sleetch over and over while the ship tossed and turned and-

No, no, that wasn't very professional. Just ignore her dribbling. And her breath. Focus on the necessities, the expectations. Hell, if she... right, the golden glasses reminded her, as did her gloves. Cultivate luck by filtering out bad luck - look on the bright side of things, in short. Maybe she was a chronic alcoholic who'd suffered some enormous unpleasantness in the past and drank as a consequence. There, a spark of pity ignited in her, even as Marana gurgled slightly.

"You're... the best, lovely person, truly lovely, you must apply to my club for recompense at some point."

Tanner hummed.

"I mean, I thought you judges were just a bunch of authoritarian lunatics who liked hitting people, but you're alright, you're somewhat decent. Can I have some more wine?"

"No. You need water and food."

"...that sounds nice."

"I'm aware."

Marana gurgled again, settling into Tanner's shoulder like an overgrown baby. A baby old enough to be her mother. Tanner was not ready for doing this immediately after having an awkward day with her actual mother, the widening gyre of her mind was spinning in odd directions. Urgh.

Anyway. Easy enough to get her below, easy enough to lay her down in the narrow cot, easy enough to settle herself in a chair and try to get to sleep, one eye open to make sure the lady was doing well. Easy enough, all of it. Uncomfortable in the chair, and the cabin was only designed for one normal-sized person, but... anyway. Anyway. Marana sprawled like some boneless sea-thing all over the coat, limbs somehow managing to spill over every side at once, she looked like a gigantic flesh-compass, each limb pointing to a cardinal point. A trail of eerily red drool spilled from her lips, pooling on the mattress. She was... odd, now that Tanner examined her. A perplexing blend of elegant and debauched. She had long, clever fingers, was clearly fairly tall, and her hair, while wild, wasn't frayed or thinning. Even her face had high, aristocratic cheekbones, a long nose tapering to a sharp point, and eyes which, when not bloodshot, might've been appealingly bright. There was something about her which made Tanner feel like she was seeing someone who had been someone - hadn't started from nothing and ended with nothing.

Who had she been?

Why was she... like this?

And why did she want to go north? A surrealist conference? No idea what that was, but it sounded dangerous. Either way. Tanner sat back, settling for a long night. She was very drunk, and based on her vomit, hadn't eaten much to soak up the booze. Fallen asleep before she could be forced to drink something wholesome, and Tanner wanted to stay awake to make sure nothing happened. During the last eight years, one of the things she'd been taught was the art of memory, the art of memorising huge quantities of jurisprudence and supplying it at a moment's notice. And she relaxed into the strict, orderly memories, painting them into the world around her. Legally speaking, she'd accepted responsibility for the woman, and thus and therefore had a duty to make sure she remained in good health, and didn't succumb to any harm as a consequence of Tanner's dereliction of the duty she'd voluntarily taken upon herself. By accepting the burden of responsibility, then she'd accepted the right to be punished for failing to properly match that duty. And as such, she'd remain awake until the morning came.

Because that was what judges did.

...wished she'd brought a book.

* * *

Tanner hesitated.

And poured a little more citrinitas.

This stuff had gotten her through her written and verbal examinations, and it'd get her through this morning. Marana was still snoring on Tanner's cot, but had clearly stabilised a little, enough for Tanner to feel comfortable leaving her to sleep off the rest of her hangover. Meaning, now Tanner could deal with the fact that she'd not really slept. At all. Well, not deliberately. There was about half an hour which she couldn't quite remember, but that might've just been from the sleep deprivation. At one point she just started pinching the skin around her wrist to stay awake. And now, now, she got to have some citrinitas. This was her reward. This was her reward for being a good judge who did everything a judge was meant to do. Yep. Her vocational compensation - some coca wine. And boy did it work, she felt a shiver ripple up and down her spine, muscles tensing like she was trying to squeeze the whole damn column like an accordion. Her teeth itched. Her eyes watered. She coughed slightly... and all was well. Energy twitched through her.

And that was all.

The day looked to be a good one - bright, clear, not too much wind. The engine was grumbling irregularly beneath her, the theurgist working to tune it down, soothe the beast until it was willing to rumble rather than roar. Slower pace for the vessel, but it wouldn't need remotely as much maintenance. She still remembered the heat from that thing, the heat and the eerily organic pulsing... didn't like the idea of sleeping above it, didn't like the idea of being around it at all. But, well, wouldn't have it for long. The route would be winding north, up the Irizah, towards the Tulavanta. There, they'd push relentlessly through the water until they found a nameless tributary which could go further north. The Tulavanta wasn't really one river - it was a central series of arteries surrounded by a great collection of smaller, temporary streams, some wide and flat, some narrow and deep. The arteries were downright impassable during the spring thaw, not unless you went through one of the few crossing points which changed every year. The land sagged around the Tulavanta, worn down, down, down until there was practically a canyon in the earth, an unsteady, muddy canyon which was perpetually shifting from one side to the other. Turned the region into a kind of swampy no man's land, too unstable for people to settle reliably, too chaotic to cross consistently except at the right time of year, too damn damp to really want to remain around.

She'd heard some sort of story about it, once... something important, something about why it was the way it was, why there was this great watery channel carving through the world. Wouldn't occur to her... she tried, of course. The arts of memory were complex - there were means of painting memories into the world, the stars, different smells and sounds. Little associations that could trigger more elaborate digressions. But she'd evidently forgotten to file this little spot of mythology.

Irritating.

Anyway.

They were going to set off later today. Tanner could probably swing back to her mother's house, but... goodbyes had been said. And helping Marana out had reminded her what she'd chosen to do with her life... honestly, she was just eager to get back to work. Lose herself in routines. Wasn't even angry about staying up all night, it was just the sort of thing she had to do. She stared solemnly down at the dock, looking at her home as a stranger, at domes which had become exotic over the last eight years, at the whole assemblage. She-

Hold on.

Someone was on the dock.

She moved closer, peering closer... then removed her pince-nez. It was just glass, she didn't really need glasses, and right now...

Her eyes widened.

She moved quickly, the gangplank bending and flexing like a disciplinary switch mid-strike, and for a second she felt terrified of falling over... adrenaline made her move faster as a consequence, practically bouncing from the last foot or so, the wood throwing her to the dock as best it could...

Tanner walked, then trotted, then ran for the small figure on the dock, carrying some sort of package under his arms.

"Oh, hello, how's-"

Tanner's enormous hand slammed down on Algi's shoulder, yanking him bodily away from the boat. He was too shocked to say anything, just allowed himself to be dragged, feet skidding over the ground so quickly they might've sent up sparks. His large, bulging eyes blinked rapidly, he clutched the package to his chest like a lifeline, and Tanner's face was flat - which meant she was furious or terrified. Or both. Or neither. Inscrutable giantess, hauling a neo-monarchist frog-man. Angling for a pile of crates, tall enough to conceal them both, stinking of tobacco. She swung Algi, setting him down like a small, irascible animal that needed firm handling. Tanner loomed over him, a monolith pressed into service as a woman. Algi looked up in mild surprise.

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"Ah. Hello, Tanner. Goodness, must've been a good few years. How are y-"

"What you doing here, Algi."

She leant closer.

"I can't be associating with you. You're a rogue element. You're dangerous. Why did you come here?"

Her hands flickered forwards, grabbing the lapels of his suit. Fury started to bubble in her, and she had to force herself not to yell.

"Have you found my mother?"

Algi paled.

"What?"

"My mother. If you've decided to... to go for her, if you've come close, I swear I'll throw-"

She was going to snap him. She was tempted to do it, even now, all the stress of the Rekida situation, all the nervousness, all the terror of being interrogated by the Erlize all those years ago, she felt it well up inside her stronger than ever. She could feel how delicate he was, compared to her. How she could just pull and she'd feel something pop or snap or twist in a way that couldn't be untwisted. Another part of her was horrified at this impulse. Horrified at... at the way she could picture it. Algi spluttered.

"Tanner, gods, calm down, I'm just delivering something, gods, let me go, this suit is expensive, why-"

Tanner reluctantly let him go, realising belatedly that she'd actually lifted him a few inches off the ground, and he landed with a thump and a grunt. Come on, calm down, psychopath. Stop beings such a brute, stop being an ogress. Let the toad go, don't hurt him, be civilised. Be civilised. Restrained, that was it, restrained. Algi brushed himself down with slight irritation budding on his pale face, blooming in little red spots at the centre of his cheeks - like raspberries scattered over a bowl of porridge. Tanner glared. Algi's eyes shifted from nervousness to defiance.

"Now, listen here, that was a terribly rude thing to do, and... actually, if you're not meant to associate with me, why did you drag me behind a pile of crates like I'm some dirty little secret?"

Tanner froze.

Crumbs.

"Never mind that. What are you doing here? Is this a neo-monarchist thing? No, wait, don't tell me if it is, I don't want to know anything, I'm going to forget this encounter happened the moment I get back on the boat, and you will say nothing about this to anyone, anyone at all, I can't afford you running around trying to radicalise people, oh, gods..."

"May I speak?"

"Why did you run off, Algi? I mean, it's one thing to leave the judges, but it's another thing to be a neo-monarchist. I was interviewed by the Erlize because of you, I was interrogated, I could've been deported back home, you could've ruined my entire career, you... you..."

Algi blinked.

"Goodness. You've taken a class in sass since last we met. Are you going to swear at me?"

"No! No, I won't. I won't swear at you, I won't, but... but it's the sort of thing you'd deserve, you oik. Your sister was furious when you left, really furious, it was awful to read about. And I was interrogated! By the-"

"Erlize, you said. I know. Sorry about that."

"Sorry?! You're sorry? I was almost deported, you complete gibbon!"

Her voice was a rasp, a strangled yell, decorum slipping into her behaviour even now. She took a few deep breaths, calming herself down. Algi had... she'd... he stood at an intersection of annoyances. He'd hurt Eygi by running away from home to go and shack up with some tart in Fidelizh, apparently. Then, he'd almost destroyed Tanner's vocation by almost getting her deported. He'd put her on some sort of permanent record. He'd possibly put her mother at risk, him just stopping in for a bit of tea might be grounds to ruin everything. He'd done this all with idle ease, like it was nothing. And she'd never confronted him over it. Years and years, and she was still keenly aware that some lunatic in Mahar Jovan could make her life much more complicated, destroy all her carefully cultivated routines. Thus far, he'd been quiet. And now she had the little toad in her hands, and she...

...wait.

"Why are you here?"

"Delivering a package. I said. Now, are you going to be reasonable, or-"

He trailed off.

"Sorry. Didn't mean that. How are you, by the way? Been yonks."

Tanner sniffed, primly.

"I'm a judge, now. Properly qualified. I'm heading north to supervise a colony."

Algi smiled mildly.

"Oh, that's wonderful, very good for you. I like the blouse, by the way, reminds me of something old Olgi used. You remember him?"

"Of course I remember him, I work with him, I'm more surprised that you remember him."

Algi snorted.

"Oh, don't be a stick-in-the-mud. Listen, my brains are settled down from you shaking them around, I think you came from... that boat over there, do you know if there's a woman called Marana on board?"

Tanner had a sudden, ominous, slightly repulsive thought. Algi had come to Mahar Jovan chasing after some random woman. Marana was a woman. Random, too. The two had a proven connection. But with the age difference... she stepped back, nose wrinkling with instinctive disgust, and-

"Oh, gods, you don't... no, no, she's the sister of someone I'm with at the moment. Lady who brought me up here. Marana just left behind some of her stuff at the family estate, completely drunk out of her mind when she left, and her sister wanted me to run this stuff down at dawn. She's old enough to be my mother, Tanner, why on earth would-"

"Shush. Shush. Not relevant. Well, I can deliver them. And you, get out of here, I don't want to see you, and I don't want to be seen with you, not at all. You're radical."

Algi smiled guilelessly.

"I am a bit, aren't I?"

"Oh, shush."

A moment of silence.

"Don't you regret leaving your sister, I mean-"

"What, Eygi? Sure, I feel a little guilty about leaving her to manage the estate, miserable work, but she's fine with it. We correspond, just has to go through a few censors. Look, the Erlize probably thought I was actually going to do something out here, instead of sticking around sleeping with a very attractive and intelligent young woman while attending the occasional drinking party where we talk politics."

Tanner said nothing, but her eyes narrowed. Suspicious. Deeply suspicious. She backed off slightly, extending her hands for the package - huge, wrapped in brown paper and string, felt delicate. No wonder Marana had left this stuff behind, probably realised that in her drunken state she'd utterly destroy something delicate. Well, anything that wasn't wine - couldn't imagine her attention wavering from those bottles long enough to destroy or lose them. Algi rocked back and forth on his heels, tilting his head to one side. Gods, he looked painfully like Eygi. Reminded Tanner of how long it'd been since she'd met her closest friend. She didn't want to get close to him, though. No questions, no corruption, nothing. She didn't dislike neo-monarchists as a rule, she didn't honestly know enough to dislike them, but she disliked how associating with them meant she was a person of interest to the police in Fidelizh. That, alone, was reason to dislike the neo-monarchists like Algi. She'd expected to see some sort of... of bomb-throwing lunatic, not Algi, well-heeled, a little older, his suit well-tailored and his shoes polished, while apparently associating with... with a 'very attractive and intelligent young woman'. Gosh, vulgar. Gentlemen didn't kiss and tell - mother had told her that when she was young, and the serials she listened to confirmed it. Only barbarians kissed and told, and that meant Algi was in the barbarian civilizational clade.

Feh.

Feh.

"I'll be off. Good day, Algi."

Algi grinned slightly.

"Gods, you're uptight. Look, we're behind some crates, the Erlize don't monitor things around here, just-"

"You don't know that."

"Well, maybe, maybe, but I've not noticed any."

"That's the point, they're secretive."

"Or you're just not very perceptive. So, how're things? Heading north, then? Having fun up there?"

"Shush."

"Look, I'm not going to corrupt you or anything, I'm slightly interested in what you've been up to. You think I remember everyone who I knew years and years ago?"

Tanner hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. She should go. She should definitely go.

"Why did you... come here?"

"Lady."

"I mean, why-"

"Why did I start wanting the king back?"

"Yes, that. Why? It shook your sister, it got me interrogated, I just... want to know why you chose to do something so unfathomably stupid as to chase some lady up here, and then to become some sort of frothing radical. I thought you were going to try and go for my mother, I had to write her a letter to warn her against letting you inside."

"Rude."

"Necessary. You're a toad, Algi of Yorone, you're a toad. I've been bottling that up for years, and..."

She paused.

"I'm sorry, that was excessive."

"No, no, that was fairly mild. I've been called worse by better."

"Oh, shut up. I'm leaving."

Algi leaned casually against the crates, examining his nails. Still a dandy, still an idle fellow who just... he spoke with this drawn-out drawl, every syllable would be extended far beyond its expiry date. She'd... she wasn't a vengeful person, but right now, she felt the urge to throttle his scrawny neck. She still remembered the nights she'd remained awake, paranoid about her future, and paranoid about Eygi. That letter she'd sent, warning Tanner from enquiring further about Algi, had been furious. Hearing Eygi furious, it... it was like being a dog hearing one's master yelling angrily, there was fear, shame, embarrassment, discomfort. That memory had coiled around her bones like some sort of parasitic worm, and it had unnerved her. Deeply. And with Algi not there to... apologise, or explain, there'd just been a core of paranoid resentment lurking somewhere in her gut. And now it was moving upwards, emerging into her head with a cold flash. Disliked him because of what he'd done, not who he was. He'd been one of the only people she knew at the school, one of the only two people she was somewhat friendly with. Him and Eygi. Eygi, she wrote to regularly. Algi had just vanished, leaving behind a stew of confusion.

"Listen, Tanner, I could talk for hours and hours on the topic, about how the Golden Parliament is a corrupt little den of usurers who use the Erlize to clamp down on anyone who disagrees, about how Fidelizh is like a fatherless child that's constantly trying to replace their father with something else, be it gods, be it law, be it the Parliament. I could talk for hours about how even the judges preferred the days when the king was around, and they didn't lose more and more control to a bunch of committees and merchants. I could talk for days about how Fidelizh is, inevitably, taking on more and more people from the north, people it can't send back home or resettle somewhere else, and this is highlighting how we've got a gaping void where purpose once sat, and now we just have self-serving usury which collapses the second it comes into contact with something meaningful. I mean, you're a judge - your order is explicitly royal, or used to be, and you've held true to yourselves, but has anyone else? Has-"

Tanner grunted.

"You said you weren't going to talk for hours."

"Well, I haven't even spoken for half an hour. Barely reached a few minutes, honestly."

"I'm leaving."

She paused.

"And to clarify, you're wrong about the judges. We lost our power because of the kings, we didn't lose them to the Parliament. You wouldn't know, you didn't finish your course, you didn't see the hallways of ash."

"Well, semantics."

"Goodbye, Algi. I'm leaving."

"You've said that several times."

A pause.

"Who is Marana? She's going north with me. Is she... like you? Do I need to worry about the Erlize battering down my door because I taught to... to some sort of arch-revolutionary, some sort of princess who claims that she deserves to rule Fidelizh?"

"Marana's too drunk to do any of that."

"Well, did she used to be like that?"

Algi hummed thoughtfully, pushing his disturbed hair away from his forehead. He looked like a well-groomed frog, no matter what sort of suit he wore, no matter what... was that pomade in his hair? She could smell it from here. Small statue, bulging features, and... oh, goodness, he had a golden pocket watch. He had pince-nez hanging from his waistcoat. He was going local. And Tanner suddenly remembered something - from the meaningless burbling that came out of the drunkard last night. Something about-

"Look, I was just coming up to Mahar Jovan to have a poke around, I really didn't know what I was doing, why I was here. I had money from my father, no desire to work for his estate, so I thought I'd take things as far as I could before I hauled back. Fish on a line of credit, hah. Anyway, anyway, I wound up meeting Rana at a cigar shop, she was buying a huge box of the things, the woman's addicted. We got to talking, I went back with her, we had dinner, a few more dinners... things sort of spiralled from there. I met Marana a few months later, during dinner with her family. She stumbled in, slumped into her chair, fell asleep for half the meal, then woke up once the main course was being carved so she could slump forwards and engage in chaotic conversation. She drank like a fish, pardon all the fish metaphors, but she drank like a fish, then rambled about her 'surrealism', then had to be hauled away. She was reasonable the next morning, but odd. She's harmless, just very intense. I don't think she has any beliefs, and if she does, she changes them based on how much she's had to drink. Or... well..."

He paused.

"Keep her away from citrinitas. I've heard some ugly rumours about her and... well."

Tanner blinked.

"Is she... well? I mean, I've accepted a little responsibility, if I should kick her off the boat and send her home, I-"

"Gods, gods, no, no. She's driven half her family mad - her sister is young enough to be her daughter for a reason, her parents seem to have given up on Marana, decided to try again in their twilight years. Surprised they managed to churn Rana out, but I'm not going to complain. She always wanders around a bit, ever since..."

"She said her father was the governor of-"

"Krodaw. Yes. And the entire family hates talking about it. Her, especially. I think she had a poor time during it. So..."

He paused, rocking on his heels like a pendulum.

"Just, ah, give her that package - it's some of her work, she meant to take it up to the conference. Parents are just happy she's out of the house. Give her the package, and... if you wouldn't mind, could you stop her falling over the edge of the boat? Once she's off at her destination, you can completely ignore her, never think about her again. But for now..."

He shrugged lightly.

Tanner hummed, momentarily forgetting her animosity. Well, momentarily. She still disliked Algi. But there was... anyway. Odd souse, dispatched from home with dismissive ease, paid to stay far, far away, immersed in a career which could hopefully keep her busy. Well, maybe she was projecting a little. Anyway. Anyway. Come to think of it... Krodaw. Colony. Last foreign colony of Mahar Jovan, the last one they'd held onto after the Great War. Everyone had squabbled over the western marches, leading up to the mountains - the stinking, steaming forest where warlords feuded and odd kingdoms endured for interminable periods. But the Great War had just... silenced most of them. Mutants didn't attack them in huge numbers, bit too out of the way, but their owners had lost too much to hold on. Krodaw had clung on longer than it really should've. She'd seen veterans of that conflict, had neighbours who used to be auxiliaries. All of them, scarred. Prone to staring off into the distance for long periods, faces utterly blank. Krodaw was just a miserable blot on Mahar Jovan's history, and... well, now Fidelizh was trying to set up a colony in the north, too. Might be interesting to talk about that. Problems, solutions...

Anyway.

Tanner wasn't made of stone. Sounded rough.

"I see. Well. Good day."

She wished she had a hat to tip - again. It was just a good full stop to a conversation. As it was, she just nodded sharply and moved off, packet under her arms. Algi watched her go - she could feel his eyes on her broad back. She moved slowly at first, with dignified stateliness... before breaking into a small trot, nervous of any observers. Algi was still a dangerous subversive, at least in the eyes of the Erlize. She didn't give much of a toss for his views on the Golden Parliament - they didn't interfere in Tanner's life, at least, not until Algi decided to become a little radical. As far as she was concerned, she was happy where she was, Algi threatened that, and that was all. Nothing more to be said on the topic, nothing at all.

She turned briefly.

Algi was still watching her, hands in his pockets, a little dark figure on the horizon. At a distance, with his froggish face, he almost looked like a short-haired Eygi. He'd said they were corresponding - that was good, and... and she wanted, almost, to ask how she was. Eygi didn't say much in her letters. Pleasantries, polite enquiries, the occasional hint of things, a bit of advice from time to time. Nothing more. Maybe Algi would know more, how she was really doing, if the estate was really doing well, indeed, how her parents were - Eygi never mentioned them.

But then that little black mark on the horizon seemed to become a tiny dark tick in a proscription list, filed by dull-eyed men in tweed suits with odd cufflinks. A little check, and suddenly she was condemned to more interrogations, to banishment. Never allowed to return to her lovely labyrinth, to her news room, forced always to dwell on frontiers. The little dark spot seemed to expand, becoming a black sun looming to supplant the real one, swallowing the sky in its abyssal corona. She hesitated.

And trotted up the gangplank, feeling it strain under her, just a little. The packet rattled.

And Algi was gone. Mahar Jovan, Algi, her mother, her father, the lodge, all of it. Rolled up like a map, ready to be stored away in some dusty corner of her memory, as she made space for more experiences. For the cold.

For the north.

* * *

"Ah, splendid, my parcels. Was it that loathsome slitherer, Alg-something?"

Tanner blinked.

"It was Algi of Yorone. Yes."

"Oh, he has an of! He's an of, how lovely for him. Well, hand them over."

Marana looked like hell. Her eyes were surrounded by heavy bags, and remained bloodshot. Her face was riddled with tiny broken purple veins, and when she smiled, there was a bleary nonsense to it - a kind of senselessness to the smile, a desperation at the tips of her teeth, and her tongue was the colour of some overripe fruit. She looked like she'd been trying her best to replace her blood with alcohol, and had gotten a damn sight closer than any other human. She swayed slightly, and the heat of the engine belched upwards in a sudden flare - Tanner could easily imagine the theurgist rushing to soothe some pulsing pipe, or to replace some embolism-like tank of whale oil. Or just to whisper consolingly to a hiccuping metal heart. Tanner handed the packages, and Marana extended a single sharp thumbnail, slicing the paper cleanly, examining the internals. Looked like a fair number of papers and canvasses, alongside a newspaper tied clumsily to the front. Tanner shifted uneasily.

"Are you well, Ms. Marana?"

Marana ignored her for a moment, striding closer to the door with confidence that spoke more to muscle memory than anything else.

"Hm? What was that?"

"Are you well?"

"Oh, quite well, quite well. Thank you, incidentally, for your kind care last night. I hope it wasn't too much trouble?"

She smiled slightly. Tanner blinked again.

"Yes. I mean, no, it wasn't any trouble, no trouble at all. Completely fine."

She was on the verge of falling asleep.

"...so, do you know Algi, or-"

Marana flapped one of her hands like she was trying to imitate some sort of half-paralysed bird being chased by an equally semi-paralytic eagle during a snowstorm.

"Ms... I'm sorry, what was your name, again?"

"Tanner. Tanner Magg. Judge Tanner."

"Tanner, I do apologise, but my headache is rather tremendous, and I don't feel especially inclined to speak about my infuriatingly juvenile sister's dalliances. I'm sure Mr. Algi is a lovely young man, even if he looks like a frog, and I'm sure he'll make my sister very happy, and they'll make a colossal pile of frogspawn and tadpoles, and they'll make my parents the happiest retirees this side of the Tulavanta. But for now, I have a head to soothe and a stomach to fill - when the evening comes, however, I hope you will attend to me on the deck, when I intend to be on sharper form, and we can converse of Algi, and other matters romantic."

She leant forwards suddenly, planting a sharp kiss on either of Tanner's cheeks - and Tanner was convinced that her saliva was probably useful as an antiseptic unguent, she could feel the alcohol dwelling in every drop of this woman's moisture. She was probably somewhere along the way to being legally defined as 'pickled', honestly. Goodness, she had taken a... sass class at some point, hadn't she? Well, at least she was quiet about it. Gods, it was like being kissed by one of her more soused aunts. And that was a memory she didn't want to bring up. Marana nodded, bowed slightly, smiled airily, and swept out of the door with the sort of poise usually reserved to piano masters and models. But Tanner could see how her dress was rumbled as a used napkin where she'd slept on the docks. Still slightly stained with engine oil.

Tanner paused.

Sat down.

And started drafting a letter.

Dear Eygi,

I appear to have met a pickled human. Your brother is infuriatingly non-odious, but I hope you'll pardon me if I continue to loathe him for almost getting me deported. Might be unfair of me. A woman with fused fingers accused me of being a ravaging barbarian-woman kidnapping another woman for my bedchambers.

How's the weather?

Best,

Tanner

Needed work.