He bent down still closer and sniffed, his whiskers all aquiver. Then he recoiled and wiped his snout with a clean white handkerchief.
"He's poisoned with Nothing," Longtayle pronounced. "Feverfew must have doctored the grapeshot. I don't know how he'd make it stick together —" He stopped talking as a tall, piebald Rat wearing a long apron over his frock coat rushed in. This new arrival went immediately to Doctor Scamandros, pushing Longtayle out of the way. He sniffed at the Denizen, opened up his Gladstone bag, and began to pull out a number of instruments, including a large pair of pincers, which he laid on the table.
"Got to get the Nothing-laced lead out of him," said the Rat. "Clear the room so I can work, Longtayle."
"Mister Yongtin," whispered Longtayle as he ushered Arthur out and across the passageway into the great cabin where he'd met with Commodore Monckton, though the commodore wasn't there now. "An excellent surgeon, but no conversationalist."
"Is... do you think Doctor Scamandros will die?" Arthur asked.
"Probably not," said Longtayle. "It's very hard to kill a Denizen. It depends on whether Yongtin can get the Nothing out before it dissolves too much of him. But he'll be weak for quite a while, so I doubt you can count on him for the expedition."
"I hope he'll be okay," said Arthur. He felt a bit bad because he knew he wanted Doctor Scamandros to recover as much for the expedition as for his own sake.
"I'll show you to another cabin," said Longtayle. "It might be an idea to rest, if you can. We found long ago that though sleep is not absolutely essential within the House, we mortals and semi-mortals are happier if we do rest our tired minds and bodies."
"I could do with a rest," admitted Arthur. "Only there's one thing I have to do first, but I need someone to watch over me. Maybe, if it's okay, you could do that."
As they went into the new cabin, Arthur quickly explained to Longtayle the watching spell Scamandros had made for him so he could check that Leaf was all right. He showed the Rat the mirror and the shell.
"I can't watch myself," said Longtayle. "I am the captain of this ship, after all. But I shall assign someone trustworthy. They will be with you in a few minutes."
He sounded a bit offended.
"Oops," muttered Arthur to himself as the Rat left. Obviously you didn't ask the captain of a ship to do something so basic as stand around watching a passenger stare into a little mirror.
As promised, a few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Arthur opened it and let in a familiar-looking rat.
"Gunner's Mate First Watkingle," Arthur said as the Rat saluted and opened his mouth to talk.
"Bless me! You remembered, sir."
"Thank you for coming so quickly," said Arthur. "Did the captain explain what I want you to do?"
"Stand sentry-like while you whip up some magic," replied Watkingle, tapping the cutlass at his side. "And if your eyes turn yellow and you start acting strange or yabbering peculiar, then I'm to give you a tap on the head with the pommel of this "ere cutlass."
"Uh, that's not exactly..." Arthur started to say. Then he shrugged and nodded.
I guess if my eyes do turn yellow and I start yabbering peculiar it probably would be best to hit me on the head, he thought.
Sunlight — or the light from the ceiling of the Border Sea — streamed in through the porthole. Arthur sat down, got out the mirror, angled it to the light, and raised the shell to his ear.
Once again, Arthur tried to think of Leaf. A few images rose up in his mind. When he'd first seen her, refusing to run, with her brother, Ed. Then in her house, with the Scoucher cutting its way through the front door.
These images briefly crossed the surface of the mirror, then it went dark. Arthur heard the hiss inside the shell change. He caught the sound of footsteps, followed by a match striking. Light flared in the mirror and the darkness ebbed.
Arthur saw a pale hand transfer the match to a lantern. Then, as the wick caught and flared, another view of a small space aboard a ship. Not the same prison area Leaf had been in before, though the ceiling was only four feet high. This was a long, narrow room.
Leaf was there. She looked quite different. She had a blue bandanna tied around her hair and was wearing a blue-striped shirt and black breeches, with the tops of her high sea-boots folded down over her knees. Even in the flickering light, Arthur could see her skin was much darker than it had been, burned brown by some otherworldly sun.
There was a boy with her, dressed in the same style. He was the one who had lit the lantern, which now hung by a hook in the ceiling.
"I don't see why we have to fight, Albert," said Leaf. "It seems kind of dumb to me. I mean, it's not as if we don't get along okay."
"Tradition," replied Albert glumly. "I don't want to fight either, but the Captain told me we have to. “Ship's boys always fight,” he said, “and Miss Leaf has been aboard a month without a drubbing. See to it, or you can both have twenty of the best over the twelve-pounder.”"
"What?"
"Twenty strokes of Pannikin's cane over one of the cannons," explained Albert. He was rolling up his sleeves. "Which would hurt a lot more than anything you could do."
"You're just trying to make me angry," said Leaf. She didn't bother to roll up her sleeves, instead leaning back against a curved internal strut. "Which won't work. I've studied psychology. I know what you're trying to do."
"You don't know much else," said Albert, though there wasn't much heat in his words. "I get tired trying to teach you everyday stuff you should already know."
"What, like the difference between the mizzen gaff and the mizzen topsail yard?" snorted Leaf. "As if I'd ever need to know that back home."
"I keep telling you, you won't be going home," said Albert. "That just doesn't happen. You might as well face up to the fact that you're one of the Piper's children now, or good as."
"Arthur will find me," said Leaf. "He's the Master of the Lower House and everything. I'll be going home, sooner or later."
"Sure, and Pannikin will give us extra plum pudding for good work," Albert scoffed, then suddenly darted forward and punched Leaf fair in the face.
"Ow! What the —" Albert darted in again, but this time when he threw a punch, Leaf ducked aside and trapped his arm with an obviously well-practised move using her left hand and right arm. She followed this up with a swinging movement of her body that propelled Albert into the side of the ship.
He hit hard and Leaf let go. But instead of falling down or giving up, Albert turned around and punched her again, this time in the stomach. Leaf fell back, gasping, the wind knocked out of her.
"That'll probably do it," said Albert, wiping his bloodied nose with the back of his hand. "S" long as the Captain sees blood he'll be satisfied, and if you can walk around all hunched up like that for a hour or two —"
"I might have to, you idiot," complained Leaf. "If you just needed a bloody nose why didn't you say so?"
"I thought it'd be better if you had the bloody nose," said Albert. "Didn't know you could fight, did I? What was that wrestling trick?"
"Judo." Leaf straightened up and took a breath. "And that's not all I know either, so you watch it."
"We can be friends again now," said Albert, holding out his hand. "For about another three months or so, I reckon, before the Captain decides we should be fighting. Or if we get any more ship's boys aboard. Or we get washed between the ears and have to start all over again."
"Washed between the ears? That doesn't sound good," replied Leaf as they shook hands.
"It isn't. It's strange, now I think about it. I mean, the Border Sea is all messed up, what with Wednesday turning into a great big fish and all, but the washing between the ears is still regular. Someone always turns up to do it, every couple of decades. Never thought about that before. Can't see why anyone would bother. We're just the Piper's brats, after all."