18. Consequences

18. Consequences

Emancipationheaded south-west, along the coast of Gabalnu, steering clear of Sudharain's waters. Hakan was happy to dodge the sultan's navy. He was less happy about the need to justify his decisions to his crew.

"I'm not afraid of the sultan. Nor of his boats or crews," he protested in the face of Ozzo's challenge to their planned route.

"Then why not Sudharain's coast? We know the territory far better," the navigator pointed out. "Our focus should be getting our crew back, and they're all scattered further down the coast."

"I am focused on getting our crew back."

"Really? Who's next? Fadi? Nour?"

"Next is Ramorran." Hakan expected protest, so he wasn't surprised when Ozzo scoffed.

"He doesn't even want to join us."

The words were a stake in Hakan's heart. His biggest fear was that they might prove true. "I don't care!" he snapped. "Aren't I a pirate? I want him; by God I'll have him!"

Ozzo glared.

Hakan hurried on before he could speak. He was the captain, it was his job to maintain harmony. And if they fought, he didn't like to think what might be broken. "We need money to free the others. Plus, there's only three of us. We need a few easy jobs to start with. The sultan's navy will be turning its attention back to pirates now there's peace across the land. Gabalnu offers easier pickings."

The tension stretched. Hakan saw the moment when Ozzo capitulated. "Easy." he scoffed. "The shame of needing easy."

"Why put in more effort than we have to?" Loula pointed out.

"Exactly," Hakan gave his first mate a nod of acknowledgement, relieved by her support. "We'll find some daft rich people on a pleasure cruise. Cabidar Bay should be ideal."

"Perfect," Loula agreed. She shoved Ozzo hard, although he was too accustomed to his shipmate to do anything other than grin. "You know Hakan too well to think he'd be afraid of any man," she chided. Hakan felt warm, then her smile turned sharp and he had a moment of premonition before she added, "Besides, he's going to be a bear with a sore head until he gets another chance to suck Ramorran's … face off." She smirked straight in Hakan's face. "Isn't that right, captain?"

She and Ozzo shared a look Hakan didn't like at all.

"I don't believe it's any of your business," he said. He wished he didn't sound quite so snippy about the matter. He wished he didn't feel so snippy. He was on edge because he wasn't sure Ramorran would even be waiting for him. He didn't like the idea that he'd thrown away the best thing he'd ever had without realising it. He was a pirate; he should be able to assess value quicker than that.

Ozzo whistled, deliberately provocative. He shared another look with Loula, raising his brows when he swung to face Hakan. "I seem to remember that all prospective new crew had to be voted onto the team by current crew."

"He's not prospective crew," Hakan fired back.

Ozzo's brows climbed even higher. "Not crew? We're taking passengers now? Does he pay well?"

Loula was inspecting his face with her customary piercing gaze. "Leave it, Oz," she commanded.

"Leave it?" His tone was incredulous. He waved a hand to encompass Hakan. "This is gold, Lou. The mighty are fallen – and right at the feet of some lanky landlubber!"

He looked deliberately at Hakan, who managed not to react to his slighting – and inaccurate – description of Ramorran. "So pleased to see I have your respect," he grumbled.

Loula grinned. "Good job you don't need our respect, just the adoration of your love."

Heart aching, Hakan rolled his eyes and left his reply at that.

~

"You've come back at the worst possible time." Vonda hissed that piece of wisdom into Ramorran's ear as she led him to explain himself to the council of elders.

"There would have been a good time?" he snapped back. It was barely past dawn, he'd hardly slept, no one would tell him how Zelzie was, and it was crystal clear everything was being viewed as his fault. No change there.

He only wished he could argue.

"The king's facing a challenge. There's a lot of disquiet in the tribe," Vonda continued, as though he was supposed to care about all the stupid politics he'd been relieved to leave behind in the first place. "Wengar wants to seize the crown."

Ramorran had to dredge his memory to bring Wengar to mind. A cousin who'd clearly become more calculating and ambitious since he'd been away.

"The king can't be seen to show favour or be lenient in any way, especially not because you're his son."

"That must be breaking his heart," he said, knowing his sarcasm would probably also turn Vonda against him, but too angry to care. Why had he come home? He couldn't truly blame his decision on what had happened with Zelzie, since it had always been the plan once he'd got his skin to come back. He was a fool. He didn't have a home.

His heart ached. Maybe he did. Maybe his home was with Hakan, if the man even wanted him after his lukewarm reaction when Hakan had cupped his heart in his hands and offered the precious thing to him. He'd be lucky if Hakan was waiting at new moon, if he didn't find someone else after Ramorran had rejected him, someone who'd fit into his world the way Ramorran … didn't.

"Why do you have to be so … you?" Vonda snapped.

His heart was a stone imprisoned by aching ribs. "Who else am I supposed to be?"

Vonda made an impatient noise. He saw the circle ahead, crowded with almost everyone from the tribe, turning to watch as they neared. The time for conversation was almost up. Vonda leaned close. "You never even tried to fit in."

He swallowed, unreality closing around him. "I wasn't aware it was supposed to require effort to be a part of my family." He was surprised how steady his voice was. He didn't feel steady. He wanted to run. He'd be banished, he knew it. Did they have to go through this … performance … first?

The crowd parted and he saw his father, King Aron, enthroned at the zenith of the cavern's curved wall, a crown of shells on his head and the staff of knowledge gripped in his left hand. Ramorran found his spine straightening and he pulled away from Vonda. His chin lifted. A lifetime's experience had taught him to show no weakness to his parent or he'd be lost before events began.

Vonda let him go and he took the final few steps alone, lowering to one knee in front of his father and his king. "You have summoned me, and I have come." How many times in his life had he said those words? Needing to explain himself for some transgression, large or small, intended or accidental. He swore to himself that this would be the last time. The tribal council would question him, he'd explain himself, the king would posture and shout, he'd be banished and he'd never have to go through this again. He"d turn his back on this place and these people. And Zelzie... He sighed. Zelzie would learn not to miss him. She had to.

"You are called here to account for your actions, which have resulted in injuries to Princess Zelzie."

Ramorran's jaw clenched. Zelzie was given her title, but he was denied his? He didn't want it; he'd never wanted to be a prince, nor leaned upon his status, but the unfairness chafed. He was being diminished from the very start of this process. Vonda's comment rang in his mind. He didn't belong, and he suspected the main purpose of this whole trial was to remind him of the fact before he was driven out.

The king gestured and a councillor stepped forward. Wengar, he realised after a moment. The selkie's hair was sprinkled with grey, aged since Ramorran had last seen him.

Wengar looked him up and down, mouth tight. He gave a brief bow to the king, then turned back to Ramorran. "Did you agree to hand your sister over to your lover? To be tormented for his amusement?"

Ramorran blinked, shock holding him rigid. A gasp ran around the crowd. He willed himself to talk, aware his silence would be taken for an admission of guilt. He forced the words out. "Of course I didn't! I love Zelzie. She's my sister. I would never willingly put her in danger. I—"

Wengar raised a hand to silence him. He bit his lip, and let the proceedings continue.

"The man who harmed her was your lover, though, wasn't he?" Wengar asked the question coolly. They were all so damnably calm, as though emotion was a sickness.

He tried to marshall his thoughts, to give an answer that was truth without any emotion clinging to it. "We were no longer lovers when Zelzie came after me."

"Your flighty lover, then," Wengar pressed. "Or were you the flighty one?" A murmur ran around the crowd. If anyone had supported him before Wengar began, that was over now.

Ramorran took a breath, holding on to the truth. "He deceived me, and held me against my will. I escaped when I found the chance. And as soon as I discovered Zelzie was his prisoner I freed her."

"But it's true that she wouldn't have been in danger if you hadn't associated with this man, this pirate, isn't it?"

Murmurs ran around the crowd. His company condemned him. It was over, Ramorran knew. With only a few words, Wengar had damned him. He straightened and glared at his accuser. "Zelzie is my sister and I love her. She was the only one of my family to care enough to come after me. I'll never forgive myself for what happened as a consequence."

Wengar turned to the king, bowing with a tight smile. "The prisoner accepts his role in matters. It's for the tribe to decide the consequences for our errant son."

"This process is flawed!"

Ramorran turned at the new voice. A youngster stepped forward. After a moment he brought a name to mind: Perie. She looked to have grown about a foot since he'd left. Now, she was a young woman, although he suspected still too young to be taken seriously by Wengar and King Aron.

"We should be welcoming our cousin back, not punishing him!" she continued.

Wengar turned with a frown, although it became a patronising smile as he stepped towards the young woman. "Leave this business to your elders, child."

"It's all our business. We need to learn to live with the humans," Perie argued, her face flushed with determination. "Ramorran has much he can teach us, I'm sure."

King Aron rose, fury twisting his mouth. "Be silent, child!" Perie flushed, but she fell silent, unwilling to challenge her leader. "This is beyond your understanding."

"Then we should learn!" Perie protested. She looked around the gathering, but no one was willing to meet her eyes. Another youth close by plucked at her elbow. "We should learn, not silence, and understand instead of punish!" Perie tried again, but she was clearly losing heart.

"I'm prepared to face the consequences of what I've done," Ramorran said, mostly so Perie wouldn't feel like she had to keep speaking up for him when it clearly wasn't going to work.

"And so you shall," Wengar declared.

King Aron gestured and two people came forward to set two baskets before him. He leaned forward and used the staff of knowledge to scratch two marks in the sand. From where he was standing Ramorran couldn't see what they were. The possible punishments: banishment, certainly. He wasn't sure what the other would be. Not forgiveness. Perhaps it was whether the banishment would be permanent or temporary.

Permanent. He'd already decided that. Whatever they decreed, he was never coming back.

One by one, the tribespeople stepped to the king's side, dropping a pebble into one of the baskets. It was clear one option was being chosen overwhelmingly by the people who had once been Ramorran's friends and neighbours.

He swallowed. He'd be banished. That was all right. It was what he wanted, he told himself. He couldn't stay. He didn't want to stay.

"Judgement is delivered," the king intoned.

He would be banished. He just needed to not respond, to keep his feelings from his face. His father might even be pleased if he managed that. Don't react. Just don't react.

The king sighed, but his gaze was steady as he faced him. "You are to be executed, returned to the sea on new moon's high tide."

Don't react. Don't react. Don't react. The mantra continued as his blood drained from his face. "Wait. What?" His blood rushed loud in his ears. They were going to banish him, not kill him. No, no. This couldn't be happening!

"No!" Perie's wail, shushed quickly, could have come from his own throat.

"The tribe has spoken," the king intoned, as though he cared nothing for the death of his son. "You'll be tied to the rocks at low tide on new moon, and your body will be removed at low tide the following day. You have between now and then to make peace with what you've done and prepare for the afterlife."

"No." The protest was mumbled, jumbled by his clumsy tongue. He took a step and the world tilted.

Vonda appeared at his side, grasping his arm, holding him up. "Stay on your feet," she hissed, low enough only he could hear. "Have some pride. You'll disgrace us all if you fall."

The world spun harder. He looked into Vonda's unforgiving face, her grey eyes burning like molten iron. "And that's the important thing, isn't it? Don't let the dead man disgrace the king." The ringing in his ears grew louder and his eyes rolled up as darkness rushed to meet him.