Excerpt: Margins of the Moon

“Keyes, you old scoundrel! Hardly an hour ashore and you’ve already picked yourself such a beauty!” Debulosey said, clapping Keyes on the back as he leered at Amash, who just stared on in amazement.
“Actually, captain,” Keyes insisted, “this is Amash Achan. The translator sent us by Governor Marcell. You know the one.”
“Ah! Yes! Yes, of course. Well, that makes much more sense than your acquiring him, if you don’t mind me saying, Keyes,” chuckled Debulosey charismatically.
“Of course not, sir,” Keyes muttered.
“Well, well, then.” Debulosey took advantage of the fact that Amash Achan was staring at him still in wide-eyed wonderment to pace around him in dizzying circles, eyes raking him over like fine-toothed combs. After three rounds, with Debulosey clicking his tongue and smiling that roguish smile of his, Amash felt that he would have been very surprised if there was indeed any aspect of his person, internal and external, that had not been observed and measured completely. The fact that Debulosey was still smiling meant something entirely new and warm to Amash. Actually, Amash felt new and warm all over, perhaps unpleasant in the streaming summer sun.
“Not bad! He will be a welcome addition to my collection.”
“I’m sorry?” both Amash and Keyes stuttered back at the captain, the former in embarrassment, the latter, in incredulity.
“Oh, Keyes, you know how I love my art collection. To stare at the beautiful products of other times and cultures.” Debulosey chuckled. “Utterly useless, but then again, also utterly essential.”
“Oh, Captain,” Amash began softly, his voice mortifyingly meek, “I hope you know that I do plan on doing my job to my utmost ability as his esteemed Governor Marcell has instructed me to do on board this sh--”
“Of course, of course,” the captain chortled, now reaching out to touch Amash for the first time, clapping him soundly on the shoulder. “I truly believe that is your intention! And I can only imagine that you would do a wonderful job, given the chance!”
“Er… yes. Yes, indeed, sir--”
“But!” Debulosey pulled Amash in by the shoulder and leaned in closer, whispering as though allowing Amash in to the strictest confidences, “as with all gifts given to me by men whom I despise, I should hardly want to please him by using you as he intended. Should I?”
“Er… I do not… that is to say, I--”
“Very well!” Debulosey said, beaming and letting Amash go. “You can remain on board, but I am quite afraid that you shan’t have much work to do at all. We do, after all, have a few men on board who have managed to learn Kazellan, what with our voyages to Kazell every month for the past--oh, so many!--years, and we have managed fine without for that long!”
“Then, Captain, sir, if you do not mind my audacity,” Amash ventured, puzzled, “why do you not return me to Governor Marcell?” He asked this, rather than the question which really worried at him--that was, why it was that the captain considered Governor Marcell with such ill favor. However, it seemed imprudent to ask such a personal manner when he did not even know the captain’s first name, let alone from whence he hailed or his dealings with the Governor Marcell.
Debulosey merely smiled and chuckled and stated plainly, “As I said before. I plan on adding you to my collections of beautiful things I keep on board this ship. Surely you don’t mind? I mean as to make an object of you, not to belittle you--as aforementioned, I do indeed believe you to be every bit as intelligent and useful as His Excellence Mister High Honors Governor Marcell has expressed you to be--but rather to belittle he who gave you unto us as under false pretences.”
“False pretences, sir?”
“Yes. Obviously,” Debulosey waved his hand around the ship, “I have a capable crew, and we have managed all of our dealings fairly hitherto.”
“So, if you will allow me to ask, why did Governor Marcell actually send me here?”
Debulosey turned to Keyes and gave an odd smile, and then turned back to Amash, slowly. The nature of his smile was different now, and Amash felt entirely picked apart, but not in a flushed and embarrassing way. Rather, he felt chilled and dissected, as though pinned down and strewn out on a table.
“Tell me, Mr. Achan… Governor Marcell has doubtless told you to report back to him regularly?”
Amash’s eyebrows drew together in slight defense. “No, sir. He said nothing of the sort, and I had no plans to.”
Debulosey’s smile grew a little less certain, but these words only caused Keyes to scoff noisily and roll his eyes. “Of course you’ll know, Captain, if he had been sent in for informational purposes for His Excellence the Governor, he should hardly be inclined to say so to us.”
An expression of deep thought washed over Debulosey, still staring at Amash, still picking him apart and digging through him, as though there were some kind of mystery within his honesty. Amash began to sweat, and insisted once more, “He told me of the job in translation, and perhaps in diplomatic aid, and the possibility of… future advancement… and then he informed me of the meeting I was to have with you once I had accepted his offer. I promise, he made no attempts to make me a spy for him, and… and even if he had, I never would have--”
With a single curt nod, Debulosey cut off Amash’s defensive ramblings to utter silence. Both Amash and Keyes now stared at Debulosey, who looked to be silently measuring everything he had heard said, chewing on his lower lip. Amash’s heart, hammering indignantly against his ribs, became so loud that it drowned out any thought other than his sense of injustice at having been automatically assumed to be a spy. Then, however, he looked on as slowly Debulosey turned to Keyes.
“He might not be lying,” muttered the captain, sounding more than a little surprised.
“Sir,” Keyes implored. “He’s an agent of Marcell’s. Can he ever really be trusted?” There was a desperation in his voice, as though he wanted nothing more than to keep Debulosey from growing too close to Amash. Hearing this, Amash felt almost more stung than he had by the accusation itself.
Debulosey shook his head sharply. “No, no, that will be all Keyes, thank you. I am going to show Mr. Achan here to his chambers.” He smiled at Keyes. “Why, you should take this time to go ashore with cook and stock up on our food stores in market!”
Keyes looked like a dog who had carried his master’s slippers to him, only to have his master say he would prefer walk about barefoot. He shot a suspicious look at Amash, as though to tell him without words that he would without a doubt be watching, and not to try doing anything. Amash only stared back, not entirely certain whose trust he had, if anyone’s at all, or would indeed ever be able to achieve.
Begrudgingly, Keyes slunk off and disappeared down to the lower decks. When Amash looked away from him, it was to find that Debulosey was still holding him in that rapturous and confusing gaze Amash was already beginning to think of as inescapable and uncomfortable.
“Well?” Debulosey said, sweeping his arm and proceeding to the ornately decorated door before Amash, who hesitated a moment, and then hurried after. “It’s not much to look at, but that really is only because I could not possibly care less about how others perceive me. That was not an excuse, by the way. I try to make it a practice never to make excuses for myself.” Smirking he added, “Well, well, come on in, there is nothing in here that will bite… that I know of….”
Uneasily, Amash slipped through the door that Debulosey held open for him. It was more narrow of a doorway in practice than it had appeared, as undoubtedly all things on board a space-efficient ship like the Maid of Honor had to be, and Amash’s entire chest pressed up against the Captain’s as he slipped on through.
The first room was a rather narrow dining area, consisting of a long, plain wooden table lined with chairs. An open door off to the right offered a brief glimpse of a cluttered bedchamber, but it was to a smaller door on the left that Debulosey led Amash. He opened the door and nodded into it.
“You’ll sleep in here. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but it’s better than the hammocks down below.”
Amash wandered over and peeked in. A small room that might have been a rather large storage closet initially was presented before him, and a cot resting in the corner of it. Other than that, it was entirely unfurnished. A small circle of a window allowed some small amount of light to pour in.
His new room. Amash felt his stomach kick a little at the dread and excitement both that poured into his veins at the sight.
“I am sure that Mister Keyes has seen fit to let you know our dining standards.” At Amash’s nod, Debulosey let out a smile and patted him on the back again. “Very well. I give you leave to go and collect your things, and be back on the ship by nightfall. I do trust you to be here on time.” Then, kindly, he looked around as though to make sure nobody was listening, and he leaned in so close that Amash felt his breath on his face, whispering, “And, between the two of us, I’ve seen the results of some of your work at the capitol. They call you ‘the Miracle Worker’ behind your back. I am not entirely certain if I am more flattered that you have been assigned on this ship, or personally proud that we have robbed those ignorant arses of their key tool in perpetuating the cycle of lawmakers who need not think for themselves.”
With that, Debulosey was strutting away before Amash really had understood what had been said, and by the time the poor, confused Kazellan translator was able to turn around and open his mouth as if to reply, the captain was long gone out that ornately carved door.
Amash held his breath, feeling as though he had just been struck by a battering ram. What was his life going to be from now on? He wondered if indeed his entire career on board the Maid of Honor would be filled with anticipation and trepidation, as was this singular moment.