Tethered (Novella) - By Meljean Brook Page 0,57
been the test. Yasmeen glanced at the other women aboard, and there was a soft clatter as more weapons were unstrapped and dropped to the deck.
She glanced at Maria Barriga de Lata. The scullery woman’s face was pale, but determined.
“Go on,” Yasmeen said.
All went as before until the guard’s hands found the tin can of her belly. Maria began to panic, pleading for help in babbling Portuguese, holding the latch over her breastbone.
“Mr. Bushke!” When the man looked at her, Yasmeen said. “My scullery woman’s guts are barely contained by that thing. Please take care.”
Bushke nodded to the guard. Sobbing, Maria let her hands be drawn away from the latch. The guard began to draw down the door.
Yasmeen hadn’t known exactly what Cook, Tom Blacksmith, and Maria had concocted between them, but the guard suddenly gagged and turned his face away. The loop of an intestine slid out. A few of Yasmeen’s crew bent over, retching. The others watched in horror.
Bushke spoke softly—the guard’s name. Visibly steeling himself, the guard removed one glove and gingerly reached in. For the space of three seconds, he poked around, then backed away. Maria’s hysterical weeping as she stuffed the intestine back in and closed the latch had a wild note of laughter.
Mrs. Fortescue wept in earnest and put her arm around the woman when the search was over. The navigator hadn’t known the truth. Most of the crew didn’t. Bilson frowned a bit, but didn’t give anything away.
The rest proceeded smoothly. When they were all gathered below, Bushke addressed them, spreading his arms.
“I welcome you to New Eden. No doubt you have questions, but the hour is late, and we have time to address them in the following days. Tonight, you only have to know that you are free here.” His gaze settled on Yasmeen. “You are all equal. We have no captains here, no cabin boys—we are all citizens of paradise.”
He paused, perhaps looking for a response, or to make a stronger impression on them. After a moment, he continued, “We have quarters set up for you to take your rest. I apologize for the austerity, and for the bars. It is only a temporary measure and created for the protection of our citizens. We are a simple people, and our survival dependent upon shared labor and belief. As soon as you have learned the rules that govern this city, you will be allowed to roam freely.”
It was a short distance, a walk through a grove bursting with plump oranges and carpeted by thick grasses. The low bleating of a lamb carried across the terrace, underscored by the thrum of the engines below. The sweet fragrance of jasmine mingled with the lush coconut of the pinkball flower.
An old cargo hold formed their quarters, the hull covered with long green calabash. Here she saw the source of the perfume; jasmine wound through the melon vines and around the iron bars that had replaced the loading doors. Inside, bunks formed rows within the hold, which looked out over the central gardens.
The doors clanged shut behind them. The lock clicked home; a glance at the mechanism told Yasmeen that it would pose no difficulty when the time came to open it. She watched the guards leave, then faced the crew, who were milling between the bunks. A few had already claimed theirs. “Sleep, if you can,” she told them. “We’ll have a better look in the morning.”
Beside her, Archimedes plucked a sprig of jasmine and tucked the stem above his ear. “And I will wear this as an adornment, since I can’t hold you tonight. Will you sleep?”
No. “I’ll keep watch.”
“If you agree to rest, I’ll cover your bunk with flowers.” He glanced at the single privy in the corner. “I have to admit this is clever. After a few days in here, staring out at all of that incredible beauty…Who wouldn’t agree to behave just to escape this little prison?”
Who wouldn’t, indeed? At the bars, Yasmeen broke off a bloom of jasmine—her namesake. She crushed the delicate star-shaped petals with her thumb, releasing a burst of perfume. “Paradise,” she murmured.
Archimedes nodded, and looked out over the moonlit gardens. “And there’s no doubt who the snake is.”
* * *
To Archimedes’ relief, she rested after a while—in a fashion. He dragged a thin pallet off one of the bunks and over to the bars, and they sat together, watching the dawn come.
With it, the city woke. In droves they came to the gardens, all of them