November 1711
Saturday, 4:30 PM
Open waters at last.
They were free.
Huzzah.
…
"I said, huzzah! Say it with me, now! One, two –"
"Huzzah!"
This time, the crowd of alchemists humored him, and Elmer – clinging to the riggings with one fist held high up into in the air in victory – looked down at his fellow alchemists in satisfaction as they cheered on the deck below.
Good. It was certainly time for a celebration. Everyone had been far too tense as of late, though Elmer supposed it couldn't be helped. The fear of pursuers had hung heavy over the ship ever since they'd made their hasty escape from Lotto Valentino's harbor some several days ago.
The first signs of relief came when they escaped the Tyrrhenian Sea; the shoulders of the alchemists relaxed incrementally when they reached the Balearic, and the first smiles cropped up in the Alboran. When they'd restocked in the Strait of Gibraltar, at Majeedah Batutah's final port stop off of Tarifa, those smiles became laughter.
Now the Spanish coast was finally behind them, and the alchemists threw their hats into the air and roared as if they had been given a new lease on life (which they would, if everything went to plan). Elmer made sure to note the reactions of every person he could see, and commit them to memory.
Szilard and Victor were their usual scowling disappointments, but beside them Gretto and Sylvie were holding each other so tight Elmer thought one of them was bound to burst. Nearby, Begg picked up little Czes (the boy might have been ten, but he was small for his age, and wholly innocent) and lifted him into the air. Elmer could hear Czeslaw laughing even from up on the rigging, and that alone was enough to make up for the two scowl-pokes.
In the middle of the crowd, Pierro and Italo shook each other's hands with vigor, and both immediately turned to shake the hands of the alchemists standing on either side of them. But Nile and Denkurō – where were they? Ah. Probably the captain's quarters. The two had retired there late the night before to hammer out ship maintenance assignments, or something along those lines.
(There had been a group argument over who should occupy the captain's quarters back in the Tyrrhenian – some said Sylvie should occupy them as the only woman, others said Szilard on account of his age, and when all eyes turned to Maiza he had declined forcefully and suggested that they use the cabin for storage and meeting purposes instead.)
The sound of laughter drew Elmer's attention. It had only been a single laugh, but it had been clear and piercing in its sincerity. Elmer flicked his gaze back over the crowd, skimming over Fritz and Armand to settle on Maiza, standing a little ways separate from the others. He looked more at ease than he had in several days, which Elmer was glad to see.
With such a rich commodity of jubilation to feast upon, Elmer almost didn't spot the game of artifice taking place between Fermet and Huey at the guardrail until the rustling glint of blue fabric caught his attention, shimmering bright among the more inconspicuous muted greens and browns that many of the others sported.
Huey leant with his back and forearms against the guardrail a little distance away from Maiza, his head tilted ever so slightly towards the rest of the alchemists. Fermet too leant against the guardrail – only facing forward, with his elbows supporting his weight. He stood a great deal distance separate from Huey and the others, his head turned toward the horizon as if transfixed by their newfound freedom.
Elmer knew better, of course.
He knew better than to believe that Huey's attention was actually concentrated on the celebrating, and he knew better than to assume that Fermet's thoughts lingered on the horizon and their promised future. Even without a spyglass, it was more than obvious that they were acutely aware of each other's presence, eyeing each other without eyeing each other.
Hm. He could…not interfere with all the insouciant duplicity going on, but the longer Huey deliberately exposed himself to Fermet the less and less he'd be able or willing to entreat with the others in merrymaking tonight, so…
"Huuuuueeeyy," Elmer called, waving at him enough gusto that his feet slipped off the rope and he found himself flailing mid-air gripping the rigging with one hand for dear life.
"Careful, Elmer!" shouted Zank, from where he stood at the helm. "You're not immortal yet!"
Zank's comment elicited another round of merry laughter from the crowd, and Elmer cackled right along with them even as he scrambled to find his footing. Despite being preoccupied with not plummeting to his death, Elmer didn't miss the way Huey failed to laugh along with the others – in fact, his face seemed a shade paler than it had been before Elmer slipped.
Elmer decided to sway in the salt-tinged wind a few moments longer (anything to prolong a laugh), but finally figured it would be best to descend to safety before he really did plummet to his death. Friendly claps to his back greeted him upon his return to the deck, and at the helm Zank rolled back his shoulders, cracked his neck and shouted promises to sing folksongs alongside Elmer tonight and drink together until neither of them could see straight.
"AhElmer. Czeswantedtosayhelloafterseeingyouupthere. Alltheexcitementhasexcitedhimyousee. He'sbeenenjoyinghimselfthoroughly. ThoughImust. Warnyou. Notto. Setabadexampleforhim. Withyourdangerousstunts."
Elmer looked to his left to see Begg pushing his way through the crowd, and he immediately ignored him for little Czes, whom Begg held firmly by the hand. The boy offered him a shy smile (yes – yes, it was definitely shy), and mumbled compliments towards Elmer under his breath.
"ThoughIhavetosay. Itwasgoodforhim. Hewassoscaredyouknow. Seeingeveryoneingoodspiritshashelped. Sothankyou."
Elmer finally afforded Begg his attention, now that the other man wore a brittle smile. With a chuckle, he replied, "That's great news! The more fears I can ease, the better."
"I must agree with Czes. It was a truly inspiring delivery."
"Thanks!" Elmer beamed at Fermet, who'd emerged from the throng behind Begg and Czes with nary a sound. "Does that mean I made you smile too?"
Fermet pressed a contemplative finger to his lips, relaxing his shoulders as he thought. With a tilt of his head, he asked, "I hope you'll forgive my impudence, but I must ask – does it honestly matter whether or not I smiled? After all…even if I did, you were not there to see it in person."
That was a fair question, and it had an easy answer. "Sure it does!" exclaimed Elmer. "Just knowing that someone smiled can brighten my day. But if you're that concerned, why don't you show me a smile now to make up for it?"
The corners of Fermet's mouth drooped, ever so slightly. "…Hm."
"Well, it doesn't have to be for me, you know. I'll settle for seeing you smile at something else instead. My feelings won't be hurt, promise."
After a moment Fermet looked down at Czes, and Elmer was gratified to see a fond smile spread across his face. Fermet placed his right hand on Begg's left shoulder, and with his left hand he gently ruffled Czes' hair.
"I'm pleased I had the chance to speak with you, but I think it's time for the three of us to return to our quarters and prepare a bath for Czes. We want him to look his best tonight, you see."
Elmer nodded. "Oh. All right. Have fun, Czes!"
Czes ducked his head, and he and his guardians said their goodbyes before disappearing into the crowd. Elmer didn't bother to watch their departure; already his mind was on Nile and Denkurō, whose smiles he still had yet to see. So, he maneuvered his way past Italo and toward the captain's quarters – only to stop when he crossed paths with Huey.
Huey's gaze trailed after Fermet and Begg, and then focused briefly on Elmer's face.
"Be more careful," he murmured absently, and continued on his way.
Elmer grinned and called out, "thanks! I won't!" to Huey's back before resuming his course for the captain's cabin. He paused at the door at the sound of raised voices from within, and then let himself into the room without knocking. Inside, he found Denkurō leaning over the central desk with both hands on its surface for support. Spread out between his hands were a large map and several papers with writing on them in languages Elmer didn't know.
Denkurō didn't acknowledge his presence – which was fairly unusual for him, but understandable given that he was arguing passionately with Nile.
In English.
How handy.
"This one believes that you are in the wrong, Master Nile."
Nile – who stood to Denkurō's right – folded his arms, his face darkened with formidable irritation.
"I say this. Tonight's frivolity matters not to me – she provided us with ample provisions to excuse a little feasting. But the sooner the ritual is held the easier our voyage will become."
Denkurō shook his head. "Master Maiza has his reasons for holding off the ceremony, and we must respect his wishes."
"If Maiza is as wise as the others believe him to be, he will agree with me."
Elmer coughed loudly, and Denkurō jerked his head up at the noise.
"Master Elmer!" Denkurō collected the documents into a stack and shoved them inside one of the desk's drawers. "This one apologizes for not noticing your presence. It was most rude of this one to do so."
"Don't worry about it," replied Elmer. "Oh, and you don't have to worry about hiding whatever those papers are! Can't read a scrap of them."
Light red embarrassment crept up Denkurō's cheeks, and he glanced at Nile out of the corners of his eyes. "They are from our Honored Master, who has entrusted certain…tasks unto our care once we arrive in the colonies. This one implores you to think nothing of them."
"Sure!" Truth be told, Elmer was curious about whatever Denkurō wanted to hide from him, but there were clearly more pressing matters to deal with here. "Now, what's gotten you two so out of sorts? You should have been out cheering and smiling with everybody else!"
Nile clucked his tongue. "I argue this. Would it not be rational to hold the summoning as soon as possible? Immortals do not have to worry about mortal matters such as starvation, or drowning. If we suffered damage in a storm and lost our victuals, we would undoubtedly still be secure in our immortality. Just think – the normal dangers of seeing to the rigging would vanish in an instant."
"Master Maiza has already made up his mind," Denkurō repeated. "And this one posits that even if we could not die forever from starvation, we might still die. How can we know for sure that such a temporary death is not still possible?"
Nile glowered, and uncrossed his arms so that he could reach for his impressively sized knife hanging from his belt.
"Denkurō, at times you are intolerable. I would—"
"—Forget all about it, make up and smile like old friends?"
Nile turned the full weight of his mighty glower toward Elmer, who held up his hands placatingly. "Look, I'm not about to say you're wrong or anything. But it's early days yet, and everyone's in a good mood, so – if you want to make your case to Maiza, can you do me a favor and not ask him about it tonight? Come join the party and take your mind off things!"
Denkurō nodded along as Elmer spoke, and once he'd finished speaking spoke in turn. "This one agrees with Master Elmer. Ask him tomorrow, or the day after, but not tonight."
Nile tched and looked away. "I say this. Fine. I will do as you say, but I am too busy to attend tonight's feast. The tackle needs to be checked, the hull must be inspected for cracks, and the deck must be swabbed. Someone must stay at the helm through the night, and Zank has already manned the wheel for hours. And I ask you this – who will agree to be our night watch?"
"Ooh! That'll be me!"
Both men turned to look at Elmer.
Elmer continued. "You two were in here last night discussing crew work, right? Well, go on and pick me for the regular night watch. I would be a great lookout!"
"This one hopes that this one is not overstepping, but this one thought you were the one who was looking forward to tonight the most."
Elmer's grin turned sheepish, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Ah, that's true. Can't deny it. What should I do?"
"I'll take tonight's watch."
Huey?
Elmer turned around to see Huey standing in the doorway. Huey offered him and the others a bland smile, and said, "please, allow me. I was intending to spend the night in solitude already, so you would not be imposing in the slightest."
"Aw, really, Huey? You don't mind? Thanks!"
Denkurō followed. "You too have this one's thanks. This one shall assist Master Nile with ship maintenance as well, so this one will not be able to attend the feast in full tonight either. This one hopes you do not take offense, Master Elmer."
"Nope! But make sure to stay long enough so that I can see you smile," replied Elmer, looking back at them. "Wow, I guess it really is a lot of work, living on a ship. Guess you'll get us all working hard soon enough."
"That is so, Master Elmer," replied Denkurō. "That is so."
::::
The feast that night consisted of the same fare they typically ate aboard the ship – salt pork, cheese, kidney beans, hardtack – but they called it a feast all the same, for their portions were slightly bigger than they typically were, and the alcohol slightly less watered down. Zank made it very clear that no, there would be no seconds on the food, especially since he and Maiza had already taken inventory of all the food and drink they'd consume tonight.
"Spoilsport," grumbled Victor, into his cup. "I thought you were a fairly amiable bloke, and here you are limiting my ale."
Zank flashed him a blinding grin in response. "Just because I can be amiable does not mean I am irresponsible, my friend. Maiza is well read when it comes to matters of accountancy, and he has already determined how lenient our stocks may be for tonight. If you have qualms, speak with him."
"Oh, I've got a lot of fucking qualms," retorted Victor. "Namely how water keeps leaking into the hull and wetting the back of my shirt. I thought this was supposed to be a top of the line ship."
"It is," interjected Maiza, who sat across from Gretto and Sylvie at the middle table. "It is extremely fast – we should make good time across the ocean, provided that storms do not delay us untowardly."
"Leaks? That's no good – I'll get to fixing it."
Zank stood and left the mess hall. An older gentleman (whose name Elmer did not remember) rose as he passed, and raised his stein the air with one hand and his pince-nez in the other. His peruke had gone slightly askew with the movement, and his cheeks were already ruddy from drink. He hiccupped, and warbled in heavily German-accented Italian, "I propose a toast! I want to propose a toast!"
"You already proposed a toast!" cried out an Arabic man sitting two seats down from Elmer. Hisham al-Basir, was that his name? I think it was. It wasn't an objection – more like a jovial observation, if anything.
"I am wanting to propose another one! Ach, du meine Güte…" The alchemist took a lengthy sip from his stein, composed himself, and continued. "Yes, a toast to all of us, to our future eternal health! Hurra, sei guten Mutes, hurra!"
It was word-for-word the same toast he'd given earlier, but no one seemed to mind. Several of the more light-hearted (or already tipsy) folks raised their cups, echoed, "to eternal health!" and knocked their glasses together.
"Hurrah, hurrah!" Elmer cheered, draining his ale in two large gulps. "To your happiness!"
"To happiness!"
One of the doors to the mess hall opened, and Zank reemerged with several tools in one hand and a length of oakum with in the other. After inspecting the hull for a good half minute, he set to work on sealing seams that Elmer couldn't make out from where he was sitting.
"About time!" remarked Victor, dunking his hardtack into his ale. "Let's not sink the ship before we reach the halfway point, hm?"
Across from Victor, Szilard snorted and set down his mug of wine. "Such insolent remarks from a stowaway."
"Hey! Just a moment – my name was on that last-minute addition just like yours, you all saw it. So I have every right to be here just as much as the rest of you people."
He shot Szilard a glare, snatching up his cup with an angry jerk of his hand.
"And I don't want to hear any complaints from you, old man. You always cavil at every little last thing – our entire fucking travel to Lotto Valentino, you kept caviling right and left and made the journey pretty fucking miserable. In fact, I propose a toast! A toast to Szilard the Caviler, long may he reign."
Victor raised his cup high into the air, his voice dripping with caustic venom. When nobody inclined to join in, he lowered his arm and said, "Anyway, sorry if I sounded a little high-and-mighty there, Zank. Thanks for patching the hull up."
"Of course. And I hope you were paying attention while I was caulking those cracks," Zank chortled. "Because you'll be doing the same thing over the course of this voyage."
Victor grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah, that's fair enough."
"Um – Fermet wants to toast too!"
Czes' soft announcement was lost in the din of general conversation, but Elmer picked up on it. He looked over to the windows, in front of which sat Czes, with Begg on his left and Fermet on his right. Fermet shook his head at the boy, murmuring, "Oh no, I couldn't possibly…"
"Go on, Fermet," urged Maiza, who'd heard Czes' announcement as well. "Don't be so modest. I'm sure everyone wants to hear it."
"Heraus mit der Sprache! We can't hear, louder please!"
"Oh my… If you insist." Fermet stood, clenching his mug in his right hand. Elmer picked up his own cup, stood, and rapped on it with his fork to catch everyone's attention. Once the room settled down a little, Fermet began to speak.
"If I may be so bold, I'd first like to toast to Professor Dalton, the alchemist without whom this venture would be impossible."
"Hear, hear!"
Fermet dipped his head, and continued. "I'd also like to acknowledge Nile and Denkurō, who so selflessly man the ship while we revel. And to our reliable Zank, of course. A toast to them."
Zank led the audience in clapping, and Elmer chuckled into his cup.
"Speaking of absent friends, I would like to…" Fermet's lips twitched, and he covered his mouth and bowed his head, turning it slightly to the side. After a moment, he uncovered his face and raised his head to survey the crowd.
"Excuse me. I would like to spare a few words for Huey Laforet, whom as I understand it volunteered to take tonight's lookout. He is still recovering from a most terrible tragedy, and I am sure he wanted desperately to avoid dampening the festivities with his own grief. I implore you to keep him in your thoughts tonight, if nothing else."
The round of "hear, hear" was decidedly more sober than the first one had been, and Fermet gave the crowd a sad, pained smile – which turned gentle when he gazed down at Czes.
"Finally, I would have everyone acknowledge just how brave Czes has been thus far. The more time I spend with him upon the Advena Avis, the more I am convinced he is the most courageous out of all of us." He raised his cup high into the air. "To Czes."
"To Czes!" The alchemists whistled and pounded the tables and stomped their feet in rhythmic succession. Czes blushed deep red, looking upward at Fermet in awe.
Zank joined Elmer on the bench and slung an arm around his shoulder. "Come on," he said, pouring half the ale in his cup into Elmer's empty one. "A good folksong will really get the feast going!" Elmer laughed, and the two of them clinked their cups together; seconds later, Zank burst out into a rousing folksong from his homeland, and Elmer copied him as best he could.
The rest of the night was spent in song and light-hearted discussion – and briefly dance when Elmer attempted to demonstrate a hornpipe dance he'd once learned from a stranded English sailor – he made it a good thirty seconds in before nearly bowling over a very tipsy Fritz (who'd attempted to join in). Ten minutes later, Gretto accidentally let it slip that Sylvie had a very nice singing voice, and after some persistent cajoling from the men, Sylvie sang an Italian folksong in a high, quavering voice to raucous applause.
It was only when the party was winding down did Denkurō finally enter the mess hall, squeezing past Armand heading back to his cabin with a sagging Fritz in tow. Begg and Fermet had already retired early to their cabin with Czes asleep over Begg's shoulder, and several more alchemists followed Czes' lead – dozing in their seats, empty cups tipped over onto their side. Gretto and Sylvie danced together in the aisle – slow and tender, with Sylvie's head resting upon Gretto's chest.
"Master Nile decided to take over the night watch," Denkurō said quietly, nodding at Elmer and Maiza. "This one hopes you forgive his absence tonight. This one also cannot stay for long – this one must return to the wheel immediately."
"Of course," murmured Maiza, who was probably more sober than a good eighty percent of the alchemists. "I'll be sure to thank him tomorrow."
Content enough with the smiles he'd seen over the course of the party, Elmer excused himself and stumbled his way back to the cabin he shared with Huey, rocking from side to side more than the boat itself. He still had enough sense to open the door quietly, and upon doing so he spotted Huey in the far bed, curled up on his side and facing the wall. The regular rise and fall of his chest indicated sleep, but just to be sure, Elmer tiptoed over to his bed.
"Huey?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"
There was no response. Elmer leant at a steep angle over Huey, and saw stress lines contorting his expression.
Elmer frowned, but deigned not to wake his cabin mate – instead, he retired to his own bed, and folded his arms under his head. Closing his eyes, he mumbled:
"Sweet dreams."
::::
In the days following the massacre, death wormed its way into the hearts of its immortal passengers.
It seeped into the woodwork and into the metal; it clung to every exhaled breath and too-loud footstep. Every floorboard creak and howl of wind ached death throes and funeral bells, while meals turned to ash with every bite and liquid to mercury with every sip.
None of the others could bear to pick up the strewn clothes, at first. It was a bizarre thing to walk through the ship and come across a full set of clothing in a corridor, in a doorway, tucked away under an alcove. They were stories; they were gravestones. Maiza avoided his room completely – unable to bear the sight of his brother's clothes still laid atop his bed.
Elmer still recalled with perfect clarity how Fritz – wild and red-eyed – had grabbed Victor's shirt and slammed him against the wall in the hours following the massacre, sobbing, "You! You knew him, you worked together – how could you have let this happen? It's all your fault!"
Victor had put his hands on Fritz's shoulders, looking down upon him with tired, resigned eyes. "I won't deny that I wasn't completely shocked by what happened. Szilard was one hell of a goddamn greedy bastard. But I didn't expect he'd go and – that he'd – that –goddammit, I'm so fucking sorry it happened, Fritz. You're my friend, and I – I – fuck." He'd swiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist, and continued. "I also won't deny that I didn't know everyone all that well, but that doesn't mean I don't care."
"Fritz! Fritz!"
Armand skidded around the corner, nearly knocking into Elmer (who'd been eavesdropping at the intersection) - and when he saw Victor gripping Fritz's shoulders his hands curled into fists.
"Hold it!" hissed Elmer, seizing Armand's arm. "It's not what you think!"
"Armand?" Fritz swiveled his head round to look at the two of them, at the end of the hallway. "What are you doing?"
Armand shook his arm free of Elmer's grasp. "When I couldn't find you, I thought…" He eyed Victor, and then shook his head at Fritz. "What matters is that you're safe. Come on – let's go."
Try as he might, Elmer had been unable to get Victor's desolate expression out of his head for the next two days, and it was that same incident he now mulled over in his head, descending the stairs into the lower deck. How can I get them to smile under these circumstances? Goodness knows, he'd been trying to do just that – incessantly talking of an optimistic future at meal times (though the others tended to retreat into their own rooms for meals, these days) and rattling off tongue-twisters and jokes to those nearby. Nothing worked, and the choking ache of misery that stubbornly continued to persist was really starting to get on Elmer's nerves.
"Oi, Elmer."
Victor – from where he leant against the largest round column – temporarily uncrossed his arms to raise his right hand in greeting. Next to him, Nile and Begg greeted Elmer by way of sober nods.
Elmer flashed a bright smile at them in return, stepping past Pierre's clothes – which had been kicked to the wall in the commotion of the massacre and since forgotten. When he came to stand at Begg's left side, he winked at his Dormentaire associate and said, in English, "Hi, all! Looks like I've interrupted some hush-hush conversation I shouldn't be in the know about?" He added, "what's going on?" in Italian for Begg's benefit.
Nile shook his head. "It is like this. Something ought to be done about the clothing of our fallen brethren. We must pay their deaths the respect they deserve."
"Not to mention…" Victor wet his lips. "…It's not exactly easy to walk the ship with – with them there."
"Czeskeepsaskingme 'wheredidtheygo' wheneverhecomesacrosstheclothes. Heissolost. Iaminagreementwiththeothers. Somethingmustbedone."
Elmer stroked his chin. "I see. That makes sense – seeing those clothes lying around the ship probably would hurt some people, wouldn't it? Rip the wound open anew, so to speak? That's definitely not something anyone wants. So what's the plan?"
Victor shrugged half-heartedly, his gaze flicking between Begg and Nile. "I guess we oughta call a meeting first – probably shouldn't move the clothes without the others' permission. From there, we should have a majority decision on what to…do with them."
"Sounds fine to me!" Elmer pushed up his sleeves and rubbed his hands together. "Well, let's get started! The sooner everyone can start smiling again, the better."
The four of them went knocking on cabin doors, and soon enough everyone – with the exception of Nile (who went to take over helm duty) and Begg (who elected to take over the watch) – gathered in the mess hall. It was the largest congregation the mess hall had seen since before the massacre, and Elmer didn't miss how quite a few of the others kept their backs pressed against the walls and kept large empty spaces between them and the others, stiff with paranoia.
Not all of them, though – Maiza sat at the middle table, slumped forward with his hands clasped between his legs, burning a hole through the floor with his stare. Elmer and Huey sat near him, and when Victor entered he looked around the room, swallowed, and did the same. The only two immortals that chose to stand were Denkurō and Zank, each in a separate aisle.
Unspoken tension clogged the air, and various wary eyes glanced over at Maiza and away again – yet he made no inclination towards speech. Victor cast Elmer an uncomfortable look, fingers tapping restlessly on his knee.
It was Zank who finally made the first move. "Friends, we all thank you for agreeing to this meeting. The time has come for us to discuss what should be done with the remains of our fallen brethren – we can no longer let them lie strewn about the ship as they are now."
Remains? That's a funny choice of words.
Again, glances flickered toward Maiza – but he remained immobile. One had to wonder if the man was even listening to the conversation.
"You're implying there are choices," said Armand, his tone either a touch dry or a touch bitter. This was another distinction Elmer sometimes had trouble with. "You're implying that there's an either or."
"No," countered Zank. "Not if that isn't the consensus."
Armand scoffed, splaying his hands out in a wide, unhappy gesture. "Shall I guess some potentials, then? Let's see. Either we give their sartorial remains a sea burial as a unanimous token of respect, or we all go the practical route and harvest what they've left behind for our benefit? An extra coat for Laforet, better boots for Garott, more cloth for Miss Lumiere when she repairs the clothes upon our backs?
"Ah, but perhaps there's a third option – a free-for-all, in which we all individually find the clothing of those who we were closest to and make our own judgments on what is to be done with them. Or perhaps not?"
Zank sighed. "All of these are options. We must decide on one of them."
"A ceremony – yes, a burial ceremony." The German had spoken up, from where he sat with his back to the hull. "To send them off with honor, the proper way."
"There are practical considerations to consider too," responded Armand, shifting forward in his seat. "We are at sea, and one might argue that it would be a drastic waste to cast them overboard."
The German stood, a vein pulsing in his forehead. "How dare you! Selfish like I never saw, such rudeness to them!"
"I am only saying—"
"I care not what you say, I say—"
"If you all would just—"
"Please!"
The hall fell silent – and all eyes went toward Maiza, who had gotten to his feet at last.
"Please," he said, his voice ragged and cracked with grief, "my brother is dead."
He left the mess hall without another word.
Elmer spared Sylvie a moment's notice, wondering if she would need comforting. She sat taut on the bench, gripping its edge with both her hands – and dark, cold hatred twisting her face into something nearly unrecognizable. No – no, she did not need comforting – though Fritz shifted over on the bench and put a hand on her shoulder anyway.
Elmer set his jaw and followed after Maiza. He eventually found the other man on the deck, staring up at Begg on the lookout platform. Elmer shivered a little at the crisp wind, but Maiza appeared not to notice the cold.
"Maiza?"
Maiza tilted his head to the side as Elmer joined him. "Elmer. May I request a favor from you?"
"Of course! Anything."
"Thank you." Maiza nodded, his raw anguish from earlier now replaced with a sharp weariness that made him seem – smaller, somehow. "I would like to take tonight's watch, if you wouldn't mind."
The answer required no consideration. "Not at all. Is there anything else that—"
"No." Maiza winced at his own brusqueness, and shook his head – more at himself than at Elmer. "No, there is not."
::::
The next day, Elmer asked Maiza at the end of dinner whether he wanted to take over the night watch again.
(He didn't ask what he and Sylvie planned to do with Gretto's clothes.)
(He didn't ask whether or not Maiza had smiled while looking at the stars.)
(He didn't.)
Maiza pushed away his plate. "No, go on ahead. I must thank you again for agreeing to the switch – I know how much you enjoy the watch."
"I'm just glad I could help," replied Elmer, as he swung his legs over the bench. "Well, I guess I might as well make an early start of it. Are you turning in?"
Maiza stiffened, and then relaxed minutely. "Ah – I slept earlier. I may stroll the deck tonight to try and clear my head."
"Oh? Well, I'll keep an eye out for you, then!"
He paused at the door to wave goodbye to Maiza and the sparse few others who'd ventured out to the galley – Armand, Denkurō, Nile, and Victor – before exiting and heading for the stairs. The same stiff breeze from yesterday greeted him once he emerged onto the uppermost deck. Guess I'm in for a chilly night.
Elmer made quick work of the upwards climb via the ratlines, but slowed at the futtock shrouds – the angle required him to maneuver with his back leaning backwards over the rest of the ship at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and he was glad that at least the ropes weren't slick with water from the evening mist. It didn't help that the spyglass he'd nicked from the captain's quarters slapped at his thigh from where he'd hooked it at his waistband.
"Here, I've got you."
Fritz leant carefully over the platform and extended his hand, which Elmer accepted gratefully. Once he was safely up and over, he wiped his brow and laughed, "Thanks! Those last few ropes are always tricky."
Fritz nodded in agreement, but he seemed distracted as he bent to pick up his lantern – eyes looking elsewhere, lips pursed. Elmer frowned, but before he could inquire what was wrong Fritz straightened and turned to look at him full in the face.
"Elmer."
Elmer was taken aback at the hardness of Fritz's eyes, but he merely smiled and cocked his head. "Yes?"
"I will hunt him," Fritz said, low and vehement. "I will find Szilard Quates and demand justice, I swear it."
Such a promise was not one Elmer had expected from young, idealistic Fritz, and he looked at his younger compatriot from head to toe. Fritz stood with a wide, proud stance, holding his lantern up high - illuminating his flinty gaze and set jaw with a flickering yellow hue. In that very moment, Elmer felt sure that Fritz embodied the young, passionate university student that Jean had been so fond of incorporating into his plays and occasional short stories – a character who always had dreams of changing the world.
Elmer figured that Fritz was exactly the sort of person Jean would have romanticized, had he seen Fritz as he stood now. The question was - if Elmer were to act the Author in place of Jean, should he fuel the other's dreams of justice and revenge and encourage him towards the hero's role – or should he take the opposite route and warn him from such dangerous ambitions? Let injustices stay injustices, he might warn. Stay safe and smile for the life that you are lucky to still have.
Instead, he took the lantern from Fritz and nodded. "Well, I'm actually planning on searching for Szilard myself – though my plans for him are different from yours."
"What? What do you mean?" Apprehension furrowed Fritz's skin and whitened his knuckles, and Elmer chuckled abashedly in return.
"I don't intend on seeing anything in the way of 'justice' done – I want to find him and convince the old man to repent his ways."
"What?" Fritz gaped at him, then recovered and snapped, "that's a fool's dream. He can't be reasoned with. I saw him—" he shuddered "—I saw him devour Rutger, and his face was ghoulish with pleasure. He will have his fill of us all if we are complacent."
Elmer squared his shoulders. "And that's why I'm going to find him and reason with him. I want you all to smile, but I want him to smile too, and he's not going to do much of that if he can't catch you. And since I'm not about to give you up to him, this is the only way I can think of that has the tiniest chance of working. Don't you see?"
"I can see that your plan has no chance of working." Fritz shook his head in disbelief. "I can also see that you're ridiculous. Making that bastard smile? He deserves no happiness."
"That may be so, but I still want to see his smile regardless." Elmer shrugged, and clapped Fritz on the shoulder. "Well, I think you'd better head on down. Armand's been waiting in the mess hall with a plate of food for you for a while now."
Fritz closed his eyes and sighed heavily at that bit of news, and descended with a hasty thanks and good-bye.
Elmer reached for his spyglass and set to watching the moonrise.
Zank took over for Nile at the wheel after the first hour, which Elmer was glad for. Zank, at least, was usually receptive to Elmer shouting down jokes and puns at him. Nile – not so much.
Another hour went by, and Elmer passed the time by picturing what was going on below deck – Sylvie finishing up the last patchwork on Begg's coat by candlelight, Maiza and Denkurō likely reviewing inventory, Victor mixing paint for tomorrow's paint jobs. The lantern (which he'd hung on a hook protruding from the lower mast) didn't provide much in the way of warmth, so he settled for rubbing his arms and watching his breath hang in the air in front of him.
Maiza emerged from the lower deck around the fourth hour mark, and Elmer observed him stroll around the deck with his spyglass for a couple minutes – handy thing, having a spyglass. Perhaps he wouldn't return this one to the captain's quarters after his shift ended.
The platform creaked behind him, and he turned his head to the left just enough to see Huey sitting down, leaning his back against the mast with his knees drawn up to his chest.
"Oh, hullo," said Elmer. "Fancy seeing you here. Want to look at the stars with me? I can't get enough of them."
Huey shook his head, his expression one of polite dismissal. "No, thank you."
"That's a shame. You ought to give it a go – it would be good for you."
His cabin mate did not reply, and instead looked off at a horizon that was barely visible by the light of the moon and stars. Elmer shifted so that he was leaning with his back against the sole guardrail the platform had to offer.
"Couldn't sleep again, huh? I know you're really into the whole 'stay awake until you literally can't any longer' mode, but you should go for a more regular sleep schedule. Maybe then you wouldn't be so cranky."
Huey shrugged impassively. "I am sure it would not change a thing."
"Maybe." Elmer looked upwards, taking in the starry sky that was still so marvelous compared to the polluted Lotto Valentinian one he'd had to tolerate for six years. "When I was with the Church, I did the same thing, sometimes. I'd stay awake for as long as I could…other times I'd sleep as often as I could. I tried a lot of things. Have I told you that already? Ah, but you're not exactly a voluntary insomniac for the same reason."
Huey still did not look at him, but his hands had twitched at the mention of the Church. Elmer pressed on, peeling off the guardrail to advance a few steps forward in Huey's direction.
"Oh and before you ask – yes, I do intend to keep my promise. That's why you came up here, right? You trust me so little. I'm hurt."
Now Huey whipped his head over to look at him, off-guard. "No, that's—" Huey paused, and resettled himself back into indifference. "I trust you more than anyone here. More than anyone else."
Elmer sat down next to Huey, and slung a comfortable arm around his shoulders. Both of their backs pressed against the damp wood of the lower mast.
"You want to hear something funny? I've heard you scream, but you've never heard me scream."
Huey's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and his shoulders tensed under Elmer's arm. Good. Elmer knew – he'd been told over and over that he crossed lines, though he often had no idea where the lines even were – he knew that he would be crossing a line. He'd anticipated it. He had opened his mouth with the express purpose of forcing Huey to recall a memory that could have never been anything else but taboo.
He thought he could see Monica's smile reflected in Huey's eyes.
"Would you like to hear me scream? I bet you're curious, deep down inside. Granted, it's been a long time, so I don't know how to best go about it…"
Huey moved his lips, but no sound emerged from within. Finally, he ground out, "no, Elmer. I do not…want to hear your scream."
Elmer nodded, and he refrained from replying immediately – just to let a few moments of silence stretch between them. "I have to say, you were pretty short with me, before we boarded the Advena Avis. You asked me if I could promise not to ever change, for your sake – and I still have a lot of questions about that first part, by the way, but let's put that aside for now – anyway, you were fairly quiet about you changing, and I want to talk to you about that."
Huey closed his eyes, and nodded as if to say continue. Elmer squeezed his left shoulder in response.
"You don't have to say anything – let me do all the talking. It's just that – well, when we reunited, I first thought you'd changed completely. It turns out I was wrong about that – you still have a long way to go, no matter what you might or might not think about yourself. But I don't know how much of a change that is – and I'm betting you don't know how much too far is either. Am I wrong?"
Huey was on full alert now, for he'd straightened fully under Elmer's arm, pressing his fists into his thighs. Elmer stood, and Huey stood with him.
"Well, I just might have an idea about that."
He bent down, rolled his right trouser cuff upward, and retrieved one of Nile's hunting knives from where he'd strapped it to his shin. Once he straightened, he cradled it in both his hands and looked at Huey, whose attention was solely with the knife. Once he registered that Elmer was looking at him, he dragged his gaze upward to meet Elmer's gaze.
Elmer offered the knife to him. "Stab me."
Huey blanched, and instinctively stepped backward. "…No."
Elmer moved the knife so that he was holding it horizontally, with his left hand holding its handle while he kept the sharp blade pointed at his own stomach. With his right hand, he gently guided Huey's hands so that they held the blade, and then covered Huey's hands with his own. Huey did not resist – as if he were some uncomprehending child – and his gaze remained locked with Elmer's.
"All right, Huey," he said, and took a step backward, and then another. Huey moved with him as he talked.
"If you can someday – without anyone's help, or interference – if you can someday of your own accord do this—" and he jerked Huey's hands forward, the blade sinking into Elmer's stomach with a familiar terrible chill. His breathed hitched with pain as it sunk in further and deeper than any blade had ever pierced him before, and a choked, agonized moan escaped his lips.
He stepped backward, and Huey moved with him, staring at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, hands straining under Elmer's as if he wanted nothing more to pull away.
"—If – if you can someday voluntarily do this to me and look upon my face without remorse—"
His right foot struck air. Metallic liquid constricted his throat, and he coughed blood. The searing pain of his gut wound begged for relief.
"—Then you'll know that you've passed the point of no return."
With Elmer's last bit of strength, he released the knife and shoved Huey backward. Huey reached for him, but he toppled backward and fell over the edge of the platform.
He hurtled to the ground, the world passing by in muted colors, wind howling in his ears. Someone shouted his name, but he could not tell whether the sound came from above or below – and he lost himself to darkness.
::::
The two of them did not bring up the incident for the rest of the journey – Huey acted as if it had never happened, and if he didn't want to talk about it, Elmer saw no reason to bring it up. In fact, their next true conversation did not occur until the last day of their voyage, when the North American shore was finally, finally visible on the horizon on one unusually sunny Saturday morning.
Elmer and Victor took a break from polishing brass to stare at the approaching shoreline, and Fritz abandoned painting the deck to alert those on the lower deck to the news. Soon, the entirety of their group stood upon the deck to gawk at the sight. Begg hoisted Czes upon his shoulders so that he could better see, Fermet standing next to them with his hands gripping the guardrail. Many of the others did the same – but the mood was totally different from the jovial atmosphere from several weeks ago.
They should have been celebrating – but in place of celebratory cheers and hat-throwing, most of the alchemists exchanged uneasy mutters, worry lines creasing their skin and bowing their backs. Elmer raised his spyglass to his eye and studied strips of yellow and green through it, and the brown of what he figured was a port town. He wondered if its inhabitants would smile at the sight of an unexpected ship making port, or if they'd be hostile right off the bat.
Someone joined him at his left side. Still peering at the coast through the spyglass, Elmer asked, "how long do you think it'll take for Szilard to arrive after us? If he's not already arrived, I mean."
"I couldn't say," Huey answered, and Elmer lowered his spyglass to look at him. "He may very well have been eaten by some great sea creature, for all we know."
"That's true!" Elmer snickered at the thought. "What if he's been eaten by a shark? Or a whale? Or a sea serpent, or a kelpie, or a kraken, or—"
Huey smiled faintly. "Those last three don't exist, Elmer."
"You don't know that for sure!" Elmer countered, full of humor. "After all, we exist."
The smile faded. "Yes," murmured Huey, looking downward to the sea. "We do."
"Hey, you two." Victor sauntered up to them without his usual fanfaronade, hands shoved into his coat pockets and his shoulders hunched defensively. "What're you planning on doing once we reach shore?"
Huey offers him a polite sort-of-smile, his left hand resting on the guardrail. "May I first ask what you plan on doing, Victor?"
"Me? Fuck, I dunno." Victor looked briefly toward the shore, then back again at them. He briefly withdrew his right hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck. "I thought I'd wait in town until old man Szilard showed up, but shit – he could really appear anywhere else, couldn't he? What're the chances he'll wash up at the same town? I guess I'm just going to have to book it with the rest of 'em. Figure out how to make a living here in the meantime."
He ground his teeth together, frustration contorting his expression. Shaking his head slightly, he refocused his attention back towards them. "Anyway, what about you?"
Huey gave Elmer an unreadable look, and Elmer chuckled and shrugged. "I'm probably going to stay in town for a few days. Good for us that we speak the local language, right? But that's the plan as it stands now. Maybe do a little fishing. See if I can't make the entire town smile before the week is out."
"That's…it? That's…all you've got?"
"Pretty much?" Elmer rocked back on his heels and continued. "From then on, I'll walk the land and continue making people smile while keeping an eye and ear out for Szilard. If you're looking for some great big master plan, I can't help you there."
Victor stared at him blankly, then threw his hands up into the air and stomped away, muttering, "I knew you wouldn't be of any help, head in the goddamn clouds all the time…"
Elmer merely smiled at his compatriot's retreating back, and turned to face Huey once more. "Well, you know the plan, at any rate."
Huey eyed him, and nodded – that faint smile of his playing at his lips.
Elmer gripped the guardrail with both hands, speaking out loud more for himself than for Huey. "I'm going to make as many people smile as I can. I'm going to make Szilard smile, and make Fermet smile, and make even you smile, someday, just you wait."
"Make them?" It wasn't really a question – Huey surely needed no answer to it – but his companion phrased it as one anyway.
"Make them. You know – I haven't told you this before, Huey, but back when we used to be mortal I actually thought at one point that maybe one lifetime wouldn't be enough." Elmer's smile-that-wasn't-a-smile faltered slightly, and he looked upward seeking stars that were invisible in the bright blue sky. "But now that I'm immortal – maybe I've finally got a chance to someday figure out if I can smile genuinely or not. It might take a lifetime, or maybe thousands of them…but I might have a chance now."
He inched closer to Huey, so that their arms brushed together. Huey remained as carefully impassive as ever – he'd really perfected that, hadn't he – and Elmer looked him in the eye.
"That's why I'm going to make another promise to you," he began. "I promise that I'm not going to let myself get devoured any time soon. It's not something I particularly wanted to happen in the first place, but I thought I should promise it anyway. There are so many people I want to see happy before then – including myself. So I'm going to stay alive for as long as I can."
Huey lowered his gaze, and didn't speak for several seconds. "Thank you," he murmured, "for promising me that."
Elmer laughed easily, and reached into his trouser pockets, finding and fishing out a one-page letter he'd penned to Esperanza the night before. "Hold on – I almost forgot I had a letter I need to send."
Say, demon, would you mind?
He creased it gently in half, and let the breeze snatch it from his fingers. He and Huey watched as the wind carried the letter higher and higher, until it winked out of existence in a ripple of sunshine.
Elmer and Huey fell into companionable silence, and he closed his eyes to the sound of waves lapping at the side of the hull. Behind him, he could hear Czes gasping in excitement over the approaching coastline, and as Huey pressed his arm against Elmer's own, he raised his hand and brushed his lips with his fingers in contemplation. Then, he grinned as widely as he could and pretended – just for one tantalizing moment – that he was happy.
The moment passed. He opened his eyes and nudged Huey's side.
"You never told Victor what you plan on doing once we reach shore. What say you stick around and do some fishing with me for a little while?"
Huey chuckled softly, and leant over the guardrail. "I'd like that." He turned to face Elmer, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "I'd like that very much."
Note: "Mikal" is pronounced "Mee-kahl," and Toli is pronounced "Tow-lee" in Spanish.
You might remember Pierre and Italo as the two named alchemists who are devoured aboard the Advena Avis from the 2007 anime adaptation. They're the only non-main cast alchemists who've had names, so of course I made use of them (I'd say - Narita, please release a full passenger list, but then at least four if not five of my characters here would be immediately invalidated...)
A few things:
As many of you already know, Elmer's country of origin is not specified in the novels or by Narita outside of them at any point. I can only assume that Tyler Walker had John Burgmeier go with an English accent in the 2007 anime's dub because of his name. I chose to have Elmer's native language as English here because I wanted to emphasize the isolation he experiences - or at least feels - once he's in the arms of the Church.
We're given no indication that Elmer ever stayed at more than one chapel/church in the novels - and I wouldn't be surprised if Narita had only intended for Elmer to ever stay in one place during his time with them. However, it seems to me that a convoy transporting a severely abused boy anywhere would likely take him to the nearest sanctuary available, rather than a big, well-known church (the sort that someone like Esperanza would attend - aka the one he meets Elmer for the first time in canon) in a city further away.
Huey and Elmer's conversation was a careful construction based on two specific conversations of theirs - the one before they board the Advena Avis, and the one they have on the pier once they reach America. I can't be sure of the exact specifics of their pre-AA conversation, but in the fic I've assumed that Huey was rather barebones about the details of his second promise.
One of the ideas I had for a segment while writing this was a 2000s-set one in which Elmer, Nile, and Denkurō (and possibly a couple others of the crew) accidentally get caught up in a bank robbery, and Elmer volunteers himself and the other immortals as human meat shields. I didn't write it out because I thought it didn't exactly fit the theme, and we still don't know whether or not they'll survive 2003, but - hey, maybe I'll write it as a separate one-shot or something.
Finally, here's a huge thank you to all the people on the r/fanfiction Discord Server for listening to me shriek and despair over the fic for the last two months, and for their advice - with special thanks to Elsie, Pashow, Hermit, and thanks especially to Atojiso for combing through the fic with some very useful and excellent edit commentary. I desperately needed fresh eyes to read over this monstrosity, and you more than delivered.
Oh, and AE for the conversation on melting flesh, which is a sentiment I don't normally experience but did here.
I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.
