“I didn’t,” Gondoleery said. She stabbed at a potato and missed.
Aaron looked at the woman’s burns. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.” She looked at him, fork poised to stab the potato once more. “So, High Priest, how do you plan to keep Quill from being attacked now that the idiots in Artimé have been attracting visitors?”
“I have plans,” Aaron said. “But I’m curious, how would you do it?”
“It’s not my problem now, is it?” Gondoleery skewered the potato, popped it in her mouth, and set down her fork as she chewed.
“Well, that’s what I’d like to talk to you all about,” Aaron said. “I’ve invited you here because I’m looking to bring back governors to the ruling board in Quill. I need people who will appeal to the Wanteds yet keep the Necessaries from revolt.” He looked around the table, from Liam to Gondoleery to Strang. “I’d like you to be my governors, and I hope you will consider it.”
“What’s in it for us?” Gondoleery asked, picking her teeth with a charred fingernail. “Besides work?”
Aaron smiled. At last, he thought. He pushed back his plate, set his utensils down, and folded his hands in front of him. “My dear Gondoleery, I’m so very glad you asked.”
Breathe to Survive
Florence!” Alex shouted. But there was no chance Florence could hear him. She was stuck inside the glass cage, plunging farther and farther beneath the sea.
Simber circled above the water, with Alex, Carina, and Sky all straining to see below the surface. It was no use.
“Shall we go down after her?” Carina said, ready to jump.
Alex put a hand on her arm. “Wait,” he said. “Let’s just think this through. The eel’s down there.”
Carina bit her lip. “Right,” she said, somewhat reluctantly.
Finally Alex directed Simber back to the ship. “We need a plan. Let’s go talk this through with the others.” He knew that if Florence was alive, she could stay alive in that cage, and at least they knew where she was now. And if she was dead . . . well, then staying down there wouldn’t change that, either. So it was best to be cautious.
When Simber and his passengers reached the ship, Alex called a meeting and shared everything they had witnessed.
“I think we should take a team underwater to explore,” Sean said. “See how far down the island goes.”
“No way. Not with that eel slinking around,” Ms. Octavia said. “We don’t need any more of us trapped in an underwater cage. Not even I can survive more than an hour or so without air.”
Simber circled overhead, having no place to land. Fox and Kitten chattered in a corner, and Captain Ahab sat calmly on a bench, saying nothing for now.
“So you brrreathe,” Simber said abruptly.
Alex looked up. “What?”
“Octavia, I mean. You cannot surrrvive without airrr?”
Octavia looked up too and regarded him. “Why, yes, of course. Don’t you breathe?”
“I can smell things. But I don’t need to brrreathe to surrrvive.” Simber swooped to the other end of the ship. “Kitten,” he said, “do you brrreathe to surrrvive?”
“Mewmewmew!” said Kitten.
Fox stepped up to interpret as usual. “She says that she loves breathing, and breathing is a very important part of her day, one of her very favorite parts in fact—”
“Quiet!” Simber said, startling everyone but staring at Fox. “Fox, I underrrstand quite well what Kitten is saying, thank you, and it’s neverrr what you think. In case you didn’t rrrealize, like Kitten I am also a cat. And you, you little piece of terrrmite bait, arrre not. You arrre a fox, the smallest memberrr of the Vulpini trrribe of the Canidae family; to wit, you arrre a dog. By the law of the land, you and cats would not be frrriends. Not everrr. And while Kitten may cerrrtainly decide forrr herrrself that she wants to be frrriends with you, though I can’t imagine why, I am telling you rrright now forrr the firrrst and only time: Neverrr, everrr trrry to tell me what Kitten says again. Because you arrre always dead wrrrong. Is that clearrr?”
Fox stood frozen in fear. After a long moment he licked his lips and said in a very small voice, “D-d-did you j-j-just say . . . I m-m-mean, that is to say, um . . . Aw, nuts.” He looked down at the deck and was quiet.
“Mewmewmew,” Kitten said to Simber.
Simber paused mid-flap, a look of pure disbelief on his face. “What do you mean, Fox thought he was a cat?”
“Mewmewmew!”
“A cat whose name is Fox? Now I’ve hearrrd everrrything. Good grrracious.” The giant feline began flapping his wings once more so as not to go plunging into the ocean. “Well then, I’m surrre this rrrevelation has come as a bit of a shock,” he grumbled, softening his tone a bit. “Therrre now, you prrreposterrrous little rrratbeast. None of us wants to hearrr that sorrrt of news, I suppose.”
He frowned and circled the ship. “Back to my question, which is of grrrave imporrrtance. Kitten, you said you do not need to brrreathe to surrrvive, you only like to sniff things. Quite underrrstandable forrr a cat.” Simber looked around. “What about you, Fox?”
Fox flattened himself on the deck and put his paws over his eyes. “This cannot be happening,” he moaned. “This cannot be happening.”
Simber sighed and looked at Kitten. “Any chance you know the answerrr?”