It was when the ship began to move when all the horror slammed into him, not when he escaped, not when he challenged who he presumed was the first mate to a game of chase, and not even when he was brought below deck for a quick tour. What had he done?
Ulysse did this, he did this for Sun.
He remembered: it was the first year with Kellen, when he was still a fool being played. He had finally escaped the front stench of being a ghetto rook, but now, tucked in his ruana, a small, flakey white card, he was a free rook. It was Ulysse's birthday, which had coincidentally landed on Sunday, and he was pulling his friend towards the best candy shop in the city when he stopped him.
"Lahis don't go to Synus, c'mon, let's go to Littly like we always do." Sun had said.
"Just once," he had said pointedly, "It's my birthday."
"Let's go back."
"No!"
Why didn't Ulysse listen to him? It was his most hated memory, and it still sat, coiled and angry in his stomach. They never got the candy.
Ulysse's fingers dug into his palms.
I'll find you Sun, I will.
Kieren led him down, and Ulysse followed her through the dark, trailing after the click click click of her shoes. She turned: her neck twisting like an owl's, calculated and robotic. "You're barefooted."
"How do you know?"
She was blind and he knew it. Her eyes were murky and distorted, tilting off to the side, frozen and staring. "I am not fully blind, I can see, it's just my vision is crammed with dark spots and blurs." she says, then continues walking silently.
The hallway was like a throat vomiting light: Its mismatched doors, different colour, different patterns, like teeth that didn't quite fit in the mouth. They passed through a great chamber, the ceiling yawning open like a great hungry snapping maw, and the long tables stretching out like the ship's tongues.
"This is our mess hall. There is no official seating plan but the senior officers, crews and performers usually sit around the front, where it's most warm near the hearth. You don't sit there unless invited." She emphasised the last word very painstakingly, mouthing each syllable sternly.
"The circus?" he asks, just to fill up the empty space.
"We store most of our circus equipment up top in the other tents, and the upper rooms through everything are quite scattered. Everything is done a bit differently on this ship through organised chaos." Kieren says, and leads him down another set of stairs.
Ulysse noticed how she walked, running her hand on the walls, and seeming to flow through corridors in a ghostly way. Her lips were chapped, her legs were bones grinding at each other, and her movements were like a great but old eagle struggling to take off. It reminded him of the another boy that Kellan had trained: Ulysse had only seen him once, when he arrived first to the experiments: locked away in the same enclosure, the next day- gone. Through the seams, you could see, she was young and pretty but must be a sailor, he hadn't seen her in the circus show.
"Who are you?"
"Lo. My name Kieren." she says briskly. "Who are you?"
"Ulysse, but that isn't what I meant. I mean, who are you? Where do you come from? What do you do?"
Kieren halts, her hands feeling the wood of an arch in the hallway, where behind are two doors.
"Who are you?"
Before Ulysse could respond, she began to speak, her voice rising and falling rhymically. "This is where most of us sleep and reside. One compartment for the sailor crew, and one for the performers."
He squinted at the doors, they were wholly symmetrical, simple wooden structures, but wait, he spotted a fleck of gold. Why waste a pot of gold paint on that? Ulysse knew of merchants who braved through swarms of birds to scavenge the treasures of Mothumb only to get plundered by pirates. Then there! Another one. Then another. Each stroke with a perfect curve, almost like… petals?
"You won't be sleeping in either of them."
Ulysse's stomach curdled, the metallic taste of adrenaline crept up his lips, all he could hear was silence-
He remembered:
Silence.
Broken in a barred room: The floor had been marble, the cold kind, and a waterfall of gold pouring from the wall as a scintillant mural. Of course, he couldn't admire the art when he was first put in- it was dark, too dark, for how long? Too long.
He read of the fleas in the jar experiment:
'Fleas are put in a jar, and they are undisturbed for three days.'
Ulysse remembered a gasp of cool air as the door swung open, and from the crack, light washing in, illuminating the mural like the walls were on fire, stupidly ironic since frostbite had killed the last two kids that were sentenced here. He had been curled up, face buried in his shaking hands, cupping in what was left of the warmth. But he didn't run, he could never outrun them, it was best, just to stay, and endure.
'When the jar is open, they won't jump out. The flies will never jump higher than the limit set by the lid.'
Another day, or was it two? Ulysse couldn't remember. Then Kellen came: Ulysse thought he was really handsome that day, with sunburst yellow flowers arranged in his air for this occasion: He was the Godbelow that day, sent to take his suffering away. Kellen had knelt down, and lifted the boy's stiff chin. "So?"
'The behaviour is now set for the rest of their lives.'
"I'm sorry."
"That's what I thought," Kellen had whispered, and let Ulysse slump into his arms, before caving in to embrace him. "Good."
Kieren studied Ulysse, her face strangely contorted into some monstrosity that didn't really match with the rest of her… was it genuine concern? "You okay?"
"Yeah," he forced himself to say, "Continue, please."
In the most beneamore and polite voice, she puts her mouth to his ears and says. "You're a Lahi."
Instinctively, Ulysse recoils, and attempts to laugh it away. "No I'm not."
"Yes you are." Kieren says gently.
"I'm not."
"Don't argue with your elders, but I guess you didn't have parents to teach you that."
"I did. I do have manners, if you could see-"
"I can't see. I'm blind, remember?"
Ulysse winced. "I'm sorry about that-"
"Golden rook!" someone yells from behind.
Ulysse spun around, bristling, but all he could hear was the laughter slowly melting away into the wood of the ship, but he knew they were still there, hiding but there, and they would come again. His insides were burning, he was shaken, afraid, and was angry at himself for that.
"That's not aimed at you." Kieren echos.
"What?"
"It's me," There is a massive shift: her murky eyes waned, and her breaths coming in, short and sharp. "I'm one of you. And don't worry, I won't tell. You're smart, much smarter than what I was when I first arrived on the Hermes. Now go and settle in."
"And you?" He felt like a lost child asking for directions home.
"I live below, in the hold."
For a moment, his mind flooded with the intense urge to claw Kieren's eyes out, or what was left of it, his fingers twitched, itching to do so, though he didn't know exactly why. He was angry, but at who? Confusing emotions poured out from him in waves and waves of whispers, voices, slithering through his mind, he could not make out what they were saying, but had a strange sense of understanding.
Without thinking, he says. "Thats not fair."
"Nothing is," she dismissed, "Steer clear of Molly, Haza, Josiah and Alonso, they seem nice at first, but will backstab you for pure amusement. The sailors are fine, they've been to more places, traveled lots, and are much more acceptant. Someone named Dapples can help you if I'm not there."
"So, am I a sailor or performer?"
"Hugo requested you as an assistant performer for his show." she says, and turns away. "Though, also stay away from him if you can."
Ulysse's eyes impulsively followed Kieren as she began to descend down to the hold, like he was taught, to follow the target no matter what. "And you?
She averted her gaze, voice flat and final. "You better stay away from me, it's for your own good."
Ulysse wanted to tell her to open up and not push others away, but the irony had clamped its teeth around him. How could he argue when that was exactly what he did himself? Kieren was the student, and he, the ignorant teacher.
He didn't panic, he was used to this, he found an empty bed in the giant dome dormitory. The blackness seized him, and he clung onto the wall: Eyes stinging, lungs heavy, and throat clawing for air, he wanted to collapse into Kellen's arm- Kellen, a monster but a father at the same time. It was a waterfall of boxes, barrels, and beds, shoving him to the far side of the room. The bed was damp, and when he gently pressed his ears against the dusty pillow, he could hear the soundly thrumming of the current against the ship's belly.
The doors swung open with a bang, and light flooded into the room. Performers poured in, their conversation knitted together in invisible seams, you can never tell one apart from the other. They drifted into their own sleeping quarters, calling out to their neighbours, sharing gossip, throwing out jokes, it was like a whole extended family. A dream it was, until it took a nightmarish turn, and people crowded around him, greeting and adoring over him like some pet. They were nice, at least, on the outside.
"Come, Bell, look at this." some had hauled a girl over, and Ulysse recognised immediately to be the infamous Lyrebird, whose thick hazel hair curled in disgust at the sight of him.
"What is it?" she says.
"Doesn't he look like Bernadette?"
"I don't want to talk about her, Molly."
Ulysse frowned, Bernadette, he heard of that name before, "Who's Bernadette?" but no one replied, they skimmed over his question without much of a thought, "Who is she?"
"Shush!" someone says.
"Is she important?"
"Nothing much," the girl named Molly yanked him away from the crowd: she moved quietly, her toes barely touching the floor before she was off again, almost like dancing. Her braids stretched to knee-height, a long bright pink tail that swished side by side excitedly. This was the girl that Kieren had warned him about, though, she looked pretty much harmless. "Come here, let me introduce you to someone."
A lump formed in his throat. "Who?"
"Only the great and mysterious Haza!" she paused, and her pupils froze, contracting, shivering in their sockets, "Through, your bed, no, that's supposed to be Haza's bed."
Ulysse tipped his head. "I found it empty."
"You found it empty," Molly murmured.
Someone says mournfully. "Empty, he found it empty."
"I don't understand." he gritted his teeth, "Who and where is this-"
"Shush!"
"The captain's henchmen." someone mouthed to Molly.
"Why don't you answer my questions?"
"Forget Haza," Molly says, trying to grasp words in the air, only for them to slip through her fingers. "His time has come."
"Where-"
"Forget Haza." she repeated seethingly, "Now, you look very interesting, so thrilling! Its been boring around here for ages."
"But wait, what happened to-"
"Shush! SHUSH!" people began to hold him down, pushing him back to his bed, muttering, whispering and hissing. He felt his lung flatten, and shrink, every piece of him burned to disappear, to stop flinching as their sweaty groping claws touched him. Everything happened so damn quickly but crucifyingly slowly, people came, then left, returning to their beds, quietening down, and lamps were blown out.
It was… strange and scary.
He sighed, closed his eyes, and saw-
the past:
"When it happens, hold me down," Ulysse had instructed Sun. The two of them were curled together on a thin mattress, their legs intertwined, desperately trying to get a private moment. The cold room had stank of the sickly metallic blood, and crammed with up to a dozen sleeping children: one moment you were Kellen's doting favourite, another, you'd be forced to give another a beating. Kellen had his ways to make his game most amusing and efficient, cruelly picking out friends to dismantle each other, having both shatter from the inside, it was just like killing two birds with one stone.
Yet Ulysse and Sun clung onto each other, through hiding their friendship, they stayed, most precariously, but together.
"I don't want to." Sun had whispered lamely.
"You have to." Ulysse had urged, "Or I might hurt someone."
He frowned, stroking Ulysse's hand gently. "You won't, you're not that kind of person, Yule."
"I will…" he hesitated, "The other side of me will. It's scary, like a big gap in my memory, I don't know what just happened, why I am where or doing what. I don't understand it."
"You must have a good reason, your other is just trying to protect you subconsciously." Sun reasoned.
Ulysse had snorted. "Now you're just spewing nonsense."
"Fine" Sun had said, "But we really should tell Kellen about this, to get you proper help and-"
"No," Ulysse had said firmly, "He'll use it against me, I know he will."
"Yule…"
"Shut up!" he snapped, then dropped his gaze shamefuly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. Just- trust me on this."
Then, he was gone-
- Only Sun could see the glaze of the eyes as Yule spaced out, the slight shift, the quiet unexplained change of the mood, not the other kids, not Kellen, but him. He let what he called the 'other Yule' settle in, who suddenly jerked upright, and stared hungrily at Sun with eyes of a crazed hound. "We were talking," the other Yule began unsurely, "You- you are Sun.
"I am," Sun said calmly. "Now-"
"If he finds out, he'll be angry. I have to protect him. I have to get him away from you. What- what are you doing? Stop it! But no, he is good. He can protect him." he muttered, "Stay away from me."
"I will, and don't worry, everything is fine." he said patiently, watching intentively as the other Yule eyed his surroundings.
"I need to finish something."
Kill someone, you mean. Fear grappled onto Sun, latching onto him, and leeching the colour off his face. "Please stay," he implored, "Stay, and I'll go."
"No, I have to finish something."
"Finish what?"
"Him." The other Yule points across the room, to the shape of Earnest, the bully that would often harass and mock the two when given the chance.
"Please don't."
"I have to, for him-"
"Come back to me."
"I must protect."
"I will protect you." he pleaded.
"Friend of Ulysse, get out of my way!"
Sun shot up and snagged the other Yule back down: hands smothering the mouth, and forcing his body to press tight against the jerking and writhing skin, pulling, twisting and wrestling until the other Yule was subdued, lying limp in his arms. I'm sorry, Sun knew Yule in all forms hated sudden touch, and relaxed his quivering arms tentatively, slowly loosening his grip, hoping the tiger in his arms had fallen asleep.
Yule was back, thank Godbelow, and a tear was running down his face, "Thank you." he murmured hoarsely.
"Is this okay?" Sun asked, pulling back.
"Yeah," he drew closer, "just… no more talk about Kellen."
"No problem."