After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 42

Burning a Confession

Notes:

Okay, the story is looking like it's going to have 48 chapters! I am not complaining, in fact, I'm thrilled, because 48 is a MUCH better number than 47...47 is just...not good. Anyway :)

*****

The fact that Artham must have heard his outburst and confession didn’t occur to Janner until the door swung open and Sara came in, beaming, and the sound of his uncle grilling Jebsun regarding the outing and Sara’s safety rose above a good deal of the other noises around them. Yet somehow, he didn’t really mind all that much.

“Mama, a good deal of your list was flowers,” Sara said, bringing out a small bouquet with a thrilled flourish. 

Laughing, Nia smiled and put down her yarn. “Yes, dear, that was intentional. I like to have a bit of brightness inside the cabins below deck, since there really isn’t quite a lot of that to go around. The port windows bring in a bit of light, but by brightness, I mean color. And blue doesn’t really count as a color when you’re surrounded by it on all sides.”

Sara nodded, smiled, then looked at him. A bit of the light in her eyes died away, replaced by worry. She sat down next to him on the bed, where he was reading, a blanket draped over his head and entirely covering him. 

“Are you alright?” she asked gently, placing her hand on his. 

Janner almost nodded in response, he almost smiled and said, “I’m fine.” He caught Nia’s gaze, though, saw the motherly instruction written on her face, and instead smiled and murmured, “Sort of. Not exactly, but I can’t tell you now. There isn’t time. Once we’re out at sea, maybe?”

He held his breath, wondering how she would respond, nervous about how she would respond, hoping she would respond one way and terrified she would respond another.

She simply nodded, squeezed his hand, and smiled, though it didn’t light up her eyes. “Alright. Whenever you’re ready, Janner, I’m happy to listen.”

But what if she isn’t happy after listening? fluttered into his mind without permission, and though his mind went round and round in circles regarding the idea, he did his best to shove it into a dark corner where it wouldn’t bother him. It was partially successful.

“So, are we ready to go?” Sara asked, changing the subject. She looked around the room that was now neat and tidy and mostly empty except for themselves and the three overnight bags they had packed.

Nia nodded. “Yes, as soon as those two out in the hall decide to stop bickering!” she raised her voice, purposely making it to where they could hear. A mixture of silence and quieter speaking began in a few moments. “I swear, anyone who heard them would think they were children and siblings at that!”

Janner peeked out from underneath the blanket. “Did Papa and Uncle Artham argue like that when they were younger?”

“I should have said Hollish siblings,” Nia corrected herself drily. “No, Esben and Artham were far more supportive of each other. Artham was always a bit more likely to start something than Esben, but, then again, Annierans have always been more groomed for polite society than Hollishfolk.”

“Sorry,” Jebsun called, sounding a little like a child who had just been scolded by his mother. Sara and Nia both laughed, and Janner even managed a smile.

They got going after that, Artham and Jebsun handling the luggage while Nia and Sara divided the purchases from the local market between them. Janner couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable not carrying anything, considering he wasn’t even tired, just cold and hurting a little bit, but he figured he wouldn’t be able to convince anyone to allow him to help. 

To their credit, they actually let him limp down the stairs mostly on his own—Nia supported him with her free arm, but it more of a hovering help than anything else—and while it wasn’t the most pleasant experience, he was glad he had done it. As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs, he raised his hood, glad its size shadowed a good deal of his face. He didn’t want anyone to recognize him, he didn’t really want to look at society, and winter had always been too bright; now it was just a little more unbearable than normal. 

Jebsun took care of settling things with the innkeeper while Artham escorted them to the carriage and helped them all inside. By that time, Janner was glad for the assistance and glad for the opportunity to sit down, and while those thoughts were fine, their emergence as thoughts would not be. If someone asked, though, he had a feeling he would have to tell the truth, otherwise a part of him would be lying to himself, to Nia, to whomever was asking, to the Maker.

Anxiety and fear about facing Greston or anyone else took over his mind and clenched his stomach into tight, miserable knots. He wasn’t sure he’d manage to convince himself to eat anything for supper, unless it was broth. 

When Jebsun opened the carriage door and stepped in, he couldn’t help but jolt in surprise, his heart fluttering in panic. Sara squeezed his thigh almost automatically, and when Janner looked at her, he couldn’t help but find his mind launching back to the carriage ride from Lamendron to Torrboro, so long ago, before all this catastrophe had occurred. 

So much for three weeks in Skree. 

“Artham’s riding with the driver,” Jebsun explained as the carriage jolted into motion, likely in response to Nia’s glance of curiosity. “He wants to make sure we’re not ambushed.”

The explanation was accepted wordlessly, and nothing but silence filled the small space during the short ride to the port. It was an even larger contrast between the peace inside the carriage and the cacophony outside than it had been last night—now it was as if Lamendron screamed unceasingly. 

Janner closed his eyes, his head throbbing from the commotion. The unpredictable but guaranteed jolts of the carriage as they rolled into and out of potholes rattled his entire body and mind, and he gritted his teeth to keep from groaning aloud.

“What’s wrong, Janner?” Sara whispered, close to his ear, so no one else could hear it.

Janner shook his head and winced, regretting the motion. “The jarring hurts, that’s all,” he murmured. “I’m alright, really.”

After nodding, Sara put her arm around him. A flutter of fear went through his heart, but it was alright. Nothing was wrong. Admitting what was bothering him hadn’t dissuaded her, and it hadn’t seemed to cause her anxiety, either. “And how will it be out at sea?” 

So, it had caused her a bit of worry. Now he had to mitigate his error.  

Smiling a little, Janner tentatively took hold of her hand. “It’s mostly rocking on the water, not bumping.” They hit another pothole, and he couldn’t help but intake a breath swiftly at the jar of pain it sent through his leg. “Mama, do you think we should send coin to Lamendron so they’ll repave their roads, or at the very least fill in these potholes?”

Nia stared at him for a brief moment, then laughed. “Perhaps it should have been in the new draft of the trading contract, hm?”

Janner sighed, a smiled flickering onto his face. “Guess we’ll have to wait till next year.”

“Political jokes,” Jebsun remarked after a minute of silence. “Janner, do you and your mother make those often?”

“Not that it was a very good poltical joke, but I’m downright terrible at making any other kind—” he began, only to be interrupted by Sara’s:

“Janner, that’s not true!” she pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes. “You’ve made other good jokes!”

“Name one,” he challenged her playfully.

She thought for a few moments. “Well, nothing comes to mind right now, but, but!” she sputtered and held up her pointer finger as if to check him. “You at least have a good sense of humor.”

Janner took hold of her hand, the one trying to back up her point, kissed it. “Thank you for that affirmation.”

When her diamond blue eyes met his, he saw in them a gentleness, a safety, a love, and joy in normalcy. Perhaps life could begin to feel normal again after all. Perhaps Aerwiar wouldn’t crumble if he told her the truth.

He glanced at Nia and Jebsun and smiled. 

As it turned out, facing Greston wasn’t quite as horrifying as he’d imagined it being. It was a little uncomfortable shaking his hand again after so many weeks and exchanging brief greetings with someone who wasn’t Artham or Sara or Nia or Jebsun, but not unpleasant. It didn't occur to him until the handshake that for years he had regarded Greston as one of the few Annierans he could approach and count on being treated normally. 

“It’s very good to see you again, Janner,” he said, grinning, and Janner nodded, giving him a half smile in return.

Nothing more than that was exchanged, but Janner noticed how Greston’s eyes didn’t wander, they didn’t fixate on the cane he gripped tightly, they didn’t scrutinize him as if prying for information. Greston saw only his face, and though Janner couldn’t bring himself to keep eye contact during the entire salutation—which was less than a minute—it still seemed like a victory, or a half of a victory, at the very least.

Greston insisted on personally escorting them to their cabins, and when Janner stepped inside his, closed the door, and sat down on the bunk, he breathed for the first time in what felt like ages. He couldn’t remember the last time “alone” had felt wonderful, glorious, rejuvenating. The past few months, he had almost never been alone, and when he was, thoughts and monsters plagued him incessantly. How was it that speaking to his mother had lifted such a weight off his shoulders? After all, he still had to tell Sara. Would she forgive him? What if she didn’t?

A sudden knock jerked him out of his thoughts, and his fingers flew to the chain around his neck. Another wave of normalcy hit him. “Yes?” he asked, glad there was no tremor in his voice. He hadn’t really been scared, just startled.

Artham opened the door. “We’re about to cast off,” he said with a grin. Apparently, more time had passed than he had thought. “I thought you might like to be up on deck for it, especially considering you'll probably be forced to stay here the majority of the trip.”

Janner reached for the cane and stood, nodding. “I wouldn’t miss it for all of Aerwiar.”

Yet another wonderful essence of relief flooded over him as he stood, leaning on the rail, Sara’s head resting against his upper arm. They were sailing away from Skree. Away from the clutter of Lamendron. Away from the Overseer. He was safe. Sara was safe. Their family was safe. He had already caught Artham and Greston discussing screenings and searches of the ship prior to its sail, and Greston repeatedly confirmed no one was on board; he had done the inspections himself.

Supper was simple but hot: stew the ship’s cook, Ernist, had put together and hardcuts, tough bread that would last the trip.* It was cheaper than bread, easier to load on such short notice. Nia swapped the hardcuts with some bread she had made back in Glipwood, though, for which Janner (and everyone else in their little party, it seemed) was grateful. 

As they ate in the mess hall, the long benches and tables giving them ample space to spread out into groups and be a little removed from everyone else, Janner could feel the crew members’ eyes on him as he ate, watching him, spreading rumors, making rumors, sharing rumors. Forcing his mind to think logically was a challenge, one he wanted to manage. The crew was made up of Annierans. And they sailed under Greston! How bad could they be? 

I’m imagining it, he told himself. It’s just paranoia. There’s no need to be paranoid. We’re out here, at sea. Nothing can get to us, except the dragons, but the dragons like us, so we don’t have to worry about them. The Overseer definitely can’t get to us, not to me, not to Sara, not to Mama. It isn’t possible. It’s safe. Everything is safe. Everyone is safe.

He shifted his gaze toward Sara, then slipped his hand into hers, the left one hiding in her lap under the table. She started for a brief moment, then smiled. Her eyes twinkled in the lamplight and chasing the nervous thoughts from his mind.

They both continued eating.

It was hardest at night, though, and even the sound of the waves hitting the hull and the lulling motion of the ship and the ringing in his ear and the exhaustion in his mind was not enough to stall the thoughts, the anxiety, the worry, the fear. 

Would it ever end? Would he ever be free of such needless terror? Would he ever be able to hear a door open, his name called, a word spoken, an object fall, without jumping or starting or panicking? Would he be on edge always, for the rest of his life?

Pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes, Janner breathed in and out slowly again and again and again. Maybe not. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to accomplish such a thing. But surely, he could enjoy at least part of life amidst it? He had enjoyed that day more than any other in…in months. And if confessing to Sara didn’t break either of them…the days after tomorrow might be even better.

Sighing, Janner closed his eyes and pulled his blanket around himself more tightly and began formulating his confession to Sara in his head, redoing it, tweaking the lines, working it out again and again and again.

Suddenly it was perfect, so perfect he couldn’t risk losing it. Wincing a little, he slid out of bed and hopped quietly to the miniature desk built into the wall of his cabin, not bothering to fumble for his cane in the dark during such a short jaunt. 

The candle was lit in a second, and in another he had pulled his journal from the tiny shelf above and began writing furiously, terrified he would lose the thought. The sound of one of the sails far above him flapped steadily, as if timing him.**

Only one sentence remained. One sentence, and it would be on paper, flawless, permanent, unforgettable. 

One sentence later, a tap sounded. Then another. Janner’s blood ran cold. The flap of the sail ceased. There was another tap, and the door creaked open. Janner couldn’t bear to turn around, couldn’t bear to look. All he could hear was ringing, filling his ears, his mind, his every thought, screaming into the silence of the night. All he could see were blurred words before his eyes, flickering oddly in the fickle candlelight.

“Long time no see, Esben Flavogel,” the Overseer said with a quiet, choking cackle. The light from the candle flickered in time with it. “Thought you could escape me, hmm? Thought those inspections’d deter me, hmm? Thought I couldn’t get past ‘em, hmm? Well, Tool? What’d’ya think? Baggage may be a cramped an' uncomfortable place ta hide, but even it works in a pinch.”

Janner said nothing, nor did he turn around.

“What are ya, deaf, Tool?” the Overseer sneered. 

Janner winced.

“If ya scream an’ people come runnin’, it doesn’t matter if they kill me, Tirge’ll take care of ‘em, pickin’ em off one by one.” The flame seemed to bend and jump in horror as he said it.

Janner was glad he hadn’t managed to scream yet.

“Turn around an’ look at me,” he hissed next, his voice low. The candle’s flame flickered ominously. 

Janner wanted to turn around. He wanted to look. He wanted to obey. He wanted to speak. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but tremble. He couldn’t even scream.

Suddenly, cold fingers wrapped around his left forearm and jerked him out of the chair and to the floor. In a heap, he managed to whimper and clutch his leg as now-searing pain shot through it while ignoring the throb in his left wrist.

“If you so much as breathe a word ‘bout me,” the Overseer whispered in Janner’s right ear, his breath hot. The flame dancing around the candle’s wick winced. “Either Tirge or me is gonna start takin’ people out. Quietly. Slowly. ‘Til you and your girl are the only ones left on this ship. We’re hidden well. No one’s gonna find us. I don’t care what you say, if it’s somethin’ as small as that li’le confession note, we’ll start. An’ once you say somethin’, we ain’t gonna stop.”

Janner risked a look at the Overseer and shuddered. “And if I don’t say anything?” he whispered. 

“Well, in that case, everyone’ll make it to Anniera alive and well, an’ I’ll go off somewhere on your li’le isle an’ haunt ya a few times a year.” Grinning, the Overseer stood and grinned wickedly. The candlelight cast odd shadows on his body, creating dark holes of nothingness all across his cloak and face. “I’m expectin’ ta find it mighty entertainin’.”

“Okay,” Janner breathed, the lump in his throat making it nearly impossible to speak. “Okay. I- I won’t. I promise.”

“Good,” the Overseer gave his horrid, wicked grin, his teeth even yellower than usual in the strange lighting the candle cast. “First motion is for ya ta burn the li’le le’er. I need every shred o’ evidence gone.”

His eyes filling with tears, Janner rose from the floor painfully, shuddering, gasping a little as he tried steadying himself with his left hand. His hand trembled as he picked up the written note, and a choking sob escaped as the flame licked and ignited it. 

Desperately, he mouthed the words he had written, trying to memorize them before they blackened and drifted away into dust, but with the tears blurring his vision and the shaking of the note because of his stupid, stupid unsteady hand, it was nearly impossible. 

When the last words had faded to black and the fire nearly touched his fingers, he blew it out and let the remaining, black trimmed scrap fall to the desk in a grave of dust.

“Good,” the Overseer said proudly, clapping him on the shoulder. Janner jumped in horror and landed painfully on his right leg. He wanted to scream. It would hurt tomorrow, and he’d have no excuse. As he dug his fingernails into his palms to try and focus the pain elsewhere, the fading utterance of, “It seems I have use for ya yet, Tool,” reached his ears. Ear.

Janner stumbled back to his bunk, collapsed on top of it, and wept, eventually crying himself to sleep.

*****

Notes:

*this is essentially a replacement for hardtack

**the steady flap of the "sail" was actually the Overseer's cane tapping closer, Janner was just focused, so his mind wrote it off as something that it wasn't.

Other than that......I'm sorry. I know, I just made things okayish in the previous chapter, Janner was even going to actually talk to Sara, and now I've wrecked everything. Don't worry, we're really close to the end, so this current wrecking really won't last all that long^^

Let me know if there's anything wonky or noncanonical :)