Page 38 of Carousel

He seems sincere.

Drake doesn’t reply. Just lifts a piece of the rubbery cured meat we have been given with his fork and manoeuvres it to his mouth, which he hardly even opens. He hardly even chews. I wonder if he eats the way he pilots a ship – or seems to do anything. Measured, and perfectly.

I inspect my own helping. While the meat in no way looks appetising, I decide it will be a bad idea not to eat it. Who knows what the next few hours, days, weeks will hold? And if there’s one thing my life in Hevalla has taught me, it’s to never turn down a meal. There’s always a chance it might be your last.

It’s unbelievable to me I once ate six course dinners in a palace.

A moment later, Riss charges in like a thundercloud. She’s carrying a large wooden crate in her skinny arms.

“No luck?” Cosmer asks, as she sinks down.

“No,” she snaps. “Dezeeves has been very explicit that this arrangement needs to work. And that the prisoners should be Fully Integrated by the time of the next Seventh Day.”

Cosmer splutters. “Less than a week? Does he think we can make miracles happen?”

“The prisoners are right here,” I mutter, since they seem to have forgotten. “We can hear everything you’re saying.”

Riss unfolds a piece of paper and begins reading off it in monotone.

“Prisoners must wear the black uniform they have been issued with. They are not permitted to carry a weapon or a radio, or to meet alone, and must abide by The Accords. Each prisoner will be the responsibility of their keeper, who will supervise their Integration. This arrangement will remain in effect until the prisoner has been deemed Fully Integrated.” She shoots us a look. “Do you need me to repeat anything?”

I shake my head. Drake does not.

“You’ll get full plans in the morning,” she continues. “They’ll have everything you – or we – need to do to get you FI’d.”

I feel myself frowning as I try to take it all in.

“So, this conversion work Dezeeves does. It will make us⁠—”

“Hevallan soldiers,” she confirms. “No different from anyone else on the ship. You’ll be willing to die for the country. You’ll have no doubt in your mind, or your heart, that Hevalla should be at war with Rhavna. And should win.”

Silence.

We must look strange. Cosmer, so solemn. Riss, radiating fury. Me, gaping.

Drake just looks the same as always.

“Was your captain dropped on his head as an infant, by any chance?” he asks, dryly.

Instantly, Cosmer is on his feet.

“Never insult Dezeeves in front of me again,” he breathes.

The whole room has fallen silent. The rowdy soldiers have stopped their conversation to watch us.

“Cosmer,” Riss hisses, flicking towards them with her eyes. “Sit down.”

Slowly – still glaring at Drake – he does.

I decide I need to find out more if I’m to better understand my fate, and how I could possibly avoid it.

“There have been other prisoners of war on this ship, haven’t there?”

“Correct,” Riss answers.

“Well, did they Integrate?”

“More have FI’d than haven’t.”