Inti's Watcher

A blue flash, and Razan found himself sitting on the floor of the crowded transport room. Peter appeared next to him, also sitting. They grinned at each other.

Peter touched the brim of his hat. "I see you made it," he said in a thick drawl.

"Indeed," Razan replied formally. "I am quite delighted to find you survived to the end. Well done, evading… whoever it was. Truly, you must be a master of stealth."

"Thanks, pal," Peter said, slapping Razan hard on the shoulder.

"Glad to see you two getting along."

Razan looked up to find Marie watching them with an eyebrow raised. She was missing her jacket, which made her look slightly less like a terrifying pirate and more like a bemused grandmother.

"Yeah, we didn't do too bad, I reckon," Peter told her, jumping to his feet.

Razan got up in a slightly more dignified manner. "We found five of our flags, and a good number of flags belonging to teams we have a truce with."

"Well done," Marie said. "I don't assume we're first, but both of you having survived means we'll place high."

Razan bowed.

"Thank you, Captain," Peter said. "Have to say, without monkeys attacking, it was easy."

Razan nodded. "I greatly preferred this jungle to Bolivia."

"Oh, I fully agree," Marie said. "Much better without those little bastards around. Shall we?"

Together, they began walking to the exit. As they got there, Ebba walked up with Marie's jacket over her arm.

"Thank you for the loan, dear," the witch said, passing it over before giving Marie a kiss on the cheek and walking away.

Marie smiled, watching her a moment before putting it on.

Razan cleared his throat, deciding to be impolite. "Captain, if I may ask-"

"You will not receive an answer," she warned, heading for the exit again.

He followed. "Yes, Captain."

Peter glanced at Razan, frowning, before looking at Marie. "But, you're engaged to Louis."

"Aye, as far as you know."

"What-"

"You will not receive an answer."

"Yes, Captain."

After showering the jungle off and getting on fresh clothes in the form of her fuzzy robe thing, Marie knocked on Sophie's door. Instead of it opening, Nop hopped out of the wall nearby.

"Sophie is still asleep," she reported.

Marie was mildly alarmed by that. "Still?"

Nop bobbed. "After being bailed, she began hyperventilating. The medical team decided it was necessary to render her unconscious."

"Was she hurt?"

"As far as they were able to determine, no."

Meaning she was panicking over something. Arguably, that was worse than if she'd been beaten and stabbed.

"Let me in," Marie ordered.

Nop hesitated. "Without her permission, we are not allowed to-"

"Yes, and that's a rule I wholeheartedly approve of. Now open the damn door."

Nop glared at her for a moment, then the door slid open. Marie stepped in.

She found Sophie asleep on her bed, still in the clothes she'd worn in the contest. Marie sat down next to the girl, wondering if she should bring up how she'd chosen long sleeves and full trousers this time. It probably wasn't important.

Marie gently flicked Sophie's chin a few times, calling her name. It took a moment, but the girl's eyelids fluttered, and she rolled onto her stomach, grumbling.

And then she pushed herself up, looking confused. She moved into a sitting position, turning to face Marie.

"What happened, child?" Marie asked.

Sophie looked down, shrinking into herself. "I failed. Again. I… wasn't prepared, and I couldn't fight back. I'm sorry."

Marie pulled her in for a hug. "What made you panic?"

"I keep failing. If I fail enough, you won't want me as a part of your group. You might- might want to replace me."

"Thief, you're nineteen," Marie told her. "If you're still unprepared and making mistakes like this at twenty-five, then I might reconsider some things. But to me, you are still very much a child. Still growing, learning. No one can expect you to be perfect at everything the first time you attempt it."

"Well, the first time you held a weapon in earnest, did you win?" Sophie asked, perfectly innocently.

Marie stiffened. "That's different."

"How?" the girl asked, her voice almost whining.

"I was five."

Sophie's eyes went wide as she moved back. "How?"

Marie shook her head. "I'm from Haiti. There was a revolution there, which began before I was born and ended when I was nine. My options were kill or die. You simply don't have that kind of motivation."

Sophie frowned, almost speaking, paused, then sighed. "Even if I did have that motivation, I think I'd end up dead."

"No, you wouldn't," Marie told her. "I'd protect you."

"It wouldn't be worth it to protect me."

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Marie gently whacked her over the head. "Child. You are in my group. I protect what's mine. Your abilities and worthiness are irrelevant. They put you under my care, so I'm going to damn well take care of you. The die is cast; no one has any choice in the matter any more. Anyone who dares suggest you leave, including you, girl, will have an exceptionally bad time, because I will not let it happen."

Sophie gave a pitiful laugh, wiping tears off her face. "Yes, Captain."

"Good." She bonked Sophie's skull once again for good measure. "Don't forget it."

"I won't, Captain."

Saturday passed quietly. Sophie spent most of it in the climbing room with Marie and Rani, learning rope tricks common on ships. Louis came in for about an hour in the morning, but had nothing substantial to add.

In the evening, the report showed everyone who was bailed in order. Sophie was ashamed to have been the third person bailed. She wanted to leave and hide, but Marie put a hand on her shoulder and held her in place with the rest of the group.

Thankfully, the report only showed each person for two seconds; the moment they left and nothing else. Sophie's end was quickly passed over and forgotten by the announcer.

She hadn't really asked about anything that had happened in the contest, so it was all new information to her. The only thing she knew was that Rani had survived until the end, but her friend hadn't mentioned having bailed nearly a dozen people. It also looked like Marie had bailed a good percent of the contestants. Sophie was happy they'd done well, but couldn't shake the feeling of inferiority.

After going through the failures, the announcer listed all groups with under ten points at once. There were quite a few. He didn't bother commenting on any of them, just said their names like they meant nothing. The Foxes were in that group, and Sophie found herself feeling sorry for them. Yes, they were down one with Antoni gone, but Innoka only had one more contest left before she left; it would be nice if she did well.

Then the announcer said the maximum number of points possible to get was sixty. No one had passed forty. There was a pause for everyone to do mental math, then he declared eleventh place went to the Diamonds, who got eleven points.

Marie leaned down to whisper to Sophie. "Did you see how Grace was bailed?"

Sophie frowned, trying to remember. "Chimeg got her and Leyla. Why?"

"She's not here," Marie said, scanning the room. "I was worried she'd been badly hurt, but that can't be it."

Sophie stood on her toes, trying to see through the crowd. She didn't see Grace, but that didn't mean much. "Does Peter know?"

Peter looked over from Marie's other side. "Sorry?"

"Do you know why Grace isn't here?" Marie asked.

He shook his head. "I haven't seen her since… Thursday." He sounded embarrassed.

"Thursday?" Marie echoed, her voice unamused. "That long?"

"I- I'll check on her after the report," he promised.

"Good."

Sophie wondered about that interaction, but heard the Stars called out as eighth place, and turned her attention back to the report.

Masks got seventh place, which no one was impressed about. Sixth went to Dust, and fifth to the Heralds. Fourth came Louis and Ebba's group, which meant Drifters made it to the top three.

Sophie grabbed Marie and Razan's hands as the announcer called that the third place went to… Fleeting. Their victories were called out, along with their final score of thirty points. Excited despite not having been around for most of the contest, Sophie wished the announcer would go faster.

Finally he finished describing how well Fleeting had done, and declared Drifters to be in second place, having collected thirty-two points. Not first place. The crowd still cheered politely, and Sophie let go of Razan's hand to hug Marie's arm.

"Almost," she said, smiling.

"Thank you, child," Marie said, patting her shoulder. "We did well."

The announcer focused more on Peter and Razan's fights, showing them working together to take out target after target.

In the end, first place went to Moss, with thirty-five points. The crowd cheered as the green team bowed and the announcer declared jungle to be their preferred terrain.

Sophie let go of Marie, already impatient for next week. They'd win first place, or she'd die trying.

Peter followed Keiko through the crowd after the review, heading for the Seabird's area. He'd asked about Grace, and hadn't received any helpful information. Juan had suggested forgetting Grace existed for a week or so, after which Fael predicted three days. Keiko had said Peter might be helpful, and offered to take him to Grace's room.

They got to the area, and Keiko pointed to a door. "That one. Just keep knocking until she opens. It might take a while."

"Oh, uhm, thanks," Peter said, watching her leave again.

No less worried, he knocked on Grace's door. He hadn't seen her since he'd walked- ran away from her, and now he was worried he'd never see her again. Somehow that thought terrified him.

The door slid open, and Grace smiled at him. And then her eyes went wide.

Peter flinched. "Hey, I-"

"Wait," she said, touching his shoulder. "I'll tell you the truth: I forgot you existed on Friday night and haven't left my room since. It's still Saturday, yeah?"

"Yes," he said slowly, feeling crushed. He was completely unimportant. Forgettable. "The report just ended, and you weren't there; I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I am." Grace smiled apologetically, taking his hand to pull him inside. "I've been saving up forever, and Friday they said they'd let me have the winnings early, so…" She let go and motioned grandly to a sleek black piano. "Isn't she beautiful?" she asked, almost bursting with excitement.

"It is," he agreed, moving towards it. "Where are the strings?"

"It doesn't have any," she said, sitting at the bench and pressing a few keys. Clean sound came from the velvet-covered base. "See? I don't know what kind of magic they set it up with, but they said I can't move it from this spot or it'll stop working."

"May I?" Peter asked, motioning to the bench.

"Sure!" Grace jumped up, still beaming. "They said it's called a Khushmi, so that's her name now. I think it's a brand name, but it might just be their word for piano. I was too excited to ask."

Peter sat down, tipping his hat politely to the piano. "Nice to meet you, Khushmi." That done, he touched the smooth keys and pressed down.

Old memories took over, moving his fingers in a certain order. There was a good thump when each key hit whatever was making the sound, but it wasn't difficult. None of the keys stuck or refused to go down. It was easy; he fully understood how Grace hadn't left this spot since getting the instrument.

He was interrupted when she flipped the hat off his head. "You bastard, why didn't you tell me you can play piano?"

"You never told me you could play," he countered, laughing. He was about to get up when she sat down at the foot of her bed, motioning for him to keep going. So he put his fingers back on the keys. "I haven't played in four or five years. When I was six the church in town got an old piano from somewhere, and I wanted to play it. Preacher said he'd teach me, but only hymns, and as long as I played decent and was a good, well-behaved kid, he'd give me a whole penny every Sunday for playing during church. Half the keys played the wrong note, and the other half didn't like moving, but for a penny you'd better believe I got those tunes right."

"Somehow, I feel like that explains a lot about you," Grace said. "I bet you'd still be earning that penny if you were there."

"When did you learn how to play?" he asked. There was a sheet of music propped against the wall, so he switched from whatever tune he was plunking out to that.

"I was seven," she answered, almost like she was admitting it. "It was fun, so I learned quick. Which wasn't…" She trailed off, listening.

Peter kept playing. The song was slow, but that didn't make it easy. It was round and light, with what felt like sparkles around the main theme. Instead of a solid end it faded away with two lingering notes.

He smiled, proud that he'd only messed up four times. Or, that he'd only noticed messing up four times. It was probably more.

"That's wild," Grace said softly. "I never thought I'd hear a song of mine being played by anyone other than me."

"You wrote that?" Peter asked, glancing over. "Sorry I didn't do too good of a job." He looked at the notes again. "It's… about the moon, isn't it?"

"Peter?"

He looked at her, surprised she'd actually used his name. "Yes?"

"I love you." She looked down, laughing, then moved to sit next to him on the bench. "I spend all night and day lost in a song, then you go and play it once and immediately figure out what it is. Thank you."

"Well, it's a good song," he said, trying to keep his thoughts together enough for a coherent sentence. "I'd tip my hat to you, but you've already knocked it off."

"Damn right, I have," she said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. "You've got the most annoyingly soft hair I've ever seen on a man, and you keep a hat over it! That thing is a direct insult, I tell ya. At least there's nothing to cover your unfairly long eyelashes, or I'd-"

"Grace?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"Yeah? Prove it."

After a moment, he picked his hat up off the floor and tossed it across the room. "That good?"

"Well I was hoping you'd kiss me, but that works too."

"No, last time I moved first, it's your turn."

She smiled. "Taking turns? I like that idea." With a laugh, she moved in for a kiss.

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