“Very good, Captain Murphy,” said the instructor, closing his book. “You made excellent progress in this session.”
“I’ve never been great at picking up new languages,” Trevain admitted. “This seems really difficult. Communicating a simple phrase takes so much more effort than talking.”
“You get used to it if you have to,” the instructor answered, beginning to gather his materials. “I don’t mean to pry, but what is the reason you’ve decided to learn sign language?”
“There’s… a woman,” Trevain said, awkwardly. “She’s fallen on hard times and she’s staying with me. Her sister is unable to speak, and I’d like to be able to understand her.”
“Ah, I see,” the instructor said with a grin. “Trying to impress a lady, are we?”
Trevain smiled sheepishly. “Well, yes… but when this lady translates her sister’s speech it’s always very intelligent and insightful. I’d like to be able to carry on a conversation with her without the translations. Maybe it would make her more comfortable with me... we could feel a bit more like a family.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” the instructor said, nodding. “I’ll come by at the same time tomorrow?”
Several days had passed since Trevain had been expelled from his own boat. The Fishin’ Magician had yet to return from its leaderless voyage. Trevain had received a few phone calls from Brynne and Doughlas, assuring him that they were doing great and that everything was fine.
He wondered if he had truly been worried for no reason. Paranoia—perhaps a sign of old age? He even mused that the crew might enjoy the fishing trip without his authority more than with him there to boss them around. Maybe they would be kicking him out more often.
Trevain had been getting along very well with Aazuria and her sisters. He had taken the girls on trips to museums where he found they were fascinated with only the extremely old artifacts. He had taken them on shopping trips to update their very sparse wardrobes. He was very excited about his idea to surprise Elandria by learning American Sign Language.
Entering the kitchen to grab a snack, he happened to run right into Elandria. He decided that he was finally feeling confident enough to try to use a few phrases with her. Trevain lifted his hands and tried to communicate a few basic words of salutation, and a comment on the weather.
Elandria looked at him in confusion—her eyes darted from his hands to his face nervously.
Aazuria entered the room was immediately puzzled by the look on Elandria’s face. Elandria glanced at her with worry before picking up her skirts and rushing out of the room.
“What’s wrong?” Trevain asked. “Did I say something wrong? I thought I could manage a simple greeting…” He continued going over the motions with his hands, trying to figure out where he had erred.
Aazuria stared at him for a moment. “You’ve been learning sign language?” she asked.
“I thought it would make it easier to speak with Elandria…”
“That is so sweet of you, Trevain.” Aazuria said softly. How did she tell him that their sign language probably predated any language that was currently used above water? She sighed and rubbed her temples.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, approaching her. “Do you have a headache?”
She gave him a small smile, feeling saddened that he had tried to take the initiative to connect with her family, and that it had not worked out. The cultural barrier between them felt suddenly immense. Being from different countries made communication challenging, but being from different worlds was doubly daunting. She knew she must try to explain. “The sign language which my sisters use is a bit different from the common...”
“Damn!” he cursed. “I should have asked you first. The instructor did ask me if I wanted to learn British or American Sign Language, and I just assumed.”
She smiled in relief. “That is correct, we use British Sign Language. Perhaps—I could teach it to you?” she asked.
“I could just ask the instructor to switch…”
“No!” she said hastily, reaching out to touch his arm. “Please, do not bother with employing an instructor. It will be my pleasure to teach you.”
She smiled, moving her hand in a simple pattern, followed by another. “This is ‘hello,’ and this is ‘how are you?’”
He repeated the motions with his hands, “Like so?”
“Perfect,” she answered. “Try that with Elandria next time and maybe she will not run away in fear.”
He laughed, and continued to practice to drill the words into his muscle memory.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Elandria was explaining what had happened to Corallyn.
“So that’s what he’s been doing for the last few days,” Corallyn said in admiration. “He said that guy was his stockbroker!”
“I did not know what to do, and I panicked,” Elandria said. “I could not understand him… he probably thinks I am psychotic.”
“Nah,” said Corallyn, poking her sister in the side. “You’re the only sane one among us.”
* * *
“You seem unimpressed,” Trevain remarked as he observed Aazuria’s reactions—or rather, the lack thereof. Her youngest sister was bouncing all over the museum, zipping from plaque to plaque to devour every word she could find.
“Oh, no,” Aazuria responded as they strolled along. “The exhibit is fascinating. Just staring at the bones of all these creatures which have been dead for so long… I find it a bit macabre.”
“You’re difficult to please. You are always bored to tears when we go shopping and won’t purchase a single thing unless I force you. I thought women were supposed to like shopping! And then you order rice and bread whenever we go out for dinner.” Trevain shook his head in exasperation. “I don’t understand you.”
“Where I come from, rice and bread were very rare,” Aazuria explained. “Plus they are usually the most affordable items on the menu. I do not wish to take advantage of your generosity.”
Trevain sighed. “I wouldn’t have invited you all to stay if I couldn’t afford more than rice and bread!”
They came upon Elandria, who was standing before a colossal collection of bones arranged in the shape of a dinosaur-like sea creature. The silent woman had her hands clasped behind her back, and she seemed to be examining the exhibit intently.
“There!” Trevain said, gesturing to the quiet woman. “Elandria seems to like the giant monsters.”
“Yes,” Aazuria responded. “She keeps several as pets.”
“What?”
Hearing them approach, the small woman turned around quite suddenly, her dark braid whipping over her shoulder. She fixed her sister with a puzzled look. “It says that they believe Steller’s sea-cow is extinct,” Elandria signed. “I suppose it is lucky that I saved a few.”
Aazuria nodded, observing the skeleton of the gentle beast sadly. “These people destroy everything they touch. Then they put the lifeless remnants in display cases like trophies…”
“Trophies?” Trevain asked, squinting as though it might help him to better understand what they were saying. He had barely managed to recognize three words.
Immediately embarrassed, Elandria lowered her head and moved away. She had forgotten that Trevain could now understand some of her speech, and this made her uncomfortable.
Aazuria turned to the grey-haired man apologetically. “She needs to improve her social skills.”
“What were you two talking about?” he asked as they began strolling again.
“Trophies of destruction,” Aazuria answered. “That is all these buildings seem to be. Some of these lost treasures were defeated by natural causes, but many were wiped out by us—and we cannot just let them go quietly. No, we must celebrate their annihilation.”
Trevain stared at the dark-haired woman walking beside him. “Did anyone ever tell you that you can be really uptight?”
“Pardon me?” she asked, as she paused in her movement.
“Yeah. You’re just so… stiff. If I hadn’t seen you dance I would have believed you were made of harder wood than Pinocchio, and with a harder stick of wood shoved up your ass.”
She stared at him speechlessly for a moment. “How dare— ”
“I would apologize, but it’s kind of a compliment,” he explained with a smile. “I like it.”
“You like the stick up my ass?”
He reached up to run a hand through his grey hair nervously. He worried that he was being too familiar. “It’s just the exact opposite of what I’m used to. The men on the boat are very, very loose with language. They curse like… sailors. Listening to you speak is rather refreshing. I don’t feel my brain hurting as it tries to process the rawness into something palatable.”
“I cursed that one time,” Aazuria reminded him.
“And it was adorable,” he said. “I like your language. It reminds me of something… maybe an old fashioned, black-and-white movie. I also like the fact that you never slouch. It makes me feel like I should pay more attention to my own posture and language.”
“A stick up my ass,” Aazuria repeated, in disbelief. “There is only one person who has ever dared to say such things to me…”
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Trevain said, but he was suddenly grinning. He gestured around them to the re-assembled skeletons. “Most of the time, you seem more rigid and emotionless than these guys. So yes, there is a stick the size of a Giant Sequoia, and it is way up there.”
Aazuria’s eyes widened. “But… I am a…” She felt the need to explain that she was extremely old, and from a royal bloodline, and that there had always been certain things expected of her. But when she tried to finish her sentence, laughter bubbled out of her instead. “A stick! Trevain, you…” The hilarity began to shake her torso. Glancing up at the dead dinosaurs, and picturing that Trevain considered them more passionate than she was, she suddenly found herself doubling over in laughter. Was she that horrible?
Corallyn happened upon them at that moment, and she stared at the spectacle with surprise. She saw the self-satisfaction on Trevain’s face, and she lifted her eyebrows. “Wow. You made my sister laugh? I haven’t ever seen her really laugh like that... but I’m only ninety—er, nine.” Corallyn felt embarrassed by her blunder and quickly tried to distract him with a compliment. “You must be a magician.”
“No,” Trevain answered, looking at Corallyn suspiciously. “I’m just the Magician’s captain.”
In another attempt to distract him, she bounced up on her toes. “Uncle Trevain, will you buy me something cool in the gift shop?”
“Sure.”
“Now, now, Corallyn,” Aazuria said, having regained control of herself. “I told you that you need to stop frivolously spending the captain’s money.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Trevain said to the young girl warmly. “She has a health issue which makes her so snooty. Something about a large tree.”
Aazuria was astounded by his boldness as Corallyn pulled them both towards the gift shop. Trevain sent her a playful wink.
“Look. This bottle of lacquer has my name on it!” the young girl exclaimed.
“It’s called ‘nail polish,’” Trevain explained. “Women use it to paint their fingers and toes.”
“Uncle Trevain, will you purchase it for me?” Corallyn asked. “Please! There’s a Coral Sunrise and a slightly darker Coral Catalyst.”
“Sure,” Trevain told her. “Get as much as you like. Maybe you can pick a color for your boring sister to try to liven her up.”
“Heavens!” Aazuria said, shaking her head. “You are having entirely too much fun at my expense.”
“I’m trying to have enough for the both of us,” he told her.
She smiled. “I will make an effort to relax. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
Aazuria slipped her hand against Trevain’s large palm, weaving her soft fingers between his rough ones. “Show me one of those old-fashioned, black-and-white movies.”