"She seemed like a bright girl, but she did have some silly perspectives on things."
A pause, silent.
"She's small and quite pale. Her hair seemed brittle as well, and her clothes were too small and in terrible condition. I trust your care for this girl, Hester, and I trust your desire to support her. The Truth Teller was doubtless a terrible environment to give her what she needed."
Another pause. Hesitation.
"She cares about you deeply. I think - it would be best for you to watch over her, as you doubtless have been. But if you need help with anything yourself - please let me know. I want to help however I can."
"Mmm. Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure," she mumbled, eyes still locked on the sugar cube. She was under no illusions as to why the captain was tolerating the presence of a child on board. That was why she'd tried to impress upon Pris the importance of making herself useful as quickly as possible. If she was acting like a stowaway, then Hester had clearly failed to make it clear enough. She doubted the captain would do anything to her, yet, but that wouldn't stop some overeager pirate, convinced that they'd discovered an unauthorized passenger, from taking unauthorized action.
And maybe Emer really did want to help, but if she hadn't stood up against the Whore of the Horizon so far, Hester doubted she was going to start now. What she'd just witnessed didn't change anything. Not really.
"If you want to help," she said, more clearly, "find her work. If I'm valuable to you as an assistant, then so is she. Lady Fingers is more than capable of stitching up most injuries. Pris knows plenty about anatomy. No reason to turn her away."
“The only thing that ever stopped me being exactly who I wanted,” she said, “was the worry that I would soon be dead … and now I am dead, and I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.” -Harrow the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir
Emer set the tin down, her stool squeaking against the floor as she rose, shawl fluttering.
"I think - I can find a use for her, yes. Do not worry about that. As it stands at the moment, though -"
Emer stopped beside the curtain, her silhouette illuminated against the beads.
"- she sees this as an adventure of sorts. She is enjoying herself, and is not in anyone's way. It is a game. And," she interjected before any protest could be said, "I know this is not the safest of places for that sort of behavior. But I promise you her safety, Hester, on my life."
She shifted behind the curtain, from one foot to the other.
"So - for a child who came from such a horrid place, for a child so ready to run into fantasies of secrets and wonder - would you so easily deny whatever glimmer of childhood she still has left?"
"To ensure she has 'the glimmer' of a chance at reaching adulthood, I'd deny her whatever I needed to." she hissed. She hadn't been prepared for how angry Emer's words had made her. The 'glimmer of childhood.' Honestly. "Do you think I'm asking this because I want her to suffer? Of course I don't. But this isn't a game, wisewoman. Can you promise she won't get tossed over the railing if one of the thugs in the Whore's employ hears tell of a little stowaway from the Truth-Teller aboard? How many died boarding that ship, I wonder? How many people lost friends in the assault? Are you telling me there's nobody who'd slip in here to finish me off if they had the opportunity, let alone someone openly claiming to have come aboard without Sinead's permission?"
The anger burned away, along with what little was left of her energy. She leaned back against the wall, staring at the divider, her pale eyes resentful. "Just--if you want to make her safe, give her a proper job, please. I nearly got myself killed saving her; I won't risk her life over some misguided effort to save what's left of her innocence."
“The only thing that ever stopped me being exactly who I wanted,” she said, “was the worry that I would soon be dead … and now I am dead, and I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.” -Harrow the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir
Emer was expecting it, now, the whiplash tongue of a desperate young woman who thought everyone was out to stab her in the back. She wished things could be different, but if wishes were fishes, and all.
"As you see fit, dear," Emer said gently. "I will find her work."
Finding hidden stones around the room, or learning to knit scarfs - that was all work, was it not? She smiled, unseen by Hester, delighted by her own deviousness.
"But know that as long as both of you are my responsibility, nobody will dare raise a hand to you." She made a slight hum of approval. "Yes, I think that will do nicely. You will both be under my employ. Pris will remain your apprentice, and you shall be my assistant. I will speak to the captain about wages - if there is issue, I can pay you from my savings."
A slight pause.
"But remember, Hester. My word will be final. That for both you and the girl. If I request, you will do. If I forbid, you will not do. Is that a satisfactory arrangement?"
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
"Fine." It was exactly what she'd been asking for, but she couldn't help but add a caveat. "So long as you don't try to stop me from pursuing my studies. Or order me to do something I think will get us killed. Is that reasonable?"
Her gaze drifted upwards as she spoke. Had the ceiling always been so far away?
“The only thing that ever stopped me being exactly who I wanted,” she said, “was the worry that I would soon be dead … and now I am dead, and I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.” -Harrow the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir
"My hands will be off," Emer replied, "granted your studies do not involve anyone who passes through this clinic's doors. Alive or dead, Hester, I am tasked with treating them, not using them as test subjects. That is a position I will not budge on."
She moved towards the door.
"I will not ask you to do anything that puts you or Pris in harm's way, no. But - if I see you or the girl in danger as a result of your action - or your inaction - I will intervene, and you will listen."
There was an implicit thing there. I do not trust your judgment, at least, more than I trust my own. Emer didn't say that bit out loud, though she did let the words hang to drive the point home.
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
"Lovely." Hester knew she sounded ungrateful, but it wasn't easy to care too much about that right now. The stipulation against using dead crew hadn't exactly been unexpected, but it still made no sense. They were dead; what was there left to treat? But she wasn't going to get thrown off the ship over a few bones. There'd be more than enough for to work with after the next raid, no doubt, if Fen Manor had been anything to judge by.
"I will not ask you to do anything that puts you or Pris in harm's way, no. But - if I see you or the girl in danger as a result of your action - or your inaction - I will intervene, and you will listen."
And of course, there it was, clear as daylight--'I don't trust you, you're a murderer, the girl isn't safe around you, and if you do anything to displease me, I will kill you.' Fair enough. At least she seemed to genuinely care about Pris, however wrong-headed her approach to it had been.
She allowed herself to sink back fully into the cot, setting the plate down on the floorboards beneath it for later. "If you want your cot back, now's the time to ask for it."
“The only thing that ever stopped me being exactly who I wanted,” she said, “was the worry that I would soon be dead … and now I am dead, and I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.” -Harrow the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir
"Rest for now, dear. I've no need for it until tonight. If you've gathered your strength by this evening, you can find lodging in the crew quarters."
Not the entire reason - Hester was probably fine to leave on her own this morning, possibly had even been last night. But this entire situation had seemed a shock to the girl, and with her still quite uncomfortable around even Emer, she thought she owed her a little bit more time to acclimate to her new surroundings. Talking through the curtain, giving her some quiet and privacy from the rest of the crew, and most of all, allowing her enough comfort and security to sleep without too much thoughts of threats beside her. When she'd been drifting out of consciousness, rest came easy, but now it was more an active thing. An active thing that she doubtless still needed.
In fact -
"I'm leaving crutches by the curtain. If you feel the need to, lock the door. Few people on this ship have the key." She moved to the cabinet, pulling out a pair of crutches and leaning them on the wall nearby.