Page 127 of Rears & Vices

“Et alors! Wait a moment, matelot. We have come this far in spite of you.”

Everard reluctantly turned back.

“I can assume you have never been with a woman?” she asked.

“Yes,” Everard confirmed warily.

“Then you wouldn’t know: we are generally not fragile.”

“Indeed… no?”

“Pas non. Absolument pas.” She shrugged. “But I have heard some men do forget it, time to time, and they get in their arses about it.” She eyed him. “You think Vee finds you fragile, all the sudden? Because you had nearly died?”

Everard ducked his head. Was he not supposed to have been abandoning his cursed pride?

“Yes, I… I fear he must. But I am perfectly hale. Stephan says my heart beats as well as can be expected. I haven’t felt the vertigo these two fortnights past. My weight is…” Not ideal. “… returning to its usual.”

She looked him up and down. “You look well enough. Better than before. You are lucky to be alive.”

“Thank you,” Everard said. “I am.”

René smiled. “Vee still wants you, matelot. I can say this without a doubt.”

“I know,” Everard said vehemently. “I know he does.”

“Yes, otherwise, he would not keep you to your matelotage. You know him; he would set you free.”

Everard agreed.

René said, “But you remember I said he and I are opposite? As is meant to be?”

“In authority. I understand that now.”

“But also self,” René emphasised. “Violence is my first option in most cases. I don’t mind it, and often my crew and I do not anyway have the luxury of choice.” She paused. “But Vee makes himself do violence only when he must.”

“Though it sickens him.”

René nodded. “For the sake of many, he will hurt another. But… hurt you, even accidentally, for the sake of himself? For his pleasure?”

“It wouldn’t⁠—”

“Even the chance.”

“It’s my pleasure, too,” Everard muttered. “For God’s sake, he’s a bloody hedonist. My side of it ought count just as much. Surely he’s realised.”

René shrugged. She picked up the pen once more. “I think this is maybe what he forgot. Guilt is a powerful thing.”

Everard thought this unlikely. Vitya had never been more focused on pleasing Everard, in every other way but the one. Probably, Vitya had just got it in his head to become a temporary martyr.

But this gave him an idea.

If his demands weren’t enough, maybe he could tip the scales of rational hedonism. Put forth an empirical argument.

He just needed… help.

The Enemistad was due into Chetumal Bay two days hence. D’Arcy was due with her.

Everard felt those days as though they were weeks.