Sir Nathaniel tried to gloat last night. I didn’t hear a single word he said. Instead, I noted his spider body legs had changed in color.
From the beginning, his tarantula legs has been a vividly intense orange. (His decapitated head is the spider “body” he hides under the top hat.) When he returned, his legs were dimmer in intensity. I noted, but thought that to be from his exposure to the other places he had ran to.
But last night, the color change could not be ignored. Still tarantula legs. But now the hairs were black with bright orange tips. I have not seen such marking before and noted to myself I should look up that species. The hat remained the same. Structurally sound, moldy and aged. I have not seen his face since Benefé left.
His words suddenly broke through my inspection. “You are not even listening to me! Have you forgot your station!” The tone said much more than his words did. I now understood. Without Benefé here to keep him in softer moods, Sir Nathaniel was shifting to a more aristocratic, and demanding, state of mind. I knew where this would lead.
With quiet fierceness I challenged him. “I know my station. Sir Nathaniel. I know more than I have revealed to you. You have exhausted my patience with your petulant whining. I am not your servant. I do not cater to you. I must say, dealing with you has been a lesson in futility on my part, and arrogance on yours. Between you and Horatio, I have been forcibly disabused of many a pop-culture assumption about dealing with the dead. I’ve had my views on slavery and power challenged, and my views have been proven wrong.”
As fast as thought, I laid a binding mark against him. He jerked in surprise. “I’m done with your shit. If you were alive, I would have turned you over to certain folk by now for what you did to Benefé. For what happened in Germany. You don’t think I know the truth? Another hazel-eyed youth, forced into your service by extortion. Except his family fought back. You claim you chose death before dishonoring the crown. You ran, you fucking coward. You ran and was killed by the authorities.”
“Monster. I don’t know why I haven’t destroyed you myself. Maybe because I had the notion that I could help you. A romanticized ideal that those alive owe the dead another chance.”
“I’m going to bed, Nathaniel. I have other things to take care of. Do not approach me or you’ll lose limbs. In some places, roasted tarantula is considered a prized delicacy, you know.”
Nathaniel retreated to the far corner of my room, but made no attempt to leave. My mark on him made him fair game to the other Regulars. An obvious statement he has lost favored status with me. He is fortunate I had a task waiting for me. Or I would have settled the question of his residence right then and there.