Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots Read Online Free Page B

the business I was sent to accomplish. And then that business led to a lucrative arrangement that required my remaining for a short time. And that short time became… Well, I have been here seven years now. I have always harbored the notion that I would return someday. Now I do not. Now I envision a large house, and many children, and perhaps a position in the local government.”
    “Though I would wish that last on no man,” I said with a smile, “I suppose someone must be a public servant. And I feel in your case, you would actually serve those you administered and not merely your own ends. As for the rest, I am very happy for you, my good friend. I wish you every happiness.”
    “Thank you.”
    He sobered somewhat as he contemplated me.
    “What of you?” he asked. “Why will you not return to Port Royal?
    Striker has implied it has much to do with your matelot, but he has said little as to the particulars.”
    I was not sure which of the particulars I should relay, though I knew I should tell Theodore if I told anyone at all.
    “Gaston is mad,” I said at last.
    “I have heard rumor of that. How so?”
    With surprise, I realized I could not answer that in any meaningful fashion. I tried to recall the description Gaston had first offered me, and then I remembered his words to Doucette.
    “He experiences acute emotional states in which he is unable to control his actions or faculties. During these times, he is greatly debilitated in reason, and he becomes a threat to those around him: both friend and foe. On occasion, he even forgets what occurs during a bout. His bouts can be triggered by items or memories of traumatic incidents in his life.”
    Theodore nodded thoughtfully. “I have heard he poses corpses.”
    I sighed. “Aye, that is why he is known as the Ghoul. I have seen that, once. He means to offer them respect after a fashion.”
    “Did he stab you?” he asked.
    “Aye, but by accident. He meant to kill Doucette and I got between them.”
    “Who was this Doucette?”
    “Doctor Dominic Doucette is a French physician. He became Gaston’s mentor after a fashion. He was assigned to care for Gaston…”
    And there I stopped, unsure of what to say. Theodore studied me in patient silence. The truth of much of the tale was not a thing that should be related to anyone, even Theodore; but, I needed Theodore to understand certain aspects of the situation if he was to help us with the legal part of that entire morass of insanity that was Gaston’s past.
    “Gaston was exiled here by his father, a French Marquis. They had a… misunderstanding, a disastrous… they had a falling out, over the death of Gaston’s sister. Not that they got on well before, but… I cannot divulge all of the particulars of any of that, even to you.”
    Theodore nodded sagely but remained silent.
    “I can say it is all related to Gaston’s madness,” I continued,
    “which is a thing that haunted his mother, and has haunted him since childhood. It was made far worse by the… circumstances of his departure from France.”
    There. I had managed to say what I felt Theodore needed to hear, without saying that Gaston’s father had nearly flogged him to death for killing his twin sister after committing incest with her. I did not believe my good friend would understand or forgive my matelot for those transgressions, which sounded so horrific in name. Only I, who had heard the tale from his lips under duress, could possibly comprehend how and why what occurred was more tragedy inflicted upon my love than an evil that he did. I felt sure any other would hear the words alone, and not the aspects of the tale relating to his sister – on her deathbed – manipulating Gaston into helping her live her last laudanum-induced flights of fancy.
    “In your note,” Theodore said. “You mentioned that there was a legal document you might need me to review.”
    “Aye, that is part of the matter. Gaston’s father had Gaston declared