"I accept the deal," Charles said to the doctor who was stitching his wound.
The doctor's hand paused. His scarred lips curled up into a terrifying grin. "Really? That's great. I'll make sure to use the best medicines and get your brain back in shape."
"But the terms must change. I can give you the Black Mirror, but you have to become my ship's doctor." If there was anything he'd learned from past battles, it was the value of having a ship's doctor on board. If they'd had a skilled one last time, the casualties would have been far lower.
The doctor lowered his head and resumed stapling Charles's skin together with a series of sharp clicks. "You're not the first to want me as a ship's doctor. Their ships are bigger, their crews tougher—why should I pick you?"
"Because I have what you want. You care so much about the Black Mirror, but I bet it's not just the object itself. You want to know its origins, too, don't you? As it happens, I know all of that. Become my ship's doctor, and I'll tell you everything behind it—if you decide to believe me."
Once the wound was closed, the doctor pulled back and studied Charles, as if trying to read his mind. "Show me the Black Mirror again."
Charles tossed him the phone. He watched as the doctor gently caressed the black screen, his face suddenly showing a tenderness completely at odds with his appearance.
Did he ever have a cell phone, too?
SMACK! The doctor smashed his iron hand against the bedside. "Two years. I'll stay on your ship for two years. Then you tell me everything."
"Deal. The Black Mirror is yours now. As for everything else about it, you can ask me anytime after you come aboard." As long as he became the Narwhal's ship's doctor, Charles could ensure the phone wouldn't fall into other hands. Two years was more than enough time for him to figure out the doctor's character and plan his next move.
"Nglui mglw… nafh…"
The murmurs buzzed in Charles's ear. He watched as the doctor before him warped and twisted into a monster—this time, it was even worse. He felt his consciousness tumble like laundry in a washing machine, ready to rip apart at any moment. With a shaking hand, Charles reached for the gel inside his clothes, but the deformed monster batted it away with a tentacle. It then held out a cup of potion.
Seeing the constantly shifting monster, Charles knew it was the doctor. He took the potion with trembling hands and drank it down.
The monster left. Moments later, it returned with more potions, not just liquids but all kinds of pills and salves. A wild mix of strange flavors battered Charles's tongue over and over again, nearly wiping out his sense of taste.
"Doctor! How much longer?" Charles yelled in pain at the monstrous figure, clutching his head. The potions weren't providing instant relief.
Six gaping, lamprey-like mouths on the monster's belly opened and said something, but the whispers drowned it out. Charles couldn't hear any other sounds.
Just then, the mutation began to recede, and Rasto Herman's massive, ugly face appeared before Charles again. "Is it cured?"
The doctor looked agitated, scratching at his salt-and-pepper hair with his iron hand and sending flakes of dandruff flying. "Impossible! How can Silence Salt not work!"
Seeing his reaction, Charles had his answer. His auditory hallucinations weren't going to be so easily cured.
Rasto suddenly lurched toward Charles, staring intensely into his eyes. Charles instinctively tried to pull away, but the doctor clamped his head in place. "Don't move!"
Several seconds later, the doctor finally let go, asking in a rapid, neurotic tone, "Did you see something at sea? Something you shouldn't have?"
"A God? I've seen one twice—once eight years ago, and again recently."
The answer seemed to push Rasto over the edge. His body jolted, and he furiously stomped the floor with his steel leg. "I knew it! I should have guessed! My medicine is fine! There's absolutely nothing wrong with my medicine!"
"This sickness is related to a God?"
"A God?" The doctor sneered. "I don't know if they're some goddamn Gods. All I know is that anyone who gets mixed up with them ends up miserable."
"Can you cure it?"
"It's not a sickness, don't you get it? It's a curse! Those damn things! Just a glance can kill you, and you call them Gods! Hah!" The doctor's ugly face pressed in again, his trembling eyes locked on Charles. "I can suppress the symptoms, but only temporarily. If you want to live, you need to find a way to break the curse yourself. That's not my area of expertise."
Thinking of the auction in half a month, Charles made his decision. "Then just suppress it for me for now. I have some personal business to handle first." The search for the Earth's surface was at a critical juncture, and he couldn't afford any distractions. As long as he could get back to the surface, everything else could be sorted out.
The doctor grabbed a fist-sized sea spider from a jar under the bed, walked over to his table, and began mixing a new concoction. "Let's be clear, Captain. If you die before the two years are up, I'll still consider my promise fulfilled."
"Fine. Just as long as you don't poison me to finish your service ahead of schedule."
"Poison you!? That's an insult to a man of medicine!"
For the next ten-plus days, Charles continued to sample the various bizarre potions the old man concocted. Although the tastes were questionable, his mind grew noticeably clearer. Even when the whispers returned, they were as faint as buzzing mosquitoes, and the visual hallucinations vanished completely. Furthermore, with the enhanced healing from the Black Blade, Charles's wounds were nearly gone in just over a dozen days, and his body returned to its peak condition.
"Captain, are you sure about having that guy as our ship's doctor? The other day, I secretly saw him add gunpowder to the pills you were taking," Second Officer Krona asked nervously.
Charles, who had been writing in his journal, paused his pen for a moment before continuing. "Just do your job. How is crew morale?"
"It's alright. They know this place's reputation, so no one is wandering about recklessly. Captain, how much longer are we staying here?"
"Not much longer." No sooner had Charles spoken than a bat crashed through the door and transformed into Audric. "Captain, the Sodoma auction is about to start!"
Charles shrugged on his captain's coat and headed out of the Captain's Room.
Led by Audric, Charles soon arrived before a wooden ship lying on its side. A doorway had been carved out where the keel should have been. This was the venue for Sodoma's auction.