by Shamus Young
“Not so,” Alice said. “My device can’t detect a circle until the spell is active.”
“That means there might be other circles like these around the ship!” Simon said with alarm. He turned around to face her and realized he’d left her standing in the dark. “I’m so sorry!” he said as he hurried back.
“Yes. Gilbert noticed the ethergram moving an hour ago, and it may have begun long before that. If there are other spells like this one, then they have been gathering power for a long time.”
“And sooner or later someone will stumble on one of them,” Simon said. “If it’s on a door, like this one...”
“Let’s first worry about the one in front of us,” she said, struggling to remain calm. “This spell is still growing. Frost has begun to form. Whatever this spell does, it’s going to do a great deal of it.”
The lantern grew dim as Simon held it close to the door.
“Careful!” Alice scolded. “If that goes out we will be lost.”
“If this were on the floor we could set candles around it.”
“If we had candles,” Alice said.
“Yes.”
“And if we wanted to feed this spell, which we don’t.”
“Of course.”
“I am at a loss,” Alice said after another minute. ”Can’t we just erase the inner circle?”
“The energy is gathered,” Simon said. “If we erased it, that energy could come out in unpredictable ways.”
“Better than the intended way, I should think.”
“It might still be enough to kill anyone standing close to the door. But look! The author left a lot of gaps. I suppose this is Headmaster’s writing. This is sloppy work, even for him. If I were to insert something in these spaces, then the spell might discharge safely.”
“Yes. But as you said, the energy will need to go somewhere,” she said quickly.
“I think I can turn it back into heat,” Simon replied as he stared at the circle intently
“Then I suggest you write while we can still see the lettering,” Alice said urgently. Condensation had been gathering on the top edge of the door and flowing downward, and this had now begun to freeze. The door was rapidly becoming sheathed in ice.
Simon put his hand to his pocket and let out a frustrated sigh, “I have nothing for writing!”
“I didn’t bring any chalk!” Alice groaned. “I brought a gun, and no chalk!”
Suddenly heavy footsteps were heard on the other side of the door.
“You may yet need the gun,” Simon said fearfully.
The wheel on the door began to turn. Alice and Simon threw themselves against it and began pulling it the other way.
“What’s going on here?” came a muffled voice. “Why is this hatch secured? And who’s put out the lights?”
“Don’t open the door!” Alice pleaded.
“Who is that? What’s a woman doing down here? And why is this shut?” the voice replied. The turning of the wheel had stopped for the moment.
Alice pulled a narrow tool out of the leather folds of her ethergram and handed it to Simon. “Use the blood,” she whispered.
“The blood?” Simon asked incredulously.
There was pounding on the door and the crewman spoke again, “Look here, you stop fooling about. I hear you talking to someone else, and I’m sure I know what you’re up to. You’ll open this door right now if you know what’s good for you.”
Simon and Alice traded confused and desperate looks as the man spoke, and finally Simon understood. Timidly, he walked over to the dead body and dipped the tool into the blood.
“That’s it! I’ve been patient enough,” the man boomed. The wheel began turning again. Alice threw herself against it, but she was hopelessly outmatched by the crewman on the other side.
Simon dashed back and added his strength to the effort. He held the wheel with one hand while he struggled to write with the other. He scratched furiously at the door, leaving bloody gouges in the ice. The brutally cold metal was painful to touch, and agonizing to grip. Their hands began to ache after just a few seconds. The ice melted under their hands, making the wheel slippery and further hindering them. As their strength failed, the wheel began to turn against them.
Alice let out a cry as she fought to push it back. Simon gave up trying to write and put both arms into the work. Suddenly his grip failed and his hands slid from the wheel. There was a clank as the mechanism released, leaving the door free to open.
“We’ll see about this!” boomed the outraged voice. The wheel stopped moving, and they heard the man stomping away.
“I’m sure he’ll be back with help,” Alice said. “Hurry up and finish your work.”
Simon had to look around for the tool, which he’d dropped in the struggle. Then he returned to work, loading it with blood and editing the circle on the door. After a few trips between the door and the blood puddle, he stood back to examine his work.
“Is it safe now?” Alice said cautiously.
“I think so. I hope so. I don’t know for certain. I don’t think there’s a way to test it safely. I guess we should count ourselves lucky that the crewman went away.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Although, it occurs to me now that perhaps he just took an alternate route to come through the opposite door.”
Almost as if he’d been waiting for this cue, the far door groaned with the sound of the wheel being turned. In a panic, Simon yanked open their own door, was briefly shocked that no magic took place, and stumbled through. He turned, expecting Alice to be on his heels, but she hadn’t moved. She was still staring into the darkness. There was a metallic creak as the hatch was opened. A light flashed and Simon was nearly blinded for a moment. Then there was a titanic blow, like the hammer of God striking the anvil of the world. Simon was pushed back, and it felt as though the air itself had struck him in the face.
He was nearly deaf from the sound. The world seemed muffled and distant. When his eyes recovered he could see the tortured metal of the hull, bending and twisting like a crumpled note. Simon of course was familiar with the idea of leaking ships, but in his mind he’d imagined that water would simply flow into the ship like water from a leaky bucket. But at this depth the water surged with a great fury. A wave of white foam roared down the passage. Alice had finally shaken off her stupor and was struggling to follow him. Simon watched helplessly as the wave overtook her, and swept her off her feet.
He moved to help her, but the wave struck his lantern and everything went black.
Gilbert was pacing the room. Alice and Simon had only been gone for a little more than half an hour, but the lack of news and the uncertainty made the minutes long.
The door banged open. Gilbert turned, expecting to see his companions. Instead he saw an older man, dirty, with an unkempt beard and a crooked smile. He was holding a lantern.
He was struck with an abrupt flash of recognition, “Soot!”
“Morning, Maypole,” the man replied, and then he hurled his lantern into the room. He fled the doorway before it even landed.
The lantern burst and burning oil spilled over the bed. Without hesitating, Gilbert scooped up the blankets and lifted them away. He charged out of the room with the fiery bundle and hurled it overboard. Then he beat out the flames on his chest and head. He was glad that he didn’t have a face, since this would have just burned it off.
Soot was running aft. Not to Steerage, as Gilbert expected, but towards the cargo area of the ship. Enraged and still smoking slightly, Gilbert gave chase.
Soot intensified his flight when he saw that Gilbert was in pursuit. He kept better pace than Gilbert would have thought possible for a man his age, but he wasn’t fast enough to escape. Gilbert was tireless and had longer strides, and quickly closed the gap. The early morning quiet was broken with the heavy pounding of their footsteps on the deck.
Gilbert saw that the door leading below was curiously unguarded. Their chase led down into the ship, through
the twisting corridors, drawing closer to the cargo area. Gilbert was pleased with this. He could corner and kill Soot in the cargo area without worrying that the deed would be discovered. Sadly, he realized he’d have to perform the killing with his bare hands, since there hadn’t been time to put on his sword before the chase began.
Gilbert had nearly caught up to the man while they were up on deck, but Soot had begun to pull away again amongst the confusing dark turns below. Gilbert couldn’t take advantage of his greater strides in such tight spaces.
“He’s coming!” Soot screamed as he ran. He shouted this again and again, his voice faltering near the end from his desperate panting for air. Soot was stumbling as his strength ran out.
At last Soot jumped down a ladder into the hold. It was a long drop, but Gilbert saw there was a net at the bottom to break his fall. Soot was still gasping, “He’s coming. He’s behind me! He’s coming!”
Gilbert followed, and on the way down he saw the net wasn’t there to break anyone’s fall. It was lying slack on the floor, which was a very strange thing. No self-respecting crew would leave something like that unsecured.
Gilbert landed in the middle of the net and realized too late what a profoundly stupid thing he’d just done. There was a loud bang and the net gathered him up and pulled him into the air. Gilbert found himself suspended from the ceiling of the hold. There were other items up here as well - bits of luggage or cargo that needed to be kept safe from rats or water. He was face-down, with his arms dangling helplessly below him. He tried to turn over, but he had no leverage and he simply wiggled about impotently in the trap.
Soot limped out into view, gasping and holding his side. At first Gilbert thought the man was coughing, but then he realized Soot was simply trying to laugh. A large man, bald and bearded, stood forth holding a lantern, the only source of light in this part of the hold. It was Ivar, and clearly he’d been the one to spring the trap. He pounded Soot on the back and joined him in laughter.
“You must be... the stupidest... son of a whore.... I’ve ever seen,” Soot huffed.
“I guess we’ll find out if she’s a whore or not when we meet her,” Ivar grinned. “We’ll have a fine time with her.”
“Scream for help if you like,” Soot taunted. “I’m sure the crew would be happy to cut you down.” The two men left, leaving Gilbert in darkness.
He pulled on the ropes helplessly. His face was pointed at the floor and his legs were pointed at the ceiling. He couldn’t see what he was doing. Eventually he gave up the struggle and began gnawing at the ropes like a rat. Progress was slow and not particularly flavorful.
A few minutes later there was a terrible sound. What was it? They were too far south for icebergs. Did a boiler explode? While he was still pondering this there was another explosion. And another.
Simon pulled his head out of the water and sputtered, “Alice? Alice!” His ears were still ringing from the magical detonation, but he was almost positive he’d heard more explosions in the past few minutes.
The surge of water had pushed him through the ship, and by now he’d lost his bearings. The tumble had sent him flailing, groping for purchase with one hand while holding his glasses to his face with the other. He’d managed to lose his hat in the process. Eventually he’d been washed into a place where the water allowed him to stand. He could see a ladder leading hopefully upward to the light. He clung to it for a few moments, hacking and coughing up the icy seawater he’d swallowed. A body floated past in the surging foam. It was the slain crewmen.
He was dangerously cold. Even the slightest bump against his hands produced intense pain. The water had stolen his strength, and he was afraid he would lose his grip on the ladder.
“Alice!” he called again, more weakly this time. He looked up the ladder. It seemed an impossible climb. Alice was missing, and was most likely drowned. He felt so tired, and everything seemed hopeless. He thought he might just let go of the ladder. He could let the waves take him to a swift and merciful end. He’d stolen a few days of warm food, companionship, and joy. Like a prisoner who has just finished his last meal, it was time for him to meet his end.
Simon remembered the many seeming friends in Ravenstead. Although he could no longer recall their names, he could remember the faces of boys who died of sickness or punishment, and many others who were taken from the group by their masters and never returned. Simon had learned to accept these random cruelties of the world and came to understand that life was a long road of loss and misery. He pushed through his life with his head down, hoping that each day’s ration of savagery would fall on someone else.
Then Gilbert and Alice had entered his life. They believed that misery and heartlessness were not the natural way of things, that these things might be resisted or even pushed back. They had kindled a flame of hope in him and seemed to know a world less desperate than the one he inhabited. Now it was plain that the last few weeks were simply a final cruel trick, a twist to give him something to love before taking it all away and sending him to die alone at the bottom of the cold ocean.
The water had been at his knees when he came to the ladder, and now it was at his hips. He looked down into the swirling water, wondering about the best way to get this nasty business over with.
Something floated by, a tangle of bright ribbons and hair. Simon reached out and hauled Alice out of the water. He pulled her to himself and shook her gently while calling her name. She didn’t respond, but his thread of hope had not yet been broken. He looked up the ladder. Drawing a deep breath, he slung Alice over his shoulder. She was alarmingly heavy for such a slight woman, mostly due to her waterlogged dress. He looked down at the black water, and then up towards the light. He knew he didn’t have the strength to carry himself up the ladder, much less with the additional burden of Miss White. But he thought it would be better to try. He imagined that was what Gilbert would do. He let out a furious (if perhaps slightly hoarse) cry and set himself to the challenge.
The ladder wasn’t perfectly vertical, but was sort of like a very steep staircase. That, combined with the alarming list that Callisto had developed, meant it was just barely possible to climb the ladder without plummeting back down with his burden. His arms were both numb from the cold, yet burning from the exertion. His legs were weak and faltered many times on the steps, causing him to strike his shins on the metal. Gritting his teeth, he gave a final cry and heaved himself onto the next deck.
Simon leaned against the wall and pulled Alice to himself. “Please wake up. Please wake up,” he whispered.
Alice vomited seawater and opened her eyes for a brief moment. Then she closed them again and began shivering. The two of them huddled together, slumped against the wall and breathing uneasily.
A great commotion came from above them. There was the sound of a multitude of footsteps and the voices of men and women shouting. Above this came the sound of a bell, ringing furiously.
Simon couldn’t tell how long they sat there. At one point he looked down and saw Alice’s eyes were open. Her breathing had stabilized and her teeth were chattering.
“Are you all right?” Simon asked quietly.
She nodded unconvincingly.
The water raged and surged below them, and each time it seemed to strike a bit higher than the time before.
“We need to move soon,” Simon said.
Alice sat up and pawed at her face with numb hands, wiping away water and pulling the wet hair out of her eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a barely-audible croak.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
She braced herself against the wall and pulled herself up. She wobbled for a moment and then took an uneasy step away from the wall. “Yes,” she said at last.
“I’m glad. A while ago I was very worried you had died.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “And I’m sure you’ve gotten the worst of it.”
“Me?” Simon laughed. “I have no problems that can’t be cured with a warm fire.”
&nbs
p; “You silly man,” she smiled weakly. “Your head is bashed open!”
Simon wiped at his forehead and came away with a handful of blood. He’d assumed the wetness was just water draining out of his hair. “Is it bad?” he asked.
“It looks nasty, but I don’t think we should let it hinder our escape. The water will overtake us in a few more minutes if we don’t hurry. How can the ship flood so fast? Surely the ship can survive a single hole in the hull.”
“It’s more than one hole,” Simon explained. “I heard several explosions after the one we saw. Some were close, some were distant.”
It was not easy to move around. Callisto was listing gently starboard, and their wet shoes did little to help them on the smooth sloping floor.
“Up,” Alice said, pointing along the passage to the next ladder.
They stumbled along, slowly working their way out of Callisto’s belly. Crewmen sometimes dashed by them, sent on one desperate quest or another.
Finally, they emerged on deck. Light was slowly gathering in the early morning sky. A brisk wind washed over the ship. The decks were lined with passengers, elbowing and pushing their way to the rails. Lifeboats were being loaded and lowered.
“We need to fetch Gilbert,” Alice said.
Their room was in shambles. The door had been left open. Gilbert was gone. The bed had been stripped. The furniture had been ransacked.
“My bag is gone,” Alice said, horrified.
“A few of your clothes are still here,” Simon said, holding up an item that had been left on the floor.
“The book was in my bag,” she scolded him.
“Of course,” he said, suddenly feeling very silly. “But Gilbert is gone. Perhaps he’s already left the ship?”
“I can’t imagine they would load an old man before so many younger passengers, and so many women, but I can’t imagine where else he might have gone. And I can’t picture him being willing to carry a ladies’ bag, even if it were full of gold, or beer, or whatever the man values.”