Encante

by Aiyana Jackson

  “He’s not, Newt!” The woman stood, stepping between us. “He’s an explorer.”

  “He has a portal,” Newt responded. “He must, how else could he come to be so deep beneath the ocean?”

  “That does not make him Kabbalah.” She glared at him, and while I was tempted to interpret her fierce defence of me as genuine concern for my safety, I had the distinct impression that there was, in general, no love lost between this man and the captain’s niece.

  Newt’s face crinkled in derision. “Your arrogance astounds me; you think you can know a man from a single thought?” He snorted a derisive laugh. “Men have been hiding things from their women for millennia, you are no different.” He leant towards her, smiling in a rather unpleasant manner. “You are not special.”

  “Enough, Newt,” the captain snapped. “Recall to whom you speak; you may not regard her as special but I most certainly do, far more so than I do you. You’d do well to remember that.”

  Newt straightened. “Yes, sir. My apologies. I only meant to say, she is not infallible.”

  I watched the proceedings in silence, wondering if they had forgotten my presence completely. The captain fixed Newt with a stern glare that told me, quite categorically, that this man was far more formidable than his appearance might indicate. I watched him for a moment, wondering how best to deal with him when he did recall I stood beside him.

  “If that is what you meant to say, Newt, perhaps you should have said it. Keep your ugly thoughts to yourself.”

  “A great deal of good that would do me.” He glared once more at the woman. “He could be the Harlequinn for all you know, girl.”

  The captain roared with laughter at that, looking me over and dismissing me with a glance, correctly concluding there was not even the remotest possibility I could be the elusive Kabbalahn dropper. “I hardly think the Harlequin would be sent on such a lowly mission as to retrieve us.” He narrowed his eyes at me, considering. “And if my niece says he is not Kabbalah, then he is not Kabbalah.”

  He lifted the sopping hair curling around my ear and examined the skin beneath it. There he saw the network of interlacing cogs nestled inconspicuously behind my ear, before one by one coiling their way across my neck and descending down my spine. Cecelie loathed the tattoo of course; it was far too uncouth for her genteel taste.

  “He’s Loth Lörion,” the captain announced, and I heard his niece’s sharply indrawn breath. “All that is left of The Eldars.” The captain eyed me for a moment longer, his interest clearly piqued, then released my hair, allowing it to flow back across my shoulders and into my eyes. Another reason Cecelie despised the tattoo: the need to keep my hair so long in order to cover it. “You’re sure he’s unarmed, Newt?”

  At a nod from Newt, the captain’s gaze jumped to his niece, who also nodded, almost imperceptibly, and I had the strangest notion that she’d told him I spoke the truth. Satisfied, he smiled broadly.

  “Captain Micajah Everett,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder and offering me his hand. “You’re welcome aboard. You’ll not find us flat, so mind yourself. Tell me, what kind of fool are you, taking yourself to the bottom of an ocean? I’ve always wondered how the Loth Lörion travelled. How exactly did you end up at the bottom of the ocean, without any form of submersible? Or did you know we were here?”

  “Simeon Escher.” I shook his hand firmly, as my father had always taught me to do. “And I’d no notion you were here until this young lady brought me aboard . . . It was sheer luck.” I looked down once more at my saviour, grateful for an excuse to change the subject—I was not so foolish as to tell them about the compass.

  “I have always presumed you have portals in your possession,” the captain said, eyeing me as if wondering where I might have concealed one. “But that’s a dangerous business, hopping worlds using a timeless portal, no notion of when the next shift will occur. It’s not as if you can just jump home if you find yourself in bother.”

  “Indeed.” I smiled affably, hoping he’d drop it.

  “You were fortunate, then, that Vee happened upon you when she did; you would surely have drowned before the next time shift otherwise.”

  “That seems more than likely. A remarkable creature, Vee. But what’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothing a rest won’t cure,” the captain’s niece said, producing a radio much like Garrett’s. “Stella, can you send Tofa and Fanny up to hydroponicsm, please. That imbecile Garrett left Vee hanging on the rail in her tail too long; she can’t make it down alone.” The radio clicked off. “I’ll wring that lazy pig’s neck,” the woman declared.

  Evidently satisfied I was no longer in danger of being shot, she stalked off down the walkway in the direction Garrett had taken. Something about her slender ankles and soft-footed walk reminded me of the girl at my own feet.

  “Your niece is extraordinary also, sir,” I murmured, “if you don’t mind my saying.” I watched the retreating tails of her coat and marvelled as I realised her hair was adorned with a score of silver bells. They sang to each other merrily as she walked, as if eager to see Garrett reprimanded.

  The captain and I stared at each other for a long moment, as if he were sizing me up, deciding whether or not he would allow me to keep my secret. “I mind not at all, although she’s not truly my niece.”

  I suppressed a sigh, grateful he had not pressed me further. Still, I sensed it would not be the end of it; one way or another, Captain Everett would learn how I travelled. He had that way about him, the bearing of a man who always got what he wanted. I had the unsettling feeling that the only reason he had permitted me to evade the question at all was the fact he had realised my affiliations and sensed an ally. His clemency would last exactly as long as he thought he had something to gain, and no longer, of that I was certain. I would have to be sure to leave before this period of grace expired.

  The captain led me away from the prostrate form of my saviour, even as the sound of raised voices floated to us from the far side of the room. I should perhaps have thought it odd we were leaving Vee so, but I was too addled from my arrival, my encounter with Garrett, and now this strange and forcible woman.

  “Drusilla is my nephew’s half-sister,” Captain Everett continued, “although truth be told I’ve never allowed the lack of blood between us to change how she’s treated. You will like Axel, I think; he is fond of maps.”

  “Go back to your dookin, woman!” Garrett’s voice echoed suddenly through the cavernous room and the sound of flesh connecting heavily with flesh soon followed. A wry smile lit the captain’s face. Appalled, I made to go to Drusilla’s aid, but he only laughed heartily at my folly.

  “You needn’t worry on that count, Mister Escher; ‘twas Drusilla doing the slapping, you mark my words.”

  Chapter Four

  After the echoing room into which I had arrived, I was surprised by the cramped conditions of the corridors without. Of the same metal construct as the hydroponics area, pipes of varying widths ran the length of the walls and ceilings of each corridor, even occasionally the floor, spouting steam at odd intervals, and apparently controlled by a system of levers and wheels at each junction. The ship was like nothing I had ever seen before, the mechanics necessary to keep it running evidently being so complex it was almost as if the engine room extended throughout the entire ship.

  Occasionally, a wall included a window, running between shoulder and waist height. Beyond was the same jaded water I’d seen earlier, the same eerie shadows darting amongst the plant life, the same small, apparently plankton-eating fish. I noted every detail to myself as we passed, struggling to recall it all now that my notebooks were a sodden paper mulch within my coat’s inner pockets. I patted at my garret absently, ensuring my compass was still where I’d safely stowed it, and that I could return home whenever I chose.

  I was swiftly lost to the labyrinthine innards of the vessel, but Captain Everett and Newt kept up a steady flow of conversation, none of which told me what I really wante
d to know: which world was I on, and why was a woman such as Drusilla aboard a men’s vessel such as this?

  “So your primary purpose is one of scientific inquiry?” I deduced after a lengthy explanation from Newt as to how he came to meet the captain.

  “Indeed.” Newt nodded slowly. “In fact, you’ve come aboard at a most opportune time, most opportune. Or unfortunate,”—he laughed nervously—“depending on your stance on such matters.” I glanced at Everett for an explanation, only to find him laughing that booming laugh once more.

  “We have embarked upon a great adventure,” he said. “Although, not one without considerable peril.”

  “Peril?” I was genuinely surprised. “I would have thought with ladies aboard you would be doing nothing beyond a leisure cruise.”

  He laughed again. “What boring women you must know, Escher.” His eyes sparkled. “Ours are not so easily cowed.”

  “So I saw.” I thought again of Drusilla, her manner and dress, the way in which she’d punished Garrett for his thoughtless treatment of Vee. Then I thought of my dear Cecelie, sitting at home awaiting my return. It must be the turn of a new day there by now; she’d be at her window seat with her needle and thread, deftly working on one of her pieces. “In truth I cannot imagine many women of my home world aboard a vessel such as this. Although—” I paused, considering. “There are several amongst the Loth Lörion who fare as well as any man.”

  A shiver of unease skittered through me at the mention of my order. There was little point in refraining from mentioning it, since he had already deduced my origins on his own. Still, speaking of the Lörion so freely left me uncomfortable, to say the least. There was no official connection between the order and the rebellion, but we were children of The Eldars, one and all, and the Kabbalah had brought The Eldars to their knees for even thinking of rising against them. The Harlequin had slaughtered them, wiped them from existence, all in a single day.

  “You’re a native of Howl?” the captain asked. “Or did your studies draw you to the only surviving remnants of those once-great minds?”

  “No, I was born there.”

  “Howl is a word of riches,” the captain observed, “opulence the likes of which few ever see, no matter where they are in all the Fifteen Solars. Yet you choose to leave it, and for destinations unknown, no less. We are not so different, I think: you journey here for adventure and exploration, we do the same.”

  “And where exactly is here?” I ventured. Everett blinked in confusion. “Forgive me, Captain, but I’m afraid I have no idea which world I’m on.”

  Newt made an indiscernible sound, which I took for amazement. “You are truly so ignorant as to where you will be sent?” he asked. When I nodded a look of something akin to respect flashed through the captain’s eyes.

  “You’re on Idele, boy. Are you familiar with Edolas?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I’ve spent time in both Alena City and Typher. I once found myself in Persimmon also, although that particular adventure didn’t go quite according to plan.”

  Everett snorted. “No, I imagine it did not. The Kabbalah have a tight hold on this world, boy. Rowain, and the Rose Isles in particular, you would do well to stay away from. I would caution anyone so, but for you, with your allegiences . . . stumbling upon the wrong people would cost you your life. You are lucky you happened upon us. The Kabbalah owns Idele.”

  “As they do all the worlds, sir.” I fed him the party line. I did not yet trust these people enough to let them know how far resistance had truly spread. That was my job, after all, the very reason for my sojourns; I did not take these trips for pleasure, but to spread the efforts of the Loth Lörion as far as possible. The Eldars may have died speaking out against the Kabbalah, but their ideas had not perished.

  Oswald Deryn was a hero among my people, one who went unacknowledged, out of a need to keep our true alliances hidden. I spent much of my life keeping things hidden, a necessity I had long since grown tired of. That was, I suppose, why Cecelie was so appealing: her father led my chapter of the Lörion, and she knew a little of the truth.

  “And the peril of which you spoke?” I asked, snapping my attention back to my present situation. I was curious about these people. A curiosity born of far more than a desire to understand who or what the strange girl I had seen on arrival was. Now it was cultivated by the need to understand why they abhorred the Kabbalah so fiercely . . . and so openly. What was it that caused them to believe the Harlequin might be sent to retrieve them? Had that been a joke? I thought not. Aside from the fact it would have been extraordinarily poor taste, something in the captain’s eyes had told me that, despite him laughing it off, it was not an unreasonable fear. And if Captain Everett opposed the Kabbalah . . .

  “We’ve taken on as much air as we can hold, sir,” Everett said. “I mean to swim us to the very depths of this ocean, to the very limits of our capabilities.”

  “To what end?” I asked, only vaguely concerned; I had my compass after all, and if trouble came I could leave easily enough.

  “To seek another world, Escher, a Hollow World—a world within our own. Somewhere at the bottom of this ocean is a pathway into another, an ancient sea belonging to a shore within the very core of the earth itself. I mean to find that shore, and be the first to set foot upon it in over a millennium.”

  The notion was instantly intriguing. A world within a world. How many of my kind could say they found two new worlds with only one turn of the compass? But then . . .

  “Surely if such a world existed, we would know of it. The portals—”

  “The portals are not infallible. Your own would have drowned you today had Vee not happened upon you. And I believe there is something about this ocean that stops them from working, keeps people out.” He stopped in his meandering tour of the ship’s corridors, clasped my shoulder and stared at me for a long moment. “I do not believe the Kabbalah can reach this place.”

  “The Kabbalah possess infinitely more resources than—”

  “The Kabbalah possess time. That is the only resource in their possession which is infinite, and it is not truly theirs. Were the Horae not ensconced in the Clock Tower on Sinfin, all people, from all worlds in the Fifteen Solars, would be free to travel from one universe to the next, one world to the next. No, my friend, they are not all-powerful, they were simply cunning enough to trap the gods.”

  “Goddesses,” I corrected. “The Horae are goddesses.”

  Everett frowned, although whether it was at his error or the fact I had corrected it I could not tell. I was prevented from reading his expression further as a pipe on the wall beside me hissed suddenly and expelled a cloud of wet steam. I turned my head away, coughing and spluttering, alarmed at how deeply I felt my chest rattle, only to find myself staring out through one of the windows into the strange water tanks that seemed a part of the ship itself. One of the aquatic people was visible in a tangle of curling reeds, a heavy mechanical tail like Vee’s affixed to his human-like legs. I didn’t recognize him, although I was struck once more at the oddness of their nudity, though perhaps their species had no sense of shame. This one was bald of head, with fins running in triplicate down each side of his face and adjoining beneath his chin. As I watched, he used a large curved blade to reap armfuls of the reeds and deposit them in a net, towed behind him by his tail.

  “Agriculture,” I remarked, more to myself than anyone else.

  “Oh, yes.” Newt nodded happily. “The Narwhal is entirely self-sufficient; we have to be, for fresh supplies soon spoil. We wouldn’t last overly long without Franklin’s efforts in the hydroponics laboratory.”

  I snorted. “Franklin being the exceptionally savoury gentleman I met upon my arrival?”

  “He has his uses.” Everett shrugged as if it were no matter. “We can’t all be born of class. Those who aren’t must still have a purpose in life, or else what is their life for?” Something about the captain’s face as he spoke made me uncomfortable, although perhaps it was
merely the odd light reflecting from the underwater fields. His words also reminded me of some of Cecelie’s less than enlightened notions, notions I feared had been instilled in her by her father’s consort; I despised Philomena, for more reasons than I could count.

  “The Narwhal?” I asked, changing the subject. “The name of your vessel? I should very much like to learn more about her, if you have no objection, Captain.”

  “None at all, my good man. I’m sure Newt here can answer all your questions.” As if sensing my reluctance he shook his head. “Then again, I am forgetting my nephew; he’ll be delighted at the prospect of having you aboard. Axel will show you around, I’m sure.” He took in my dishevelled, dripping, and still-shivering appearance. “He’ll have some clothes that ought fit you too, and I’ll have Teddy fix you up a tonic to keep any ills away.”

  “That would be much appreciated.”

  “You’ll be feeling right at home in no time.” A look passed between Newt and Everett then, a flicker of a glance.

  And I had no idea what it meant.

  Chapter Five

  I was grateful for the fresh clothes Axel gave me, and to Teddy, the ship’s pleasant but ageing doctor, whose potion certainly banished the rattle I’d been starting to feel in my chest.

  “That should see you right, Mister Escher.” Teddy smiled at me through a thinning moustache of wispy silver, handing me a square bottle of clouded glass with a fat green cork securing the opening. “This is a follow-up treatment—be sure to take it. I’ve known sailors go to their graves thinking the first is enough, for they feel fine. You must take the follow-up, understand?”

  I nodded. “Yessir, I thank you.”

  “It’s not often we have sailors go overboard on the Narwhal, submerged as it is, but when they do it tends to be bad. We’re fortunate the encante are capable of aiding us as they do, or we’d have lost a lot more over the years. It’s not just the water you see, Mister Escher, although the cold of it alone is enough at these depths, it’s the pressure, you understand?” He glanced at me to check I was listening. I was peering curiously into the bottle at the liquid within. Despite the fact I was holding it perfectly still in my hand, I could swear it was moving. “Pressure can kill a man.”