“You have the means to leave this place, Simeon. Do so now, while you still can. And take my sister with you.”
I was still reeling from the shock of his comment when he abruptly released my arm and vanished, leaving me staggering.
The darkness of the belvedere beckoned and I stumbled inside, intending to collapse on the cushions that reminded me so much of Drusilla—the very sight of them soothed my head.
A moment’s rest, I thought, and I’ll feel well enough to return to my cabin.
Instead, I was startled half out of my skin by a movement in the shadows, and the sudden knowledge of another presence in close proximity. Vee scurried out of the gazebo, pushing past me and flitting away across the platforms. She was soundless upon her bare feet, and appeared almost weightless; her passage failed to cause the suspended walkways to sway as they did when trod upon by booted human feet.
I stared after her, recalling the last time I had stumbled upon Axel here: the open wine, the flower I had so carelessly taken for Drusilla, which had quite clearly been intended for someone else. Why had I not thought to wonder for whom the boy had brought it? Or, for that matter, why he had been alone in the dark drinking wine. I recalled how he’d spoken so passionately about the treatment of the encante, how he’d been raised with a clearly beloved sibling who was half their species, and how his own father had apparently fallen in love with one such as Vee.
Like father, like son, I thought wryly, returning to my cabin in a mild daze, my mind awash with speculation.
It was in one of the corridors I first noticed the innocuous sound—a tapping so quiet I’m certain I would not have noticed it had it not been the middle of the night. The ship was as silent as the grave, and even the music I had heard earlier had fallen silent. Tittle-tattle, it seemed to follow me, and when I paused to look about me, it paused also, as if holding its breath, waiting for me to move once more. It was only by continuing, as if I were untroubled and wasn’t listening for it, that I came to notice the spider, scuttling along in my wake. It moved beneath the gridded floor at my feet, venturing out occasionally and scurrying part way up the wall, to navigate a junction, or a cluster of piping. Small and metallic, bronzed to a dulled shine, it sported legs articulated by complex mechanisms, allowing them to disjoin and move in the most peculiar ways. Its back was awash down one side with tightly packed cogs, like the innards of the clocks the Kabbalah had for so long withheld from us. It whirred away at an almost inaudible level.
I knew of such creatures, creations of Bravas, a metal world populated by metallic beings, the birthplace of some of the finest technology in the Fifteen Solars. Even the Kabbalah couldn’t rival Bravasian ingenuity. I had seen such spiders aboard vessels before, most often sky ships, which required constant maintenance but had very small crews, usually only one engineer, a handful at most. Yet something told me this was not for maintenance. It was not just the fact the creature was following me, nor was it the fact it had not so much as paused as it passed a faulty pipe that spewed steam—it was the large, multifaceted gemstone embedded in the other side of its back, glinting, oscilating, and if I wasn’t very much mistaken, staring straight at me.
What was it Axel had said about his uncle’s infernal devices? I couldn’t quite recall, but something told me I had just encountered one. And it appeared to be tasked with monitoring me as covertly as it possibly could.
Chapter Eleven
It was around evenfall the following day when I was called to the captain’s lounge. Time had started to elude me by that point, in so much as time was ever understandable in a universe bereft of time. I often wondered what life must have been like before the Kabbalah imprisoned the Horae, locking Time away in the clock tower along with the goddesses who controlled it. I wondered what it would be like to be permitted to own a device as simple as one which told you the time. I was conscious that days on Idele did not equate to days on Howl. One did not need a watch to know that sunlight lasted longer on one world than it did on another, that darkness was endless on a third world but almost nonexistent on a fourth. There were fifteen worlds in our universe and I had visited them all. Days passed, planets turned, weeks became months became years became decades, and before you knew it, a millennia or more had passed since the Kabbalah robbed the worlds of Time. Time passed, yet time was imprisoned.
Only the Kabbalah controlled time; only the Kabbalah could move from one world to another whenever they chose. It was a strange state of existence, this odd power they held over all of us, simply by being in control of Time. I am certain the philosophers would explain it better than I; Oswald Deryn, now there was a man who understood, a man who perhaps understood far better than the Kabbalah themselves. But he was gone now, and that understanding had died with him. Cane, try as he might, could not equal his mentor any more than I could equal my own. I was left floundering, knowing only that something had been taken from us, something so fundamental to human existence that our very freedom was compromised without it.
In the hierarchy of existence in this universe, humans stood over encante as the Kabbalah stood over humans, and the goddesses, who should have presided over all, were chained in a metal tower. I was beginning to sympathise with them, having spent so long now within the metal walls of the Narwhal.
I was starting to miss the feel of sunlight on my skin, of wind in my face, and despite my early enjoyment of the local cuisine, I was developing a stringent detestation for shellfish. Perhaps my enjoyment of the food had simply been soured by a greater understanding of the living conditions endured by those who prepared it.
The sailor who brought me Everett’s summons also lead me to the room in which I was to attend him, yet another place I’d previously been unaware existed. I was beginning to think of the ship as a rabbit warren: endless tunnels leading up and down and around and back, burrows, dens, lairs and hideaways. The sailor identified himself only as Pipkin and I was at a loss as to whether that was his first or last name. It became quickly evident he was Everett’s lackey, and fiercely loyal to his captain.
After a confounding journey through the belly of the ship, Pipkin released the seal of a door the same as any other aboard, and beckoned me through. I stepped across the threshold, for once managing not to trip, with the expectation of some form of drawing room.
“By the gods!” I exclaimed.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Everett stood braced against the railing of an immense balcony. Beyond, a great eye of glass expanded beyond the sides of the ship, exposing crystalline views of the ocean on all sides, save a narrow strip directly behind him where it attached to the hull. The window descended below, at least two more decks, and above as many again, yet it was neither the size nor the presence of the view that so astonished me.
“What’s happened to the ocean?” Far from the darkening waters of the deeps I had seen upon my arrival, and again only that morning when Piccolo had taken me on my promised tour of the fields, the water was now rubescent, undulating with light as if touched by the rays of the sunlight I so craved. Schools of fish were abundant and, as I watched, a larger shadow appeared in my peripheral. I leaped back, startled, as a great whale drifted by.
“He’s not nearly as close as he looks,” Cage informed me. “Don’t worry yourself.”
“He’s magnificent.” I watched as the great beast’s tale retreated. “We have similar creatures at home, but they could never be found at these depths; they need to come up for air.”
“As do we, and soon.” I glanced at Everett and my hand strayed without thinking to the compass in my pocket. His eyes noted the gesture but he said nothing. “I told you we had a limited air supply. It’s been running short for two days—I’ve had Hoffrey ration it.”
That explained why I’d felt as if the air were getting thinner the longer I was aboard—it was. “Have we enough to return to the surface?”
“No. That was never an option. However our friend there,”—he nodded at the whale—“has just demonstra
ted there is no need. Our whales need to breathe just as yours do, Escher, and tell me, from whence do you think that light is coming?” He gestured outside.
“I’d assumed more of the plants and fish, like those in the hydroponics bay.” I stepped towards the railings and stretched out for a better look. “Although . . .” I braced one arm on the railing and twisted myself around, contorting so as to see up as far as possible. “It looks to be coming from above.”
“And so it is!” Everett thundered a laugh that echoed around the window. “I’ve done it, lad.” He slapped me on the back. “I’ve found it!”
“This is the passageway you sought?” I had to admit feeling a sudden thrill at the prospect. “You’ve truly found an entrance into your Hollow Earth?”
“More than that, I believe we’re already within.”
Even as we spoke, I saw what he meant; the ocean without was lightening, while the air pressure within was subtly changing. A few moments more and my ears popped painfully. I swallowed hard, attempting to equalise.
“We’re ascending.”
“Indeed.” Newton crossed the room towards us, his cane clacking on the metal deck. “But ascending into what?” Behind him trailed his assistant, Harrow, his face equal parts bemusement and anticipation. “Our instruments indicate we’re far beneath the surface of the ocean, and yet . . .”
He let the sentence hang in the air as the four of us turned our attention to the window. I found myself expelling a breath I’d not meant to hold as the submarine rocked suddenly and then righted itself. I caught hold of the rail to keep from falling as I was flung sideways by the motion. I gasped, my mind catching up with my eyes.
We now sat on the surface of an ocean. Below the balcony, the lower half of the ship remained submerged, but here, up here we were surrounded by air.
“Is it breathable?” Newton demanded from behind me. I heard the crackle of a radio and a muttered response. “The air outside is good, Captain,”—Newton chuckled in nervous relief—“even now Hoffrey is taking on as much as we can hold. It seems we’ll not suffocate after all.”
“It was never a possibility,” Everett declared. He thumped the rails, his face a miasma of confidence. “Just look at it!”
It was impossible not to. The ocean expanded as far as the eye could see, all of it laced with the same amber glow it had held below. High above us, I could just make out a rocky ceiling, also a deep ochre, and concluded we were in a cave system of sorts, and the water derived its colour from the surrounding rocks.
“Fascinating,” I muttered.
The Narwhal continued, propelling us out further into the ocean. The further forward we went, the clearer the water became, until it looked no different to that found on the surface of Idele. Had I not known we were within the world itself, I would not have been able to tell the difference with my eyes alone. More peculiar still was the atmosphere, which seemed to expand as we exited what must have been the end of the passageway leading from Idele’s upper ocean into the innards of her heart.
Then I looked up, and saw the sky. The scientist in me knew it wasn’t truly sky, couldn’t possibly be, yet there it was, as blue within the earth as it was without, the only hint of strangeness a proclivity towards pinkish orange clouds.
Before long, we were pressing forward once more, descending now that we had a sure and certain air supply. It seemed the ocean we were now entering was as deep as that which we had just left. I could not say for how long I stood transfixed at that window, watching nothing but the passage of the ever-deepening water around us, which once more reddened as we descended. After a time, I became aware of a delicate melody straining through the air of the ship. It was as I’d heard before, only louder this time, and far clearer.
“What is that music?” I wondered aloud.
“The encante are as renowned for their song as they are for riding rantipole,” Harrow replied. “Still, it is strange.”
I glanced at him questioningly.
“I’ve never heard them sing so loudly before,” he elaborated.
I was still watching the waters and enjoying the encante’s sweet song when Pipkin’s radio crackled to life in the doorway behind us.
“Captain!” he exclaimed.
“What is it, Pip?” Everett answered irritably.
“It’s the Lady Drusilla, sir.”
I whirled at the alarmed tone of his voice. His expression did nothing to ease my concern.
Chapter Twelve
“Damnation, not now!” Everett bolted from the room and I followed closely, having no idea where Drusilla was and knowing full well I would become hopelessly lost if I tried to make my way to her alone. If he objected to my intrusion he made no mention of it.
We reached her cabin to find the door open. Horatio Drew stood outside, wringing his hands in distress while Axel squatted beside his father, hugging his own knees. I pulled myself up short as I reached them and offered Drew a sympathetic arm, upon which he leant gratefully.
“How is she?” I asked.
“Silent.”
A glance inside the cabin revealed Teddy, bent double over Drusilla’s bed, her lax form half obscured by heavy blankets. The notion of the outspoken girl holding her tongue in any situation was difficult to grasp.
“Damn it, Teddy, what ails her?” Everett demanded.
“I have no notion,” he said as I cautiously entered. “She took a sudden turn not a half hour ago and fell before anyone could catch her. She may have hit her head. She was in the engine room with Hoffrey, as I understand it, demanding the lower decks get fresh air first since he’d seen fit to deprive them of more than the rest of us.” I had to catch myself before I commented on that; now was most certainly not the time. “He brought her straight here and had someone fetch me. She’s not woken and is half frozen to the touch.”
“What can be done?” I asked.
“Not a great deal.” Teddy shook his head. “We must let her rest and hope she improves.”
“Let her damn well rest then,” Everett bellowed. “Out, everyone!” He stalked from the room, Teddy following swiftly. I was about to do the same when a hand shot out from the bed and clamped onto my arm. I looked down to see Drusilla’s wide eyes suddenly open, staring up at me. She tugged on my arm but said not a word. I glanced at Everett, who was watching us both with a calculating eye.
“You want to stay, boy?” he demanded.
“It would seem she wishes it,” I ventured.
“Very well.” He nodded brusquely. “Leave them be.”
“But—”
“Axel! I said leave them, damn you.” The door slammed shut on us and I heard the babble of voices retreat. I perched as lightly as I could on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on Drusilla’s forehead. She was indeed frozen, and clammy in a way I’d not thought her skin capable of becoming, for she was so like the encante in complexion.
“Drusilla,” I murmured softly, expecting no answer.
“I’m sorry, Simeon,” she whispered. “We’ll pay for that ruse later, I fear, but it couldn’t be helped, I simply had to get you alone.” I stared at her, wondering if I had heard aright. “I had no choice, I hope you understand.”
“Whatever’s wrong?”
Her fingers pressed hard against my lips; my attempts at whispering never seemed to be good enough. “I had to speak to you, but you must understand, you must promise!”
“Anything,” I said without hesitation.
“Good. My uncle can never know.”
“What do you mean?” I wondered for a brief, deluded moment if she were about to kiss me, perhaps even more.
“Would that I could.” She grinned at me and sat up. “But there’s no time.” I was dignified enough to blush fiercely when she chuckled. “You do that a lot, you know. Your face gives you away more than you realise. But you must leave now.”
“Leave? I thought you wished to see me.”
“I mean leave Idele, not my room.”
My he
art sank. I had no wish to leave her. “Why should I leave you?”
“There are encante here, in this ocean.” She slid from her bed and righted the small table she had sat at when last I was in this room. It looked to have been kicked over as Hoffrey had clumsily brought Drusilla to her bed. “Many encante, do you understand?”
“I do, but why should that mean I must leave?” She rolled her eyes, collected her cards which were scattered across the floor, and began to shuffle them methodically. The act seemed to calm her nerves.
“There have only ever been small numbers of encante in Idele’s oceans, far fewer than humans. It’s why they were so easily conquered, why they’ve never rebelled, and why very few people know of their existence, even on Idele itself—there are too few of them. Now I know why.”
“They’re all here?”
“Precisely. This place is Encantado, the mother ocean, the place of their birth. It’s the paradise beneath and above the waves, Simeon. The encante in our seas ventured out exploring, they wanted to know what was beyond. What they found was us.” She spat the word. “How disappointed they must have been.”
I was beginning to understand the implications. “Their abilities, or rather lack of abilities such as your own, come from inbreeding,” I murmured, thinking aloud. “Those now living outside were all bred from a small gene pool?”
“Exactly. They’re stunted, unable even to access their own memories.” She shook her head and sat, methodically dealing the cards as she spoke. “The encante in this ocean are not so dilettante; they’re an ancient race, from a time long before the gods even conceived the hairless ape. They will not take kindly to a ship aboard which their people are slaves.”
“Then we must turn back!”
“No, we must go forwards.”
“Drusilla, if what you say is true, there are a large number of creatures out there who will be hostile towards this vessel, we must turn back. How many of them are out there?”
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