Ocean of Dust

by Graeme Ing

  Finally, she reached the rear of the room and stepped into another beam of suns-light shining from an open hatch above. Sanctuary. Maybe the scary creature wouldn't come into the light. The two doors before her looked identical so she shrugged and approached the left one.

  It flew open, knocking her to the ground. A man loomed above her, blocking the light.

  "I... I'm so sorry," she whimpered, and scrambled back against a wooden post, rubbing the scrape on her forearm. "It's my fault. Please don't whip me."

  Chapter 4 - The Two Girls

  "No, no, no. It's me who should be sorry," a mellow voice crooned back. "I didn't see you, and that's the truth. Here."

  His hand shot out, took hers and pulled her up.

  She knew that it was rude to stare but couldn't help herself. He was younger than she had first thought, just a couple of Sunturns older than herself. His eyes were a dazzling yellow, like nothing she had ever seen, and they seemed to laugh at her. He was clean-shaven, with a rich, even brown skin. Four golden hoops pierced each ear, partially obscured by thick, and tightly curled black hair that draped his shoulders. Strings of brightly colored beads ran from his earrings up to clips in his hair.

  She blinked and felt the heat rush to her face.

  "You're new," he said, smiling.

  She relaxed and reveled in the sound of his melodious voice, especially the way his tone rose at the end of each sentence. Everything he said became a question.

  "Now, what're you doing wandering around in the mess hall?"

  She blinked again, stopped staring into his eyes and clamped her mouth shut. His closeness made her heart race so she took a step back.

  "The kitchen, please," she finally managed to say.

  He gave a short laugh.

  “Why does everyone laugh at me?”

  "No, no, no. You need to learn the speak. Listen. You won't find no kitchen on this or any ship. The galley is what you want. Say it now." He prompted her with a nod.

  "The galley," she repeated. "I need to find Madam Margaret in the galley. Please."

  He pointed to a nearby hatch in the floor.

  "Down one deck and follow your nose. Good luck. Nice to have met you."

  He dipped his head politely and hurried past. She watched the easy way he adjusted his walk to every movement of the ship. Then she realized what a ghastly mess she was with matted hair and dirty, bloodstained clothes. She groaned and headed for the hatch.

  This time she held the guide ropes warily, stabilizing herself on each step before continuing down. She stepped out into a hallway, wider than she had expected. The top of her head grazed the ceiling beams. How did the taller men move around down here? Overhead globelights swung lazily, casting shadows that grew longer and shorter as the ship rolled.

  Her nose twitched at the delicious aromas of baking bread and roasting meat, and her stomach growled like a caged Tagrak. Running a hand along one wall, she headed toward the smell, passing doorless rooms piled high with crates, sacks and barrels. An Oglon lowed in the distance, making her jump. The cackling, clucking noise ahead of her was definitely that of a jab-bird. Did they have a whole farm down here?

  A thin woman stepped out in front of her, hands on her hips.

  "Quit gawping child and come here," the woman said in a high, squeaking voice.

  Lissa hurried forward. The woman grabbed her arm where the giant man had bruised it, making Lissa wince, and dragged her under the nearest globelight.

  "Let's have a peek at you."

  The woman appeared ancient, old enough to be Lissa's mother's mother. Flesh hung lifeless and wrinkled from her skeletal body, and damp, grey hair clung to her head. She wheezed with each breath.

  "D'you have a name, child?" she asked, shaking Lissa's arm with each word.

  "Lissa. Are you Madam Margaret?"

  The woman's face turned purple. Her eyebrows met in the middle.

  "You will call me Cook or ma'am, is that clear?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Can you cook?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Oh, you can?" the woman wheezed.

  "I can bake bread and cakes, and make soups and prepare vegetables and roast meat, and... and I know a lot about spices."

  The woman's scowl disappeared and her face lost its purple sheen. She dragged Lissa into a room, in which half a dozen globelights created a warm glow, very different to the other, gloomy parts of the ship. Two tables stood near the door, and shelves and cabinets filled the walls. Pots and pans hung from a wooden rack, clanging gently together with the motion of the ship. A pair of stone-tiled ovens filled the back wall.

  Cook addressed a girl chopping spoola roots with a bored expression.

  "Hear that, Alice? The new girl can cook. Maybe she isn't as useless as you. Maybe you'll learn something."

  "Yes, Cook," the girl muttered, glancing at Lissa.

  Lissa smiled back. Alice was a plain girl with light brown hair and thin lips. When Lissa clipped back her long auburn hair, she saw Alice's envious look, but Lissa relaxed a little. Now she had someone her own age to talk to and confide in, and Alice wasn't chained up. She had expected far worse.

  "Glad to meet you. I'm Lissa." Alice ignored her.

  "Let's see what you can do then," Cook said, pushing Lissa toward the table. "We're making logay for tonight. Alice is being slow as usual, so start by helping out there."

  A mountain of spoola roots, sugar beets, lan tubers and other vegetables lay heaped on the table, enough to feed several dozen men. Lissa started opening drawers, noticing that each was latched to prevent it sliding open.

  "Last drawer," Alice said, and pointed her knife toward the end of the scratched and grooved table.

  The drawer held knives of all sizes, most spotted with rust, and they didn't look sharp. Lissa selected the best and started slicing vegetables, something she had done often at home. She sighed. I miss you already, Mother.

  When Cook's back was turned, Alice stole a chunk of spoola and munched it quietly. Lissa copied her, savoring the buttery taste. Her stomach spasmed, wanting more. They probably wouldn't be allowed to eat until the logay was finished, so she leaned into the table, ignored the motion of the ship, and chopped faster. Alice had stopped and was glaring at her. Had she done something wrong? Then she noticed that her pile of cut vegetables was four times larger than Alice's.

  "I don't hear you chopping," Cook called from across the room.

  Alice resumed slicing with slow and deliberate strokes.

  "Alice," Lissa began, "try setting the tip of your blade on the table, like this. Then hold it and make small, fast cuts. No, don't take the whole knife off the table."

  Alice didn't seem to be listening, so she shut up.

  "So," Cook said, beside her. "You can chop. Alice, the new girl can handle the knife work. Help me with the meat."

  "Yes, Cook," Alice said, and gave Lissa a glare of pure hatred.

  She and the old woman heaved a steaming hunk of meat from a spit onto a low table to sit before carving. Lissa stared at the juices dripping on to the floor, and licked her lips. Her mouth watered. The roasted meat smelled delicious. She wanted to run over and start cramming meat into her mouth.

  "Branda," Cook yelled.

  A tiny girl hurried into the galley, holding up her long skirt.

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "Boil those vegetables." Cook pointed to Lissa's table.

  Branda's blonde hair was cut short, like a boy. Lissa stared at a row of worm-like red and black tattoos that ran from the bridge of her nose, across her forehead and ended at the base of tall, pointed ears. Freckles covered her snow-white skin. Her eyes were oval and slanted, huge on her small face.

  "Hello," Branda said, blushing.

  "Stop chattering," Cook growled. "There's work to be done."

  The rest of the meal preparations became a blur to Lissa as all three girls bustled about the galley from one task to another. The meat was sliced, the vegetables boiled, and everythin
g heaped into an enormous cauldron with handfuls of spices. Cook told Lissa to pick up a bucket and follow Alice.

  The girl stomped across the hallway into one of the storerooms. Huffing and pouting, she tore open a sack and scooped handfuls of juice-fruit into her bucket.

  "I'm sorry," Lissa said, filling her own bucket. "I didn't mean to make you seem slow. I've worked in the kitchen all my life. I've probably had more practice, that's all."

  Alice whirled about and her nose flared. "I've spent two Sunturns sucking up to the old woman. You're not going to take that away from me."

  "I'm not trying to. Honest."

  "Says you. You'd better make me look good. Don't you dare cross me again."

  Alice trembled with anger. She snorted and upturned Lissa's bucket, sending fruit rolling around the room.

  "Pick them up," Alice snapped and struggled out of the room with her own bucket.

  Lissa's body sagged and blinked back tears. She'd only wanted to be friends. She needed a friend so badly, everything was happening so quickly. Kneeling on the floor, she chased the fruit rolling around the room, putting every loose piece in her bucket. She remembered her produce in the street gutter. It's not fair. What did I do to deserve all this?

  She sucked in a breath and held it, counted silently to ten, and let it out again. Then she gritted her teeth and returned to the galley. Cook faced her with a fierce expression, hands on her hips. Alice smirked at Lissa from behind the woman's back, and then poked out her tongue.

  "You'd better learn to fetch as quick as you chop, child," Cook growled and waggled a bony finger. "When I ask you to do something, don't dawdle. Now, all of you, time to serve the hungry mouths."

  Lissa followed Alice and Branda to where a wooden tray hung below a hole in the ceiling, secured by a rope in each corner. The sound of chatter and shouting drifted down from the hole. Alice ladled logay into a bucket, and the delicious smell almost made Lissa pass out. She was sure her stomach was devouring itself. The bucket went on the tray, and Branda added two loaves and a handful of fruit. Alice tapped on the tray with her ladle, and the tray rose up through the hole. Lissa jumped. A moment later, it whizzed back down, empty.

  After a couple of turns, Cook pushed Alice away and Lissa next to the tray. She felt a sharp poke in the ribs and caught Alice's warning glare. Biting her tongue, she tried hard to work slowly, although it went against everything her mother had taught her. Instinctively, she picked up the pace until Alice jabbed her with a fork. Lissa yelped and splashed logay on the floor.

  "Careful, child," Cook said.

  Lissa fumed, clamping her mouth shut. Her body remained tense, expecting another stab, but it never came.

  When they were done, Cook left. Alice and Branda scrambled to fill bowls with logay, tore off a hunk of bread, and sat in opposite corners of the room. Lissa spooned herself a huge helping and collapsed in the corner furthest from Alice, her bowl perched in her lap. She soaked her bread in the hot, spicy stew and stuffed it in her mouth. Her whole body relaxed. It was the best meal she had ever eaten. She gobbled it down and licked the bowl clean, forgetting her manners. Then she had seconds and thirds.

  Alice tossed her bowl on the floor and walked out without a word. Branda leaped up and took hers and Alice's dirty bowls to the sink. Lissa joined her, and together they sprinkled soapsand into the bowls and ran water from a bronze tap.

  "Stay away from her," Branda said. Even on tiptoe, the top of her head barely reached Lissa's armpit. She looked as if she would break apart if someone sneezed.

  "She mean. It much easier if you keep quiet."

  Lissa found her accent difficult to understand. She gave an enormous yawn, covering her mouth. "I'm exhausted. This has been the worst day of my life."

  "I remember my first day," Branda whispered.

  The petite girl scrubbed the dirty pots and pans. Lissa longed to go to bed, or even just sleep in a corner, but helped wash up.

  "It get easier," Branda added.

  "It's so hot with those ovens. Do we have to stay down here?"

  "We get time to go on deck, get fresh air."

  "We're allowed outside?" Lissa was getting the hang of the girl's accent.

  "If chores done and we not get under foot."

  Lissa gave a weak smile. She'd feared the rest of her life would be spent in the fetid, dim bowels of the ship. A chance to see the suns-light and sky was wonderful.

  "You're Valinese, aren't you?" she asked.

  Branda looked up. Her enormous eyes were a luxurious brown.

  "Yes. Not many know of my people."

  "My father told me about your race, but you're the first one I've met," Lissa said, and yawned again.

  "I glad to meet you, Lissa, but we need get you to bed." Branda dried her hands even though the pot was only half clean. "You look so tired."

  "Let me help you finish first. It's awful that Alice leaves you to do this alone."

  "Thank you," Branda said, and gave a wide smile, "but it your first day and you sleepy. You help tomorrow?"

  Seeing the hope in the girl's wide eyes, Lissa promised to help every night.

  Branda kissed two of her own fingers and touched them to the end of Lissa's. Then she squeezed her hand, thumb pressing down on top. Lissa wanted to ask about the gesture but was too tired to say anything more. Her eyes drooped. Exhausted, she followed Branda into one of the storerooms. The Valinese girl pulled a roll of canvas from between two posts.

  "This your scheepa," she said, looked into Lissa's half-closed eyes and giggled. "I show you tomorrow."

  Lissa jerked her eyes open a moment later to see that Branda had hung the scheepa from the ceiling. It looked so inviting, swinging gently. Branda helped her climb into it and covered her with a blanket.

  "Vraschatta," Branda muttered. On the way out, she unplugged the globelight from its metal wires and the room became dark.

  Lissa listened to the creaking timbers of the ship. Memories flooded back of her mother tucking her in at night. I miss you so much, Mother. Gut-wrenching sobs shook her body though no tears came. She had cried too many times and didn’t want to cry anymore. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to achieve anything. What would tomorrow bring?

  * * *

  A shout close to Lissa’s ear startled her awake.

  "Yes, Mother." She blinked her eyes open against the stickiness in her lashes. "I'm awake."

  "I'm not your mother, child," a stern voice said.

  Her gaze settled on Cook's scowling, wrinkled face. Muttering an apology, she jumped out of bed, but as soon as she shifted her weight, her scheepa flipped upside down and dumped her on the hard floor.

  "Get up and into the galley this instant. Or I'll take a frying pan to your backside." The woman stormed out.

  Lissa stood, but the ship lurched suddenly to one side and she crashed back down. Growling in frustration, she grabbed the post and got up again. Stupid ship. Her clothes were filthy and her whole body felt dirty and smelly. She had no idea where to go to freshen up, so she clipped her wayward hair back, brushed down her skirt, and blundered her way into the galley, bouncing from one wall to the other. The ship was definitely rolling harder than yesterday.

  Alice and Branda were both busy at the serving tray, heaping steaming oodspal into bowls. With a fearful glance at Cook, Lissa tucked in her shirt and hurried over to help.

  "Too late," Cook said, and pointed to the cauldron of oodspal. "Scrub that when they're done."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Cook glared and waggled a finger. "When Alice wakes you, get up at once, child. There's no sleeping in. We start breakfast at fifth bell. Be on time."

  Lissa started to explain that no one had woken her that morning, but noticed Alice’s icy glare from across the room. Lissa's eyes narrowed. So it's going to be like that, is it?

  "Pay attention when I talk to you!"

  Cook slapped her and one whole side of Lissa's face stung. She fell back against a table, her mouth wide with
surprise. Her hand flew to her cheek but there was no blood.

  "I won't put up with daydreaming. Once you've scrubbed that pot, start baking the bread. Well, don't just stand there. Clean the ovens." She raised her hand.

  Lissa ducked and scampered across the room. The metal dial on the wall had been turned to off, but the ovens were still not enough to scald. They were made from azk-ore tiles, like the ones in the bakery around the corner from her parents’ inn. Tumni, the baker had told her that azk-ore was magical, and got hot or cold on command. Her mother had said that he was pulling her leg. Since there were no coals or ashes in the oven, Lissa suspected the baker had been telling the truth.

  Deciding to let them cool, she took a bucket of soaped water and mopped the hearth. The familiar routine came easily and the next time she looked up, she was alone in the galley. Her hands were clammy and she felt sick. Why wouldn't the ship stop moving like that? Breakfast would have helped, and she hoped she could scrounge some food when her chores were done.

  Fighting the urge to be sick, she crawled inside the first oven. It was large enough for three girls to fit inside, but not tall enough to stand in. She shuffled about, careful not to rest her knees against the hot tiles for too long. Using a stiff brush, she scrubbed hard at the burnt on food and grease.

  It took ages to clean both ovens, and her back and legs ached and cramped. When she crawled out, she felt sick to her stomach, and pain stabbed at her head. She slumped against the wall, her hands clamped to her head. Closing her eyes made it worse. She sucked in deep breaths, but the air was hot and sticky. It felt like soup in her lungs. Sweat poured from her brow. The room spun. She needed fresh air, but didn't dare leave while the cauldron was still dirty. Gritting her teeth, she blinked and tried to ignore her thumping head and churning stomach.

  She stumbled across to the cauldron. A slimy skin had formed over the cold oodspal. Her stomach heaved, and she threw up last night's dinner into the pot. The sight and stench of it made her vomit again. She stuck out her tongue. The taste in her mouth was vile. She gulped down water but it too ended up in the pot. Groaning, she collapsed to the floor. Her head felt ready to explode – pain sliced through her skull.