Ocean of Dust

by Graeme Ing

  "Please, Anjan," she moaned in prayer, "stop the pain. Stop punishing me."

  "Talk to me, girl. Can you hear me?" someone asked over the endless sound of her coughing up nothing. The voice seemed distant, like a dream.

  Hands shook her and she cried out. Opening her eyes, it took a moment to realize she was lying on the floor, staring at someone's bare feet.

  "Make it stop," she murmured.

  "What's she going on about?"

  "Look at her, Bardas. She's turned green."

  "Aye," Bardas said, and the feet moved. "She's sick and no mistake. Take 'er to the physiker.”

  She had no strength left to struggle as hands tightened around her body. The man carried her out of the galley and along the hallway. Wooden beams and globelights flitted in and out of view as she stared at the ceiling. He hoisted her roughly to the deck above. Every movement shot pain through her head. She fought to breathe, and her head slumped one way, then the other.

  A physiker would make all her pains go away. Then she recalled the herb merchant at the market who doubled as a physiker, remembered his drunken movement and rusty knives.

  "No, not the knives," she cried, clawing weakly at the man that carried her. "I don't want to die!"

  Chapter 5 - The Physiker

  Lissa felt herself lowered on to a soft surface. The air was filled with the stench of bleach and other chemicals. A grey-haired man leaned over her. Spectacles hung from the tip of his nose but he peered over them at her. Though wrinkled, his face bore no scars or tattoos and a thin smile spread across his cracked lips.

  "So you're the new girl," he said. "What's your name?"

  "Lissa."

  He gently pulled the sweat-matted hair from her face and applied a cool, damp cloth. She sighed and tried to relax against the pulsing pain in her head and cramps in her stomach.

  "I'm Criandor, the ship's physiker. Stay still, I need to give you some medicine."

  Her gaze flicked across his body and settled on his hands. There was no sign of any knives and he didn't appear drunk, but he carried a small metal tube with a wicked-looking needle at one end.

  She squirmed away. "What's that?"

  "It won't hurt you, but it'll burn for a little bit so don't pull away. Understand?"

  She nodded. He placed the needle against her forearm, halfway between her wrist and elbow, and she tensed. There was a sharp prick as the needle slipped into her skin, followed by an immediate burning sensation. She fought the urge to yank her arm away.

  "Very good," he said, and withdrew the needle. A bead of blood oozed from the hole until he tied a bandage around her arm. The heat of the medicine flowed up her arm and into her body. Her belly felt like she had downed a mug of hot oglon milk.

  "All done. You'll feel sleepy. Don't fight it. You need the rest." He squeezed her hand and walked away.

  She had no intention of fighting sleep, and willed the medicine to work faster. As she lay, she marveled at such swift attention being given to a galley girl. Back home, she would have lain in bed for days before her mother would seek outside intervention. The ship was nothing like she had imagined.

  * * *

  She jerked her eyes open, not remembering falling asleep. The suns-light streaming through the window above her bed shone at a different angle. She'd slept the entire day. Her head no longer felt like it was being pummeled by rocks, and she felt much better after such a long nap. Cautiously, she rolled onto her side to face the room. Her stomach growled, but she didn't feel like throwing up.

  The room had several small windows along both sides, and floor to ceiling windows in the back wall, which made the room surprisingly spacious and airy. She almost forgot she was on a ship. There were three other cot beds similar to one on which she lay, and a couple of those swinging canvas beds hung in one corner. Branda had called them scheepas. The physiker sat at one of two tables placed in the light of the large windows, both covered with a mess of flasks, boxes, books and other items whose purpose she couldn't even guess at. Stacks of books lay around his feet also. She coughed.

  He peered over his spectacles at her, and then inserted a cloth bookmark into his book, and snapped it shut. He limped across the room, favoring his right leg.

  "How do you feel?" he asked, and placed his hand on her forehead.

  "So much better."

  He poured water from a pitcher and offered her the mug.

  "Sip, don't gulp it down. By all means stretch your legs around the room, but I want you to get more rest."

  "Thank you, sir," she said. "I've never felt so ill in all my life. Did I eat something bad?"

  "Ocean-sickness. It's common the first day or two out from land. Nothing to worry about. You'll be fit and well tomorrow or the next day."

  She looked past him, trying to see out the rear windows. The ship had left Pelen? It didn't appear to have had any sails, but even dozens of men couldn't row such a huge craft. All that lay beyond the windows was an endless expanse of grey. Now there was no hope of escape. This was her new home.

  She rose out of bed, looking for her shoes.

  "I can't stay here for two days. I have to get back to the kitch- the galley, or Cook will beat me, and make me do even more chores, and then Alice'll hate me all the more for lying around in here while she's working, and... I have to go," she spluttered in one long breath.

  "Oh no you don’t." He pushed her back down into the cot.

  "No one's going to beat you. I've already informed Madam Margaret that you're sick. She's to give you light duties until you get well." He winked at her. "She can't argue with me, so don't worry. Rest."

  He propped his spectacles further up his nose and limped away to his desk.

  * * *

  When she next awoke, a magnificent golden glow bathed the room. Eldrar, the largest sun, hung on the horizon. The physiker was nowhere to be seen.

  The door crashed back on its hinges and a scrawny, saggy-faced sailor stumbled in clutching a bloody rag to his arm. Lissa shot up and cowered against the wall. The man's deep-set, black eyes darted around the room before settling on her.

  "Where's that damned physiker?" he growled, and sat on the bed opposite.

  She stared wide-eyed at his blood splattering on the floor.

  He scowled at her. "Doesn't he know I'm bleeding to death 'ere?"

  The fresh blood made bile rise in her throat. There was so much of it. Was he going to bleed to death in front of her?

  "I'll go find him for you." She scurried out the door and pulled it shut behind her.

  The chilly evening breeze made her shiver and the fine hairs on her arms stood up. She wrapped her arms about herself. Edap, one of the smaller moons, twinkled brightly in the darkening sky. Other stars became visible. It was a gorgeously clear evening.

  After being alone all day, the deck felt crowded. The crew clustered together smoking clay pipes, washing or darning clothes. Farq stood by the left rail - there was no mistaking his ponytail. She slipped into darkness behind a post supporting the walkway above, and crouched low. Would he whip her for being on deck?

  Beside Farq towered the largest man she had ever seen, taller even than the thug from the alley. He towered above Farq. By the Gods, is that the captain? His head was bald except for a bushy beard tied into two bunches by purple ribbons, and his bulging arms were as thick as a man's body.

  From eye-corner, she spotted the physiker hurrying toward his infirmary. She winced, picturing him sewing the gash in the man's arm, with blood gushing everywhere. She couldn't go back inside and watch that. Instead, she slipped from her hiding place and followed two men as they carried sloshing buckets across the open deck.

  The ship rolled hard to one side, and with a gasp, she tumbled behind an equipment locker, snatching a rope to break her fall. It seemed like a good place to hole up for a while and enjoy the fresh air. Eldrar had sunk into the ocean of dust that stretched away into the night. Globelights sparked into life, swinging from ropes that crisscrossed
the open deck. A string of them ran up to the top of the sail-less mast, and another set up to the bells two stories above the infirmary. They looked pretty, like Festival.

  She sat on the right side of the ship, facing forward. A spidery metal arm protruded straight out for thirty or forty feet, and she shifted to get a better look. Chains ran along it, rattling as the ship moved. At the end of the metal boom, the chains looped around a pulley and dropped into the dust ocean. The whole thing looked like a fishing rod made for the Gods.

  Sparks flickered along it and startled her. They seemed to erupt from the surface of the dust, and then spiral along the chain to a bewildering collection of machines and winches set on to the roof of Farq's office. She shook her head, bewildered, then realized the metal arm had been shelved above the wooden rail when she had come onboard yesterday. Was there a duplicate on the other side? She peeked around the locker, nodded and chewed her lip. Did this have something to do with moving the ship? She slipped her head through the rail. Even in the dark, she could see the dust streaming backwards along the hull. So fast.

  Two hands grabbed her shoulders and yanked her out from behind the locker. She squealed and struggled, trying to kick the man as he held her high off the ground.

  "Whatcha doing hiding down there?" a gruff voice said.

  She cringed, eye to eye with the man with the snake tattoo.

  "I... I was just getting some fresh air."

  One of his eyes bulged and she looked away. What if it popped out of its socket?

  "Up to no good, I'll bet. Back to Cook with you," he said, breathing beer-breath all over her.

  He set her down and marched her toward the nearest hatch. The crew glared and scowled as she passed, then backed away as Farq stepped forward. Her heart raced and her palms sweated despite the chill air.

  "What's going on here?" Farq asked, impaling her with an icy stare.

  She opened her mouth to explain, and then clamped it shut, remembering his lecture the day before. She slunk behind the snake-tattooed man, and scrunched her eyes closed. He was going to whip her!

  "She's following my orders," the physiker said, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Good evening, Deck Master. I prescribed fresh air, but I'll make sure she doesn't get underfoot."

  He slipped her hand into his. Her heart thumped crazily and she opened her eyes, keeping her gaze on her feet until the physiker led her away toward the far rail. Behind them, Farq grunted.

  "Thank you, thank you," she whispered, looking up at his friendly face. "I thought-"

  He shushed her by putting a finger to his mouth, and winked. She exhaled and her whole body relaxed.

  "It's going to be a cold night," he said, staring out into the darkness. "That's a good omen for the voyage."

  "Is that land?" she asked, pointing to an almost invisible, rugged outline.

  "The coast of Jeranda if my direction sense still functions," he replied.

  "How far from home are we?"

  "From Pelen?" He puckered his lips. "About forty or fifty leagues."

  "Where are we going?"

  "Gobar, I expect."

  "Where's that?"

  He chuckled and turned to face her. "For a galley girl you certainly have a lot of questions. Gobar is the major port city of Goballian."

  "I've heard of that. It's a principality isn't it?"

  "I'm impressed."

  A young man joined them and asked the physiker about someone called Nib. Their conversation bored her, so she put her back to the rail and studied the crew, careful not to catch Farq's eye. Spotting Pete, she waved. His face lit up and he scampered over.

  "Liss! They said you were sick."

  It seemed that gossip travelled fast. "I'm feeling better, thanks. It's great to see you. How come you didn't get ocean-sickness like me?"

  He looked healthy, too much so considering her misery, and he didn't seem to be missing home at all.

  "Born to be a sailor, I guess." He grinned, and gave a lopsided shrug.

  "What've they got you doing?"

  "Scrubbing the deck, mostly." He grimaced. "But I learned how to coil a rope, or at least I tried. I'm not very good."

  Something disturbed the surface of the dust below. Some kind of object emerged and bobbed on the gently undulating waves. It looked to Lissa like a head. She blinked hard, but there it was, glowing green from within, with bright scarlet eyes and stubby bumps on the top.

  "What's that?" She nudged Pete and pointed.

  He leaned over the rail. "What's what?"

  "That."

  The face had gone. She chewed her lip. What creatures lived in an ocean of dry dust? How did they breathe? The men had said it was impossible to swim in it. She thumbed her eyes and took a deep breath. She must have imagined the creature. She shuddered and rubbed the goose bumps from her arms.

  Farther out, the dust sparkled purple and blue, like a trail leading off into the distance. The ship turned lazily toward the colors.

  "Then what's that?" she asked Pete.

  He stared and frowned. "I don't see anything."

  "The dust is sparkling all different colors. Can't you see them? Right there."

  She grunted and slapped her hand on the rail, but the ship had turned far enough that the colored trail was no longer visible. She turned away in dismay and looked across the deck. The same colors flowed up the overhanging chains and along the metal booms, flaring repeatedly. She scanned the faces of the crew, but no one was reacting, not even Pete. She wanted to scream. Are you all blind? The physiker would know. He would explain.

  A gut-wrenching vertigo tore through her body. The world spun and she clutched the rail. A ball of fire exploded in her belly and shot down her legs. They cramped. She cried out and crumpled to the deck, clutching her midriff, trying desperately to throw up.

  Someone, maybe the physiker, helped her back to the infirmary. Everything was a blur, and people around her drifted in and out like a dream. By the time she slumped down into the cot bed, the pain had seeped away, leaving only numbness. Why weren't Pete and Lyndon getting ill too? What was happening to her?

  * * *

  She felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu the next morning, waking once again in the infirmary. Her whole body ached, and she felt disgustingly dirty and smelly. She had to find a bath. Her face sank when she saw Cook sitting with the physiker. The woman glared back.

  "Ah, Lissa," the physiker said. "Would you like some jalak-leaf brew? It will give you strength." He beckoned her over.

  She joined them, perching on the edge of a chair in front of Cook. She straightened her skirt and dropped her hands into her lap.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am," she begged. "I couldn't help getting sick. I've never been on a boat before."

  "Ship," Cook and the physiker said in unison.

  "You look well enough to me," Cook said, slurping from her steaming mug.

  "It will take a while for the girl to get her sea legs," the physiker said.

  Cook grunted. "She's no good to me napping in here."

  "Set her light chores, and don't keep her cooped up in the galley."

  "How long before she can work with the others?"

  "A day or two."

  Cook grunted again. Lissa stared at her fingers, and picked at a split nail.

  "I'll get well as quick as I can, ma'am," she squeaked. "I'll work hard, I promise, and I won't be any more trouble."

  "Humph. See that you do, child. I won't put up with laziness. Always a pleasure to take jalak with you, Criandor," Cook said, and left the room.

  Lissa exhaled noisily and pulled her chair closer to the physiker.

  "You look much better today," he said, and poured hot, amber liquid into a mug.

  She took several sips and boldly helped herself from a plate of cookies. The jalak brew was mild and sweet, just as she liked it. She bit off half the cookie and munched it hungrily.

  "The pain is horrible," she mumbled, her mouth full. "Last night it felt like it was tea
ring me apart. I thought I was dying."

  "Headache?"

  "Yes, but not like a normal one." She gulped down more jalak and snatched another cookie.

  He puckered his lips thoughtfully. "Explain."

  "It came on suddenly, like every part of me hurt all at once. No nagging warning, like you usually get. I've never had anything like that before."

  "I see," he replied, and stared out the window. Then he took a fine cloth and slowly and deliberately cleaned his spectacles. "What did you feel right before it?" His eyes bored into her.

  "My eyesight went funny."

  "Oh?" He leaned forward. "Explain."

  She nibbled at her lip, knowing that she was going to sound crazy.

  "I just saw... just some colors. Lots of sparkles."

  "Interesting. How long have you been seeing these colors?"

  "Just for a few moments," she said. "That's all. I don't see them any more."

  "I see." There was a long silence during which he stared into his empty mug. Then he smiled.

  "More jalak?"

  Chapter 6 - On the Command Deck

  Lissa spent most of the day in the infirmary. It was a quiet and restful day away from the crew slaving on the open deck outside the door, except for the times when Farq got upset over something and barked orders. She cringed and glanced fearfully at the door, praying he wouldn't bring his temper inside. The physiker had no patients, and the only visitors were two boys who scampered in at meal times and left a tray of food and drink on one of the cot beds. She felt ravenous, and devoured the food after realizing she wasn't going to retch it up again. The physiker chuckled and declared her fit for work the next day.

  She perched on her bed and peered out one of the smaller windows. Blue sky and grey dust filled her view. She chewed her lip. Cook was certain to make her life miserable for taking so much time off. Her spirits sank at the thought of dealing with Alice too, but Branda seemed very nice. Perhaps she could spend more time with the little Valinese girl.