Ocean of Dust

by Graeme Ing

  She grabbed Branda's hand and they pushed through the throng to the starboard rail. She gasped. The shoreline was so close she imagined she could reach out and touch it. In the bright glow of the two largest moons she could make out every rock and boulder along a narrow, black sand beach. Beyond the beach stood a dense forest of ugly, leafless, stick-like trees. Despite the murmur of conversation around her, the sounds of screeching and hooting from within the trees were unmistakable. It didn't sound like any forest back home.

  "Port in the mornin'," one man said.

  "Real ale," another said.

  "Real women too."

  The men gave a lecherous roar of approval.

  Lissa stared at the passing beaches, mesmerized, wishing she could stand once more on ground that didn't move all the time. How long had it been? She remembered her first glimpse of the enormous ship at anchor in Pelen. It seemed to have become much smaller. If only she could explore the island, and see something different, meet new people.

  Branda left to talk to the physiker, but before Lissa could follow, Grad and a grim-faced man stepped out in front of her. They both sucked noisily on clay pipes.

  "Evening, girl," he said, blowing a smoke ring in her face.

  The aroma was harsh, and she coughed. "Hello, Mister Grad, sir."

  "Heh," Grad murmured to his friend. "She called me 'sir'."

  "I've got a question," she continued. "Are there more of those Zrak things down in the hold?"

  "Maybe," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows. "Why? I thought you didn't like 'im?"

  She grimaced. "I don't. I was down there and heard some strange things. It was very spooky."

  "Aye, not a place for a girl to go wandering. All sorts of nasties waiting to leap out at yer."

  She gasped and stepped back, wrapping her arms about her body.

  "Why you want to go scaring her, Grad?" the other man said in a nasal voice. "There ain't no such things down there, missy."

  "I heard... voices," she said.

  Grad shrugged. He blew his smoke ring away from her.

  "Probably someone inspecting the cargo. Jancid, I'll bet. Always talking to himself, silly old fool." He leaned forward. "You ain't told no one about the card game?" he whispered.

  "I said I wouldn't."

  "Hmph. Do you always play that good?"

  "I guess so."

  He gave a sly wink. "That's my girl. We're thinking of setting up another game, see, and you can be our secret weapon, if you get my meaning."

  He patted her hard on one cheek and the men walked away. She stared after them. What trouble was she going to get into now?

  She joined Branda, catching the tail end of a story the physiker had been telling about Us-imyan.

  "I've never heard of it," Lissa said.

  The physiker chuckled. "Really? I was beginning to think you had the whole world in that tiny head of yours."

  "Please tell me about it." She heaved herself onto a nearby locker. Branda nestled beside her.

  The physiker leaned against the rail.

  "Us-imyan lies at the tip of a chain of islands. We're a long way into the great central ocean, and these islands are like a barrier, splitting the ocean in two."

  "You've been here before?" she asked.

  "Several times. It serves as a handy waypoint, a place for ships to trade, take shore-leave, perform repairs, that sort of thing."

  "How far Valin from here?" Branda asked.

  He made a quarter turn. "I'm not the navigator, but I'd guess Valin is over the stern starb'd quarter, a half Sunturn travel."

  Branda swiveled to face the same direction, and Lissa imagined her friend's thoughts flying over the island, and racing far across the dust ocean to her homeland.

  Branda sighed. "So far."

  Lissa lay her hand on Branda's arm and squeezed, wondering how she would feel when her home became that far away. She looked back at the beach and the gnarled, dead-looking trees, and couldn't wait to leave them behind and get to the town.

  Chapter 11 - Us-imyan

  Branda woke Lissa earlier than usual.

  "Wake up, we at dock," she said. "Early breakfast then we go on land."

  "Hm?" Lissa murmured, blinking the sticky detritus from her eyes.

  Branda shook her vigorously. "We're going ashore!"

  Lissa bolted upright, mouth agape. "We get to go ashore? You're playing a joke."

  "No. I overhear Cook and crew chief. Hurry." Branda thrust Lissa's clothes at her.

  "That's fantastic," Lissa said to Branda's back as the little girl skipped from the room.

  She threw on her clothes, hurtled to the washroom, pulled a brush through the tangles in her hair, and arrived in the galley panting and wincing from a sore scalp. Even Alice labored faster than ever before and didn't try anything against Lissa as they prepared a simple meal of fruit, grains and curdled oglon milk. The men on the mess-deck above sounded rowdy, bashing impatiently on the table with their spoons. The very timbers of the ship seemed to hum with the excitement.

  "Oh, so you can all work hard when it suits you," Cook said.

  "Does this mean we get to go ashore, ma'am?" Alice asked.

  Lissa rolled her eyes at Alice’s meek behavior.

  "Please, please?" Branda added.

  Cook snorted. "I'm not certain you've earned it." She paused, and then uttered a short laugh that became a wheeze. "Oh, look at your long faces. Yes, you can."

  The three girls cheered.

  "We be good," Branda said.

  "You'd better. Don't you dare show me up or I'll have you on double chores and sweeping animal dung three times a day. Anjan strike me if I lie. Now pay attention." She leaned against a table. "The Imyans are a peculiar lot. They have a strong duty to entertain visitors, and will get insulted if you refuse their hospitality. So the first rule is don't turn them down."

  Lissa and Branda glanced at each other in surprise.

  "The next rule - pay attention, Alice. Always be polite. Never touch an Imyan. They hate that. There's a pact between ship captains here, so if you think you can sneak away on another ship, forget such a silly thought right now, unless you want to end up before Farq.”

  Lissa glanced at Alice, who made no reaction.

  "Finally, and you'll like this one, the men will eat ashore, so you're all excused from cooking for a few days. But," and she raised a hand to silence them, "you'll still have chores."

  Alice groaned, but Lissa nodded, grateful and bursting to get off the ship.

  "One other thing," Cook added. "You'll like as not see some strange folk about the island. Leave 'em be in case you offend them without knowing it."

  She dipped a hand into a pocket and handed each girl a worn silver coin.

  "To keep you out of trouble. Now off with you."

  Alice shoved Branda and elbowed Lissa on the way to the door. Lissa pushed Alice back but let her leave first, preferring to have the girl ahead rather than behind her.

  "Go on up," Lissa told Branda. "I'll be right there."

  "Where you go?" Branda asked, but Lissa had already ducked into a storeroom.

  She arrived on deck, joining Branda at the back of a disorderly queue forming at a wooden gangway that descended to the dock. Eldrar rose over the island and shone right in her eyes, forcing her to squint.

  "Why you take so long?" Branda asked, her frown creasing the wavy tattoos above her eyes.

  Lissa winked. "You'll see."

  When they reached the front of the line, she stepped on to the narrow gangway, peering down to each side of her. The ship had docked sideways to the wharf, a surprisingly long walk from the island itself. Wooden pathways ran on stilts above the grey dust, toward a bustling town that seemed to lie half on top of the ocean and half on the shore, its buildings raised up on platforms and ramps. A myriad walkways and staircases circled around the platforms, and she blinked trying to trace them all. The whole town ascended away from her up the sides of a single, conical mountain. It look
ed more exotic than any tales she remembered from the inn. She smiled. This was what all her dreams had promised. Other ships had docked ahead and behind, bobbing gently against the wharf. Most looked similar to "The Fair Maiden," but two in the distance were considerably larger and lower to the ocean.

  Someone shoved her from behind and she teetered on the edge of the gangway, grabbing hold of Branda's arm.

  "Don't dawdle, girl," a gruff voice said.

  A tanned, muscled arm snaked around her waist and yanked her into the air. Another arm hoisted Branda, who squealed. The man bounced down the flexing gangway, grumbling in their ears, and then plopped them down on the wharf.

  Lissa paused to suck in the air, filled with new and unknown smells but also some that reminded her of home, like plant sap, and wood smoke. Through the cracks in the boards underfoot, dust rippled back and forth, but to her it counted as solid ground. There was the oddest feeling that the wharf was rolling back and forth below her. She turned to face the side of the ship, towering above her. If only she never had to go back onboard ever again. Thank you, Anjan. She'd given up hope of ever walking on land again.

  Determined not to waste a single precious moment, she grabbed Branda's hand and ran down the walkway toward the town, her shoes thumping on the springy boards. They dodged a seemingly endless stream of laden oglon carts. A swarm of brown-skinned boys whisked brooms, industriously knocking dung over the sides of the walkway. After overtaking the carts, the girls entered a wide plaza at the edge of the town. They stopped and stared.

  The buildings stood as high as three stories. Mud had been plastered over a frame and painted with swirling patterns in every color imaginable. Bright colored flags fluttered from the roofs, bearing symbols formed from curved lines and dots. Narrow streets meandered into the heart of the town, most forming spirals of steep steps as the land rose up toward the mountain.

  The entire plaza sat above the dust ocean on wooden pillars. Around its perimeter was a bewildering array of stalls, selling all manner of food, drink, trinkets and objects. Crowds flowed between them, and she gawped at the wide variety of races. Numerous languages chattered around her and few made any sense.

  Many passers-by wore white robes that trailed on the ground, decorated like the houses with an explosion of color. They walked barefoot, their skin and faces reddish brown, but their hair black. All but the children wore rings on every toe and finger, and they clinked and rattled as they walked.

  "Are those the Us-imyans?" Lissa asked Branda. "The locals?"

  "I think."

  She did a double take of a group of men wearing war-like, blue tattoos on their cheeks, their noses pierced with animal teeth. She stepped out of their way. Twice, she spotted the handsome, feline-like faces of Goballians. She exhaled noisily. It was too much to take in at once.

  A nearby stall appeared to sell drinks, its tables lined with ceramic urns.

  "Are you thirsty?" she asked, but Branda had gone.

  Lissa spun around, scanning the crowds. Her pulse quickened. Had someone snatched Branda? She pushed through the people and spotted her friend, but after rushing forward she found only a pair of local girls. Everyone seemed to be laughing and chatting, enjoying the break from shipboard life. It didn't look like a dangerous place.

  Hoping Branda would come back there, she joined the line at the drinks stall, standing behind a cluster of short, stocky people. She looked down on their bald and ridged heads, and wrinkled her nose at their musky scent. They ordered from the vendor in a guttural, fast-spoken language.

  The white-robed stall owner gave her a toothy smile.

  "Welcome to oor island, yoon woman." His voice was deep and his accent strong.

  The urns looked identical with no markings, no clue if they were alcoholic or not.

  She smiled back and picked one at random. "That one, please."

  "Ah," he said, filling a mug from a small tap. "This oon I think you eel like."

  He touched the mug to his forehead, and then offered it to her with both hands as if bearing a fantastic treasure.

  She blinked. "How much?"

  The man's smile vanished. His eyebrows met. "You do noot pay. I geeft it to you. Teeke it or leeve here."

  She stumbled and her mouth made an O-shape. Then she remembered Cook's instructions, and accepted it. Her cheeks burned.

  "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

  She fled and hid herself in the crowd. The drink tasted like a spiced and fruity syrup, heavy but chilled, soothing her throat.

  "Lissa."

  "There you are," she greeted Branda, looking her up and down. "Why did you run off? I was worried. But you’re safe. Try this, it's so much better than gej-juice."

  "You hear about festival tonight?" Branda said, panting. "Everyone talk about it. At Indar-set. We have fun."

  "I bet we won't be allowed to go. Cook said we have to sleep on board."

  "I talk to physiker." Branda pointed through a gap in the crowd, to where he stood talking to the crew chief. The giant man towered above the entire crowd.

  "He say we go. It tradition that local people invite all travelers."

  Lissa wasn't convinced that included galley girls, but was determined to check for herself. The festival sounded like a lot of fun.

  "Shall we eat?" Branda asked.

  A shady awning had been erected in the center of the plaza. Long tables and benches faced a slab of azk-ore into which was mounted a wide metal bowl-like pan. As they approached, frying food hissed in the pan. They found a space on one end of a bench.

  A haggard man with frizzy hair stood before the steaming pan, stirring morsels of meat and tipping in ingredients from tiny saucers. Some held oils that spat and sizzled in the hot bowl, others held spices that erupted with fragrance in the heat. She recognized some of the aromas, but many were new to her.

  The man conversed jovially with his customers, easily switching between a handful of languages, one moment clucking like a jab-bird and the next slurring and rolling his vowels. Lissa shook her head, bewitched. Something he said resulted in a flurry of coins appearing from pouches and pockets, tossed on to the table among a clamor of voices. With each coin he picked up, he skewered pieces of meat on a wooden stick, touched it to his forehead and handed it out.

  Lissa drooled, licking her lips and sucking the delicious smells into her nose. Copying the woman next to her, she changed her silver coin on the table and threw back two ukka discs. The cook grinned and handed her two sticks. Meaty juices dribbled down her fingers. She gave one to Branda, then blew on her own before taking a bite. It tasted sour and she screwed up her face, but Branda munched hers with a smile and half-closed eyes. Conversation at the table had been replaced by sounds of chewing, murmurs, and the licking of fingers.

  She took another bite. The solag meat was perfectly tender, but it tasted rancid. She faked bending down, and spat it out through a gap in the planking underfoot.

  "Over there," Branda cried and leaped up. She hurtled off into the crowd.

  "Wait," Lissa cried, but her friend had disappeared again.

  She jumped off the bench and pushed through the throng of people, but everyone seemed to be heading in the opposite direction. She apologized every time she bumped into someone, receiving nods and smiles in return, but no one gave way. Gritting her teeth, she continued to barge through.

  "Branda?" she called.

  She emerged suddenly from the throng, almost falling on her face, and found herself beside the brightly painted buildings at the edge of the town. A crooked walkway climbed away from her. On one side of it was a yellow and orange building that resembled an inn, and opposite it stood a shop displaying fine jewelry and racks of bangles of all descriptions.

  A crashing sound came from inside and she jumped. Alice hurtled out the door, squinting against the glare of both suns.

  "Thief," someone yelled. "Stop her."

  Two local men burst out of the store, holding their long robes off the
ground with both hands.

  Alice charged at Lissa, thrust a bag into her hands and raced forward. Lissa grabbed Alice's arm and spun her around against the side wall of the shop. Alice tumbled to the ground, pulling Lissa with her. A dark shadow fell across them both, and Lissa looked up to see Bardas, his eyes bulging, his jaw clenched.

  Alice cowered. "She made me do it," she whined, pointing at Lissa. "She beats me if I don't steal for her."

  Lissa snapped her head around and glared at Alice, mouth agape.

  "She's been going on for ages about stealing something good," Alice continued. "She wouldn't stop hurting me until I did it for her."

  Bardas snatched up the bag and opened it. He grunted displeasure, and showed the gathering crowd of onlookers a handful of jeweled necklaces, their gems sparkling in the suns-light. The crowd gasped and stared at Lissa.

  Chapter 12 - Thief

  "Don't let her beat me again," Alice wailed.

  Lissa clacked her mouth shut and peered up at Bardas.

  "She's lying. I... I don't know anything about this. She stole it. I didn't tell her to. Sir, you know I don't beat her. Tell them." Her gaze flicked across the crowd.

  "Shuddup." He closed the bag, touched it to his forehead and returned it to the shopkeeper. "I'm sorry for the trouble. I hope nothing's missing. We'll take care of this."

  He pulled both girls to their feet, gripping their elbows, and dragged them around a corner away from the spectators. There, he threw them to the ground.

  "Si’ down both of ye." He turned to another man from the ship, "Fetch the crew chief."

  Alice sniffed and uttered great sobs, scrunching her eyes tight until tears formed. Lissa shook her head. The crew chief wouldn't buy her story for a moment, so Alice had just gotten herself into trouble too. Lissa snorted. Me, a criminal mastermind? She turned her back on Alice and brought her knees up to her chest. What if they were both brought before Farq? She chewed her lip.

  Her skin prickled. Someone was watching her. She looked up and saw a tall, stick-like creature with a long neck strung with dozens of strings of jewels. It shimmered and glinted in the light. Was it a she or a he? The creature had silky, silver hair pierced by two pointed ears tipped with a tuft of orange fur. It stared at her with lozenge-shaped eyes that blinked rapidly.