Ocean of Dust

by Graeme Ing

  The sky had become an ugly dark grey. Low clouds hid the mountain, but the sound of the geyser roared in the distance. How long had it been erupting, and when would it stop? She sat up. The town streets were empty, and awnings and banners lay crumpled on the ground.

  She peered over the edge of the wharf, but no creature thrust its head above the surface. Thank you. But the whispers had gone from her head. She crossed the slippery dock and carefully climbed the gangway. On the main deck, boys danced in the rain while the older crew watched from under cover. Rainwater poured across the deck and over the side.

  "Lissa," Branda called from a nearby hatch. "Come get dry."

  * * *

  Lissa sat on a crate in one of the storerooms. She felt warmer after changing her clothes, and Branda had enthusiastically toweled her hair, which now stood in a frazzled mess. Lissa took a brush to it, envying Branda's short hair for the first time. Behind her, Branda hung her wet clothes to dry, snapping them in the air to shake out the wrinkles.

  "What this?" Branda asked, the navigator’s book in her hand.

  "Oh no."

  The soggy object was covered in mud, and the pages rippled with water damage. Lissa pried the wet pages apart. Most of the tiny numbers were still legible, but the outer edges and corners were smudged beyond recognition. When she wiped away the worst of the mud, she only succeeded in erasing more of them.

  "He's going to beat me," she cried.

  "Who?"

  "The navigator. I've ruined his book."

  Branda gasped and put her hands to her mouth. "You steal his book and ruin it?"

  "I didn't steal it. He dropped it."

  "You return it or he get angry."

  "I know, but I can't. He'll kill me." Lissa hugged the book to her chest.

  "You must. It belong to navigator. Must be important. You must tell him truth."

  Lissa mentally rehearsed what she would say to him.

  "I can't," she cried, rocking back and forth on the crate. "Maybe I should take it to Cook or the physiker. He'll listen to them."

  "Why not leave it on deck. Someone find it."

  Lissa spun to face her friend. "That's a great idea. Then he won't know who- No. That's not the right thing to do." She sighed. "You were right the first time. I need to own up. No one else should get the blame."

  Branda patted her arm. "Maybe he just glad to get it back."

  "I hope so."

  * * *

  The clouds hung low over the ship and island when she returned to the outer deck, but the downpour had reduced to a drizzle. The crew chief stood in the center, oblivious to the rain, his feet apart and huge arms folded across his chest. Under his watchful eye, the crew worked hard to secure the hatch covers.

  She raced up the stairs and hurried to the navigator's cabin door. No one answered her knock so she opened the door a crack.

  "Hello?" she croaked, swallowing hard against the scratchiness in her throat. "Mister navigator, sir?"

  She slipped inside and closed the door behind her, pulling the book from her dry skirt pocket. A row of windows filled the rear wall, like in the infirmary below. Outside, a narrow balcony was crowded with potted bushes, their broad green leaves glistening with rain droplets. It seemed odd that the creepy, gnarled navigator would own such vibrant plants.

  A comfortable-looking cot bed swung gently from two chains hooked onto the low ceiling timbers, its bottom less than a handspan from the floor. Opposite it was a bench with faded, worn padding and a low table. Like all tables on the ship, a wooden lip ran around its top surface. Two empty goblets and a decanter half full of an amber liquid stood on the scratched surface.

  Immediately left of the door, a cramped desk stood under a window that looked down on the main deck. A chart had been stretched out across the desk and pinned in the corners. Rolled charts filled a side rack and overflowed a wooden chest beside the bed. Her fingers twitched and she longed to open and study every one of them. A bookcase by the door had been crammed full of books stashed haphazardly on its shelves.

  Curiosity piqued, she crossed to the desk and studied the unrolled chart, turning on a globelight to see better. It depicted the same web of lines, symbols and tiny numbers as the one she had seen on the command deck. That seemed such a long time ago now.

  A map pinned to the wall caught her eye, and she rushed across to it. The map detailed the entire northern ocean with major towns labeled around its edge. Her finger traced along the Jerandan coast to Pelen. Her gaze fell upon dozens of countries and kingdoms that she had never before seen on a map. The crew had not exaggerated the extent of the ocean. Her finger stabbed a tiny cluster of islands in the middle of nowhere, and she leaned forward to read the small but tidy lettering: Us-imyan.

  The image of the cliff cave popped into her mind. Heavy snow fell only in the very north and the far south. She scanned the map but didn't know what to look for. If only she knew the name of that town.

  The door burst open and the navigator strode in, stopping with a gasp.

  She leaped away from the chart. His black eyes flicked around the room, back to her, and then to the book in her hand. His mouth sawed side to side, and a scowl scrunched his face.

  "So, you're just a petty thief." He pounced forward and snatched the book. He glanced at the curled edges and flicked through the damp pages. "What have you done? You've ruined it. What else have you stolen?"

  "Nothing, sir, nothing," she whimpered, edging away. "I didn't steal the book-"

  "Quiet!" He scanned the room. "I'm not a fool, girl. I have eyes. We'll see what Farq has to say about this."

  He grabbed her arm, his sharp nails piercing her skin, and dragged her outside.

  "Please don't tell the deck master. I wasn't stealing, honest. I found your book-"

  "By snooping around my cabin. Yes, I saw that. Be quiet, you insolent wretch."

  At the bottom of the stairs she dug in her heels and clung to the handrail. She glanced toward Farq's office, but he didn't seem to be there.

  "I can explain," she cried. "You left your book on the bench. I was returning it."

  The crew chief strode toward them, crossing the deck in five steps. "What's going on?"

  From all over the deck, men paused to stare.

  "He dropped his book in town," Lissa said. "Remember when I chatted with you and Pete? I was returning it to him. I didn't steal it. I didn't."

  "Silence," the navigator bellowed, and then coughed. "Fetch the deck master."

  "He's ashore," the crew chief replied.

  "Then lock up this thief until he returns."

  "Aye, sir."

  The crew chief peeled her from the handrail, twisted her arms behind her back, and then marched her to the nearest hatch.

  "You're in deep trouble now, missy," he said.

  Her shoulders slumped and she stopped struggling. It was no use against his strength. He paraded her the length of the dim, smoky mess deck, in front of the crew as they played cards and dice. They jeered and laughed. At the bow of the ship, he shoved her into a dingy rope locker. The door slammed shut leaving her in total darkness. She heard the grind of the key in the lock, and his heavy footfalls as he walked away.

  The humid air made her clothes stick to her body. Her skin itched. She stubbed her toe twice trying to find something to sit on. The stench from the nearby toilets turned her stomach and made her gag. She threw up, splattering sick over her arms and feet. She spat several times, trying to get the yucky taste from her mouth, and then she shook and wiped it from her arms.

  Hearing a grunting noise from the back of the small room, she held her breath and peered into the blackness. Nothing. Her hands settled on a large coil of rope, so she climbed inside, fidgeting to get comfortable. Perhaps she could get some sleep.

  Despite her exhaustion, she tossed and turned, catching only a few moments of sleep before waking to shake out the pins and needles from her limbs. She listened to the sighing creaks of the ship, and snatches of the me
n's chatter, which drifted spookily through gaps in the wall. By the sound of it, the rain seemed to have stopped. She bit her lip and stroked her hair. Hopefully Sam could reason with the navigator. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of what Farq would do to her if the navigator didn't back down. It grumbled and she uttered a tiny belch.

  "Hello?" she called out. "I have to pee. And I'm hungry. Hello?"

  Someone chuckled from behind her, so close that she spun around. She squinted at a face in the darkness and the whites of two eyes.

  "They won't let you out," Alice said. "Aww, is Cook's pet all locked up?"

  She cackled.

  "Why did they have to lock me up with you?" Lissa groaned.

  "Not so much fun now is it?" Alice said. "No baking cakes, toadying up to Cook and lying about in the infirmary. Welcome to real life aboard ship, princess stupid."

  Lissa’s eyes had adjusted to the near darkness, allowing her to scrutinize Alice. Her hair was flat and matted, and dirt smothered her face and arms. She'd been in here a long time, and was a pitiful sight. As much as Lissa wanted to shout and beat her, she just couldn't do it. Alice was having as wretched a time as she. With a sigh, Lissa turned her back.

  Alice continued to taunt her but soon gave up.

  The pressure in Lissa's bladder became too much. She squatted in a corner, hating every sordid moment, expecting Alice to make fun of her. How many others had spewed, peed, or worse, in this hole? Alice probably had several times. Ew! She slumped against the wall in the opposite corner.

  Lissa. The rasping whisper made her jump.

  "Alice," she growled. "You're not scaring me so shut up."

  "What?"

  Listen to us.

  She glanced at Alice, who slouched on a rope coil, unraveling its end.

  You saved me from drowning. I didn't have a chance to thank you.

  We know what you want.

  The rope locker vanished, and she stood in her cramped attic bedroom. She watched her younger self peering through the tiny window, out over the rooftops to the mountains far away, her head resting in her hands.

  Yes. She smiled at the memory. I want to see the world so badly, but not like this.

  A hissing laughter echoed in her mind. You will not.

  The symbol from the book blazed in the air before her.

  This is your path. Follow it.

  She gasped. Her eyes flicked to Alice, who was staring at her strangely. She obviously didn't see it even though it was blindingly bright. It faded away.

  What does it mean? The whispers had gone. Couldn't they just tell her instead of playing games?

  She jumped at the rattling of a key in the lock, and her heart raced.

  "I'll be leaving you then," Alice said, stepping forward. "Maybe they'll let you out before you become an old woman."

  The door opened, and even the dim globelight was glaringly bright to Lissa's eyes. Nib filled the doorway, scowling at them both, and she shied away, wary of his cruel reputation.

  "Come with me," he said to Lissa. He pushed Alice back.

  Lissa considered making a smug face at Alice, but Nib slammed the door and she lost her opportunity. He locked it, grabbed her arm and pushed her aft into the mess hall. Farq stood in a shaft of suns-light from the hatch above his head. He cracked his knuckles as she approached.

  "Ah yes, the girl."

  Chapter 16 - The Navigator

  Nib shoved Lissa forward and she stopped two feet in front of Farq. Her shoulders slumped, she clenched her hands at her waist to hide her trembling, and stared at the floor. From somewhere in the shadows, the Zrak coughed and growled.

  "Two thefts in two days," Farq said. "You've embarrassed the captain, myself and the entire ship. I won't stand for such insolence."

  She felt sick to her stomach, and itched to turn and run. Alice and the hot, stinky locker sounded like paradise.

  "I'm told the other girl stole the jewelry. I'll deal with her later, but if I find out you had a hand in that... As for the navigator's book..."

  He slapped her cheek so hard that pain seared through her jaw and into her skull. Her legs buckled and she crumpled to the floor. She tasted blood, and cowered, holding her hands above her head. He stepped over her, one leg on either side of her body.

  "What foolish game do you think you're playing that made your idiotic mind think you'd get away with stealing that book?" Spit rained down on her.

  "I didn't steal it, sir. I was returning it. I'm sorry it got damaged. I didn't know there was going to be a downpour. It's not totally ruined-"

  "Silence," he yelled, so loudly the Zrak growled. He drove his boot into her side. "I don't want your lies."

  Whimpering, she crawled away and clung to a post. Then she sneaked a glance at his wide eyes and flared nose. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

  "Nib, tie her to that post and get me the whips."

  "Aye."

  "Farq," the navigator said, walking from the ladder. "A word if you please?"

  While the two men whispered, she took a rag from her pocket and dabbed at her mouth. Her cheek was tender, and lacerated on the inside where her teeth had bit into her flesh. Farq stepped toward her. Her heart thumped so loud that she could hear it in her ears. She dropped the rag and buried her face in the post.

  "If you insist, Oban," Farq said. "Against my better judgment. This girl is nothing but trouble, mark my words. It's only a matter of time before she faces my whip."

  He turned to yell at the men who had gathered to watch, and then stormed away toward the ladder.

  "Get up, girl," the navigator said, looming over her.

  Her fingers dug into the post and she didn't move.

  "I'm not going to hurt you, for Anjan's sake," he said.

  He sat on the nearest bench and drummed his fingers on the top. Once they were alone, she got up and stood before him. There was a long silence.

  "Thank you for returning my book," he said quietly. "I did take it into town, and don't recall seeing it after I spoke with you."

  Her tense shoulders sagged and she exhaled. "You left it on the bench. I tried to find you-"

  "I'm not happy that you nosed around my cabin."

  "I'm sorry."

  She fidgeted from one foot to the other, while he stared at her with his black and purple eyes.

  "I was admiring your charts, sir, and your books. Not that I opened any. I mean, I didn't touch anything, I promise. Just looked. I flicked through the book, the one with the numbers. My uncle used to show me maps when I was younger. He traveled a lot and told me about places, and I saw them on your charts, which are nothing like his maps. Yours have all those squiggly lines on them. It must be wonderful to be able to navigate the ship from all those lines and numbers. I would love to do that-"

  She sucked in a huge breath. Stop rambling.

  "I see," he said. "You talk too much, little girl. Let me give you advice."

  "About being a navigator? Oh, yes please." She leaned forward.

  A deep frown crossed his gnarled face, and his dark eyes bore into her.

  "Shut up, stop being nosey, and just cook the dinner. Cease your stupid fantasies. Now leave." His eyes held hers, until she looked away.

  Her whole body deflated. She heaved a sigh and ambled back to the galley. That was clearly where she belonged.

  There was no sign of Cook or Branda. Smelling the sick on her arm and the blood crusted on her fingers, she had a sudden need to wash away the smells of the rope locker. In the washroom she took her time scrubbing away everything that happened today. She brushed the tangles from her hair, and once it was dry, she climbed into her scheepa.

  Her mind proved much harder to clean. It churned over recent events but kept looping back to the whispers. She thought of them as her friends. They were a lot more talkative of late, even if they made no sense. They seemed to be pushing her in a specific direction, one that involved Oban, the navigator, and his book of numbers. But why, after he had dismisse
d her so cruelly? Why had she asked about becoming a navigator? Did she want that? He had underestimated her. She could prove him wrong, prove that she could be one. She was sure of it.

  * * *

  The next day turned out to be their last at Us-imyan. Only the loading crew was allowed ashore. Cook gave them a grueling list of chores: clean the ovens, tidy the galley and take an inventory of the newly loaded supplies; and warned them to keep out of the storerooms until loading had finished. Lissa isolated herself and worked in silence. The ship felt confining after her time on the island. She thought about the stalls, strange foods and exotic races and how she'd never see them again, but was thankful she had been allowed ashore at all. Where would the ship stop next, and would she be allowed off again?

  Throughout the day, the ship echoed with the thud of crates, the rattling of the winches, and shouting of the crew. Cargo and supplies were lowered into the hold through a wide rectangular hole in each deck, just forward of the mast. The men stacked crates and barrels in a deliberate and obviously well practiced pattern.

  In the late afternoon, Cook summoned Lissa to the small baking room. The air was filled with the scrumptious aromas of cakes and pies. The old woman handed her a heavy tray.

  "Take this to the command deck, child. Be quick about it, and don't mess it up again."

  Lissa’s stomach fluttered and her hands sweated profusely as she climbed to the top of the ship, but she clamped her jaws together, determined to show Farq that she wasn't a troublemaker. She stepped out into a blast of hot air, and her hair streamed out behind her. This time, she knew how each officer liked his gej-juice, and she efficiently and silently delivered a goblet of iced juice and slice of jherodan nut pie to each man. Being so close to Farq made her tremble despite the heat, but Farq accepted his without comment. She snatched up the tray and ran back down the stairs.

  The awkward tray forced her to descend backward down the ladder belowdecks. She kept her fingertips lightly on the ropes, adjusting her balance as she went.

  The next step gave way under her weight. She glanced down, gasping to see that she had trodden on Alice's head.