Ocean of Dust

by Graeme Ing

  Something moved at the edge of her vision, and she whirled around, raising the stick defensively. The sacks slid under her and she teetered on their edge. She grabbed a post for support and her makeshift weapon clattered to the ground.

  "Sshh," Cook said, raising a finger to her lips. "Don't go into the hallway again, you silly child."

  "How-?"

  "I said shush. Whatever you're up to, work faster. Farq is on the rampage."

  The hatch slid open and Grad lowered his head, looking at her upside down. Lissa started to thank Cook, but the woman had gone.

  Grad lowered a rope.

  "One at a time," he hissed. It seemed to take forever to squeeze the crate through the small hole. After that, he and Jancid hauled up a sack of beans and a sack of oodspal. His head appeared in the hole again. "No time for more. Tie it around yourself."

  Relieved that he didn't intend to abandon her, she did so and they pulled her back up. Sawall and the boy stood at the window with the captain. They had secured a rope to the window frame, and it stretched tautly outside and down.

  Grad winked at her. "Just in time. Ready for an adventure?"

  She nodded weakly. Would the adventures ever end?

  The captain's gaze fell on the stack of food, ignoring her altogether. "Load those into the boat. Quick, before the guards return."

  She kept out of the way, as the men took hold of the rope with both hands and feet, and swung upside down like gowser-monkeys. Each loaded a heavy sack onto his belly and then inched out of the window and down the rope.

  The boy came up beside her. "Good job." His grin revealed missing teeth. "I'm Coy. You're Lispa, right?"

  "Lissa. And thanks."

  "Stop chattering," the captain said. "Boy, show her how to shinny along that rope."

  "I know how," she said, and swung onto the rope, gripping it with her feet. She pulled herself along, hand over hand. A boat lay below her in the darkness, bucking and bouncing as it rode the ship's wake. Sawall and Grad stood in the prow, their arms outstretched to grab her. Her whole face flushed, knowing she hung above them with her skirts blowing in the wind, but she moved quickly and they helped her at the other end.

  The boat was larger than the one that had taken her and Pete from the dock at Pelen. At fifteen feet long there was ample room for four benches, and equipment stashed in an open area at the back. She glanced out at the dust ocean, and her stomach churned to imagine becoming adrift so far from land. What if they capsized? What if they never found the island? She relaxed her shoulders and counted slowly to ten. Anything was better than facing Farq again.

  Coy and the men made several trips, bringing buckets and pitchers of water. The captain slid swiftly and quietly into the boat, and then faced his new crew: three men, a boy and a girl.

  "Silence. Not a word," he whispered.

  He gave a firm tug on the rope and slipped the knot on the window frame. He caught the rope and coiled it efficiently below the bow seat. The ship immediately left them behind.

  It finally dawned on her that she would never see Branda again. Now it was too late to say goodbye. Her eyes teared up. She’d left her best friend with a gang of murderers. She should have gone back for her and sneaked her out of the galley and to the boat. Why hadn't she done that? She wiped her eyes with her fingers. Cook wouldn't let her come to harm.

  Dust blew across the boat, settling on everything. A chill wind blew her hair. Her hand moved to clip it back, then dropped into her lap. She sniffed. The captain glared at her and she flinched and concentrated on not moving a muscle. The men hunched their shoulders, and glanced repeatedly at the window they had left open. At any moment a guard could appear and raise the alarm.

  Her gaze ran up the ship's stern to the command deck at the top. Shadowy figures moved about in the semi-darkness. The navigator was obvious in his thick robe, but she saw no sign of Farq. One of the figures moved to the aft rail and appeared to look right at them. The men froze, holding their breath. No one dared move. The man walked up and down the rail, pausing to lean over. The ship moved away at a surprising speed, and its churning wake sparkled every color. Finally, the man left the rail. Everyone in the boat exhaled in unison.

  What had become her home, grew smaller and smaller, until all its lights merged into a single point, like one of millions of stars in the sky. Then the waning star of the departing ship vanished altogether.

  They were alone in the vast dust ocean.

  * * *

  The sound of voices startled her awake, unsure of her surroundings. She squinted into the glaring sunrise of Eldrar. Her neck ached, and her bones cracked as she sat up, having slept with her head tilted sideways against the side of the boat. She shook out the pins and needles from her limbs. Her belly grumbled, and her mouth was dry and coated with dust.

  Memories flooded back and she remembered where she was. The boat rocked swiftly from side to side, a very different motion to the lazy rolling of the ship. A featureless expanse of dust lay in all directions, tinted orange by the suns-rise, making it impossible for her to tell how far the horizon lay. Tiny whirlwinds danced across its surface, spraying dust. The men rowed with a slow but consistent rhythm. The dust absorbed all sound of the oars entering and pulling through it.

  The captain coughed and caught her eye. "Fix us breakfast. Make it small."

  "Yes, sir," she croaked, and gladly accepted a sip from a mug of water passed around. The desire to guzzle it was powerful, but she fought the urge.

  "See if we can fashion a sun shade," he said, addressing Grad.

  She scrutinized their supplies in the bottom of the boat: dried meat, beans, oodspal, a dozen containers full of water, a box of crackers, cheese and a handful of fruit. She found an empty bowl under her seat, half filled it with beans, dashed in some water and left them to soak. Hopefully, the midday heat would be enough to soften the beans, even if they didn't get to boil. Then she handed each person a couple of crackers and slice of dried meat. They accepted their share with long faces but no complaints.

  "We've probably got four or five days of supplies," the captain said.

  "Eight if we starve ourselves," Grad replied.

  "So we row south you say?" Jancid asked. The direct manner in which he addressed the captain surprised Lissa, but he didn't seem to notice.

  "South," the captain echoed. "The island didn't look far on the navigator’s chart."

  Her stomach flipped and her pulse raced. The navigator's calculations were wrong, she was sure of it. She should warn the captain. You idiot. It's you who's wrong, obviously. She rubbed her eyes. Why would the captain listen to a galley girl? She chewed her lip.

  "We'll rest by day and row at night," he continued.

  "What if we don't see the island and go right past?" Jancid said, squinting into the distance.

  The captain rubbed his jaw. "A risk we'll have to take. If we row in the heat of the day, the effort'll exhaust our water too quickly. Sawall, help Grad with that shade."

  The two men unfolded a hide-tarpaulin, pulled from the rear of the boat. Then they unraveled a coil of rope into single strands. The men had uncovered what appeared to be a pair of mini flux vanes lying in the bottom, anchored to the side by slack chains, and the device between them had to be a hand winch.

  "Can I help?" she said.

  "No," Grad barked. "Just stay outta the way."

  The captain removed a pair of dagger-like pins from his immaculately braided hair, letting it unravel into a mane of black that cascaded down his back to his waist. The simple change made him seem older, somehow gentler. Grad and Sawall used the pins to punch holes in the tarpaulin, through which they threaded the strands of rope. They tied its corners to hooks beneath the benches, placed two oars into the center, and then pushed the tarpaulin over their heads. Shade fell across the boat.

  "Good work," the captain said.

  Both suns climbed toward the zenith and baked the ocean around them. A shimmering effect on its surface captured h
er attention. Tiny particles of dust bounced upward and fell back, like beads on a drum, as if the ocean were boiling. She cautiously lowered her hand and it tingled against her palm. The dust radiated incredible heat and she was glad for the sunshade.

  She thought about the Klynaks following the ship, dozens of leagues away. She missed them almost as much as she missed Branda. They were her secret friends.

  We are still here.

  She jumped and yanked back her hand, bashing Coy, who was trying to sleep. He stirred and stretched, then moaned while he shook out pins and needles. Ignoring him, she scanned the ocean around the boat but there was no sign of a domed Klynak head.

  Where? Near the boat? Or can you talk to me from the ship?

  We watch you. You know you are in danger. Why do you hide this from your Kee-shar?

  Did they mean the captain? He was engaged in a quiet conversation with Jancid.

  He won't listen to me-

  The voice in her mind hissed angrily. You must persuade him. Do this now.

  She glanced at the captain and chewed her lip, certain he would yell at her, but the voices had never led her astray. She took a deep breath and gripped the side of the boat.

  "Captain?" Her voice squeaked.

  He finished his sentence and then turned to face her, his brow furrowed with deep lines. "What is it?"

  "Begging your pardon... I mean..." She swallowed hard. "The island isn't south. It's that way."

  She pointed to her left, to port.

  His eyes narrowed and he exchanged a glance with Jancid. "You're saying I'm wrong? How dare you."

  Everyone stared at her. She opened her mouth to beg forgiveness and apologize, but instinct told her to stand firm.

  "Oban... I mean, the navigator made a mistake. We need to head in that direction. I'm sure of it."

  The men grumbled. "What the..?"

  "Is she mad?"

  "What's she going on about?"

  The captain's eyes flared, but his tone was quiet and even. "What makes you qualified to pass judgment on his skill and long experience?"

  "I saw his calculations, and... they're wrong. I... I did them for myself." She dipped her hand into her pocket and remembered she had left the page on his desk. "The island isn't where he thinks it is."

  "Mind your tongue, girl," Jancid snarled. "You aren't at the farmer's market now."

  The captain stared at her long and hard. She held her breath. She'd expected him to scream at her, even strike her. What was going through his mind?

  "That's a serious accusation, girl," he said. "Why should I believe you?"

  Once again, she considered apologizing and dropping the whole thing, but no, she was certain their lives depended on it.

  "Sir, I'm sure you know a lot about navigation. I can prove I'm right if you have a pen and parchment."

  "This ought to be fun," Sawall muttered.

  "I don't have those things," the captain said. "Tell me."

  She took a deep breath. "The last series of suns-set readings against Adilo were 16, 19 and −3. Against Medepo yesterday evening, they were 25, 43 and 16. I've been listening to the readings for days now, and they were moving east and later for Adilo and south and later for Medepo. So the equinoxal trend was south and east."

  Her gaze flicked around the boat. Jancid glared at her, Sawall's eyes had glossed over, Coy grinned ear to ear, and Grad shrugged and shook his head in amazement. The captain's expression was impossible to read. No one uttered a word, so she continued.

  "I saw the navigator’s chart because I'd been working in his cabin, copying one of his books. I hadn't meant to damage his book, but he-"

  "Yes, yes," the captain said. "No matter, go on."

  "He had the ship's last position as 95 leagues north and 126 east of Us-imyan-"

  "You can't possibly remember all those numbers," Jancid interrupted. "You're making it all up."

  "You didn't see her at the festival, old man," Grad said. “She can remember numbers all right.” He winked at Lissa.

  "You have to believe me," she said. "The translation of the second quadrant puts us further east than the navigator thought. The island is west of us, not south."

  "You flipped the stellar triangle," the captain said, "forgot to project it down from the sky onto the ground. Your math is backward."

  "This is madness!" Jancid exploded, throwing his hands into the air. "Sir, you're arguing with a cooking girl. She's talking gibberish, flat out lying."

  "It sounds pretty damn believable to me," Grad said.

  "No it ain't," Sawall said. "We know she remembers stuff. She just overheard the navigator and is trying to make herself sound smart. Cap'n, Jancid's right. If the navigator says south, then south it is. I say we gag her to shut her nonsense up."

  "Silence," the captain barked. "Girl, was your translational matrix positive or negative?"

  "Negative," she said, barely audible.

  He leaned forward, and his eyes sparkled. The barest hint of a smile formed in one corner of his mouth. He slowly nodded his head.

  Lissa's jaw dropped. Had she missed a step and made a crucial error? He'd caught her, seen her mistake. She slinked into the bottom of the boat. The navigator had been right all along.

  Chapter 24 - The Flux Channel

  Jancid laughed, while Sawall flexed and cracked his knuckles, poised to leap into action at the first order. The captain's dark eyes bored in to Lissa, then he sighed and looked out in the direction she had indicated, his loose hair blowing in the breeze. He pulled a looking glass from his belt and studied the horizon.

  "How far?"

  "One hundred and fifty leagues," she replied. There was a rustle of clothing as the men fidgeted nervously.

  "We'll never row that," Jancid said. "Not with the water we 'ave."

  Coy's shoulders slumped, and his encouraging grin vanished.

  "What if we rowed day and night, in turns?" Grad suggested.

  "You 'eard the cap'n," Jancid cried. "We'll use all our water up. And the food. We ain't gonna make it."

  "Captain-" Lissa began.

  "I'm tired of your complaining," Grad shouted at the old sailor. "How about you row instead of mouth off all the time?"

  She coughed and raised her voice. "Captain-"

  Sawall joined in. "If we throw you two loudmouths off the boat, they'll be more food an' water for the rest of us."

  Jancid lunged at Sawall. The boat rocked violently, knocking him backward. "Just try it. I've been working this ocean a'fore you were born. Don't speak-"

  "Quiet. All of you." The captain lowered his looking glass. "What is it, girl?"

  "I think I can navigate if someone works the flux vanes."

  Sawall snorted. "Oh, you just know how to do everything, don't you?"

  "Just 'cos you overheard some clever words, it don't make you useful," Jancid said. "I don't even know why we brought you."

  "Let her try," the captain said. "Sawall, Grad, change places with her. Set up the vanes and get them lowered."

  Sawall muttered to himself as he moved to the rear of the boat, keeping low to avoid capsizing it. Grad lifted Lissa roughly and dumped her on the middle bench.

  "Ten dujins says the boat goes nowhere," Sawall hissed at him.

  "You idiot." Grad laughed. "I’m not gonna take that bet. Do I look stupid?"

  Lissa chewed her lip. Jancid was right - all she'd done was listen to Mampalo and the apprentices, and read one book. She wished she had paid attention when Pete had droned on about the flux vanes and winches and other things.

  The two men hung the flux vane rods off each side of the boat, securing them in brackets mounted to the hull. The chains rattled as they took up the tension.

  "Lower them please," she said. The men scowled at her and her skin prickled all over. "About six feet."

  She glanced around the boat for inspiration. Should she ask the voices? She was certain they wouldn't help, and anyway, the navigator had confessed he didn't hear them. So what
did he do? She took several long breaths and flexed her fingers, knowing she played for time. It must have been obvious to everyone that she hadn't a clue, and they would denounce her as a fraud at any moment.

  She pictured the navigator on the command deck, running his hands through the dust fountain atop his pedestal, then closed her eyes and dipped her right hand into the dust. The barest tingling sensation ran up her arm. When she focused on it, the sensation faded, so she spread her fingers and tried to empty her mind. The tingling returned, her stomach tumbled and her head pounded. She yanked her hand out.

  "What's she doin'?" Sawall murmured.

  "Nothing useful, that's for sure," Jancid replied. "Faking it, I think."

  She addressed the captain. "Can I move to the bow, sir? I need to use both hands."

  He nodded once, and they swapped places.

  She lay on her belly on the prow of the boat, and immersed both hands to her elbows. The tingling immediately flowed up both arms and spread into her chest. The nausea returned at once, and she wished she had brought the physiker's medicine. Her head throbbed, but she tried her best to ignore it and concentrate on the sensations pricking her hands, sure that there was a pattern.

  "The boat ain't moving," Sawall said.

  She blew out her breath, snapped her eyes open, and pulled her hands back into the boat. The dust grains fell away, leaving a numbness in her hands that she eased by flexing her fingers.

  "We need to row southeast," she said. "The flux isn't strong here."

  "How convenient," Jancid murmured.

  "How far?" the captain said.

  She shrugged. "A few hundred feet, maybe."

  He rubbed his chin. "Bring out the oars."

  As the men rowed, grumbling to themselves, she lay back and took deep breaths in an attempt to ease her nausea. The physiker had been right - she could sense the flux, but could she direct the boat to the island? Her belly spasmed and she grimaced. That'll teach me for opening my mouth.