by Mandy Hager
How innocent she and Ruth had once been: to believe they were the special ones—the Lord's Chosen, Blessed Sisters raised to obey the Apostles’ stringent Rules and to think of sacrifice as the fulfilment of devotion to a loving Lord. How foolish that thinking seemed, when all the time those same Apostles planned to steal her blood to save themselves from Te Matee Iai, proclaiming that it was the Lord, and not the lifeblood of the Blessed Sisters, who was protecting them from the plague's harsh grip. As for Ruth, destined to a life of shame, her body used to serve her masters as nothing more than breeding stock…no! No matter what hardships now lay ahead, nothing could be worse than that.
As the night wore on, Maryam fought the ever-growing compulsion to drift off to sleep. She had not yet regained her strength after the last transfusion, feeling the way it sapped her and resenting it even though the last donation was of her own making to save Joseph's life. Even now she was unsure whether she had given enough blood to cure him—his frailty still worried her. If he should succumb to Te Matee Iai again…she dared not think of the fight she'd have on her hands to save him then, knowing how angry he had grown when she'd been bled that second time. It nearly killed their fledgling friendship on the spot. And if he knew she had hidden within her small bundle of clothes the very instruments of torture used to take her blood, just in case he needed more, she doubted she could stem his rage. Lazarus would undoubtedly steal her blood without a care, but Joseph was far more compassionate—a special quality in a world where “goodness” was merely a word used by the Apostles to maintain control.
Suddenly the sails started flapping and both booms swung madly across the deck. The tips of the hulls dug deep into the swell and the whole vessel pitched and reeled off its course.
“What are you doing?” Lazarus shrieked, water surging over him. He scrambled down the deck, shaking himself like a village dog after a dip, as Maryam tried to bring the tiller around and the stern rudders fought against the forward momentum of the swell. But they refused to respond, and Maryam had no idea what to do next. It was Lazarus, hauling on the sturdy woven jute ropes, who finally reined the sails in and edged the prow back around towards the west.
“Idiot,” he cried, his features reduced to a sharp mask of derision in the night's dull light. “If you can't stay awake, then leave the tiller work to me.”
He stood over her now, a threatening silhouette against the sky, and Maryam felt consumed by shame. She knew he thought of girls as lesser beings, and it mortified her to have proved him right. But she tightened her hand on the tiller, quickly checking the heavens to confirm their course. “I'm sorry,” she conceded. “It won't happen again.”
He snorted at her words. “If you're as good at sailing as you are at keeping secrets, then I fear we're doomed.”
She looked up at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
“Come on,” he jeered. “Do you really think I just accidently spotted you and your faithful lap-dog Ruth as you stole away? Are you really that stupid?”
Still she did not understand. She'd presumed Lazarus had simply happened on them as she and Ruth fled past on their way to join Joseph at the boat. Was he now saying this was not the case? Much as she hated reacting to his mocking, she had to find out what he meant. “You already knew?”
Lazarus slowly adjusted a rope, dragging out her uncertainty with obvious relish. Finally he squatted down next to her, replying in a voice spliced through with scorn. “I've been watching you,” he drawled. “You're different from the other Blessed Sisters. Trouble.”
“I don't care what you think of me,” she struck back, “when you had so much, and yet you chose to use it to cause others pain.”
For a split second her words stalled him, but then he regained himself. “Is the master blamed for beating the stupidity out of his dog?” He shook his head. “You people beg for pain—you crave it—all in the name of sacrifice to the Lord.”
“You think we have a choice in this?”
“Yes I do!” He caught her gaze and held it. “And you, prickly little stonefish, are my proof of that blind stupidity!” He laughed, applauding himself, the percussion of his hands loud in the night. “When I found you at Joseph's house after your first ridiculous attempt to escape, I knew there was something up. I've followed you, sweet Maryam. Stood outside the door while you lay there drunk on toddy as you let my mother give Joseph more of your blood. I've listened to your secret conversations and know your fears. Believe me, I know more about you now than you know of yourself.”
“But—” Maryam's words died on her lips. He'd known of their escape plans and yet not revealed them to Father Joshua? Why was that? And why, come to think of it, had he fought so hard to come aboard? He had everything back in Onewēre's Holy City: status as the son of the Holy Father, freedom, health. Why would he give it all away? She lowered her eyelids to avoid his brash stare, secretly studying his face through her long dark lashes. He was handsome, no doubt of that, but the sheer meanness of his spirit bled out through his eyes and curled his lip in a perpetual sneer.
“I know what you're wondering,” Lazarus smirked. “You can't comprehend how anyone would shun such privilege and luxury. Am I right?”
Despite herself, she had to nod.
“Then think on this. Before this night, I knew what every day would bring. I knew I'd someday take over the reins of my dear father and that, thanks to the sacred blood of Blessed Sisters like you, I could cheat the Lord of my death until I felt the time was right.” He shrugged. “Well, I'm sorry, Sister, I want more.”
“More?” Just how far did his greed extend?
He stood up abruptly, turning his back on her to scan the sea. “I doubt you've got the imagination to understand.”
Maryam dug her fingernails into the timber tiller. He made her feel so—so—beneath him. That was it. As if she was worth nothing.
“I understand that you are no better than your father,” she said. “That everything you touch is poison in your hands.”
Lazarus spun back around to face her then, looming so close she could smell his stale breath. For a moment she feared he would strike her, but instead a seductive smile stole across his face. “Now, now, Sister. Allow me to prove you wrong.” He reached out, brushing his damp hand down the side of her face as tenderly as a man in love.
She flinched, her arm rising of its own accord to knock his hand away. “Never touch me again,” she hissed at him, furious heat spiralling up her body until it burned her ears. “The Lord forgive me, but I hate you more than words can say.”
“Hate?” he said. Then he shrugged. “Then this should make for an exciting voyage. You see, the thing with hate, dear Sister, is that it needs love to define it, like night needs day.”
With that he turned on his heel, leaving her alone now to digest his words.
The rest of Maryam's shift passed in a tired blur. She struggled to stay focused through the darkest hours of the night, and with great relief relinquished the tiller to Joseph as the first tinges of pink tickled the horizon in the east. Then, despite the cramped conditions in the small covered shelter and her proximity to Lazarus, she fell asleep almost as soon as she crawled onto the sleeping mat. The steady motion of the sea rocked her, and the exhaustion she'd been fighting now swept her away.
Mid-morning light was streaming in when Joseph shook her by the shoulder. “Wake up,” he urged, “there's something you have to see!” He seemed lit by excitement as he tugged her by the hand.
“Wait,” she whispered, fearing Lazarus would hear. But when she looked about she saw that he'd already risen and was at the tiller. She smiled at Joseph. “How do you feel?”
“I'm fine.” He beckoned her. “Come on!”
She reached out to stop him. “No, really. Are you well?”
He sighed and his eyes lost their focus for a moment, as if he'd turned their gaze inward to assess his state. Then he slowly grinned. “I promise you, I feel great!” He tugged her hand again. “Now, pleas
e—come or you might miss them!”
Them?
Maryam scrabbled from the shelter after Joseph, struggling to shake off the fog of sleep. The light that bounced off the sea was dazzling, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the glare. While she'd slept the boisterous wind had dropped away, and they were now sailing on a warm light breeze.
“Maryam, look!” Ruth's excited call drew Maryam to the front of the boat.
Ruth pointed down into the spray of water churned up by the bows. Scuffing just beneath the surface, playing with the air bubbles the hulls threw up, a pair of enormous fish sped along in tandem, their dorsal fins slicing through the water as they raised their rounded snouts to breathe. They were roughly the size and shape of sharks, but shared none of their leering, sinister presence.
“Are they dolphins?” she asked, riveted as the creatures swivelled their heads to the side, studying her with intelligent eyes, their mouths curved upwards in what could only be a friendly smile. She had seen their fins cut through the sea before, way out from land, but never observed them up this close.
“I'm fairly sure,” Joseph answered. “My mother spoke of seeing them when she was learning how to sail beyond the reef and—oh, look!”
One of the dolphins sped ahead, flinging itself out of the water in a graceful arc. It seemed to hang in the air for a long moment, then dived into the swell again, spiralling deep, out of view. Maryam leaned over the bow and watched as the slick dark shadow of it re-emerged from the opalescent depths and the creature returned to its playmate with a flick of its powerful tail.
Behind them, at the tiller, Lazarus whistled to attract their attention. “Look behind!” he yelled, and pointed to the boat's duel wake. There, bringing up the rear in a joyous procession, another dozen or so dolphins tracked their progress through the sea.
Maryam felt her spirits lift. “You see!” She turned to Ruth. “There is life out here, beyond our shores.”
She threw herself flat onto the deck and dangled her arm over the side of the hull, sifting the refreshing spray of the water through her fingers. Beneath her, the closest of the dolphins rose on the peak of the swell and nudged her hand, brushing the full length of its sleek body along her touch. Its skin felt as velvety and firm as melon flesh, and Maryam found tears prickling her eyes as she received this unexpected proof of life.
She looked at Joseph, excitement lifting her voice. “Did you see that?”
“It doesn't seem afraid at all,” he said.
“Why would it, when it has free rein of this vast ocean?” Fear is something you have to learn first hand, she thought, remembering her own shocking swing from bliss to dread after she had Crossed from the atoll to the Holy City. Could anything be worse than knowing those you most trusted had betrayed you? She reckoned not.
Joseph nodded thoughtfully, then slapped his belly. “Come on,” he said, offering Maryam his hand to help her to her feet. “I'm starving! Now we're all rested, let's have some food.”
There was no argument with this. Together they reefed in the two sails while Lazarus lashed the tiller to hold the boat steady on its westward course. Now all four climbed into the shelter to unpack the stores. There was bread enough to last five days and they fell upon it hungrily, wrapping salted fish into the thick chewy slabs they broke off from a crusty loaf. Lazarus was uncharacteristically quiet, intent on his food as the others speculated on the scene back in the Holy City when it was discovered they were gone.
“I fear for Hushai,” Maryam said. “If they find out how much he aided us, they'll make him pay.” The old blind man held a special place in her heart, and the thought of him suffering on her account churned her stomach.
“My mother promised she'll try to temper Uncle Joshua's rage,” Joseph assured her. “Besides,” he laughed, “unless those villagers who followed us actually saw the boat, they'll have to scour the whole of Onewēre before they realise we have gone.”
“And if they saw the boat?” Ruth pressed. “Is it possible they have the means to follow us?”
All four turned as one to scan the sea behind them, but there was nothing out on the horizon line to suggest anyone was giving chase. Nothing at all, in fact, bar sea and sky.
“I don't know for sure,” Joseph said, “but it seems unlikely they'd think it necessary. They're so arrogant, I doubt it would occur to them we could escape without killing ourselves.” He turned to Lazarus. “What do you think?”
Lazarus finished chewing before he replied. “I doubt they'd do it openly, even if they do have such a craft as this—and I've never heard word of one if they do. But my father will be furious that I have gone. If he comes after anyone, it will be me.”
“And you didn't consider this before you forced your way aboard?” Maryam turned to him angrily. “They may well have been content to pray that Ruth and I were swallowed by the sea, but you…don't you see how your selfishness has risked us all?”
Lazarus's eyes narrowed. “Selfish! Were you not already forcing your dear friend Ruth here to accompany you? I did you a big favour—she was ready to retreat.”
“Stop it!” Ruth broke in. “I am not a scrap of bait for you to fight over. We are here now—all of us—and if we don't work together we all could die.”
“Tell that to your crazy friend. I'm not the one who keeps this up,” Lazarus said.
“How dare you!” Maryam spat. “Your very presence here—”
“Enough!” Joseph raised his hands. “You two are going to drive me mad! You have to form some kind of truce.” He ignored Maryam's furious glare. “However it came to be, we're here now and we work together, like Ruth said.” He leaned back and rummaged in the shelter. “Let me show you the map. It's where we're going now that matters most—not where we've left.”
The map was pocked with age, its corners tattered and the ink degraded. In the seams where the paper had been folded, the writing had faded clean away. Joseph pointed to a tiny speck within a wash of blue. “This is Onewēre here.”
They pored over the fragile chart, amazed. Here, at last, was evidence of the world outside their small island home and its minute satellite atoll. Hardly visible amid the blue that signified the sea lay strings of tiny dots that spoke of land elsewhere, and there, dominating a good half of the map, what seemed to be a huge landform. Maryam tapped her finger on it, leaning in to read its name. Australia. “What place is this?”
“I once saw pictures of it in a book,” Joseph replied. “A dry land, with earth as red as pomegranate seeds. They had many great cities there, with buildings reaching right up to the sky.”
“Why, then, aren't we heading there?” Lazarus asked. “Surely it's so big that, even with the fallout of the Tribulation, the people there must have survived.”
“My parents were wary of it—they knew so little of its customs they did not think it worth the risk.” Joseph pointed to a little island west of Onewēre. “This is Marawa Island, here. It's spoken of fondly in the old legends—was known once as a place of trade.”
“Your parents thought that made it safe?” Ruth asked.
Joseph shrugged. “I guess.” He drew a line with his finger between the two islands. “The best thing is it's directly west of Onewēre, so we should be able to find it, even though it's still quite small.”
There was sense in this, Maryam realised. She'd always known the ocean was unimaginably vast, but to see it laid out like this—as if the Lord had looked down and mapped it from His throne—underlined how insubstantial they and their sailing craft really were. “Do you remember how the legends went?”
“Not really. Only that they claimed the two islands were once so close in their dealings they were like brother and sister. Then the missionaries arrived on Onewēre and drove the siblings apart. While the people of Onewēre took up the Lord's sacred word, their brothers and sisters on Marawa Island chose to turn away.”
“We're heading for an island where heathens rule?” Ruth's eyes grew as round as cockle s
hells.
“Who knows?” Joseph replied. “The Tribulation changed everything. Besides, I'd rather heathens than my uncle's Rules.”
“How can you say that?” Tears swelled in Ruth's eyes. “Do you not still love the Lord?”
“Enough of this,” Maryam broke in. “We've set our course and now must wait to see what it delivers up.” To get into an argument with Ruth over her faith would achieve nothing but hurt all round. Nor did she want to reply directly to Ruth's question, knowing in her heart that her answer would only cause her friend pain. Instead she reached over and patted Ruth's back. “It's okay, Ruthie,” she whispered. “No one will wrench you from the Lord.”
Ruth brushed the tears from her eyes and forced a smile. “It's just that all this is so—big…”
“I know.” Bigger and scarier than Maryam could imagine. She turned her mind from it. “But we are here—you and me, together. Safe. And the dolphins prove there is life beyond our shores. We have food to eat, a map and that strange compass thing to guide our way. What could possibly go wrong?”
Ruth merely shrugged.
Throughout the day they all took turns to steer the boat, working hard at learning how the sails responded to the shifting winds. It was hot work. The sky was cloudless; the sun's heat sapped their strength and drove their thirst. Maryam and Joseph checked through the stores and doled out the fresh water as frugally as possible, just in case their journey lasted longer than they'd planned.
Yet, despite the hospitable sea conditions, there was an inescapable awkwardness among the group. With no space for privacy, even the most natural of acts proved stressful, the girls insisting that the boys turn their backs when they needed to relieve themselves—leaning out in an ungainly fashion from the deck—one standing guard for the other, making sure the boys kept to their word. But there was no such modesty from the boys: Maryam and Ruth learned only through excruciating experience to turn away the moment Joseph or Lazarus made his way up to the front deck between hulls.