Ocean of Dust (11 page)

She shoved Lissa again and climbed the
ladder.

Think. Time is running out.
She paced
the hallway, her turns becoming swifter.

"That's it." She glanced around the empty
hallway. "Ha!"

Alice had just given her the solution.

Lissa rushed into the baking room, a hundred
recipes spinning around her head. Which one, which one? Everyone
loved her mother's pecknut pie. The green-shelled nut was hard to
come by, but she remembered finding a sack in the far storeroom.
She tied her hair back and bounced around the tiny room, snatching
everything she needed, determined to make the best pie of her
life.

The final bell had tolled when she carried it
into the galley like a royal gift. Branda had left a pitcher of
gej-juice, so she added plenty of flaked ice from the machine, and
then balanced the pitcher, goblets, pie, and knife on a tray. She
paused and sucked in a deep breath.

The moment she emerged on to the outer deck,
her stomach turned over. The goblets rattled on the tray. Her legs
refused to move. She stared into Farq's open office, where Farq
conversed with the white-haired sailor. Her mind screamed at her to
drop the tray, run, and hide. Alice and Lyndon leaned against the
rail. Alice drew her finger across her throat, made a gurgling
noise, and laughed.

Lissa counted silently, willing herself to
move on ten, but she faltered at nine. She blew out a long breath
and hyperventilated. Bile pushed up her throat and she choked it
down. Nearby crew pointed and muttered. She made a tiny whimpering
noise and snapped her mouth shut.

"Ten," she said aloud, and forced herself
across the deck, ignoring the churning in her stomach and her heart
threatening to burst out of her chest. One step, then another,
until she found herself at the threshold of Farq's office. The
hairs on her neck prickled, as she imagined Alice and Lyndon's
stares on her back. On the other side of the desk, the two men
intently studied the ledger before them.

"Deck Master, sir." It came out as a hoarse
whisper, so she repeated it.

Farq's head jerked up and his gaunt face
puckered. She stared at her feet. He growled and she saw the shadow
of his arm rising.

"I baked you a special pie, sir," she
blurted, "to apologize for disobeying your orders. I deserved your
beating."

Shut up. Don't ramble.

She raised her gaze enough to see Farq
puffing out his chest. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and she
imagined each sound to be one of her bones breaking. She winced,
preparing for his onslaught. The goblets rattled violently.

"Set it down before you drop it," he barked.
"Now get out of my sight."

She did so and then fled, hearing nothing
except the blood pulsing in her ears. She forgot about Alice,
Lyndon, and everyone around her, and didn't stop until she reached
the galley, where she slid into a corner and shook uncontrollably.
Finally, she became aware of Branda beside her, holding her
hand.

A wave of euphoria flooded over her. She’d
done it! It had been a brilliant plan, she’d seen it through and
perhaps made her peace with Farq. Best of all, she’d beaten Alice.
A real victory. Even so, she wiped the grin off her face when Alice
walked in, pouting. Gloating was cheap. Ignoring the other girls,
Alice crossed the room and turned the oven dials to the on
position.

"You so brave," Branda whispered, beaming at
Lissa. Her gaze flicked to Alice, who didn't appear to be paying
them any attention.

"Let's not provoke her," Lissa whispered
back, "but thanks."

Cook arrived and they prepared supper,
heating up leftover jab-bird, and stirring a cauldron of lan tubers
and hoobin-beets. The room filled with a rich, gamey aroma. Alice
made no attempt to torment Lissa and said nothing except answer
Cook in monosyllables.

Lissa savored her supper with Branda as
company. She felt giddy with happiness that the horrible dare was
over and done. Maybe now, a truce might exist between her and
Alice. She didn't expect them to become friends but not being
picked on would be nice.

Chapter 10 - The Symbol

Lissa and Branda spent the evening on deck,
and Lissa didn't want the tingle of elation flowing through her
body to end. Soon they were both spending more time yawning than
talking, so Lissa gave in and went below to the storeroom that she
had come to think of as her own. The globelight was dim and her
scheepa strung up. She smiled. Branda did so many things for her.
The little Valinese girl was the only thing that made ship life
bearable.

She cracked her jaw with an enormous yawn and
clambered into her scheepa. Something lumpy and soggy oozed beneath
her, squelching when she lay back.

"Yuck!"

She leaped up, which caused the scheepa to
flip and dump her with a thud onto the deck. Slimy, cold globs
rained down on her, accompanied by the nutty smell of oodspal. It
slithered off her hair onto her face, and dribbled down the inside
of her shirt.

She howled and scraped handfuls from her
face, then smacked her hands on the hard floor repeatedly. What an
idiot she’d been to think that Alice would give up so easily. She
quivered with rage.

Now she'd have to clean up the mess, or Cook
would beat her. It was going to take most of the night. She fetched
a bucket and mop and swept the deck, being as quiet as possible.
Then she bundled up the dripping scheepa and tip-toed along the
hallway to the washroom, where she spent ages rinsing every sticky
lump of oodspal from the scheepa, her clothes, her hair and
herself. The water washed away her anger, replacing it with a firm
resolve: Alice would not make a fool of her again.

Exhausted, she couldn't keep her eyes open.
She found a corner outside the washroom, spread out her clothes,
and curled up under the dry side of the thick canvas scheepa, not
caring if anyone stumbled over her in the dimly hit hallway.

The dawn bell startled her out of another
nightmare. Alice had been captain and Lissa her personal slave.
While Alice spent all day relaxing in a throne, Lissa scrubbed the
deck at her feet, forever mopping up bowls of oodspal that the
spiteful girl threw on the floor.

Lissa shivered and sat up, shoulders and back
aching from sleeping on the hard deck. Where was she? Then she
remembered spending the night cleaning. Her eyes drooped. She just
wanted to go back to sleep.

"Girl!" Cook yelled from the galley. "Get
here this instant."

Lissa dragged herself to her feet, massaging
her stiff muscles. Her clothes were wrinkled but dry so she dressed
hurriedly and ran her hands through her tangled hair. No time for a
wash. She sprinted into the galley, still tucking her shirt into
her skirt.

"Useless girl," Cook roared. "I warned you
before about oversleeping. Double chores today."

Alice smirked.

As the three girls made breakfast, Lissa was
torn. She wanted to get back at Alice, but didn't dare risk a
full-scale war, afraid for Branda. Somehow she would get her
revenge. She held her head high as she went about her duties,
meeting Alice's gaze and refusing to flinch when she came close.
Alice took every opportunity to threaten her with a fork, thump her
in the arm or kick her when Cook's back was turned, but Lissa
shrugged it all off, hoping to bore Alice into stopping.

Lissa had barely wolfed down her breakfast
before Cook ordered her and Branda to scrub the manger.

"A full clean, mind you," the old woman said,
waggling her finger. "Clean up the dung, lay new grass, refill the
troughs. No half-baked effort."

"This take us all day," Branda said, leading
Lissa toward the bow of the ship. "Take Alice two days. Alice
lazy."

Lissa simply grunted in reply.

They pushed open the doors to the manger, and
a fetid stench of dung and animals assaulted their noses. A barrage
of bleats, grunts and lowing greeted them. A jab-bird swooped at
Lissa, and she ducked her head. Awkward in flight, the fat bird
crumpled into the doorframe, and Branda quickly closed the doors.
Other jab-birds strutted fearlessly beneath the legs of solags. The
brown-haired beasts were so large that their pointed ears grazed
the low ceiling.

Metal troughs lined the curving walls that
met at a point opposite the door. This was the very front of the
ship. At one trough, a pair of mrin drank together, their long
tails swishing each other's flanks and their short snouts nudging
each other. Lissa and Branda moved into the room, causing a
hairless mulan to take fright and step in a food bowl, scattering
feed everywhere. That scared a trio of jab-birds, who ran squawking
around the room.

"This is going to be hard work," Lissa said,
wiping the sweat from her forehead as she looked around her.

"You get fresh grass, your arms longer,"
Branda said, extending her short arms. "I sweep old grass and
dung."

Lissa agreed, and returned with two bales of
gilli-grass. Her load was more awkward than heavy, since
gilli-grass was hollow inside and very light. The inn at home
didn't have an attached stable, but she'd seen the grass used in
the market livestock pens.

Branda shoveled dung and soiled grass into
sacks, and dragged them outside for the crew to empty overboard.
Working behind her friend, Lissa scattered a new layer. The two
mrin padded along beside her, snuffling at the fresh grass as if
inspecting her handiwork. The female flicked her head around to
stare at Lissa with huge, black eyes. Then it pooped all over the
fresh gilli-grass. The pungent, sulfurous smell singed Lissa's nose
and throat. She tried to shoo the animal away but it held its
ground.

"Alice brag what she do to your scheepa,"
Branda said, scrunching her nose while she scraped up the fresh
dung. "She do same to me, my first Sunturn."

"We should trick her back. Teach her a
lesson."

"No." Branda shot Lissa a wide-eyed glance.
"Best not make trouble."

"I know. I just wish she could know what it
feels like."

"She will suffer shee-amar," Branda said. "It
in the stars."

Lissa stared at her, and suddenly she was
back in the inn, seven Sunturns old.

"Mother," she said. "When will Grandpa come
home?" She peered out the window, scrutinizing every person who
walked by outside, as she had done night after night.

"Soon, my darling, soon," her mother
crooned.

"But when?"

Her mother flicked Lissa's hair from her eyes
and kissed her forehead.

"Soon. I see it in the stars."

"I hope so, Mother. I miss him so much."

The memory popped like a soap bubble. A solag
lowed and bumped against her.

Branda frowned, running her fingers along the
snake-like tattoos on her forehead. "What wrong?"

Lissa shook her head and tucked her hair
behind one ear. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Your eyes look far away," Branda said. "Then
you call me Mother."

"I was thinking of my mother just then." Her
heart broke at the thought of never seeing her parents again, never
hearing her mother’s voice or feeling her warm hugs. But she
couldn’t think about that right now. She rolled her shoulders back.
"She used to say the same words: 'I see it in the stars.'"

Branda smiled and her eyes sparkled.

"What's shee-amar?" Lissa asked a few moments
later.

"My people believe if you cruel, things turn
bad for you. Mama say Gods give back what we give to world."

"We have a similar belief, and I hope you're
right." Lissa giggled uncontrollably.

"Why you laugh?"

"I just had a mental picture of the Gods
dumping an enormous cauldron of oodspal on Alice's head."

Branda laughed with her until they were
interrupted by the distant sound of the midday bell. As if
reminded, Lissa's stomach growled. They still had to scrub the
troughs and feed all the animals. She put extra effort into
spreading the gilli-grass. Half done, she backed up against a
solag. Startled, it leaped aside and she toppled. Her hands grabbed
for the animal's back to keep her balance, but it swung around and
whacked her on the shoulder. She fell backward, smashing her head
against a post.

The room blurred. Yellow and blue ribbons of
light swirled before her eyes, their intricate patterns
mesmerizing. From a great distance, she heard Branda's voice, but
couldn’t make out her words.

Then the whispering began.

The rasping hissing in her mind made no
sense. It grew loud and soft, first on one side of her then the
other. Why couldn't they leave her alone? How could she speak to
voices inside her head?

Look.

The colored bands coalesced into a shimmering
symbol hovering in the air, that resembled a loop with a tail and a
pair of wavy lines crossing through the loop.

Look.

The whispering stopped and her vision
cleared.

"Lissa!" Branda cried, grabbing at her arms.
"Do you hurt?"

Lissa groaned, returning to reality. She
gently touched the back of her head. No blood came away on her
fingers.

"Shall I get physiker?"

"No. Let me sit here a moment."

She closed her eyes and the symbol still
glowed on the inside of her eyelids.

* * *

The talk among the men at supper was all
about landfall, centered on beer, gambling, and the local women.
The few snippets of their raucous chatter that filtered down
through the serving tray hole were lurid enough to make Lissa
squirm in the galley. Her face felt hot, not entirely from the heat
of the ovens. But it sounded like a welcoming and hospitable port,
and she longed to go ashore. She glanced sideways at Alice, and
chewed her lip. Was this where she and Lyndon planned to
escape?

That evening, the outer deck was crowded. The
entire crew gathered at the rails, talking loudly, surrounded by
clouds of pipe smoke in the still air. Lissa appreciated the warmer
evenings, now that the ship had traveled south.