Ocean of Dust (23 page)

"No, she's not. She fell and she'll
drown."

"She's quite safe, missy," he said, taking
her arm gently. "You must 'ave seen something in the
lightning-"

She slapped his arm away. "No, I saw
her."

"Go below, and I'll check the rope
locker."

Two men took her by her arms and dragged her
below.

Shoulders slumped, a globelight in one hand,
she crept along the low-ceilinged hallway and peered into the first
storeroom. It was eerily empty. Alice's small footlocker stood
among the sacks of oodspal and beans. She tiptoed to the next room,
where Branda slept, her scheepa rocking gently.

Lissa chewed her lip and dabbed her moist
eyes. She relived the island flood, being ejected into the depths
of the dust ocean, and the blind terror she had felt giving in to
the inevitability of sucking dust into her lungs. Alice didn't
deserve that. Alice didn't have the Klynaks to numb the fear and
rescue her.
Oh Gods, what a lonely, horrible way to die.

She found herself outside Cook’s cabin, with
no idea why. She knocked twice, heard words from within, and opened
the door.

Cook's cabin was a tiny space, barely large
enough to hold a cot and dresser, but she had decorated it with
framed needlepoint pictures of the crew. Lissa scanned the
meticulously threaded portraits of the captain, the physiker, Farq
and others. The woman herself sat upright, supported by a stack of
cushions. A globelight illuminated the square of linen clamped
tightly into the wooden frame that she held. Seeing Lissa, she
placed the frame and needle aside, and gestured with her head to a
stool roped to the bulkhead.

"It's late, child," she said. "You should be
asleep."

Lissa perched on the stool, and rested her
hands in her lap, stroking her hurt arm. Where should she begin?
Cook was staring at her, so she blurted it all out.

"Alice attacked me on deck just now. She
escaped her cell, or someone let her out, but she came at me, beat
me and strangled me." She turned her head left and right, allowing
Cook to see the scratches and dark bruises on her throat.

"Then she got hit by lightning, and went mad.
She tried to push me overboard, but I grabbed a rope and she went
over and not me. I couldn't find her." Her voice broke, and tears
streamed down her face. "I tried and tried, but she sank. Alice is
dead. It's all my fault."

She sucked in a deep breath.

"Totalamon's titties! What are you saying?"
Cook passed Lissa a handkerchief. "Calm down and start again.
Slowly."

Lissa recounted every detail, sniffling and
dabbing her eyes, finding it easier now that she had shared her
guilt. Cook listened without interruption.

"I have to tell Farq, don't I?" Lissa
whispered.

Cook remained silent with her mouth askew,
and absent-mindedly picked at a mole on her chin.

"By the Gods, no, child," she said. "What
good would that serve? You say Alice attacked first? You didn't
provoke her?"

Lissa shook her head.

"Then you did nothing wrong. Did anyone see
you fighting?"

Another shake.

"So no one saw what happened."

The woman leaned forward.

"Alice is a nasty girl, always causing
trouble. She had it coming. Now listen carefully. Are you
listening?" She gave Lissa a sharp shake. "Say nothing to no one,
you hear? Not even Branda. You saw Alice hit by lightning and she
fell overboard. Do you hear?"

* * *

The moment she awoke, Lissa knew that the
flux storm had passed. Her head no longer ached and, for the first
time in days, she felt hungry, really hungry, and not at all
nauseous. Her left arm was tender though and her throat stung.

When she entered the galley, the heat of the
ovens blazed in her face. Branda had made a start on boiling
oodspal, so Lissa went to work baking the bread. The familiar
routine felt good, and she tried not to dwell on the events of the
night before. Several times, she crept up to Branda, ready to
confess all, longing to confide in her, but every time she clamped
her mouth shut and walked away.

The enormous bulk of the crew chief ducked
through the low door. He stood doubled over, his head, shoulders
and back against the ceiling. Farq strode in behind him, huffing
and scowling. Two men stood guard in the hallway outside.

Lissa's heart pounded. Farq had found out.
Her eyes darted around the room for somewhere to hide. There was
nowhere to run and Farq's men blocked the only exit.

"That girl, Alice, went missing last night,"
Farq said. "What do you know about this?"

He addressed Cook, but his gaze settled on
Lissa and Branda. Lissa scratched her chin in a guise to pull her
short collar over her mutilated neck.

"I haven't seen her since you locked her up,"
Cook replied, "and now I'm short-handed."

"What about them?" He took a step toward
Lissa.

Sweat poured from her face, and she shifted
uncomfortably from foot to foot. Her guilt must be so obvious.

"They're just cooking girls," Cook
murmured.

He crossed the room and stopped inches from
Lissa's face. She cowered, conscious of the hot oven at her back
and no avenue to retreat. She dropped her gaze to the floor, and
her body tensed, waiting for him to grab her and drag her away.

"You're mixed up in this, aren't you?" he
said. "Trouble follows you."

She glanced up. His eyebrows met in a fierce
scowl and he clenched his jaw. She felt his hot breath on her face,
and then he turned away.

"Continue the search," he ordered.

He paused in the doorway and glanced back at
her. Then he nodded his head slowly and left. She gnawed her lower
lip. What did that mean?

Chapter 20 - Secret Meetings

That afternoon, Lissa took a loaf of hot seed
bread and a bowl of pastoy to Branda, who was sewing clothes in one
of the storerooms. Branda looked up but said nothing, and Lissa
suddenly missed her friend's easy smile and sparkling eyes,
regretted being short with Branda.

Lissa fidgeted in the doorway. Alice was
dead, but Cook was right. It was Alice's fault for attacking Lissa.
Alice had always been the one who started their fights. Lissa
sighed. She hated keeping the dark secret between herself and Cook,
but telling the truth and being beaten by Farq wouldn't bring Alice
back. Besides, Lissa didn’t deserve a beating just because Alice
accidentally killed herself in an attempt to murder Lissa.

"I brought supper," she said, forcing a
smile, and put the plates down beside Branda.

"Thank you." Branda’s eyes were damp.

Lissa knelt on the floor opposite, lifting a
hand to her jagged hairline. She'd been taking her anger out on
Branda, the girl who had tried so hard to help and cheer Lissa up
in the eight-day since... She couldn't bear to hear the little
Valinese girl cry herself to bed every night. Lissa had been a fool
to ignore the best friend she'd ever had.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and then
kissed two of her own fingers and touched them to the end of
Branda's. She squeezed her hand, her thumb pressing down on
top.

A grin spread across Branda's face like the
warmth from both suns rising at once. Branda tore the loaf in half,
handed one piece to Lissa and dipped hers into the spicy, creamy
pastoy.

"I glad you my friend," Branda said, and they
wolfed down their snack, until only crumbs remained. Branda wiped
her finger around the bowl.

"No one find Alice today," she said, licking
her fingers. "They say she fall overboard in storm. Is true?"

Lissa nodded slowly.

Branda cringed. "That horrible. Poor Alice.
But I thought she locked up."

"Maybe she escaped. Or someone let her out."
Lissa's gaze settled on a swinging globelight. "Falling overboard
is a frightening thing to experience. I feel awful, but I'm glad
she isn't here."

“I do too."

Lissa smiled weakly. "I never told you what
happened on the island during the rainstorm, did I?"

Branda leaned forward, her brown eyes wide.
"Ooh, tell me."

In a whisper, Lissa told the entire story,
from being chased by Lyndon to following them on to the mountain.
Branda asked question after question about why he was after her,
about Lyndon and Farq plotting, and about the navigator's book. She
shivered and grimaced every time Lissa mentioned him.

"He creepy," she muttered.

Branda got so excited by the retelling of the
weapon demonstration and the blue fire that she clung to Lissa's
arm, squeezing it at every detail. Lissa, infected by her friend's
keen interest, acted out her story with sweeps of her arms, and
squatted between the sacks to pretend she was hiding in the dry
creek. When she reached the part about the flood washing her into
the stick forest, she hesitated, and wrapped up the story.
Explaining the Klynaks would be too difficult right now.

"I could have been smashed against the
trunks," she concluded. "It all happened so fast. The next thing I
remember was lying on the wharf."

"How you get there?"

Lissa shrugged and stood as a guise to avoid
Branda's gaze. "I don't know. Someone must have found me."

"Mursch!" Branda said. "You always have
adventure. Never me."

Lissa chuckled. "Sometimes adventures are
more exciting, and safer, when you tell them than when you’re
having them. I never dreamed the world would be so dangerous all
the time."

"What about fire weapon? How Lyndon know
about it?"

"He's up to something, and if it involves
Farq we could all be in trouble. I need to tell the captain."

Branda jumped up, stroking the wavy red and
black tattoos along her forehead. "Please not do that."

"He needs to know," Lissa said, hesitating in
the doorway.

"Not get involved. Don't make Farq mad, or he
beat you. Please?"

Lissa chewed her lip and sucked in her
breath. "You're probably right."

* * *

The next morning, Lissa awoke well before
breakfast. Preferring to go barefoot, she padded to the ladder,
careful not to wake Branda or Cook, and climbed out on deck. The
pre-dawn air made her shiver, but she was eager to continue with
her plan to change the navigator's mind.

First, she had set herself another task, one
that was long overdue.

A bundle of globelights hung low above one
side of the deck. In their light, a handful of men gathered around
a thick rod that sprouted triangular metallic plates, each caked in
grey dust. Heavy chains, slack now, linked it to the nearby winch.
The men's muscles bulged as they struggled with an oversized wrench
to remove the last of several bolts and replace the plates with
clean, shiny ones. Pete had tried to explain how the plates
absorbed power from beneath the dust to move the ship, but it still
didn't make any sense. Lissa envied the navigator, turning numbers
and mysterious squiggles on his chart into directions for the men
to steer the ship. She stared into the darkness, imagining the
satisfaction of negotiating the ocean of dust to arrive at a tiny
island in the middle of nowhere. That was amazing.

She shivered again and turned her back on the
men, crossing to the opposite rail. There, she moved as far aft as
possible, right up against the infirmary wall. The dull sky erupted
into orange with the first rays of Eldrar. Bronze bands streaked
across the ocean and blazed upon her, making her squint. Despite
the beauty of the morning, she heaved a sigh and opened her sack,
pulling out a handful of her cut hair. Its color matched the
sunrise. She nodded once at her choice of moment, took a deep
breath, and cast her hair over the side. Leaning out, she watched
it drift behind and down, settling briefly on the surface of the
dust before sinking. She continued until every last strand was
gone.

She felt renewed. Free.

The deed done, she joined the apprentices on
the forward deck, finding them chattering in hushed voices. The
first time she came to watch, they were visibly nervous, shooting
her puzzled looks behind Mampalo's back. Today, a flurry of waves
and smiles greeted her. The sighting device looked fascinating and
she itched to try it, but knew Mampalo would never let her.

"Good morning," he said, touching her
shoulder as he marched past. "Quick as we can this morning, lads.
Jeffsa, you first."

She stayed long enough to watch their
familiar ritual of aligning the device to Eldrar on the horizon,
and then Eldap, high in the sky. Each boy called out a trio of
numbers. Rarely did they ever all agree. The exercise ended with
Mampalo taking his own readings, which he then called to the
command deck in a strong, clear voice.

That was her cue to hurry back to the galley,
knowing she was already late. Branda made excuses for her, but Cook
was suspicious. Lissa didn't dare risk continuing her pre-dawn
adventures, even though she wanted to stay longer. She smiled to
herself as she ran aft. Everything was set for the next stage of
her plan.

Silhouettes lurked in the hallway beside
Farq's office. Nib whispered to someone inside the room that was
always locked.

"Take a dozen and hide 'em about the ship,"
he said. "Do it nice an' quiet. Hide 'em good."

"What if someone suspects?" the voice in the
room hissed.

"They won't. No one has the slightest idea
what we're up to."

He glanced her way.

"'Ere, who's that?"

She darted out of sight and heavy footfalls
headed toward her. Her gaze flicked around the open deck. She'd
never make it to the nearest hatch. If she fled behind the winches,
they'd find her before she could hide. Beside her, the closed door
to Farq's office slid open along the bulkhead. His boot came into
view.

She choked back a cry. No time left.

She squeezed into the tiny gap between the
door and the bulkhead, but there was no room to crouch. She held
her breath, afraid it would rattle the door less than an inch from
her nose.