Ocean of Dust (4 page)

"The kitchen, please," she finally managed to
say.

He gave a short laugh.

“Why does everyone laugh at me?”

"No, no, no. You need to learn the speak.
Listen. You won't find no kitchen on this or any ship. The galley
is what you want. Say it now." He prompted her with a nod.

"The galley," she repeated. "I need to find
Madam Margaret in the galley. Please."

He pointed to a nearby hatch in the
floor.

"Down one deck and follow your nose. Good
luck. Nice to have met you."

He dipped his head politely and hurried past.
She watched the easy way he adjusted his walk to every movement of
the ship. Then she realized what a ghastly mess she was with matted
hair and dirty, bloodstained clothes. She groaned and headed for
the hatch.

This time she held the guide ropes warily,
stabilizing herself on each step before continuing down. She
stepped out into a hallway, wider than she had expected. The top of
her head grazed the ceiling beams. How did the taller men move
around down here? Overhead globelights swung lazily, casting
shadows that grew longer and shorter as the ship rolled.

Her nose twitched at the delicious aromas of
baking bread and roasting meat, and her stomach growled like a
caged Tagrak. Running a hand along one wall, she headed toward the
smell, passing doorless rooms piled high with crates, sacks and
barrels. An Oglon lowed in the distance, making her jump. The
cackling, clucking noise ahead of her was definitely that of a
jab-bird. Did they have a whole farm down here?

A thin woman stepped out in front of her,
hands on her hips.

"Quit gawping child and come here," the woman
said in a high, squeaking voice.

Lissa hurried forward. The woman grabbed her
arm where the giant man had bruised it, making Lissa wince, and
dragged her under the nearest globelight.

"Let's have a peek at you."

The woman appeared ancient, old enough to be
Lissa's mother's mother. Flesh hung lifeless and wrinkled from her
skeletal body, and damp, grey hair clung to her head. She wheezed
with each breath.

"D'you have a name, child?" she asked,
shaking Lissa's arm with each word.

"Lissa. Are you Madam Margaret?"

The woman's face turned purple. Her eyebrows
met in the middle.

"You will call me Cook or ma'am, is that
clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can you cook?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, you can?" the woman wheezed.

"I can bake bread and cakes, and make soups
and prepare vegetables and roast meat, and... and I know a lot
about spices."

The woman's scowl disappeared and her face
lost its purple sheen. She dragged Lissa into a room, in which half
a dozen globelights created a warm glow, very different to the
other, gloomy parts of the ship. Two tables stood near the door,
and shelves and cabinets filled the walls. Pots and pans hung from
a wooden rack, clanging gently together with the motion of the
ship. A pair of stone-tiled ovens filled the back wall.

Cook addressed a girl chopping spoola roots
with a bored expression.

"Hear that, Alice? The new girl can cook.
Maybe she isn't as useless as you. Maybe you'll learn
something."

"Yes, Cook," the girl muttered, glancing at
Lissa.

Lissa smiled back. Alice was a plain girl
with light brown hair and thin lips. When Lissa clipped back her
long auburn hair, she saw Alice's envious look, but Lissa relaxed a
little. Now she had someone her own age to talk to and confide in,
and Alice wasn't chained up. She had expected far worse.

"Glad to meet you. I'm Lissa." Alice ignored
her.

"Let's see what you can do then," Cook said,
pushing Lissa toward the table. "We're making logay for tonight.
Alice is being slow as usual, so start by helping out there."

A mountain of spoola roots, sugar beets, lan
tubers and other vegetables lay heaped on the table, enough to feed
several dozen men. Lissa started opening drawers, noticing that
each was latched to prevent it sliding open.

"Last drawer," Alice said, and pointed her
knife toward the end of the scratched and grooved table.

The drawer held knives of all sizes, most
spotted with rust, and they didn't look sharp. Lissa selected the
best and started slicing vegetables, something she had done often
at home. She sighed.
I miss you already, Mother
.

When Cook's back was turned, Alice stole a
chunk of spoola and munched it quietly. Lissa copied her, savoring
the buttery taste. Her stomach spasmed, wanting more. They probably
wouldn't be allowed to eat until the logay was finished, so she
leaned into the table, ignored the motion of the ship, and chopped
faster. Alice had stopped and was glaring at her. Had she done
something wrong? Then she noticed that her pile of cut vegetables
was four times larger than Alice's.

"I don't hear you chopping," Cook called from
across the room.

Alice resumed slicing with slow and
deliberate strokes.

"Alice," Lissa began, "try setting the tip of
your blade on the table, like this. Then hold it and make small,
fast cuts. No, don't take the whole knife off the table."

Alice didn't seem to be listening, so she
shut up.

"So," Cook said, beside her. "You can chop.
Alice, the new girl can handle the knife work. Help me with the
meat."

"Yes, Cook," Alice said, and gave Lissa a
glare of pure hatred.

She and the old woman heaved a steaming hunk
of meat from a spit onto a low table to sit before carving. Lissa
stared at the juices dripping on to the floor, and licked her lips.
Her mouth watered. The roasted meat smelled delicious. She wanted
to run over and start cramming meat into her mouth.

"Branda," Cook yelled.

A tiny girl hurried into the galley, holding
up her long skirt.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Boil those vegetables." Cook pointed to
Lissa's table.

Branda's blonde hair was cut short, like a
boy. Lissa stared at a row of worm-like red and black tattoos that
ran from the bridge of her nose, across her forehead and ended at
the base of tall, pointed ears. Freckles covered her snow-white
skin. Her eyes were oval and slanted, huge on her small face.

"Hello," Branda said, blushing.

"Stop chattering," Cook growled. "There's
work to be done."

The rest of the meal preparations became a
blur to Lissa as all three girls bustled about the galley from one
task to another. The meat was sliced, the vegetables boiled, and
everything heaped into an enormous cauldron with handfuls of
spices. Cook told Lissa to pick up a bucket and follow Alice.

The girl stomped across the hallway into one
of the storerooms. Huffing and pouting, she tore open a sack and
scooped handfuls of juice-fruit into her bucket.

"I'm sorry," Lissa said, filling her own
bucket. "I didn't mean to make you seem slow. I've worked in the
kitchen all my life. I've probably had more practice, that's
all."

Alice whirled about and her nose flared.
"I've spent two Sunturns sucking up to the old woman. You're not
going to take that away from me."

"I'm not trying to. Honest."

"Says you. You'd better make me look good.
Don't you dare cross me again."

Alice trembled with anger. She snorted and
upturned Lissa's bucket, sending fruit rolling around the room.

"Pick them up," Alice snapped and struggled
out of the room with her own bucket.

Lissa's body sagged and blinked back tears.
She'd only wanted to be friends. She needed a friend so badly,
everything was happening so quickly. Kneeling on the floor, she
chased the fruit rolling around the room, putting every loose piece
in her bucket. She remembered her produce in the street gutter.
It's not fair. What did I do to deserve all this?

She sucked in a breath and held it, counted
silently to ten, and let it out again. Then she gritted her teeth
and returned to the galley. Cook faced her with a fierce
expression, hands on her hips. Alice smirked at Lissa from behind
the woman's back, and then poked out her tongue.

"You'd better learn to fetch as quick as you
chop, child," Cook growled and waggled a bony finger. "When I ask
you to do something, don't dawdle. Now, all of you, time to serve
the hungry mouths."

Lissa followed Alice and Branda to where a
wooden tray hung below a hole in the ceiling, secured by a rope in
each corner. The sound of chatter and shouting drifted down from
the hole. Alice ladled logay into a bucket, and the delicious smell
almost made Lissa pass out. She was sure her stomach was devouring
itself. The bucket went on the tray, and Branda added two loaves
and a handful of fruit. Alice tapped on the tray with her ladle,
and the tray rose up through the hole. Lissa jumped. A moment
later, it whizzed back down, empty.

After a couple of turns, Cook pushed Alice
away and Lissa next to the tray. She felt a sharp poke in the ribs
and caught Alice's warning glare. Biting her tongue, she tried hard
to work slowly, although it went against everything her mother had
taught her. Instinctively, she picked up the pace until Alice
jabbed her with a fork. Lissa yelped and splashed logay on the
floor.

"Careful, child," Cook said.

Lissa fumed, clamping her mouth shut. Her
body remained tense, expecting another stab, but it never came.

When they were done, Cook left. Alice and
Branda scrambled to fill bowls with logay, tore off a hunk of
bread, and sat in opposite corners of the room. Lissa spooned
herself a huge helping and collapsed in the corner furthest from
Alice, her bowl perched in her lap. She soaked her bread in the
hot, spicy stew and stuffed it in her mouth. Her whole body
relaxed. It was the best meal she had ever eaten. She gobbled it
down and licked the bowl clean, forgetting her manners. Then she
had seconds and thirds.

Alice tossed her bowl on the floor and walked
out without a word. Branda leaped up and took hers and Alice's
dirty bowls to the sink. Lissa joined her, and together they
sprinkled soapsand into the bowls and ran water from a bronze
tap.

"Stay away from her," Branda said. Even on
tiptoe, the top of her head barely reached Lissa's armpit. She
looked as if she would break apart if someone sneezed.

"She mean. It much easier if you keep
quiet."

Lissa found her accent difficult to
understand. She gave an enormous yawn, covering her mouth. "I'm
exhausted. This has been the worst day of my life."

"I remember my first day," Branda
whispered.

The petite girl scrubbed the dirty pots and
pans. Lissa longed to go to bed, or even just sleep in a corner,
but helped wash up.

"It get easier," Branda added.

"It's so hot with those ovens. Do we have to
stay down here?"

"We get time to go on deck, get fresh
air."

"We're allowed outside?" Lissa was getting
the hang of the girl's accent.

"If chores done and we not get under
foot."

Lissa gave a weak smile. She'd feared the
rest of her life would be spent in the fetid, dim bowels of the
ship. A chance to see the suns-light and sky was wonderful.

"You're Valinese, aren't you?" she asked.

Branda looked up. Her enormous eyes were a
luxurious brown.

"Yes. Not many know of my people."

"My father told me about your race, but
you're the first one I've met," Lissa said, and yawned again.

"I glad to meet you, Lissa, but we need get
you to bed." Branda dried her hands even though the pot was only
half clean. "You look so tired."

"Let me help you finish first. It's awful
that Alice leaves you to do this alone."

"Thank you," Branda said, and gave a wide
smile, "but it your first day and you sleepy. You help
tomorrow?"

Seeing the hope in the girl's wide eyes,
Lissa promised to help every night.

Branda kissed two of her own fingers and
touched them to the end of Lissa's. Then she squeezed her hand,
thumb pressing down on top. Lissa wanted to ask about the gesture
but was too tired to say anything more. Her eyes drooped.
Exhausted, she followed Branda into one of the storerooms. The
Valinese girl pulled a roll of canvas from between two posts.

"This your scheepa," she said, looked into
Lissa's half-closed eyes and giggled. "I show you tomorrow."

Lissa jerked her eyes open a moment later to
see that Branda had hung the scheepa from the ceiling. It looked so
inviting, swinging gently. Branda helped her climb into it and
covered her with a blanket.

"Vraschatta," Branda muttered. On the way
out, she unplugged the globelight from its metal wires and the room
became dark.

Lissa listened to the creaking timbers of the
ship. Memories flooded back of her mother tucking her in at night.
I miss you so much, Mother.
Gut-wrenching sobs shook her
body though no tears came. She had cried too many times and didn’t
want to cry anymore. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to
achieve anything. What would tomorrow bring?

* * *

A shout close to Lissa’s ear startled her
awake.

"Yes, Mother." She blinked her eyes open
against the stickiness in her lashes. "I'm awake."

"I'm not your mother, child," a stern voice
said.

Her gaze settled on Cook's scowling, wrinkled
face. Muttering an apology, she jumped out of bed, but as soon as
she shifted her weight, her scheepa flipped upside down and dumped
her on the hard floor.

"Get up and into the galley this instant. Or
I'll take a frying pan to your backside." The woman stormed
out.

Lissa stood, but the ship lurched suddenly to
one side and she crashed back down. Growling in frustration, she
grabbed the post and got up again.
Stupid ship.
Her clothes
were filthy and her whole body felt dirty and smelly. She had no
idea where to go to freshen up, so she clipped her wayward hair
back, brushed down her skirt, and blundered her way into the
galley, bouncing from one wall to the other. The ship was
definitely rolling harder than yesterday.