The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock (37 page)

Furthermore, Malock needed some more time away from
Vashnas. She was doing much better, well enough to go out and help
around the ship herself. Nonetheless, Malock still had a hard time
figuring out exactly how he felt about her. She was certainly a
good aquarian, one whom he loved deeply, and yet ... he had the
strangest feeling that there was more to her than met the eye.

In fact, he began to notice that the further south
they went, the odder she acted. He at first thought that the change
in weather—it was gradually getting warmer the further they sailed
from Stalf—might explain her strange behavior, but when he noticed
that the rest of the aquarians acted the same as they always had,
he realized that something else was going on. She volunteered to be
the new lookout, which he found worrying but which he could not
dissuade her from doing.

Whenever she came down to eat, she spent a lot of
time sitting by herself, muttering into her food, occasionally
looking around at the rest of the crew like she couldn't trust
them. Malock had no idea what that meant and the few times he tried
to eat with her were so unpleasant that he eventually gave up,
choosing instead to spend mealtimes in the stateroom, where he
often ate alone, thanks to the wounded sailors who had stayed there
now fully recovered from their injuries.

He had no idea what their next destination was,
mostly because Vashnas hadn't told him yet. He didn't know how
close they were to World's End, either; again because Vashnas
refused to tell him. He had no idea why. After Stalf, surely they
needed every bit of information they could get about possible
future threats. Didn't she understand that?

Then again, when Malock remembered how well Ikadori
Island and Stalf had gone with Vashnas's advice, he wondered if
maybe it was best that she didn't tell them what was coming up
next. He figured they could take whatever it was. After all, if it
was truly terrible, then Vashnas would undoubtedly have told him
about it. Wouldn't she?

That was a question that haunted his mind as the
days turned warm.

-

Though the fishing crew was disbanded, Kinker and
Jenur still spent a lot of time together, if not at work then at
mealtimes and whenever they had free time. Jenur told Kinker all
about what happened on Stalf whenever they weren't working and he
was absolutely astonished by what he heard. He was especially
intrigued by how Jenur and Malock escaped.

It was just after lunch, before they had to go back
to the galley to help Arisha (which was what most of the fishing
crew was doing nowadays), that Jenur told Kinker about this. They
stood near the new mainmast, having just finished a wonderful lunch
of roast duck and green peas.

“So a trapdoor opened up underneath your feet and
you guys went sliding down a tunnel that led you outside?” Kinker
said, just to make sure he understood it correctly.

“Yep,” said Jenur. “We have no idea how that
happened or why. We didn't press any buttons or do anything to make
it open. I think the Mechanical Goddess must have freed us.”

“But why would she do that?” said Kinker. “I thought
Malock said that the southern gods love to eat humans.”

“Why would she repair our ship?” Jenur shot back. “I
think she wants us to do something. She has her own agenda and she
can't complete it if our ship is destroyed.”

“What might that agenda be?” said Kinker. “Do you
think she has a spy on board the ship, like Tinkar did?”

Jenur shrugged. “Who knows? Until a few days ago, I
didn't even know that there
were
southern gods. I have no
idea what's going to happen to us or what the Mechanical Goddess
may or may not be planning. But you have a good point. We should
keep an eye out for any unusual behavior among the crew, just in
case.”

That was the last conversation they had over the
next week, as the ship suddenly got caught in a terrible storm that
made everyone sick. At first, everyone believed the storm—with its
whipping winds and torrential rain—was heralding the return of the
Messenger or perhaps was the power of a god trying to kill them,
but thankfully the storm passed, doing nothing more than making
everything wetter than normal (although the tossing of the waves
did cause the supplies in the ship's hold to fall over and spill
out all over the floor).

That, and Kinker found himself playing doctor when
he was not making food for the rest of the crew. While most of the
crew had since recovered from the Tusked God's attack, there were
still quite a few who were not even well enough to walk yet. All he
really had to do was take food to the wounded, though, so he
supposed he wasn't really playing doctor at all.

A day after the storm, Arisha gave Kinker the job of
delivering Bifor his breakfast. Bifor had not been terribly injured
during the Tusked God's attack; in fact, he had been one of the few
to escape without any serious injuries. Instead, he had worked
himself ragged using his limited knowledge of healing magic to help
those who were injured and considering how many of them there were,
it was no surprise when he collapsed one day and had to be taken to
his room by some of the other sailors.

And yes, Bifor did indeed have his own cabin. Kinker
didn't know that until Arisha told him. Apparently, as Bifor was
the last mage on the ship, Malock had thought he needed to be kept
safe from the hazards of sharing one tiny room with a dozen or so
other sailors. That, and Bifor was unusually large and required
more room than the others; hence why he got his own cabin.

The cabin itself was located below deck, near the
bow, but just before the hold. Kinker carried the hot bowl of soup
down the hatch as carefully as he could and walked down the hall,
remembering Arisha's directions. He quickly found it, knocked on
the door, and heard Bifor's voice on the other side say, “Come in,”
which he did.

He glanced around as he entered. Bifor's cabin was
not fancy or particularly nice, like the rest of the ship, but
there was an air about it that was very different from every other
cabin Kinker had been in. He realized that it smelled better; not
perfect, as Kinker was convinced that the stink of the sea was now
an inherent part of the ship, but it didn't smell like shit, blood,
sweat, and other bodily fluids like the rest of the ship did. Until
he entered, he hadn't realized just how used he was to the horrible
smells.

Bifor was lying in his too-small bed, his feet
sticking over the end, a thick wool blanket covering his body. His
face was drawn, his cheeks were hollow, and he looked more like a
fallen tree than a human being. Nonetheless, he had a book open on
his stomach, which he looked up from when Kinker entered the room.
On the stand next to his bed lay his wand.

“Ah, Kinker,” said Bifor, yawning. “I see you are my
server today. What kind of soup have you brought me?”

Kinker placed the bowl of soup on the nightstand
next to Bifor's bed, saying as he did so, “It's duck soup. Fresh
from the stove top, made with the stuff we got from the Mechanical
Goddess back on Stalf.”

Bifor snapped his fingers and the bowl of soup
levitated over to him. He grabbed the spoon out of the bowl and
began eating the soup ravenously, like he hadn't eaten in days.

Kinker raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you're getting
better already.”

Bifor stopped eating briefly to look up at Kinker
and say, “Oh, it's not as easy as it looks. Hence why I have my
wand. Makes it easier to use magic.”

Kinker nodded. “Yes, I've heard. I wonder if I could
learn how to use magic without a wand. Sure would make my life
easier.”

“Not unless you undergo years of exhausting
training,” said Bifor before digging back into his soup. “As I
said, it's not nearly as easy as it appears.”

“Exhausting?” said Kinker. “What's so difficult
about learning how to wave a wand or snap your fingers or say
chants?”

Bifor almost dropped his bowl of soup as he looked
up at Kinker in shock.

“Magic is tapping into the essence of the gods
themselves,” said Bifor, stating that fact like it was something
everyone knew. “It's not something you can just
do
. You need
to be trained by competent teachers who have been practicing their
art for years.”

“Sorry,” said Kinker. “I didn't know that.”

Bifor sighed. “That's right. You're from Destan. I
keep forgetting that. You fit in so well with the rest of the crew
that I sometimes think you must be from Carnag or one of the other
major islands up north.”

“There's still a lot I don't know,” said Kinker. “A
lot. But I've been learning from all of you and I hope to improve
as time goes on.”

“It's not a problem,” said Bifor. “It's just ...
very frustrating, you understand. With all of this shit that's been
going on, I have more than enough on my plate already and I really
don't want to educate my fellow crew on topics that are common
knowledge to everyone over the age of six.”

“I understand,” said Kinker. He turned to leave, but
then stopped and turned back around. “Just one more question. If
magic is about tapping into the essence of the gods, then how do
you get tired?”

Once more, Bifor sighed, although this time it
seemed more like habit than anything. “The essence of the gods
still has to be channeled through my body. That's another part of
magic training; learning how to train your body so it can transfer
magical energy through it without wearing down easily.”

“You must be very well trained in that regard,” said
Kinker. “You managed to go for a long time without collapsing.”

Bifor shrugged. “Larger people in general have an
easier time channeling magic than smaller people. Body mass seems
to affect how well one's body tolerates magic, but of course there
are always exceptions, like Kargo the Short, who legend says used
magic for a full month before collapsing.”

“Sounds inspiring.”

“It's just a story,” said Bifor matter-of-factly.
“Kargo the Short was probably a compilation of multiple mages from
that time period. It's said that he lived a thousand years ago, so
he probably didn't actually exist.”

Kinker frowned. “Why did you feel the need to point
that out?”

“Because myths and stories are often taken too
seriously by people,” said Bifor. “Now it's true that some of those
myths are true and there are many we have not been able to verify.
Still, I am always amused by some of the wilder stories out there,
like the one about Hollech and the giant egg.”

“Never head that one.”

“You're lucky,” said Bifor. “Anyway, I simply wish
to make sure that no one takes these stories too seriously. Most of
the myths and legends of the past were simply made up by people and
then edited through various retellings throughout the years.
They're very unreliable.”

“Huh,” said Kinker. “I never saw any reason to
question them because the gods can do anything, can't they?”

Bifor looked out the lone window in his cabin,
apparently lost in thought. “Before we got to the southern seas, I
would have said the same thing. But if the Captain is telling the
truth, then the gods do have certain limitations. When we get home,
I will certainly have to write a paper on this to present to the
Association of Mages. It will radically alter almost everything we
know about the gods and how they operate.”

“If we get home, that is,” said Kinker.

Bifor looked at Kinker in surprise. “'If'? You sound
pessimistic, Kinker. Chin up.”

“That's difficult to do,” said Kinker. “I mean, even
with the
Iron Wind
repaired and the new supplies we have and
all that, the southern seas are still dangerous, aren't they? Who
knows what kind of dangers we'll run into between here and World's
End?”

Bifor laughed. “Kinker, your concerns are
understandable, but honestly I think you're worrying too much. I
imagine we've already been through the worst; otherwise, I think
Vashnas would have said something about it. It will probably be
smooth sailing from here on out.”

“If you say so,” said Kinker. “Is there anything
else I can get for you, Bifor?”

Bifor shook his head. “No, thank you. I'm going to
take a nap now, I think. All of this talking is tiring me out.”

“Okay,” said Kinker. “If you need anything, you know
how to contact us.”

Bifor nodded. “Bye.”

“Bye,” said Kinker as he exited the room, closing
the door behind him, his worries still not assuaged in the
slightest.

-

Over the next week, the worst problem that the
Iron Wind
ran into was a leak that sprung open in the hull.
That was an easy fix, however, due to the abundant nails and boards
that the Mechanical Goddess had provided them with. Bifor even
helped, managing to gather just enough energy to seal the cracks
around the boards so the water couldn't leak through.

Beyond that, Bifor's predictions seemed to come
true. The seas were calm, the sky was bright and clear, and
everyone on the ship seemed to be feeling better. Even those who
had not yet recovered from the Tusked God's attack seemed more
hopeful, as if the bright sun was shining down rays of hope rather
than rays of light.

For his part, Kinker was glad his fears were
unfounded. After all of the shit they'd been through, having a
peaceful week was like a refreshing breath of fresh air. His back
was getting better, he was sleeping more soundly than before, and
he thought there was no way life could get worse.

It was just as the new week began that Vashnas,
sitting in the crow's nest, reported seeing something on the
horizon. She said it wasn't an island or any kind of land, but
rather a tunnel that seemed to extend deep into the sea itself.

That odd description caused many sailors to go to
the bow to try to see it themselves, but it wasn't until a few
hours later that the so-called 'tunnel' Vashnas reported came into
view. Even then, it was but a speck on the horizon for another day
until they got close enough to see exactly what she had been
talking about.