Ocean of Dust Page 6

  It took a while to figure out how to start the flameless azk-ore oven, and she set about gathering what she needed, humming to herself. Soon, a sweet and spicy aroma filled the room. When the orange-colored loaf cakes lay cooling on a rack, Cook returned, sniffing the air.

  "Let me taste," she said, eyes narrowed as she examined the loaves.

  Lissa cut her a slice and Cook took a nibble. Crumbs lingered on her thin lips.

  "Hmph," she said, and pushed the whole slice into her mouth and licked her fingers.

  "Good flavor, and you put something hot in there didn't you?" She nodded. "I like it. Well, don't waste them. Take them to the men upstairs."

  Lissa blinked. The men got to eat cake?

  "Don’t stand there, girl."

  * * *

  The mess deck appeared cavernous compared to the cramped rooms on the galley deck. The same dull globelights swung from the overhead beams, sending eerie shadows bouncing around with each roll of the ship. Didn’t anybody change the globes? Rows of scheepas had been secured against the walls, along with bundles of clothing and personal items. A thick layer of grey dust covered everything.

  A couple of men sat alone, mending rope or sewing clothes, but one table was crowded with six of the crew. She shook her head. Shouldn't they be working instead of gambling? She hesitated, remembering their mocking laughter but clenched her teeth and lurched across the room. She set her plate of cakes down on a corner of the table, avoiding their cards and coins.

  "What's this?" one man said, stroking an unkempt brown beard, spiked with grey.

  "Bem-spice cake," she squeaked. "I baked it. Cook said to bring it here."

  "Nice. Fetch beer too," another man said, and gestured toward a barrel tied against the side wall. He handed her a large, wooden flagon.

  She walked away. That hadn't been so bad. She filled the flagon, thinking that the beer looked thin. Her father used to water the beer when he thought his patrons were too drunk to notice.

  Sinister green eyes hovered at the back of the room. She’d forgotten all about the creature in the shadows. The eyes blinked three times and moved toward her, avoiding the light from the globes. What was that thing? She hurried back to the men, grimacing as pain stabbed down her bruised leg. She found them gorging on thick slices of cake, slurping with their mouths open and spraying crumbs into their beards and all over the table.

  "Delicious," brown-beard said, cutting another slice with a wicked-looking knife. "That Alice girl don't cook too good."

  The other men nodded, and Lissa relaxed, perching on one end of the bench.

  "Wanna play?" the only clean-shaven man asked. A recent scar ran from his nose to one eye.

  She gently rubbed her own puffed-up, black eye and glanced at the cards on the table. She knew their game. Back in the inn, a couple of travelers had thought it funny to watch a ten Sunturn girl play Bandit-cards.

  "I don't have money," she said, glancing at each man. "And Cook will beat me if I don't get back to work."

  "Looks like she already did," brown-beard said. His friends laughed, and Lissa’s cheeks burned.

  "What d'ya think, Grad?" Scarface said to brown-beard.

  "It'll be fun, I reckon. Si' down, girl." Grad laughed, and pushed her back down. "We can handle Cook. Everyone advance the girl a coupla coins."

  She stacked the precious silver coins. Unable to resist the cake's aroma, she cut a tiny slice and nibbled while Grad dealt the dirty, dog-eared cards. It wouldn't harm to play a few games to stop them getting angry. She could lose her - their - money and get back before Cook came looking.

  Everyone had four cards. Scarface started by turning the top card from the deck face up. A nine. She watched carefully as they dealt new cards or swapped with cards in their hands. Then the betting started. Avoiding their stares, she pushed one of her coins forward, matching the bet. She found it easy to track what cards the men held, even though the men hurriedly slapped down cards and snatched up others. Though the beer smelled stale, it was a huge relief that they weren't sucking that disgusting brown stuff. After a few hands, she was convinced she knew every card that all six men held. Her lips spread into a small smile.

  When the youngest man, Seben, replaced his prince card with a galleon, she yelped and cried "Bandit," then grabbed the prince and laid her cards face up. The men threw down their own, grumbled, sniffed, and chugged their beer.

  "Lucky beggar," Grad said, his grin full of gaps in his teeth. His eyes narrowed toward her. "Go on, girl, take yer loot."

  Eyes wide, she glanced around the table. That was stupid. Winning was bound to make them mad.

  Seben rolled his eyes and pushed the pile of coins in front of her. He scooped up the cards, shuffled, and dealt. She made sure to lose the next two rounds, but it felt wrong not to do her best. By betting high, she tried to appear in control but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Once she had a mental picture of their cards, she found it impossible to lose, and won the next four games.

  Grad swallowed the last of his beer and eyed her heap of coins.

  "I think we've a robber among us, lads."

  She tensed for flight. Grad roared with laughter, and patted her hand roughly.

  "We got beaten fair and square, don't you worry, girl." He combed his beard with his fingers. "Never seen no one play like that, 'specially a girl."

  She slid her hand forward to scoop up her money, but he slapped his hand down on top. She squealed and tried to withdraw her hand, her wide eyes locked with his.

  "There's one condition to you walking away with our money," he said. "Don't tell no one you beat us. Got it?" His fetid breath was hot on her face. Crumbs and chunks of bread were mashed into his beard.

  She nodded vigorously. "I won't tell, honest I won't."

  He removed his hand, letting her sweep the coins into her skirt pocket. Her heart pounded. She'd never owned so much money.

  "I've got to go," she said, standing again.

  Something to her left made a loud half growl, half coughing noise. She turned, and cried out as the pair of luminous green eyes hurtled out of the darkness toward her. Stepping away, she backed into a post. The hideous creature came into view; a bulky, squat body about four feet long, with a lizard-like head bobbing on the end of a long neck. It bounded forward on four powerful legs. Again, it growl-coughed, a noise that seemed to emanate from deep within.

  She turned to flee, but Seben grabbed her arm.

  "Don't startle it."

  She glanced at him, open-mouthed. Her heart raced and she cringed when the creature skidded to a stop right in front of her, as tall as her waist. A serrated-edged horn protruded from between its eyes. Fangs were visible in its mouth, from which a dog-like tongue lolled.

  "What is it?" she whimpered.

  "It's a Zrak," Grad said. He held out his hand and the tongue slithered out of its mouth and wrapped itself fully around his forearm. Slime splashed everywhere.

  "Yuck! What's it doing?"

  "That means he likes me," Grad said. "Hold out your arm. Slowly."

  "Do I have to?" She cringed and scrunched her face in disgust.

  The men laughed.

  She gingerly extended her arm. The creature unfurled its tongue from Grad's arm and coiled it back inside its mouth. Its eyes flared and it uttered a low, rumbling growl.

  "What's it doing now?" she whispered.

  Grad stepped in front of the creature and, at the same time, Seben pushed her behind him.

  "That's odd," Grad said. "I never saw it do that before."

  He pushed the creature away from the table and clapped his hands twice. The Zrak growl-coughed once and lumbered off into the shadows.

  Seben gave a short laugh. "Guess it don't like girls."

  I’d better get out of here before things get worse. Making sure her winnings were safely in her pocket, she headed for the hatch. She doubted the thing could climb a ladder. Half way, a bell tolled from high above; a deep, ominous sound: Clang, clang. Clang,
clang.

  "All hands topside," Grad cried.

  The men hurtled up the nearest ladder, out of sight. She heard the same shout repeated from all over the ship, accompanied by the sound of boots thundering back and forth on the main deck above.

  Rain poured through the open hatch, mixing with the dust on the floor and turning it into a grey paste. The water felt cool and refreshing on her skin. Sweeping wet hair from her face, she climbed up and out into the open.

  Two-dozen men crowded the deck, along with a handful of boys and officers. Their drenched clothes stuck to their bodies and plastered their hair to their scalps. Farq stood in the shelter of his office, barking orders. She looked up, ignoring the rain lashing over her body, but there were no dark clouds. How was it raining with both suns shining brightly from a clear sky?

  "Outta the way," the white-haired sailor growled, shoving her to one side. Men scurried around like bugs, hauling bundles of orange canvas out of lockers, and then coils of rope that they threaded through eyelets along the edge of the canvas. Their faces were grim and hardened against the downpour.

  The boys and more athletic men hurtled up the mast like gowser-monkeys, transferred to the fixed ropes, and heaved the orange canvas up from the deck. The crew was clearly well practiced despite their rough appearance. They hauled in unison until the canvas covered the entire deck. She scratched her head and watched the frantic activity. Her soggy clothes hung heavy and she wished she had soapsand to wash them with.

  The rain stopped pattering on her skin. Instead, it made a deafening drumming sound as it hit the canvas overhead. She combed her hair with her fingers. Had they gone to such effort just to create a rain shelter? The water gushed through holes in each corner of the canvas, washing over the side of the ship.

  "Come on," the man with the snake tattoo said, running past. "If you're gonna get in the way, then help."

  He dragged her to the rail. There, several men fought to secure a flexible pipe between the hole in the canvas and a similar hole in the corner of the deck.

  "Stop gawping and help," Snake Tattoo shouted, wrestling with the pipe.

  The ship lurched. A torrent of water streamed down from the canvas. The men slipped and slid in the grey dust-paste that mired the entire deck. Lissa stamped her foot down to brace herself, and then yelped to find it was her bad leg. It buckled, and she fell against the rail and tumbled over the top. Nothing lay between her and the grey ocean below.

  She screamed.

  Chapter 8 - Mysteries in the Hold

  Lissa flailed out both arms and caught the railing. It jarred her arm and shoulder. With her legs dangling in thin air, she grabbed hold with her other arm and wrapped it around the rail.

  "Help!"

  Two men glanced her way but returned to working on the pipe.

  Her arms tingled with numbness. Her grip was slipping on the wet wood. She peered between her legs. Grey dust and death beckoned. The weight on her bruised arms made her wince and moan.

  When the ship rolled away from her, it gave her the one chance she needed. Roaring, she tensed every muscle and kicked with her good leg against the ship's hull. This was it. All or nothing! Her fingers touched a metal ring set into the deck. She slipped her hand through it, bringing her other hand up and interlocked both of them. Panting heavily, she heaved herself aboard and crawled to safety, collapsing in the middle of the deck.

  "What're you doing, Liss?" Pete asked, helping her up.

  She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

  "What's wrong?" He squirmed.

  "I fell off the ship and no one even tried to help me." She pulled away and faced him, her eyes tearing up. "These people are horrible. No one cares that I nearly died.”

  "I care," he said.

  She hugged him again, resting her head on his shoulder.

  "Whoa! Look at that," he said, slipping free of her grip.

  She followed his gaze off the left side of the ship. A half league away, an enormous column of water erupted continuously from beneath the dust, rising thousands of feet into the air before gushing out in all directions and falling as rain. She wiped her eyes and stared.

  "That must be a water fountain," she muttered.

  "A what?"

  "Now I get it." She glanced at the canvas overhead, bowing under the weight of collected water. "The physiker told me about it. They capture the water and it runs down those pipes into the ship's water tanks."

  "That's clever."

  She glared at him. He didn't seem interested at all. He simply stood and stared into her eyes.

  "I wonder what's down there to make the water shoot so high. Where's all the water coming from?" she murmured.

  "Outta the way, you kids," a burly man snapped. "I need you, boy, over here."

  "See you later," Pete called over his shoulder, going with the man.

  * * *

  One morning after breakfast, Branda noted that the day marked two eight-days since Lissa had come aboard.

  "You become old hand like us," she said. Her huge, lozenge-shaped eyes blinked rapidly.

  Lissa put away the bowls she had been drying. "It's been that long?"

  She wasn't sure what to make of Branda's news. It felt like only yesterday that Lyndon had crashed into her, changing her life, but so much had happened and she'd met so many people that whole moon-cycles could have gone by. She recalled Farq's beating and shivered. Her leg no longer hurt and the swelling had gone down on her eye, leaving it an ugly shade of purple.

  "…clothes," Cook said, breaking into her thoughts. "Stop day-dreaming, child. Are you listening to me?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Clothes?"

  "You've been wearing those same rags day after day."

  Lissa held out her shirt and skirt. The material was speckled with patches sewn over holes and tears. She did look a right state. Her cheeks became warm.

  "I've been washing them," she replied, remembering how it had taken several attempts to remove the blood after Farq’s beating.

  "I won't have you running around looking like that. It's a disgrace. Can you sew?"

  "I'm very good at sewing," Lissa said.

  "Good. Go down to the hold and see what you can find in the scraps chests. Make yourself several outfits. Well, don't just stand there."

  Lissa ran for the door. "Thank you, ma'am," she shouted over her shoulder, snatching up a globelight.

  She knew the hold lay in the lowest part of the ship but had never dared to venture down there. She imagined a hot, dusty hole full of webs and crawlies the size of her hand. What if one of those Zrak creatures lived down there, or worse? She hesitated at the top of the ladder, breathing rapidly, her face covered in sweat. After counting silently to ten, she climbed down. At the bottom, she held up her globelight and peered around, wishing its dull glow could push back more of the darkness.

  Thick, wooden rib timbers lay at her feet, like the skeleton of the ship itself. The gap between them was filled with pebbles, inches of grey dust, and junk. Planks led away in all directions. She took a deep breath and walked cautiously into the unknown, startling at every creak of the timbers, expecting to see animals scurrying from her light.

  The hot air made her sweat and breathe hard. She swung the globelight around, hoping to find the chests as soon as possible. Cobwebs blocked her way, and she shied her head away when she broke through them, but nothing seemed to be alive down there. White shards at her feet caught her attention, and she lowered her globe for a closer look. Tiny bones lay strewn about. She recoiled and squinted into the darkness. Cook wouldn't have sent her if it were unsafe.

  After a few steps, she came across rows of barrels lashed to wooden frames. The ropes strained and popped with every movement of the ship. She continued along the plank between the rows, until halfway along, she heard voices.

  "I still think we should've brought one back with us."

  Lissa sucked in her breath, surprised to hear Alice's whiny voice.

  "I told you, i
t isn't safe to move them," Lyndon replied.

  Lissa hunkered down between the barrels, and thrust her light under the gravel, plunging herself into darkness. She didn't want to run into either of them by herself. What were they up to?

  The voices drew nearer and a bouncing light bobbed along between the boy and girl.

  "I don't believe you," Alice said.

  "So what. I know about these things and you don't."

  Lissa heard the sound of a smack against flesh.

  "We don't all have rich papa's like you," Alice said. "What're those stupid things for anyway? You're probably making it all up."

  "That's my father's cargo. You are such an idiot.”

  "No, it isn't. They were loaded before you were dragged aboard, whimpering like a little kid."

  "They've got his brand on them. Those urns are dangerous. That's why we shouldn't carry them around without precautions. But they're very valuable."

  "If they're valuable then we should steal some," Alice said.

  They stopped at the end of the row where Lissa hid. She held her breath.

  "You're missing the point, Alice." Lyndon exhaled noisily. "One or two of them are no use to us, but now I know about them, they're going to help us get off this awful ship."

  "How?"

  "Give me time to figure it out. Don't say a word to anyone, not even that we were here. Got that?"

  "I'm not stupid," Alice snapped. "But don't you dare try to escape without me. Remember it was me who told you they were here."

  They walked off in silence, but Lissa remained crouched in the dark. If they did have a way to escape, how could she get involved? Her mind raced. She didn't fancy making up to Alice and taking her abuse. I won't be her slave. She didn't trust Lyndon either, but she was determined to find out what they were up to.

  Once she heard them on the deck above, she uncovered her globelight and got up. Should she find the urns they had been discussing? Sweat poured off her. Another time perhaps, but right now she needed to find the clothing chests.

  She followed the bucking and bowing planks toward the rear of the ship, reaching a bulkhead that blocked the way. The wall was damp to the touch. A cluster of metal pipes emerged from the ceiling and passed through the wall. Cool air washed over her. She closed her eyes and relished it for a while.