Ocean of Dust (28 page)

Sawall muttered to himself as he moved to the
rear of the boat, keeping low to avoid capsizing it. Grad lifted
Lissa roughly and dumped her on the middle bench.

"Ten dujins says the boat goes nowhere,"
Sawall hissed at him.

"You idiot." Grad laughed. "I’m not gonna
take that bet. Do I look stupid?"

Lissa chewed her lip. Jancid was right - all
she'd done was listen to Mampalo and the apprentices, and read one
book. She wished she had paid attention when Pete had droned on
about the flux vanes and winches and other things.

The two men hung the flux vane rods off each
side of the boat, securing them in brackets mounted to the hull.
The chains rattled as they took up the tension.

"Lower them please," she said. The men
scowled at her and her skin prickled all over. "About six
feet."

She glanced around the boat for inspiration.
Should she ask the voices? She was certain they wouldn't help, and
anyway, the navigator had confessed he didn't hear them. So what
did he do? She took several long breaths and flexed her fingers,
knowing she played for time. It must have been obvious to everyone
that she hadn't a clue, and they would denounce her as a fraud at
any moment.

She pictured the navigator on the command
deck, running his hands through the dust fountain atop his
pedestal, then closed her eyes and dipped her right hand into the
dust. The barest tingling sensation ran up her arm. When she
focused on it, the sensation faded, so she spread her fingers and
tried to empty her mind. The tingling returned, her stomach tumbled
and her head pounded. She yanked her hand out.

"What's she doin'?" Sawall murmured.

"Nothing useful, that's for sure," Jancid
replied. "Faking it, I think."

She addressed the captain. "Can I move to the
bow, sir? I need to use both hands."

He nodded once, and they swapped places.

She lay on her belly on the prow of the boat,
and immersed both hands to her elbows. The tingling immediately
flowed up both arms and spread into her chest. The nausea returned
at once, and she wished she had brought the physiker's medicine.
Her head throbbed, but she tried her best to ignore it and
concentrate on the sensations pricking her hands, sure that there
was a pattern.

"The boat ain't moving," Sawall said.

She blew out her breath, snapped her eyes
open, and pulled her hands back into the boat. The dust grains fell
away, leaving a numbness in her hands that she eased by flexing her
fingers.

"We need to row southeast," she said. "The
flux isn't strong here."

"How convenient," Jancid murmured.

"How far?" the captain said.

She shrugged. "A few hundred feet,
maybe."

He rubbed his chin. "Bring out the oars."

As the men rowed, grumbling to themselves,
she lay back and took deep breaths in an attempt to ease her
nausea. The physiker had been right - she could sense the flux, but
could she direct the boat to the island? Her belly spasmed and she
grimaced.
That'll teach me for opening my mouth.

"Try again," the captain said, dragging her
back into the moment.

She sighed, rolled face down and reluctantly
lowered her hands into the grey dust. Her head pounded so hard she
could barely think, but there was definitely a pattern to the
tingling, needle-like stabs. They seemed to pull to the left.

"A little to port and forward some more," she
said, and counted twenty sweeps of the oars. "Stop."

New sensations rippled up her arms. The pain
that banged on the inside of her skull moved from the front to the
rear of her head. What did that mean?

The boat bobbed idly in the gentle waves.

"Forward some more."

"This is stupid," Sawall said.

"Aye," Jancid agreed. "Sir, put a stop to
this nonsense. She'll 'ave us rowing all over-"

"Lower the vanes another six feet," she
snapped.

They couldn't stop now. She was sure
something was happening. All she needed was more time to
experiment. The chains rattled as Sawall and Grad cranked the
winch. Pain lanced through her head, and she screamed. Then she
vomited over the side, and slid into the bottom of the boat,
clenching her abdomen and moaning as she rolled about.

* * *

She tasted water, hot but sweet. It soothed
as it trickled down her parched throat. Her gaze settled on Coy,
who fanned her face with his cap. He pressed the mug into her hands
and helped her up.

"You did it," he said with a smile.

A dull ache persisted in her forehead, but
the pangs in her stomach were hunger not nausea. Both suns had
crossed the zenith, which meant she had been unconscious for a bell
or two. She missed the reassuring regularity of the ship's bell.
She sat up and blinked hard at the wake streaming behind the boat.
The ride was smooth, and significantly faster than rowing.

The captain moved forward to join them. She
scanned his weathered face for any emotion, some kind of sign of
his thoughts. His clay pipe belched smoke as he contemplated her
back. She glanced at the men behind him. Sawall and Grad looked at
her like she was some kind of monster, while Jancid picked at his
white beard and shook his head. She took another sip of water.

"How long 'till we reach the island?" Sawall
asked, his gaze flicking between her and the captain, as if he
didn't know whom to ask.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know how
fast we're going."

"A little more than a league a bell, I
reckon," Jancid said.

"Six days then," the captain said. "Assuming
the flux continues to run in our favor."

She made mental marks on the navigator’s
chart, remembering a bold line running parallel to the ship's
course. She was certain that line meant stronger flux. Were they
north or south of that line? North. Their current course would
intercept it, but they needed to cut in sharper or the journey
would take longer than they had water. She chewed her lip. Cutting
the corner between the two flux currents might leave them stranded
in the middle. She rubbed her eyes. It was all too much. She
couldn't do what the navigator did.

No one wanted to leave the flux line now that
she had discovered it.

"It's our only chance to get to the island in
under six days," she told them.

"Or get lost in the middle," Sawall said.
"You'll kill us all."

"She found it once, I bet she can find it
again," Coy said, hand on her shoulder.

"We follow her plan," the captain said. "It
makes sense. I expect you to explain every decision, every thought
that you have, girl."

She nodded vigorously, and ignored the savage
glare Sawall gave her. He adjusted the chains on the winch, and the
boat veered to port.

"We're slowing down," he cried. "We're gonna
have to row again."

Holding her breath, she watched the dust
flowing past the boat.
Don't stop. Don't stop.
They slowed
to less than half speed, but continued forward. She stared out
ahead of the boat, but of course, there was no indication on the
ocean surface of the forces at work beneath. How long would it take
them to reach the other flux line, or would they fall short?

The day wore on. She regularly dipped her
hands to sense the strength of the flux. The boat had slowed to a
crawl but it hadn't stopped. At suns-set she made their supper, as
much to occupy herself during the endless waiting as to quell the
hunger pangs. The beans had been sitting in hot water all day. They
weren't heated all the way through, but cooked enough to eat,
though chewy and bland, and she was thankful that Grad had thought
to add dried meat into the mix earlier in the day. Everyone
gathered around and helped themselves, using their hands as spoons
and bowls. The meal felt like a feast, and put an end to the men's
continual grumbling. The captain lit his pipe, creating a tiny
pulse of light in the near darkness.

"What'll happen to Farq and the others?" she
asked.

"Totey'll take them to an early grave,"
Jancid snarled. There was a chorus of ayes.

"They'll get picked up and arrested," the
captain said.

"Then what?"

"The punishment for mutiny is death."

She gasped. "What about Branda? Not everyone
aboard is guilty. Most of them had no choice."

He took several puffs on his pipe.

"That's up to the naval tribunal." His eyes
twinkled in the silvery light of Medepo. "I'm sure your friend and
Madam Margaret will be fine. Women don't hang."

She thought of Pete and the physiker, but
said nothing.

Depressed by the conversation, she returned
to the prow. Colors flickered across the surface all around the
boat. Despite its dreary blandness during the day, she loved how
the ocean transformed into something magical after dark. With a
sigh, she thrust her arms back in. The dust still carried the day's
warmth.

With no warning, she imagined insects
burrowing under her skin, crawling up her arms and scratching on
her bones. A heavy weight pressed on her forehead, making her eyes
ache. Crying out, she pulled her hands out and rubbed her arms
together, trying to brush away the crawling things.

"What's she doin' now?" Grad asked, and they
all turned to watch her.

She studied her trembling arms. They were
bare. Nothing crawled on them.

"It's here," she mumbled.

"What is?"

"Where?" The men peered around the boat.

Two shimmering captains faced her, wavering
in sync with the pulsing in her head. She blinked furiously until
she only saw one.

"The flux line,” she said. “It's right here.
We've got to turn before we go past."

"Sawall, the winch," the captain said. "Which
way, girl?" He shook her by the shoulders.

She swallowed hard and pointed off the
starboard side. The chains clattered in the winch, and the boat
veered in that direction.

"We're slowing down," Jancid cried.

"She's messed us all up," Sawall added. "We
should turn back."

He cranked the winch.

"No," she said. "Lower, the vanes need to go
deeper. Slowly."

The captain met her gaze and held it for a
long moment. "Do it."

The chains clicked, one link at a time.
Nobody breathed. The boat moved faster, the light swishing of the
dust against the hull growing louder. Faster. Soon, the bow wave
threatened to wash into the boat.

"Totalamon's titties!" Jancid said. "If we
keep this up, we'll be there in half the time."

"We're going to make it," Coy cried.

The captain nodded at her once and looked
away. "Give her water and cheese. Then you'd better get some sleep,
girl."

"We mustn't overshoot the island," she
said.

"Two man watches. Stay alert."

* * *

She settled into a forced routine throughout
the next three days. The men let her doze until the boat slowed and
then they shook her awake. At times, she quickly found a strong
flux channel and the boat picked up its pace, at others, the men
reluctantly manned the oars, muttering constantly about their
imminent doom. She never let them down for long but not once did
they praise her, but at least they had stopped glaring at her all
the time.

Her head pounded even as she rested, and
after throwing up again on the second day, she resorted to nibbling
a handful of food a day. At night, she tossed and turned and woke
from nightmares of their skeletons drifting forever, sweating and
her pulse racing. Coy adopted her as his patient, dribbling water
into her mouth and mopping her brow. She spent her time staring at
the bottom of the boat, and didn't want to look at the dust ever
again. Why had she ever wanted to be a navigator?

On the morning of the third day that felt
like the hundredth, she huddled in the bottom of the boat,
listening to the chatter of the men, when Grad cried out.

"Land! There, over there."

Chapter 25 - Into the Forest

Everyone jumped up and peered toward the
brown and green smudge on the horizon, cheering and clapping each
other on the shoulder. The boat rocked violently. Smiles filled
every face, even the captain's. The men stowed the flux vanes and
rowed so excitedly the captain ordered them to slow down and not
overheat. A light-hearted bickering ran constantly, discussing
distance and time remaining, as well as speculation on what they
would find. Enjoying a respite from the dust, Lissa sat back
exhausted, and listened to their laughter, the first she had heard
since the mutiny.

The captain took long turns at the oars to
give each man a rest. Inspired by his leadership, she gritted her
teeth against the throbbing in her head, and served a mug of
precious water and a handful of food to each man.

The next time she looked up, the island
filled her view. She gasped. A narrow beach fronted a thick jungle
of green and yellow trees. Beyond, a meadow of grass sloped steeply
to the base of a vertical face of bare rock which rose high above
the island to form a flat-top, very different to the conical
mountain of Us-imyan.

The boat bucked and tossed as they passed
through a gap in the outer reef. Submerged rocks threw blankets of
grey dust into the air, which fell like a fine mist with an
incessant hissing noise.

"Watch out," she cried, as the boat surged
toward a jagged rock. She gripped her bench with both hands.

At the last moment, Sawall thrust his oar
against it and pushed them away. The boat spun around, moving
backward, caught in a hidden current dragging them toward the
beach. She tried to stay out of the way, as they fought to turn
around, rowing one way then the other, miraculously avoiding rocks
that threatened to smash the boat. A ragged section of reef
appeared inches from her face.

"Rock," she warned.