Ocean of Dust (9 page)

"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, it 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.

Reluctantly, she turned away and blundered
into several chests surrounded by a debris of cloth scraps and
broken furniture. She strained to open the largest, and inside she
found a treasure trove of discarded clothes, drapes, and material.
Rifling through them, she picked out handfuls of a lightweight
material suitable for comfortable shirts. At the very bottom, she
happened upon an old dress, and held it up to the light. The dark
green fabric was luxuriously soft and expensive-looking. Its owner
had been taller than her, but she was certain she could rework it.
This she had to have, though she couldn't think when she’d ever
wear it.

Someone whispered. She froze.

It didn't sound like Alice or Lyndon and she
was sure she was alone. She searched the beams inches above her
head for a gap that could carry voices from above. The whispering
continued, louder, more of a hissing sound.

She gasped, realizing that she wasn't hearing
anything at all. The voice was inside her head.
First the
colors, now this. I’m going mad.
She clapped her hands over
both ears, and shook her head repeatedly.

"La la la la la," she sang loudly.

Her skin prickled. She wheeled around,
peering into the darkness. The hot, still air pressed in on her,
and the whispering became insistent, luring.

Lisss-sah
, it said in her mind.

"Who's there?" she cried, spinning round and
round.

Her heart thumped as she bundled up her
material, snatched her globelight, and sprinted toward the exit,
ducking low to avoid banging her head. The planks bounced and
creaked. She rocketed up the ladder and hurtled back to her
storeroom, where she sat on a sack of hoobin-beets, her eyes
flicking around the room.

The whispering had stopped.

* * *

Alice didn't say a word as the three girls
cooked supper. Lissa accidentally spilled sauce on Alice's hand,
and flinched, her mouth agape in horror, but Alice simply glared
and wiped it off. Lissa exchanged glances with Branda, who
shrugged. The moment Cook left, Alice grabbed a loaf of bread and
hurried from the room.

Lissa helped Branda clean up. Afterward, she
showed her friend the start she made on a new shirt. Branda beamed
and fussed over it, offering to help, so they sat side by side in
one of the storerooms, sharing the cloth-cutter, needle and thread.
Lissa tried to relax her tensed muscles, but her mind kept
replaying the events in the hold. Every time she opened her mouth
to tell Branda, she sighed and kept quiet, not sure why.

"What was up with Alice just now?" she
asked.

"I notice too," Branda replied. "She normally
pick fight. I see her sneak around this afternoon so I follow."

Lissa looked up from her sewing.

"She come out of hold with new boy," Branda
continued. "They sit and talk."

"What about?"

"Not polite to be a nose. I not listen."
Branda shrugged. "I thought she already like Mampalo. She chase him
for long time."

Lissa scrunched her face and raised one
eyebrow. Which of the disgusting sailors could Alice be interested
in?

"Have you ever tried to escape?" Lissa asked.
"Off the ship I mean?"

Branda pricked herself with the needle and
yelped. "Once. Not again."

"Why not?"

There was a long pause. "Farq beat me. Like
you. He kill me next time."

Lissa stared into Branda's wide, sad eyes.
She couldn't imagine the shy Branda making an escape attempt, but
seeing the tears forming in Branda's eyes, she shut up. They sewed
together in silence.

"I'd hoped to escape when we reached Gobar a
few days ago," Lissa whispered. "Would you try again if we had a
chance?"

Branda put down her material and jumped up.
"I go get fresh air. Thank you for sewing." She hurried out.

Lissa stared after her. She hadn’t meant to
upset her friend, but clearly Branda didn’t want to talk about
escaping. She longed to follow and apologize, but it would be best
to give Branda time. She sighed heavily.

* * *

One morning, Cook ordered Alice to scrub the
galley while Lissa and Branda were to report to the crew chief on
the main deck. As the two girls hurried out, Alice gave Lissa a
you're dead
glare behind Cook's back.

The day was warm with clear skies, seemingly
like every day at sea. The dust ocean was placid, with no traces of
the water fountain an eight-day ago. How far had they travelled
since then? Lissa counted on her fingers that she'd been aboard
nineteen days.

Branda took her hand and hurried her before
the giant with the forked beard. He stood like a mountain in the
center of the deck, waving his bulging, hairy arms, and barking
orders. He peered down at them and scratched his bald pate.

"What do we have here?" he boomed.

Lissa stepped back, trying not to cower. She
had to tip her head right back to look into his face.

"Cook sent us to work for you, sir," Branda
said fearlessly.

Lissa blinked, sure her own voice would have
squeaked.

"Is that so? Scrub the decks." He pointed to
buckets sitting beside the water barrel.

"Aye, sir," Branda replied.

Lissa just nodded vigorously.

"He's doing port side, you do starb'd."

Lissa followed his outstretched hand,
spotting Lyndon on all fours, lazily running a hand brush back and
forth.

"Star-bud? Is that a flower?" Lissa asked,
then gulped and glanced wide-eyed up at the crew chief. She should
have asked Branda.

He roared with laughter, his whole body
quivering. All around, the crew paused in their duties to stop and
stare. Lissa shrank to make herself small. He stuck out his left
arm, toward Lyndon.

"Port," he said, and then flipped out his
right. "Starb'd'. Now clean." He walked away.

"I teach you ship speak," Branda
whispered.

"Please. It might keep me out of
trouble."

Lissa fetched a bucket and found a stiff
brush inside. She tossed in a handful of soapsand, filled it from
the water barrel, hoisted her skirts, and got down on her knees.
Scrubbing was easy work - cleaning floors had been a daily chore at
home.

A while later, she sat up to stretch her
spasming back. Farq descended the stairs from the command deck. Her
stomach tumbled and her heart raced.
Please, Anjan, make me
invisible
. She kept her head low and scrubbed at twice the
speed. Ignoring all other sounds, her ears locked on to his
footsteps. He crossed the deck and stopped in front of her. Her
heartbeat thundered in her ears and her hands trembled. She tensed
for a blow or kick.

He made a disgusting hawking sound and purple
fak splattered on the deck in front of her. She reached forward and
scrubbed it clean. Her skin itched as he moved behind her. Then he
spat again. She spun around and cleaned it. He grunted and walked
away, and she let out the breath she had been holding.

A little later, she moved alongside Branda.
"Do you often do this?" she asked. "I thought the boys scrubbed the
decks."

"They make us do it sometimes. Fresh
air."

"I prefer this to scrubbing the galley."
Lissa grimaced at the memory of cleaning the oodspal pot.

Lyndon backed into her. She'd mopped ten
times the area he had.

"Hello," she said.

"What're you all happy about?" he
snarled.

"You mean why am I not whining and grumbling
all the time like you?"

"I guess you're used to being a slave," he
said. "It's all you commoners are good for. My father's a merchant
and training me to be rich and powerful like him."

She rolled her eyes. "It looks like you're
scrubbing the floor to me."

"Shut up. This is for slaves and girls."

"Then get used to being a slave. Maybe it'll
teach you some manners, you little snot."

"How dare you," he shouted.

"Silence," the crew chief roared. He slapped
them both around the ears in one motion.

Lissa turned her back on Lyndon and continued
scrubbing.

When the girls returned to the galley, Cook
was just on her way out. "Do as you wish for a few bells, but mind
you're not late for cooking supper."

Lissa ran from the room, grinning that she
got out before Alice. Branda wanted to sew, but Lissa had been
waiting to explore topside for some time, and she hurtled up the
ladders, now used to the steep stairs and loose guide ropes. It was
good to get back in the sun and fresh air again.

A dozen birds flocked high above, the first
she had seen so far from land. The stiff wind lashed her hair in
every direction, so she paused to clip it back, and caught one of
the younger boys staring at her. He quickly looked away and pulled
his cap over his eyes.

There was no sign of Farq or the crew chief,
so she slipped beneath the winching mechanisms that sat amidships,
either side of Farq's office, and emerged on to the front deck. The
Forward deck, Branda had called it.

In the center stood a stack of crates,
secured tightly under netting attached to metal rings bolted to the
floor. Dust blew relentlessly across the deck, getting in her eyes.
The netted cargo afforded excellent shelter from the sun and the
wind, so she slumped down beside them. She watched the grey dust
swirl and play like magical creatures, before being whisked into
corners to form heaps.

A shadow fell across her. Her heart jumped
and she snapped her head up.