Ocean of Dust (7 page)

The tray clattered in her hands. She took a
deep breath, and then hurried over. Even Alice stabbing her with a
fork was better than this ordeal. Remembering to breathe, she
curtseyed awkwardly, placed the tray on a side table and
served.

The older man with two ponytails turned out
to be the captain. She snatched glances at him, surprised that he
didn't look as fierce as Farq. She gave him and Farq the largest
cakes. Sweating with terror, she was glad for the shade that the
awning provided. The remaining men were less intimidating. Her
heart slowed and her hands finally stopped trembling. She
approached the green-robed man with the last goblet.

His attention was firmly fixed on the
fountain of dust in the bowl. What was he doing? He scooped
handfuls of dust then let it drain through his fingers and wash
across the back of his scabbed and wrinkled hands. When he didn't
acknowledge her, she coughed.

"What?" he snapped without looking up.
"What?"

"G-gej-juice, sir." She held out a goblet and
plate.

"Not now. Leave it. Go."

She jumped backward into the table behind
him, and put down his refreshments. They clacked on the glass top.
She leaned forward to see what lay below. It was some kind of map,
but not like any of the ones her uncle had showed her. Instead of
winding roads, rivers, carefully drawn mountains and towns, this
was just a mess of crisscrossed lines and numbers.

Farq and the captain paced back and forth. It
wouldn't do to get under their feet, so she scurried across to the
rail at the very rear of the ship. Once there, she couldn't resist
leaning over and looking down.

A churning wake trailed behind the ship.
Purple and blue sparks flickered and glinted in the suns-light. She
snapped her eyes closed, wanting them to be a trick of the late
afternoon light. When she looked, the colors still sparkled on the
surface of the dust. She combed her hair with her fingers,
mesmerized.

A circular shape broke the surface. She
leaned further over the rail, immediately recognizing the creature
with the four stumps on its head. A spiny crest lay half submerged,
and she wondered how large the creature was. It swam effortlessly,
keeping pace with the ship. The head rotated and piercing red eyes
popped open, looking up at her. She squealed, forced to wrap her
hands around the rail to avoid tumbling over. Heart pounding, she
stepped safely back. The creature's gaze seemed to pierce right
through her. Did it just blink? She shivered. The head sank
abruptly, and she ran up and down the rail searching for it.

"What's this?" a rough voice croaked. "Who
left this on my chart?"

She whirled around, grimacing, startled to
discover every one of the officers glaring at her.

"Why, by the fins of Totalamon, is that girl
standing around on my command deck?" the captain shouted.

"Girl!" Farq stabbed his finger in her
direction, then at the deck at his feet, his face purple.

She froze, mouth agape, her heart threatening
to explode from her chest. He growled and stormed toward her.

Her mind begged her to flee, but her body
failed to respond. Only when his menacing shadow fell across her,
did she finally escape her paralysis. Her legs crumpled and she
collapsed to the deck, scrambling frantically away, fingers clawing
at the deck. Feeling the wooden rail at her back with no way to
escape, she wailed.

"Please, sir. I was waiting... to take them
away. The empty goblets. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be in the
way-"

"Shut up!"

His slap spun her head hard to one side,
cracking it against the rail post. She screamed. Her head was on
fire. Two blurry Farq's towered over her.

"Didn't you listen to a word I said?" he
roared. "Or are you too stupid to obey?"

He backhanded her across the mouth, his ring
slicing into her lip. She crashed flat on the deck, coughing and
gagging on blood.

"Never disobey me."

Whimpering, she cowered, tensed for the next
blow. His leg rose, and she wrapped her arms about her bleeding
face. His boot connected with her thigh. Sharp pain raced down her
leg, followed by agonizing pins and needles. All sound faded, and
her vision narrowed. A voice droned at her from the end of a long,
dark tunnel. In the other direction lay peace and calm, but the
voice wouldn't let her go there. Why wouldn't it leave her
alone?

Then sound exploded in her ears and
suns-light blinded her. She heard arguing voices, a flapping noise,
and the deep bong of a bell. Nothing made sense, until her eyes
focused on Farq's face, inches from her own.

"Get up, you worthless girl."

She couldn't move. Every part of her
hurt.

Arms grabbed her and heaved her to her feet.
When she put weight on her left leg it gave way and she cried out.
They dragged her across the deck and bounced her down step after
bone-jarring step, across the main deck, and onto the steep ladder
belowdecks. She tumbled down the ladder, crashed to the floor, and
passed out.

* * *

She opened one eye and groaned. The other
didn't want to work. She gently touched the skin around it, finding
it puffy and sore. Every muscle ached, especially her jaw and left
leg. A bandage had been wrapped across her cheek, across the top of
her head, and under her chin. She smelled pungent vegetables
instead of chemicals and lay in her scheepa, rocking gently side to
side.

An attempt to get up resulted in her leg
giving way. Howling, she fell to the floor in a heap, then slapped
the deck.
I hate this place!
Everything she did went wrong
or ended up with her being punished. It wasn't fair.

Memories of home flooded back. Her mother had
worked her hard but had never been cruel. While her father had been
meaner, he'd never hit her. His raised voice had been enough for
her to do as she was told. All of that was gone. She had to get off
the ship, but how?

Cook appeared in the doorway, a globelight in
her hand. Lissa cowered against a post.

"Get up, child," the old woman said in a
quiet voice. "Sit up there."

Lissa hopped on her good leg across to a
crate and perched on the edge. She peered at Cook with one eye.

"You're a stupid, careless girl. Farq has
killed men with his bare hands. He'll do worse than give you a
black eye next time. Can't you just do as you're told for once?"
She clutched Lissa's jaw with a bony hand and scrutinized her face
and eye.

Lissa sniffed. She didn't know what to
say.

"You'll live. Let this be a lesson to you.
Now go clean and sharpen all the knives, and mind you put 'em back
in the right place. I'll be along to check. If you do it properly,
you can eat supper. And, Gods, you smell, girl. I'll have Branda
show you the showers in the morning."

"Yes, ma'am," Lissa said. That, at least, was
something to look forward to.

It seemed to take forever for her to limp
into the galley. She was glad that her leg wasn't broken. Having to
spend more time in the infirmary was certain to get her another
beating. The room was empty. She heaved a sigh of relief, not yet
ready to deal with Alice again. Determined to do something right,
she pulled out every item of cutlery, laying them neatly on the
table with the most light. Her swollen eye itched, but she tried to
put it out of her mind and concentrate. First, she scrubbed the
rust off each knife, and then drew it through the sharpener a dozen
times. Once she could effortlessly slice a hoobin-beet, she moved
on to the next.

At the end, she arranged the knives neatly in
their drawers, ordering them by size. There was no sign of Cook so
she fixed herself a plate of bread crusts, cold jab-bird meat and
cheese. She chewed delicately and slowly, her jaw aching with every
bite, but she was starving, so she softened her sandwiches in
water. The soggy pieces tasted awful, but her full belly felt
good.

She yawned, and then groaned with the pain in
her cheek. She massaged it. Her leg throbbed, but she didn't dare
leave until Cook returned. To pass the time, she peered into every
drawer and cupboard, memorizing its contents. That done, she
expanded her search into the small room next door, barely large
enough for a work surface and a small oven. In a corner stood a
tall urn for making jalak-brew and the walls were lined with shelf
upon shelf of neatly labeled containers. She identified assorted
sweet spices, jalak leaves of all types, dried fruits, syrups, and
sweet jams.

"What are you doing?" Cook asked from the
doorway, making her jump.

"Just looking, ma'am, nothing more. Trying to
find out where everything is."

The woman's gaze flitted around the room and
then at Lissa's hands and pockets.

"I told you to sharpen the knives."

"I did, ma'am."

"Already? Then you can't have done a good
job. I won't tolerate skimping, child."

"I didn't skimp, ma'am."

"Then let's take a look." The woman stomped
next door into the galley.

Lissa limped after her and waited patiently
while Cook opened a drawer and picked out a vegetable knife. She
ran a finger along its shiny, sharp blade, and then frowned at
Lissa. Putting it down, she reached for another. She gave a snort
and moved to the next drawer.

"Hmph. Not bad."

Her gaze shifted from Lissa to the doorway,
where Alice stood scowling at Lissa, lips in a wide pout.

Lissa's shoulders sagged and she uttered an
almost inaudible growl. How much had Alice overheard? She sighed,
no longer enjoying the pride in a job well done. Now Alice would
hate her even more.

Chapter 7 - Bandit

A gentle shaking woke Lissa the next morning,
and she opened one eye to see Branda's beaming face. Her return
smile morphed into a yawn, which turned into a yelp when her aching
jaw twinged.

"Chilled water, drink," Branda whispered and
offered a mug.

Lissa sipped, and Branda peered at her
swollen eye in the dim, pre-dawn light. Branda winced.

"You look awful. You work today?"

Lissa nodded, took another long swallow, and
climbed carefully out of her scheepa. She could barely see out of
her bad eye. It throbbed and itched.

"The physiker said no," she replied. "But to
be honest, I'd prefer not to have Cook mad at me. I'm sure I can do
something. At least I don't feel sick."

Branda wrinkled her nose and giggled.

"You need wash," she said. "Come."

"Oh, yes," Lissa replied, clawing her matted,
gross hair from her face.

She followed Branda down the hallway, around
the mast that penetrated the floor and continued up through the
ceiling, and toward the front of the ship, where the hull curved
inward. A deafening scraping sound could be heard from the deck
above, and Branda explained that the men cleared their scheepas and
set up the tables and benches every morning. The hallway ended in a
wide pair of doors with a mess of dried grass poking underneath. An
oglon bellowed from behind the doors and Lissa jumped.

"The manger," Branda said. "Where animals
are. I show you later."

She stopped before a door so tiny that Lissa
had mistaken it for a cupboard. The washroom resembled a tiny cell,
barely large enough for them both. Branda turned on a globelight
and showed Lissa how to stand in a low, wooden tub, and tug on an
overhead chain for water.

"Only two pulls. One to soak, one to rinse.
Half bell to breakfast." She slipped out and closed the door.

Lissa marveled at the washing device. It was
like nothing she had ever seen. She peeled off her clothes, making
a face at her sweaty, smelly body. A tug on the chain delivered a
deluge of freezing water, making her yelp and shiver. She applied
soapsand liberally, scrubbing her skin until it turned red. Ugly
black and purple bruises covered her legs and her right arm. She
spent extra time rubbing her hair, massaging her scalp, and teasing
it out with a metal comb. She winced at every snag, groaning and
cursing, but didn't stop until it hung heavy down her back. Then
she pulled the chain and rinsed. Her whole body relaxed. So much
better. The towel was thin and scratchy. As she dried herself, she
glanced at her heap of dirty clothes. If only she had another set.
Perhaps she could wash them before bed.

Cook blinked in surprise when she limped into
the galley a few moments after the bell rang for the fifth
time.

"Hmph," she grunted. "You're lucky. The
physiker ordered light duties." She paused a moment and then asked,
“You can bake you say?"

Lissa nodded.

"Better than Alice, I hope. Go next door and
show me. I'll be along shortly to taste your efforts."

This was something she could do, so Lissa
limped into the small room that adjoined the galley, excited to
impress. She scanned the pots of spices and other ingredients, and
licked her lips. What should she make? Bem-spice cakes had always
been a favorite, and she sighed at the memory of baking them with
her mother. Her eyes sparkled. Yes, the secret ingredient.
Perfect!

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."