The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock (4 page)

It wasn't that Telka was an uninteresting man. The
doctor had apparently worked on ships his whole life, having been
the son of two famous ship's doctors from the island of Shika. He
claimed to have been a student of the great doctor Ashef and had an
almost encyclopedic knowledge of medicine, magical healing methods,
and how the body worked.

That sounded fine and dandy to Kinker, but for
whatever reason, Telka refused to answer any of Kinker's questions
about the ship, its crew, or anything else relating to the voyage.
Every time the conversation turned toward those questions, Telka
would immediately shut up and check Kinker's pulse or give him
another bowl of that lime fish soup (which Kinker now knew to take
in small servings).

Another thing Kinker noticed was how unprepared
Telka appeared, despite supposedly being a good doctor. His medical
cabinets were either bare or full of bottles and equipment that
didn't look like any medical supplies Kinker had ever seen. Once,
looking over Telka's shoulder as the doctor searched for some
medicine to soothe Kinker's sore throat, he spotted a bottle of red
juice with the label 'MEDICINE' on it and its cap missing. Red
juice wasn't a medicine, as far as Kinker knew, so he had no idea
what it was doing inside a doctor's medical cabinet.

That was when he remembered that the ship had
already been through so much on this voyage. Though he had not seen
any other patients, Kinker figured that sickness and injuries must
be pretty common on board this ship. Maybe Telka had used up most
of his medical supplies taking care of them. There was still so
much Kinker didn't know and so much Telka refused to tell him that
Kinker found himself growing increasingly restless.

That restlessness wasn't the only reason he found it
difficult to sleep. The mattress was uncomfortable and rough. The
sheets were surprisingly clean, but they still smelled faintly of
dried blood, puke, and other bodily fluids, like everything else in
the medical room. At night, Kinker didn't get much sleep. Often
he'd stay awake, the horrible scents filling his nostrils,
listening to the wind and waves that beat against the lee of the
ship. He was used to sleeping on ships, but for whatever reason, he
just couldn't sleep on this one.

Finally, on the third day after Kinker awoke, Telka
declared him ready to work. Kinker knew that already. He had
recovered quite speedily the day after speaking with Malock, but
until today the doctor had argued for caution and so held him back
for two days. That was annoying, but when Kinker remembered that he
wasn't looking forward to whatever work Malock had planned for him,
it was easier to take.

Telka left to find Malock, returning about five
minutes later. The prince looked much the same as he always did,
except more frazzled and annoyed, like he hadn't got much sleep
himself. He stood near the door, arms folded across his chest,
impatiently waiting while Kinker got out of bed and got
dressed.

Because Kinker had no clothes of his own, Telka gave
Kinker a ratty pea coat, thin white shirt, and rough pants to
compensate, as well as some leather boots to cover his feet. The
outfit was a tight fit, but as they didn't have anything else for
him to wear, Kinker didn't complain.

When Kinker finished buttoning his pea coat, he
walked over to Malock, who sighed with relief and said, “Finally.
Come along, now. I don't have a lot of time to give you a tour, so
I want to make this quick.”

When they stepped into the hallway, the first thing
Kinker noticed was a middle-aged woman leaning against the opposite
wall. She was human and had curly blonde hair that reminded Kinker
of his mother's hair, although there was something about this woman
that made him tense. She didn't introduce herself when he and
Malock appeared. She just pushed herself off the wall and stood
there standing as straight as a board.

“This is Banika Koiro,” said Malock, gesturing at
the silent woman. “She's the ship's boatswain and my right-hand
woman. She is the single most trustworthy sailor on this entire
ship. Banika, meet Kinker Dolan, our new fisherman.”

Banika said nothing. She merely nodded at him and
took up the rear when Malock and Kinker began making their way top
deck. Kinker glanced over his shoulder at her as they walked,
mostly to be sure that she was still following. It had less to do
with his memory and more to do with the way the woman silently
moved across the creaking floorboards.

“This is the middle deck,” said Malock, waving his
arms to indicate the hallway they were in. “Most of the sailors
come down here to sleep at night. It's also where we keep a lot of
our supplies and equipment that we need but don't want to store in
the hold. Like the cannons, for example.”

Kinker looked at Malock in surprise. “You have
cannons on this ship? I thought this was a sailing ship, not a ship
of war.”

Malock shrugged. “The southern seas are dangerous.
Anyway, so far we haven't had to use them. And I can assure you
that the gunpowder is kept under lock and key and is not in any
danger of exploding and sinking the ship to the bottom of the
sea.”

“We learned
that
lesson the hard way,” Banika
said behind them, her voice so soft that it was almost lost in the
sound of their footsteps. “Lost
Our Beloved Lady
because
someone didn't handle the gunpowder correctly.”

“
Our Beloved Lady
was one of the other
ships,” Malock said to Kinker offhandedly. “First to sink,
actually. But I'll tell you about that later.”

Kinker wasn't sure he wanted to hear more about it.
He was already starting to feel sick again from the combined odor
of seawater, sickness, mildew, and other equally unpleasant scents
in the air. He found it difficult to breathe down here, but Malock
and Banika showed no problems with breathing at all. Maybe they
were used to it.

The smell got worse when they passed by the cracked
door of another room. A strong odor that smelled like rotting,
burnt fish wafted through the crack in the door and into Kinker's
nose, causing him to choke on it. Malock and Banika just stopped
and looked at him like he was crazy.

“What's the matter, Kinker?” Malock asked. “Are you
not feeling well?”

Between coughs and fits, Kinker pointed at the
cracked door and said, “No. It's that smell. It's like a rotting
corpse.”

“Oh, that means dinner is almost ready,” said
Malock, like he couldn't wait to eat. “That's the galley, by the
way. Head cook is Arisha Frag, but I'll introduce you to her later.
She hates to be disturbed when she's cooking, even if it's to meet
a new member of the crew.”

“What do you eat on this ship?” Kinker asked, moving
away from the galley door as far as he could in the cramped hall.
“Poison fish stew or something?”

“Fish,” Malock said. “We used to have a bigger
variety of food, such as ikadori peaches, Frianan cream, and the
finest silk tea you can imagine. Alas, the voyage has mostly
depleted our stores, but I can assure you that Arisha is an
excellent cook nonetheless, very good at making do with what little
we have.”

If the smell of her cooking was anything to go by,
Kinker highly doubted that, but he said nothing more about the
matter as he continued following Malock down the hall. He held his
hand over his nose the entire time, however, until they climbed the
stairs up to the top deck.

As they emerged from the hatch, Malock spread his
arms as wide as possible and said, “Welcome to the top deck of the
Iron Wind
, Kinker. Be amazed by its size and
magnificence.”

The top deck of the
Iron Wind
was indeed
large and wide open, much more open than the middle deck was. The
awful smells were still present, but they were mixed with the
fresh, salty air of the sea. For once, Kinker felt like he could
breathe freely on this ship.

But it wasn't quite as magnificent as Malock thought
it was; for example, the foremast, the mainmast, and the mizzenmast
were in various states of disrepair. In particular, their sails
looked like they'd been patched together by someone who didn't know
how to sew. The ratlines appeared mostly intact, but he spotted a
few snapped ropes here and there that no one had bothered to
repair.

And then there were the sailors. This was the first
time Kinker had seen the crew of the Iron Wind. From what he could
see, most were human, but there was definitely a large minority of
aquarians present. Having never spent much time around aquarians,
Kinker watched in fascination as one aquarian, who had tentacles in
place of legs and a head that closely resembled that of a squid's,
squashed by, swabbing the deck alongside two humans.

The crew looked like most sailors: tough, rough, and
hardworking. There were at least fifty or so present; steering the
ship, adjusting the sails, cleaning the deck (although that looked
like a losing battle to Kinker), and doing various other things
that the crew of a sailing ship generally needed to do. Few of them
took notice of Kinker, and those few that did only glanced at him
briefly before returning to their work.

Another thing Kinker noticed about the crew was how
beaten up many of them looked. Back on Destan, it wasn't uncommon
to see sailors who had stitches, scars, and other things to
indicate injury, but many of the sailors on board the
Iron
Wind
looked like they had been through a war. One human sailor,
for example, was missing his entire left arm, while an aquarian
sailor who was scrubbing the mainmast had only one foot, the other
having been replaced by a block of wood that vaguely resembled a
peg leg. Many of them had gaunt faces, like they hadn't had a good
meal in a long time.

The ship in general had an air of disrepair about
it. True, the crew appeared to have done their best to keep the
ship in shape, but if Kinker hadn't seen the crew, he would have
thought that the
Iron Wind
was a ghost ship.

Just then, someone behind him said, in a refined
voice that took Kinker by surprise, “Could you please move so I can
go down the hatch?”

Kinker turned around and was shocked to see a giant
of a man standing before him. A long, thick scar ran from his crown
down the side of his face to his chin, but besides that he appeared
to lack the major wounds that most of his fellow sailors did.

He looked down on the three with the intelligent
eyes of a scholar, which contrasted sharply with his massive
physical body. In his right hand he carried a short wooden staff,
more like a wand really, which he held like a sword.

“There you are, Bifor,” said Malock with a smile,
patting Kinker on the shoulder. “Bifor, meet Kinker Dolan, our
newest fisherman. Kinker, meet Bifor Kamon, our ship's resident—and
only—mage.”

Bifor nodded at Kinker. “Pleased to meet you,
Kinker. I assume you are the man that Vashnas rescued from the sea
about a week ago?”

“Yes,” said Kinker. He looked at Malock and said,
“Wait—it was Vashnas who saved me?”

“Yes, of course she did,” said Malock. “Didn't we
mention that earlier? She somehow spotted your boat through the
storm and wanted to rescue you. Tried to convince her it was too
dangerous, but she didn't listen. I almost thought she was going to
die with you, but thankfully you both survived.”

“I'll have to thank her personally sometime,” said
Kinker. “Now did you say Bifor is the ship's mage? I've never met a
mage before.”

Bifor's mouth twitched slightly. “Never?”

“Never,” Kinker said, nodding. “On Destan, we don't
have any mages. Some of our priests know a little magic, but in
comparison to what I've heard mages can do, it's practically
nothing.”

“Hmph,” said Bifor. “Destan must be a very
out-of-the-way, obscure little island if it doesn't have even one
mage on it.”

His tone was disapproving, like Destan's lack of a
mage disappointed him greatly.

Defensively, Kinker said, “It's not like it's a
choice. It's just that no one wants to live there.”

“Oh, I didn't mean to insinuate anything negative
about your home,” said Bifor. “I was simply observing the
unfortunate fact that most mages care more about fame and prestige
than in doing good work in places where it is needed—sad, but
true.”

As if to stave off further conflict, Malock said,
“Bifor is a Xocionian. That means he worships Xocion, the God of
Ice.”

“Yes,” said Bifor, nodding. “I studied magic at
North Academy, the largest mage school in the Northern Isles.”

“Wow,” said Kinker, genuinely impressed. “Guess that
makes you very well-educated, doesn't it?”

“Yes, it does,” said Bifor. “Now if you'll excuse
me, I have some work to do below deck. Please let me pass.”

Malock, Kinker, and Banika stepped aside, allowing
Bifor to pass them and disappear into the hatch that led to the
lower decks. Somehow the large mage managed to fit his bulk through
the hatch, which Kinker had to assume was magic because he couldn't
otherwise see how Bifor managed that.

When Bifor was gone, Kinker immediately turned to
Malock and said, “If you have a mage on board, why does the
Iron
Wind
look so terrible? Why have you had any troubles at all?
Can't magic solve all your problems?”

Malock's reaction was unexpected. He laughed,
laughed so hard and so loud that some nearby sailors stopped their
work to look for the source of the noise. Even Banika smiled
slightly, like she wanted to laugh, but didn't either because she
was too polite or Kinker's question had been so silly that she
didn't even want to laugh at it.

“What is the problem?” said Kinker, looking between
Banika and the still-laughing Malock. “What did I say? What did I
do wrong?”

In between gasps for breath, Malock said, “Oh, it's
nothing personal, Kinker. It's just ... man, I haven't had a good
laugh in a long time, not like that. Haven't had much to laugh
about on this voyage.”