The navigator, p.33
The Navigator, page 33
Quill grabbed the latch on the bathroom door and slowly slid it open. It creaked across the floor, the wooden paneling slowly feeding into a gap on the opposite wall. She hoped the noise of it folding in on itself wouldn't wake Petal.
Petal was asleep in her bed, right in front of the bathroom door, near the center of their tiny private cabin. The cabin was empty but for the girls' beds, a minuscule closet, and a shared night table. The walls were wood, a richly brown pressed oak. Just over the cabin door was a brass clock.
It was ten in the morning.
Quill scurried out of the bathroom and crept over to the closet. She was only half dressed in a night shirt and a raggedy pair of underwear. She shivered in the cold cabin and began to pull on several layers of clothes.
Petal had been sick and nearly bed-ridden for the past two weeks – about as long as Quill had been feeling nauseous. Quill thought the two illnesses were unrelated. Petal had something like the flu. She had a high fever, dizziness, horrible headaches, and congested lungs. Quill felt fine except for her morning bouts of nausea. She walked over to Petal and watched her sleep. Petal's forehead was pink. She was still running a high fever. Her breaths came out as whitish wisps in the chilly air. Quill put her hand up to Petal's forehead and felt the heat radiate up from it. She kissed it. It felt like it was on fire.
A month and a half had passed since the girls set sail from Syracuse on King Hanno's Polar Wanderer. During the first month of the voyage, surprisingly little occurred. Prime Minister Kodzick and Derrik, the ship's captain and first mate, lorded over the Syracusian crew and took charge of the ship's daily operations. Gaveovelli Giovanni buzzed around the bridge, watching their course and keeping track of the weather. Quill acted as Giovanni's understudy, following him around like a puppy, trying to soak up and comprehend everything he was doing. Petal spent her time wandering the maze of companionways and the vast upper deck. She occasionally completed little odd-jobs the crewmen assigned her, fulfilling the role of a cabin boy.
When the second month arrived, everything turned for the worse. The weather in particular became terrible. Gale-force winds, rough-confused seas, and pouring rain were constant.
Kodzick fell victim to the deteriorating weather. He was killed in a freak accident. One morning, when he was walking on deck, checking the ship's rigging, a strong gust of wind jerked the ship's crane. As the crane whipped to port, the winch and pulley that dangled from it connected with Kodzick's skull, braining him. He spent a week in the ship's infirmary, deep in a coma, before finally succumbing to swelling of the brain.
Petal took Kodzick's bed in the infirmary two days after his body was unceremoniously dumped over the shipside. The weather had done her in as well. Once the winds picked up and the temperature outside the ship dipped below the freezing mark, she fell ill with a high fever.
Quill spent every free moment she had, while not on watch in the bridge, at Petal's bedside. The first week of Petal's sickness dragged on into a second, and her condition didn't seem to improve so much as stabilize. Eventually, Quill decided to take her back to their shared cabin, hoping the more domestic setting would aid her recovery.
As Quill looked down at Petal now, she didn't think that she'd recovered at all. Her cheeks were colorless and her forehead was hot to the touch. The sight of the feeble girl made Quill feel abysmal. She'd never known anyone to survive such a long fever. She pulled her comforter over Petal, and walked up to the cabin door, slowly pushing it open.
It smacked into something.
"Watch it, dry foot!" A crewman snapped from the hallway.
Quill poked her head around the doorjamb. She'd pushed the door into the crewman's arm. She squeezed out of the cabin.
"Sorry. I didn't know anyone was out here."
"Then knock next time. A bit of greenhorn etiquette, instead of slamming a door into me. You jammed the handle into my funny bone. I hate that weird, tingly feeling."
"I'm sorry. But keep your voice down. Petal's sleeping."
"That sprite's still sick, eh? If she doesn't get better soon, there's no point in going any further. Not that Derrik wants to anyway. You look a little green in the gills yourself, ya know?"
Quill's stomach churned. The ship crested a very tall wave. When it dipped down into the following trough, her body rose up from the negative gees, and her head almost bumped into the ceiling.
"Yeah. I think I'm just seasick. For the past few weeks the seas have been terrible."
"Leave it to a dry foot navigator to get seasick every morning." The crewman walked away, mumbling to himself.
Quill made her way up to the bridge.
The Polar Wanderer's bridge was fifteen feet long and six feet wide. The forward section was windows, lined with wooden trim. Behind them, at the center of the bridge, was the helm, the captain and navigator's chairs, two narrow desks, a radio that allowed the bridge to communicate with the deck crew, and a tiny personal computer.
Giovanni was in the captain's chair manning the helm. His frail body barely made an indent in the chair's thick leather. Derrik was sitting next to him, squinting at the screen of the ancient computer.
Through the windows, Quill could see the bow of the ship and the rough, confused sea. The water was spectacularly violent this morning – an utter mess of whitecaps, chunks of sea ice, and swirling foam. Instead of the waves following a regular, rippled pattern, the chaotic polar winds were blowing the swells in every direction.
The sky over the sea was dark and gray. Its dull color blended in with the whitish water, clouding the ship in a dreary ice fog.
Quill watched a tall wave smash against the bow and wash over the port side. It left behind a crust of ice. Every few hours, the crewmen had to chip away at the deck ice with sledgehammers, lest its accumulated weight bring down the vessel.
Giovanni glanced back at Quill from the captain's chair.
"Captain Derrik, your relief has arrived."
Derrik continued to peer at the computer display. He was a middle-aged, rather moody, merchant seaman. Although he was tall, he seemed unnaturally bony and thin. The tip of his nose was cherry red. His eyes were constantly shifting.
"Good." Derrik stood up, teetering from the ship's exaggerated motion. "I'm tired of staring at this screen. Can't even see the numbers anymore. I'll be down in my cabin."
Quill stepped back, allowing Derrik to slip by her and make his way down the stairwell. She watched as his hands trembled wildly on the railing.
"Don't let Moz or anybody else wake me up before dinner." Derrik hid his shaky hands in his jean pockets. "Got it?"
"Yeah."
He disappeared down the stairwell.
Quill plopped into his seat and stared at the computer.
The Polar Wanderer's computer was a simple contraption. Before the Flood, it would already have been considered a relic. It was just an adding machine. Quill or Derrik would input the prevailing winds, the ship's speed, and the direction of the current. The computer would factor all of those variables together and plot out the ship's supposed position on Ea.
Quill sniffed at the display. According to the computer, the Polar Wanderer hadn't moved since the previous day. The prevailing winds were holding it at a standstill.
"Derrik's chipper today." Quill tried to fudge some of his numbers. "I always have bad luck with first mates – what is that?"
Giovanni didn't answer. Most of his attention was fixed on the helm. He had to carefully guide the ship so it would hit the biggest waves head on. If a large swell struck the ship broadside, it would capsize.
"He's not our first mate anymore. He's our captain."
Quill grimaced. She glanced through the windows, out at the water, fixating on the little chunks of ice that rode up on each wave.
"Have you seen the way Derrik's hands are always shaking by the end of his shift? His runny nose? The shifty eyes?"
"I believe those are the side effects of a certain stimulant - kolocyx crystals - a rather popular form of medication back on Syracuse. They're quite useful for keeping yourself awake during these long, lonely nights in the bridge."
"Yeah? Well, he's an addict. I ought to know. I used to be an addict too."
"Well, let's hope his supply of medication doesn't run out before we reach the hidden land. Withdrawal can be quite serious, and we can't afford to have another sick crewman."
"Yeah." Quill flicked off the computer. "How much further do you think it is? We have to be getting close to the hidden land. I don't believe Derrik's numbers. His hands were shaking so bad; I don't think he could work the keyboard."
"Data entry isn't his strong suit. He has no patience. But by dead reckoning, I'd say the hidden land is one hundred and fifty miles away or less. Two days sailing, maximum."
"That's good." Quill shifted in her seat. The gray, partially frozen sea swirled in front of them. "This has been some hellish sailing."
"Speaking of sick crewmen, how's Petal? Has there been any improvement in her condition?"
Ever since the Polar Wanderer set sail, Giovanni had shown an intense fascination with Petal. For the first week of the voyage, he followed her around everywhere she went while constantly asking her questions about her diet, her intelligence, her strength, and her private, bodily functions. He jotted down each of her disinterested responses into a thick, spiral-bound notebook. Seemingly unsatisfied with this self-reported data, Giovanni then cajoled her into submitting to a complete physical in the ship's infirmary. Quill was a little unnerved by that request. She only let him examine Petal on the condition that she be present for the exam.
Giovanni was giddy when she and Petal finally agreed. He spent two hours poking and probing every inch of Petal's body - snipping off hair samples and sticking her with needles – all while his eyes glowed with the morbid fascination of someone dissecting an exotic sea creature.
"I don't think Petal's gotten any better. She was sleeping when I left her in our cabin. I've never seen someone run a fever for this long. It's really starting to scare me."
"Her homeostatic temperature was 102 before she fell ill. I don't know what we could do to help her get well. Just make sure to keep her hydrated, comfortable, and well-rested."
"What do we do if Petal doesn't get better? If she stays this sick she won't be able to come ashore. . . and she's the whole reason we came here."
"She's the reason you came here. I'm sure we could complete this expedition with or without her aid. King Hanno planned this expedition before he captured me, which was long before he met her. If anything ends our voyage it will be a failure of resolve on the part of our new captain."
Quill bit her thumbnail. "What do you mean?"
"Derrik. . .he has become. . . erratic."
"From doing crystal?"
"Partly to blame, yes. . . but I believe King Hanno only told Kodzick our expedition's true purpose. Derrik doesn't know why the King sent us here. Hence, he has little enthusiasm for our mission."
"Why don't you tell him why we're here then?"
"To be honest, I don't know what King Hanno's plans were either. He's a very secretive tyrant. I agreed to this expedition out of scientific curiosity, and because I might not have otherwise been able to leave my island prison. Whatever King Hanno believes to be in the hidden land is just as much of a mystery to me as it is to Derrik. Despite devoting much of my career to studying Terra Australis Incognita, I've learned almost nothing about it. All I could tell you about the interior of the hidden land are the rumors and wild tales sea people pass along to their children."
"Derrik might not know why we were sent here, but I'm sure he wouldn't disobey King Hanno," Quill concluded. "He'll take us to the hidden land. He's got no choice. King Hanno will execute him if he doesn't."
"Only if he goes back to Syracuse. Derrik is running this expedition on autopilot. Combine that lack of direction with his impatience and his drug abuse, and you get quite an unsettling combination for a captain."
Quill looked away, trying to forget what Giovanni said. Her eyes returned to the gray ocean. Its dreary ice-capped waves seemed to stretch out to infinity.
- 56 -
Quill walked down the steps and out into a narrow hallway on the Polar Wanderer. Her eleven-hour shift in the bridge had just come to an end and now she was exhausted and hungry. She braced herself against the wall to keep from falling from the ship's motion. She then walked up to her cabin door and gingerly pulled it open.
The cabin was illuminated by a golden beside lamp. As she looked inside, eyes still accustomed to the dark, she saw Petal sitting up in bed.
Petal's face didn't look as pale as before. Her forehead had lost most of its reddish tint.
"You're awake." Quill closed the door and fluttered over to Petal's bedside. "Are you feeling better?"
"I don't feel as dizzy as before, but I still feel really hot and weak."
"Do you want something to eat? Or some water?"
"No." Petal shifted in bed, peeling away the top covers. Her clothes were soaked in sweat. She shivered. "Atalai came by earlier and ate lunch with me. I'm not hungry. He seems really sad though."
Quill sat down on the foot of the bed.
"I think he's just homesick. He told me he's never been away from his horde for more than a few days. Now he's all the way out here and surrounded by strangers."
"He's here with us. We're not strangers."
"Yeah, well don't worry about Atalai. He's just a little lonely. He'll get over it. Did the two of you find anything to talk about?"
"Atalai told me about Amanahora."
"Really?" Quill brushed a strand of hair out of her face and tried to anchor it behind her ear. "What about it?"
"He said sea people go to Amanahora when they die."
"Huh. I thought Amanahora was an underwater city or something."
"It is," Petal croaked. "After you die, and your body is buried at sea, you float in the water until nereids come to take you. They pull you under the surface, and drag your body down to the bottom of the sea – down to Amanahora."
"That's a weird image," Quill rolled her sore shoulders. "What happens after that?"
"The nereids carry you through the gates of Amanahora. Once you pass through, your body separates from your soul. Then you're taken to the heart of the city where three Khoi judges, the Iudexes, weigh your soul. If you've lived a good life, the nereids carry it back to the surface where it can float up to heaven. If you've been evil, they drop your soul into a deep ocean trench – a black abyss – where you'll be cold and alone forever."
"Interesting. I haven't heard a lot of sea people myths but I know there are a ton of them. Sea people don't like to talk to Hesperians about their religion. Maybe it's superstition or something. Before I came out to the sea, I'd never heard about Amanahora, but it's kind of similar to what I was told about death as a child."
Petal sneezed. "What do you think will happen to me when I die?"
Quill grabbed Petal's hand and clutched it tightly.
"You aren't going to die, Petal. You're going to get better soon. Don't think like that."
"Everyone dies. . .eventually. What do you think happens?"
"I don't know. No one knows."
"Yeah, but you have to believe in something."
"Actually I don't. I don't think anything happens to you after you die. You're just dead. Gone. You can't experience anything. It's nothingness."
Petal stared at Quill blankly. She said nothing.
Quill didn't like the way Petal was looking at her. She wondered if that was too insensitive of an answer. Most sea people were very religious.
"When I was little, my mother used to tell me that when you died, your soul went to Tian-Shri-Ha."
"What's that?"
"A mountaintop paradise. An old Hesperian myth. It goes back to before the Flood. The tribesmen who lived in what's now Roc thought that when you died, your soul went up into the mountain peaks, to a lush plateau surrounded by clouds. Up there was a perfect, heavenly kingdom. A utopia. A lot of Hesperians still believe that Tian-Shri-Ha exists somewhere in the Kingdom of Roc, high up, on one of its tallest mountains. That's what the word 'Roc' in 'Kingdom of Roc' means. It translates to 'The Kingdom of Heaven."'
"But you don't believe in that?" Petal seemed to sink deeper into her bed.
