Emilie & the Hollow World (8 page)

After some discussion, they decided to tow the Cirathi ship behind them. Rigging this up took some time, but the sailing ship was light compared to the
Sovereign
's bulk, and it didn't seem to slow their pace. Emilie thought it seemed optimistic, too, implying that they were going to find the missing crews. They also topped off the
Sovereign
's water supply from the freshwater spring on the island, refilled the casks aboard the Cirathi ship, and replenished the food stores with some fruit and wild melons that Kenar said were good to eat.

The
Sovereign
turned east, following the tiny traces of aether. They had to go slowly, to give Captain Belden and Lord Engal time to adjust the navigator.

Steaming down a wide channel between scattered islands, they had come some distance by the time the Dark Wanderer started to move over the sun. These islands were different from the others, flat and low, with wide beaches, green reeds growing thickly out into the water, and shorter brushier trees. Up on the second deck, Miss Marlende lowered her spyglass and said to Kenar and Emilie, “Does this channel look man-made to you?”

Emilie nodded. From up here, she could see how the shape of the islands lining the channel seemed oddly regular. They might have been naturally sculpted by the water to look that way, but still, it was strange. “It does. It looks like a big canal, like someone chopped out whatever was in the middle and left the edges.” The light wind moved the reeds, and the air smelled of sun and sand and a little like the jasmine toilet water her aunt had been sent as a gift from relatives in Coress. Except this wasn't cloying, it was clean and fresh.

“I agree.” Kenar leaned on the rail. “Which implies that this channel leads somewhere.” He seemed outwardly relaxed, but Emilie looked at his hands, so tight on the railing it was stretching the scaly skin over his knuckles.

“We'll find them,” Emilie told him impulsively, though she was well aware that she was in no position to make promises. “All of them.”

“I know. I won't give up hope until we-” Kenar broke it off, shook his head, and smiled down at her, though the smile was a little wry. “When you get back to your own world, will you really be content to sit meekly in a school after all this?”

Miss Marlende, engrossed with her spyglass again, snorted. “Whatever she does, I doubt she'll do it meekly.”

“I don't know,” Emilie said, looking out over the sun-drenched islands. Though inwardly she was a little pleased by Miss Marlende's comment, she wasn't sure how she felt about all this yet. As if all her life she had thought her world was one thing: closed-in and solid with carefully defined boundaries; so much so that running away to a relative with a respectable girls’ school in Silk Harbor was almost unimaginably daring. Now the boundaries had fallen away, leave a broad vista that was stranger than anything she had read in a gothic novel.

Going back behind the walls would be very hard.

As the eclipse's line of darkness swept across the sea and the sandbars and islands, more crewmen were posted outside on the decks and the ship's lamps were lit. Emilie wanted to see how things were going in the wheelhouse without being labeled a snoop, so she managed to be on the spot when Mrs. Verian needed to send a tray of tea mugs and buns up to the men working there. Emilie hurried to volunteer herself.

She carried it up to the wheelhouse, where a young crewman directed her to set the tray on the chart table. As the other crewmen stationed there helped themselves, she lingered to watch Captain Belden and Lord Engal making minute adjustments to the navigator, and hastily scribbling notes on pads of paper. Sometimes they told the crewman manning the wheel to adjust their course slightly.

It surprised her to see that Lord Engal was so adept at this. She knew he wasn't one of those very rich men who did nothing with his time but hunt and buy horses. Emilie had read about lords who were members of the Philosophers' Society and spent all their time and money hiring philosophers and sorcerers to discover things and form theories and write books, and she knew Lord Engal must be one of them. But she hadn't expected him to be someone who could do some of the work himself.

Captain Belden yawned, quickly covering his mouth with his sleeve. “Excuse me, My Lord.”

“You're excused,” Lord Engal said absently. “Do you think we should travel through the night, again? We survived our previous experience, but I'd hate to run out of luck.”

Belden glanced out of the big window, thinking it over. The line of darkness was nearly upon them, coming at an angle toward the long narrow island on their port side. “I'd rather not run up on whatever it was that took the airship, without some sort of warning. But I'm not sure we can afford to lose a full eight hours.”

Lord Engal turned the navigator's wheel and made another note. “I'm not either. Finding Dr. Marlende has become less an act of charity and more of a necessity, since we need him to repair our aetheric engine.” Captain Belden snorted, startled and amused. Lord Engal cocked an eyebrow at Emilie and added, “You didn't hear me say that, young lady.”

“No, sir. My Lord.” Emilie was startled, both because she hadn't thought he had noticed she was here, and because she hadn't thought anyone else was worried by the lack of progress in repairing the engine. That was probably silly; they must have all noticed it, all been worried by it, even if they weren't speaking of it. They aren't speaking of it where you can hear, she amended. She would bet the crew had some choice words about it. She blurted, “Mr. Abendle thinks Miss Marlende should look at the numbers. Not the numbers, the figures. Something like that, to do with trying to fix the motile.”

Lord Engal, caught making a minute adjustment to the ring, didn't look up, but she could tell he was listening. Captain Belden stared at her, frowning slowly. “What's this?”

Emilie took a deep breath. It was a little late to reconsider now. “I overheard Mr. Abendle ask Dr. Barshion to show something, some calculations, to Miss Marlende, to get her opinion, but Dr. Barshion didn't want to. He didn't think it would help.”

Lord Engal finished the adjustment and cocked his head at her. “When was this?”

“A bit after breakfast, yesterday.”

Captain Belden seemed concerned. “Perhaps you should have a look at these calculations, My Lord.”

Lord Engal looked thoughtful, tapping his pencil on the pad of paper. “Perhaps I shall.”

Captain Belden nodded to Emilie, a clear dismissal, and she walked out of the wheelhouse, taking the stairs back down. She wasn't sure if he was going to listen to her or not. If he does, she realized a little bitterly, it would be a first for me. She just wasn't used to having things she said be taken seriously, especially by men.

But an hour or so later, when the complete darkness of the eclipse surrounded them and the ship had to slow to half-speed a message went around through the ship's speaking tube, calling everyone to the passenger lounge. Emilie wasn't called, but she went anyway.

Miss Marlende, Kenar, and Oswin came to the lounge, and even Dr. Barshion and Abendle appeared. Both men looked even more exhausted. Dr. Barshion was in his shirtsleeves, his hair mussed, his face lined with lack of sleep.

Lord Engal walked in and said without preamble, “We have a problem. We've lost the trail of aetheric traces.”

Kenar looked away, his shoulders slumping. Miss Marlende sank down on the couch, disappointed. “We were too late?” she asked. “The traces have faded?”

Engal shook his head. “No, it's that we're too close to the Aerinterre aether-current. It's so powerful it overshadows any other aetheric traces in the air, and the navigator points only toward it.”

“What now?” Kenar asked. Emilie stared at him, struck by a sudden realization: if they didn't find Kenar's crew, he had nowhere to go. Not only had he lost his friends, but he couldn't sail the big Cirathi ship by himself. He would have no way to get back home.

Engal said, “We'll keep our present course. We know the airship at least went in this direction. We can only hope we can see some evidence of it, some sign to point us toward it.” He scratched his beard absently, and added, “And in the meantime, Miss Marlende, I'd like you to give your assistance to Dr. Barshion and Mr. Abendle. Perhaps your familiarity with your father's work can aid them.”

Abendle brightened, and Dr. Barshion looked startled. “Oh yes,” he said, as if he hadn't heard of the idea before. “Her assistance would be welcome.”

Emilie tried to sleep, but managed only a brief nap in Miss Marlende's cabin. She was tired, but whenever she lay down, all she could think about was Kenar, and Dr. Marlende, and all the other lost people. And the fact that if Barshion didn't fix the aetheric engine, the
Sovereign
might join them. This place is lovely and strange and exciting, she thought, but I'm not keen to live here forever.

She got up, washed and dressed, and went up on the second deck above the bow, where Kenar was keeping watch. The night was cool, but not uncomfortably so, and the ship's spotlight swept back and forth over the dark water, catching glimpses of the high stands of reeds and the white sand beaches of the nearest island. She saw Kenar standing at the railing with another dark shape. It wasn't until it spoke that she realized it was Oswin. He was saying, “Yes, we've spoken about it, though no one's mentioned it to Lord Engal.”

As Emilie approached, Oswin said, “I'd better get back to my duties,” and walked back up the deck, giving her a nod as he passed.

She leaned on the railing next to Kenar. He was watching the lights of the launch a hundred yards or so ahead of them. It was taking soundings to make sure the
Sovereign
didn't run aground. She said, “What was that about?” She thought Oswin had left the conversation because he didn't want to frighten her.

Kenar had a better opinion of her nerves. He said, “They're worried about the coal and oil store. This ship carries enough for long ocean voyages, but they were also planning on staying in the aether current for a longer period of time. I pointed out that if they wanted to remain longer, we could find a safe spot to anchor this ship, leave men to guard it, and continue the search with the
Lathi
.” He added wryly, “I'd have to teach most of them to sail first, of course.”

“That makes sense.” Emilie propped her chin on her folded arms. “It would give us more time to search.” She thought about asking Kenar what he would do if Lord Engal decided to call off the search and leave. But then we can't leave until they fix the aetheric engine, Emilie thought, so right now we're all in the same boat. Literally. So there was no point in asking painful questions yet.

“What's this?” Kenar said suddenly.

Emilie looked up. She could see the launch's running lights on the bow and stern. It had stopped and turned sideways. That was odd. “Is it coming back?” she said. “Maybe it's too shallow up ahead.” If it was too shallow for the
Sovereign
and the
Lathi
, it had surely been too shallow for the vessel which had carried away the airship. I hope we haven't taken a wrong turn already, she thought.

“Perhaps, but...” Suddenly gunshots rang out over the water. “It's under attack!” Kenar pushed away from the rail and ran back toward the stairs to the lower deck.

Emilie leaned forward over the rail, as if that would help her see better. The ship's spotlight swung around, illuminating the water just past the launch, and she gasped. There were suddenly other boats in the water, low flat rafts, as if they had popped up out of nowhere. She caught glimpses of slim figures, tossing ropes at the launch as if trying to catch it and pull it in. And they were throwing things, which reflected silver in the light - Emilie jerked back as a short javelin bounced off the railing just below her. “Uh oh,” she gasped, and bolted for the hatch.

She ducked inside and took the first set of stairs down. Coming out on the main deck cross-corridor, she dodged a sailor with a rifle running for the outer starboard hatch. She fell in behind him.

As they neared the hatch Emilie heard yells and a series of thunks. They're boarding us, she thought in alarm. The sailor burst out of the hatch ahead of her, then staggered back, dropping his rifle. He turned toward her, his eyes wide with shock; a narrow metal bolt was sticking out of his shoulder.

Emilie lunged forward and grabbed his other arm, supporting him. He sagged against her, and she stumbled, took a breath to shout for help. Then over his shoulder she saw three silvery forms climbing over the railing.

They looked like people, but their skin was iridescent, glinting in the ship's lamps. And they were carrying short spears.
Oh no.
Panic gave Emilie strength and she pulled the wounded man back through the hatch, half dragging him over the rim.

She couldn't run with him, and there was no one else in the corridor. She shoved him against the nearest wall, and turned back to the hatch. The three men, creatures, whatever they were had seen the open doorway and started toward her. Emilie grabbed the handle and swung it closed, just as they reached it. She slammed the bolt home, feeling a violent tug from the other side that told her she was just in time.

Emilie caught a glimpse of a smooth, silvery face peering through the porthole, and stumbled back. She shook her head, looking down at the wounded sailor. He was slumped against the wall, his face ashy with shock, blood staining his uniform around the bolt. She leaned over him, but he gasped, “The other hatch, check the-”

“Oh hell!” Emilie shoved to her feet and ran down the outer corridor. There was another hatch barely thirty feet down the length of the ship, she could see it standing open, the light from the nearest sconce falling through it out onto the deck. The intruders would surely notice it.

Almost to the door, a silvery form stepped through, spear first. Emilie slid to an abrupt halt.
Oh, oh, no
. It stared at her and she stared at it. Its face was smooth and oddly textured, but more human than the Sargasso creatures, with dark eyes, a small nose, and a thin-lipped mouth. She looked around wildly, but the corridor was horribly bare of potential weapons. There wasn't even a vase to throw.

Then gunshots sounded from the deck, close enough to make Emilie's ears ring, and the intruder jerked back out of the hatch.

Emilie gasped, realizing she had been holding her breath. She went to the hatch, reaching it in time to see Kenar, Miss Marlende, and several sailors running up the deck. The sailors were armed with rifles and Miss Marlende had her pistol.

Kenar flung up a hand, shouting for them to stop. As they halted, Emilie looked down the deck to see there were now perhaps ten of the silvery intruders ranged down near the other hatch. They had the spears, and long tubes that might be projectile weapons. Emilie thought of closing and locking the hatch, but if Kenar and Miss Marlende and the others had to take cover, it was the closest way to reach safety.

Kenar called something to them in a language Emilie didn't understand; whatever it was, it sounded angry. They didn't answer. Miss Marlende said, “Tell them we'll fire unless they get off the ship.”

“I don't think they can understand me,” Kenar told her. “Try firing over their heads-”

He was interrupted by a strange, loud sound, like someone trying to blow a badly damaged horn, coming from somewhere out in the water. Abruptly, the intruders bolted for the railing, leapt it, and landed with huge splashes below.

“What?” Emilie said aloud. She didn't see any reason for the sudden retreat. Kenar, Miss Marlende, and the sailors cautiously approached the railing, but it didn't appear to be a trick.

Emilie shut the hatch and went back down the corridor, worried about the wounded sailor, but Mrs. Verian and another crewman had already found him. They had stretched him out on the corridor floor, and Mrs. Verian was pressing a towel around the base of the bolt still sticking out of his shoulder. Blood soaked the towel and stained her hands, and the man's eyes were tightly shut, his face taut with pain. Emilie steadied herself on the wall, suddenly light-headed, with an odd heavy darkness trying to creep in around the edges of her vision. She looked away hastily, taking deep breaths. That's right, people faint at blood, she thought. She had never fainted at blood before, but then she had never seen anyone lose what looked like a bucket of it at one time. She couldn't faint; Mrs. Verian certainly didn't have time to deal with her, and the crewmen would think she was a weak ninny. “Will he be all right?” she asked thickly.

“I don't think it hit anything vital, lucky man,” Mrs. Verian said, distracted. “Can you find Miss Marlende?”

Relieved to have a reason to escape, Emilie took a quick look out the porthole to make sure the deck was still clear, then opened the hatch. The others were at the railing, looking out into the dark as the spotlight swept the water. The cool air cleared her head, and she called out, “Miss Marlende? There's a wounded man!”

“Is there? Thank you, Emilie.” Miss Marlende hurried past her through the hatch.

Emilie went to the railing to stand beside Kenar. The slight breeze smelled of gunpowder. She saw the faint flickers of light as the small skiffs fled. “They all left?” she asked hopefully.

“Something drove them off, and it wasn't us,” Kenar said, staring into the darkness. “There's another ship out there, a big one.”