The Ocean of the Dead: Ship Kings 4 Page 24

  The shape behind the curtains moved reluctantly. ‘So we come to it,’ sighed the voice. ‘Yes, I will not deny it. There was recognition and an element of similarity between myself and the creature.’

  ‘A physical similarity?’ asked Fidel in surprise, for unlike Dow and Nell and the others, he had not been there to see it for himself.

  ‘Yes, Commander. And I have spent these last hours in profound consideration of what that may mean.’

  A storm of thought showed on Fidel’s brow. ‘But . . . but it can’t mean anything, surely. If there is a likeness it can only be by some accident of biology. A random resemblance. A coincidence . . .’

  ‘No coincidence, I think. Rather it may well be the solution to a mystery of humanity that has never before been adequately explained.’

  ‘Mystery of humanity?’

  ‘I speak of foretelling, of the ability that some have to see the future, in however limited a form, and to prophesise. Now, there are those who deny such abilities exist at all; who say that foretelling is only ever a thing of superstition and chance. But there would be few such sceptics left in this fleet, I think. No, prophecy may be an unreliable guide, poorly understood at best, but it exists. The question is, how? Where does the talent come from? And why do only certain humans possess it? And why is it possessed most of all by those who are born as I was born – so deformed, and so inhuman?

  ‘Here I think we may have the answer. These Sunken – they have foresight built into them by nature, a foresight that sees mere moments ahead in time maybe, but a foresight so strong that it serves them as surely as eyes or ears serve humanity. And though they are not human, they are uncannily close to humans – so close that I suspect, in some distant past when the oceans and lands were different, there must have been interchange between the two species, human and Sunken. A mixing of blood perhaps. Or perhaps there was an ancestor shared by both species, and yet different again.’

  Diego broke in, his tone one of distaste. ‘You suggest that humanity has either bred with these savages, or that we are cousins to them?’

  Uyal was unperturbed. ‘Humans themselves were once little more than naked beasts, Highness, so be not too proud. But in any case, I think you sorely underestimate the Sunken, to call them savage. Indeed, it may well be that we are surrounded now by quite a vast and complicated society; not as technologically advanced as us, maybe, but no less sophisticated.’

  Leopold was frowning. ‘Come now, Scapegoat. Some intelligence I’ll grant them, but an entire society? At best there can be but a few bands of such creatures, isolated and wretched in this wilderness.’

  ‘A few bands? Isolated?’ Scorn flowed from behind the curtains. ‘My dear Captain, you must think again. Fidel, you have a mind at least. Calculate for me. What do you estimate is the extent of this region of floating isles, reckoned from north to south?’

  Fidel blinked. ‘The inner Barrier we assume to be two thousand miles across. Of that, roughly five hundred miles on either side consists of Sterile Sea where nothing grows, so we are left with a thousand miles at the very core of the Doldrums, sitting athwart the equator, where weed and life exist. Within that zone, the region of the largest islands – if that be the Sunken’s territory – is somewhat less. Call it three hundred miles either side of the equator. Six hundred miles across in all.’

  ‘And tell us, how many miles is it around the waist of the world, sailing east to west or west to east?’

  ‘As most figure it, twenty-five thousand.’

  ‘So how large in area is a strip six hundred miles wide, and twenty-five thousand miles long?’

  Fidel’s brow creased. ‘Fifteen million square miles.’

  ‘And finally Commander, what would you say is the total land mass of the Four Isles?’

  The old scholar nodded. ‘Far less, of course. Only a million square miles for Great Island, and the other Isles are smaller each, maybe a million and half between the three. Two and a half million in all.’

  ‘There you have it, Leopold,’ said the child voice in satisfaction. ‘This isolated wilderness of which you speak is in fact a realm six times larger than the extent of all human lands so far settled. Rather than the few dozen Sunken that we have so far encountered, there could just as well be hundreds of thousands of them, or millions, or tens of millions. If that is so, then it may be that the earth in its entirety – which you seem so sure belongs to mankind – is in fact more rightly the possession of these very beings that you dismiss.’

  An impressed silence held in the cabin.

  ‘In any case,’ Uyal went on, ‘I’m certain that there is kinship between Sunken and human, however long ago it occurred in the mists of time. And I suspect that it is an ancient trace of Sunken blood, flowing even now in human veins, which provides the answer to the mystery of foresight. But whereas in the Sunken it is an instinctive ability, native to their species – in humans it is not native, it is alien and out of place, and so becomes a warped and confused talent; more far-reaching than the Sunken’s, but far less precise and reliable.

  ‘It is a theory which explains much. As I would argue it, most humans have almost no Sunken blood in them at all, and so are only rarely afflicted with foresight. Also, they are born healthy and properly shaped. But when the Sunken blood by chance runs strong in a child, it affects that child even in the womb, so that it is born misshapen – at least to human eyes – an echo of the other side of its ancestry. And likewise that child is gifted or cursed with a hybrid form of Sunken precognition. Thus it is that the likes of me, the most Sunken of all humans, are also the most powerful of prophets.’

  Fidel was nodding contemplatively; the theory, outlandish though it was, obviously appealed to him as a scientist. But Dow looked at Nell and saw that she was staring unseeing, new doubts and fears written on her face.

  And suddenly he understood: for her, this was no mere theory. Earlier, she had said, The creature saw something familiar in Uyal, something it recognised – more than it recognised in the rest of us. But the rest of us was not quite right. For Dow remembered the way the creature had stared one at a time at the others on the high deck, and ignored them all – except for Nell. When it came to her, the creature had held its depthless gaze for a long moment, and then . . . then it had bowed.

  Chilled, Dow turned to Uyal. ‘Yet there are people who are born with no innate deformity at all, who nevertheless come to be foresighted.’

  Nell looked up, dark eyes wide. And in reply, the voice behind the curtain grew tender, speaking as if she, and not Dow, had asked the question. ‘Yes, I have given thought to you, Ignella of the Cave; for yours is no ordinary example. Truly you were born whole and perfect, with no obvious trace of the Sunken in you. The deformities you bear now are not a matter of ancestry, they were earned through an accident. Nor as a child or young woman were you visited with any genuine foresight. So how is it that you have come to develop the ability so strongly later in life?

  ‘It seems a mystery – but think now. Were you indeed a normal child, or was there something that set you apart? This longing within you to go to sea at any price, for instance. If it had been merely a youthful wish that you outgrew, that would have been one thing, but you were prepared to sacrifice all for it, to the point of deliberately maiming yourself in the Ribbon Cave!’

  Diego and Fidel and the others started at this last remark, never having heard the truth about Nell’s scars. But she gave no response, only stared at the wheeled chair with an expectant and fascinated dread.

  ‘I wonder,’ the child voice continued, ‘if all along there was the power of prophecy in you, and the blood of the Sunken, but that it was deeply repressed; forced down by your strict upbringing in the high ranks of the Ship Kings nobility, perhaps, or merely by your own fears. But like all repressed abilities, it found its way out – in your case, in the form of a drive that you must at all costs go to sea; a form of foretelling in itself, for it was only by going to sea that you have fulfilled the g
reat fate set aside for you.

  ‘As for your accidental maiming – was it really an accident? Or did your inner self seek it out as a token of the truth, that you were not after all a perfect human child, but something different, something more than human? Did you go to the Cave knowing, deep down, that you would not merely inflict a few scratches, as you ostensibly planned, but that you would mark your entire body as something forever other, as clearly as I am marked?

  ‘And behold, as your fate intertwined with Dow’s, and as it became apparent that you and he would reshape the world, ever your denied talent strove to burst forth – in seizures and nightmares that obsessed you, and yet which you could not understand. Until at last the Miasma worked its poison on your mind, and dissolved the barriers that held back your prophetic gift.

  ‘After all – was it not said, by my predecessor Axay, that you would in time become a true scapegoat? I think Axay spoke not with prophecy in that moment. I think Axay spoke with recognition, seeing in you, as you could not yourself, a cousin of the same bloodline.’

  Abruptly, Diego thumped a fist on the table. ‘Desist with this! I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate about the Ribbon Cave – but it was an accident, and nothing but an accident. And as if it isn’t offensive enough that you suggest mankind and these sea creatures are kin from afar – now you accuse Nell of all but being one of them by blood! I won’t hear any more of it, Uyal. You theorise too recklessly, and I say wrongly!’

  A coldness seemed to exude from behind the canopy. ‘Believe what you will, Highness. But none of this is an insult to Ignella, as you seem to think, nor does it make her any less suitable as a prince’s consort—’

  ‘Shut up!’ Diego roared.

  A delicate quiet held everyone for a time.

  Then Diego spoke again, his voice tight and low. ‘None of this speculation matters – all that matters is what do we do about these monsters from below, and how do we escape these waters? Suggestions?’

  He was staring about at his officers, but most only gazed at the table, not meeting his eyes. Leopold answered at last. ‘If all that has been discussed here is correct, we have little recourse. Should the Sunken choose to attack again, what defence can be conceived against a foe who can read our every move even before we make it? Our only hope is that they don’t attack again.’

  ‘To that end,’ offered Fidel, ‘I asked it once before, and repeat it now – can we not communicate with them, even after all this bloodshed? Uyal, you seem to have read much from your interchange with the particular Sunken who assaulted you; is there no hope that we could convey our intent to them, that we mean them no harm, and seek only to pass through these waters?’

  The shape within the gauze shook its head. ‘What I read of the creature’s thought revealed only implacable hatred for our ships and our intrusion; I doubt that there can be any accommodation made. The other clear emotion I detected was surprise – surprise at me. Of normal humans, it seemed to possess prior knowledge, in some form at least. But me it did not expect.’

  Diego nodded. ‘As I said, it was afraid of you.’

  ‘No. Only confused by me, for its precognitive powers recognised my own abilities of foresight, and that made it wonder greatly. Indeed, I think it grasped some of the same implications of my existence as those I’ve just outlined to you. But why it then called the retreat to its fellows, that I don’t know.’

  A hard smile set on Diego’s face. ‘Explain it how you will, but whether it was fear or wonder hardly matters. The result was the same: the sight of you made it and the other creatures flee. Which gives me the answer as to how we are to avoid further attacks. If the creatures are warded off by beholding you unveiled, then we shall unveil you to them again tonight, and every night following, until we are free of these accursed waters.’

  The curtains recoiled slightly. ‘Unveiled, Your Highness? By that, you cannot mean what you seem to mean.’

  ‘Oh, but I do.’ A strange pleasure appeared to suffuse the prince. ‘We will build a platform high on the foredeck, and there tonight we shall affix your wheeled chair, lit by many lamps, a position high and clearly visible from the sea all about – and then we shall remove the canopy, so that your form and face, which so impresses these Sunken, will be boldly displayed.’

  Expressions around the table were turning horrified. To wantonly expose the scapegoat upon a height!

  But Diego was already raising a calming hand. ‘Uyal will come to no harm; indeed, all precautions will be taken for our scapegoat’s safety. Nevertheless, Uyal will remain visible through the night, so that these creatures will know even from the depths that our vessel is guarded. I understand it will not be a pleasant duty. But so it must be. Is that not the role of a scapegoat in any case? To suffer sometimes for the ship’s sake?’

  No one answered this, but consternation still showed on many faces – and Dow could well understand why. To those who had seen Uyal unmasked, the image of that frail and tortured figure thrust high and helpless upon a platform, naked to the night and the eye, was too awful to contemplate. It was wrong. And yet Dow could not deny that also it might work . . . and oddly, no protest came from behind the black curtains now, only silence.

  It was Nell who spoke finally. ‘I will ask it, if Uyal will not – is this the payment, Prince Diego, with which you reward your scapegoat for the loyalty and guidance given you since this voyage began? If so, and if you seek your own safety at such a price, then you display by choice to all here that you are not fit to rule, neither upon this ship, nor later in the New World. So beware!’

  Now the silence was a charged one, but Diego merely shrugged. ‘When we are free of this evil territory, and with Uyal unharmed all the while, perhaps calmer reason will prevail. But for now, my orders stand. Captain Leopold, see to the building of the platform immediately. The rest of you, it is time you returned to your duties.’

  But before anyone could move, Boiler Swan raised a hand. ‘Your Highness – even if Uyal protects the New World as you hope, what of the Chloe? There will be no figure set upon our bow to frighten away the Sunken. So how are we to avoid further attacks?’

  Diego’s regret seemed genuine. ‘Alas, I have only one Uyal in my possession. All I can offer is that if you keep your ship close to mine by night, then we can always hope that both vessels will be protected.’

  But Dow could read the truer thought: Diego was prepared now to abandon the Chloe. After all, the Great Prophecy stated that only one ship was to win through to the south. Yes, last night Diego had shared his supply of mines so that the Chloe might defend itself – but he could hardly have done otherwise without making his intent plain. Now he had a readier excuse.

  Jake Tooth spoke drily. ‘If you are so concerned for us, at least give us Dow and Nell back; a vessel should have both its captain and scapegoat on board. You Ship Kings believe that more than anyone.’

  ‘Sadly,’ replied Diego, ‘that won’t be possible either.’ He gave a significant nod to the marines standing guard by the doors. ‘But as you are so anxious about tonight, you and your fellow officers may now return to your ship to prepare for it. My men will escort you.’

  Jake sized up the marines for a moment, a glint in his eye as if he thought it might almost be worth it; that maybe he and Dow and Nell and Boiler and Fidel could fight their way out of here and back to the Chloe, and the deeps take the consequences . . .

  But Uyal spoke at last. ‘Peace, Commander Tooth. Return to your ship without objection. All will be well.’

  Jake eyed the wheeled chair dubiously. ‘You see this?’

  A small, bitter laugh came. ‘Many things I have not seen – my own humiliation, to be exposed by my own prince in this way, for one. But of this I am sure: for you to fight now would achieve nothing. Save the violence in you for when circumstances require it. That time will not be long in coming.’

  At those final grim words, Dow’s eyes went to Nell again – and again, she was faraway, her gaze haunte
d and hunted. For nothing had changed. The crux that Uyal spoke of, the fate that Nell so feared, was approaching still, all the closer now. And if there had been terror for her in the prospect of being left behind, alone in the Doldrums, then how much worse was the prospect of sharing that exile with such companions as the Sunken?

  To whom, if Uyal was right, she was somehow akin.

  *

  Late that afternoon, after a dead sleep of some hours in Nell’s cabin, Dow went topside again to watch the building of the scaffold on the foredeck.

  The workers laboured slowly in the heat, and with a sombre quiet, their unease at the purpose of their construction plain. They might have been building a gallows. Nevertheless, Dow noted, these same men had witnessed the attack of the night before, and experienced the same helplessness against the Sunken as everyone else – and if this platform, and the act of exposing Uyal on top of it, was going to save them another night like the last, then they were willing enough to get it done.

  By a half hour before sunset the scaffold stood complete, rising over the bowsprit about fifteen feet high, with a flight of stairs climbing up. Looking at it, Dow found himself reflecting yet again on the mysterious nature of prophecy, and the fact that Uyal, greatest of all foretellers, had not seen this insult coming.

  But that only led Dow’s thoughts back to the extraordinary claims Uyal had made in the meeting, and the ramifications of those claims. For if it was true, if Sunken blood ran in the human race, the source of prophetic ability, then it meant that Sunken blood ran in Nell – his Nell – and that she too, like Uyal, was inhuman in part. Did that change the way Dow thought of her?

  He did not think so. He had always sensed a difference in her, perhaps; an air that made her unlike anyone else he had ever known. But he also felt a greater affinity with her than with any other person. And yet, no blood of prophecy ran in his veins, so he could never experience the things she was now experiencing. And what of Nell herself? Did knowing that she was different, and the shock of learning all this, change how she felt about him, who shared none of her powers, and could never understand them?