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. Th
e 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.”
“Another ship?” Emilie squinted, but the darkness beyond the ship's lights was impenetrable. No, wait. There was something out there, more glowing spots of lamplight, marking a large shape riding low on the water, perhaps a couple of hundred yards away. “I see it. Is there light in the water below it, or is that a reflection?”
Kenar said, “No, it's a smaller boat.” A single flicker of light had broken off from the larger shape, and was coming toward them. “They're sending a launch to us.” He started along the deck and Emilie hurried after him.
They met Lord Engal and Oswin above the launch platform. There were several crewmen with rifles scattered around the deck and two wounded men were being helped inside. The silver people had obviously tried to board this side of the ship as well. “Do you know who they were?” Lord Engal asked Kenar.
Kenar shook his head, watching tensely as the Sovereign's launch puttered up to the platform. The engine cut and it slowed, and the crewman waiting below tossed a line to the man in the bow.
“What happened, sailor?” Lord Engal called down. “Where did they come from?”
The sailor started up the ladder from the launch platform, saying, “I'm not sure, My Lord. They were in the reeds, waiting for us. Then that larger ship drove them off. It tried to hail us but we couldn't understand them.” He stepped onto the deck and hesitated, suddenly sounding self-conscious. “My Lord, after the attack, I thought it was best to return to the ship. I hope-”
“No, no, Feran, you've done right,” Engal said, moving forward, looking toward the approaching light. “They seem to have helped us by driving off the attack, but we've got to be very careful here. Any advice, Kenar?”
“Don't shine the big lamp on them,” Kenar said immediately. “If the night is their natural time, the light might hurt their eyes. They might think it an attack.”
“Good point.” Engal waved at Oswin, who bolted for the nearest stairwell, heading for the wheelhouse to pass along the order.
They waited, the air thick with tension. Miss Marlende arrived, a little breathless and with blood stains on her sleeves. “Three wounded,” she reported to Lord Engal. “They're all right for the moment, but it would be better if Dr. Barshion could take a look at them. A healing spell to prevent infection might make all the difference.”
“I'll make certain he does,” Lord Engal said, his eyes on the approaching boat.
It was drawing steadily closer and Emilie could make out the shape of it a little better now. A lamp hung on the prow, a few bare inches above the black glassy surface of the water. The boat itself was very broad, made of some kind of light wood, and looked more like a raft with a raised edge. But it moved swiftly and easily for a raft, and the people paddling it so skillfully were balanced on the very edges, one leg in the water.
Closer; and she could tell they weren't human people, either. One of the sailors said, “My Lord, they're the same as the ones who attacked-”
“I know,” Lord Engal said. “Steady.”
The lamps reflected off iridescent skin, which rippled and changed with every movement and shift of the light. “Look, they have fins,” Miss Marlende whispered, sounding fascinated. “I didn't notice that before.” She was right; they had long feathery fins along their arms and legs, with a similar crest on their hairless heads. “Kenar, have you ever seen anything like them before?”
He moved along the rail toward them, keeping his voice low. “I've seen water dwellers that looked something like this, but they can't live in the air for more than a few moments. These seem to be made for both.”
One of the merpeople lifted a hand, and called out in a language
Emilie couldn't understand. The voice was light and soft; it was impossible to tell if it was male or female.
Lord Engal lifted his hand in response. Oswin had returned, and he said, “We've got men posted around the ship, to make sure this isn't a diversion.”
Emilie looked around; more crewmen armed with rifles had come out onto the deck. Lord Engal said, “Good. But if anyone fires on this raft without a direct order from me, I'll fling him off this boat. Understood?”
There were muted responses of “Yes, My Lord” from around him.
Dr. Barshion stepped out of the hatchway, moving up beside Lord Engal. “My God,” he said softly. “Do we know what they are?” Lord Engal shook his head.
With expert paddling, the raft came smoothly to a halt a few yards from the Sovereign. There were square openings in the bottom of the raft, presumably so the occupants could slip in and out of the water. A boat for people who are as at home in the water as out of it, Emilie thought, fascinated.
“Half in, half out of the water,” Miss Marlende said to herself. She caught Emilie's arm. “You could be right about that abandoned city. If people like this built it - merpeople...”
One of the merpeople waved a hand, speaking again. This close, in the yellow reflected light from the ship's lamps, Emilie was fairly sure it was a woman. Kenar shook his head, tapping his ear to show he didn't understand. He spoke to her in a language that was all breathy growls and clicks; Emilie thought it must be the Cirathi language. But the merpeople didn't appear to understand that, either. Two of them shifted around, taking a box out of a net bag that hung down in the water.
One of the crewmen shifted uneasily, and Lord Engal said, “Steady, men. They seem peaceable and they want to talk, and for all we know they're about to produce a Cirathi phrasebook.”
Emilie still had her reservations about Lord Engal, but she had to admit she thought he was handling this well. She leaned on the railing, finding herself barely five feet away from the merpeople as their boat drifted closer. The one nearest was staring curiously at her, and Emilie stared back. She felt certain this one was female too, just from the shape of the slim body. The hands curled around the light wooden paddle were webbed, and the nails were small and neat, not claws. Emilie distinctly remembered the plant-people from the Sargasso as having claws. The merwoman was wearing silvery bangles around one wrist, and little silver beads were woven into the feathery crest on her head. Emilie realized suddenly that the merwoman, indeed all the merpeople on the boat, were naked except for skimpy wraps of metallic cloth around their waists; she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She hadn't noticed before because their iridescent skin seemed almost like clothing, or a protective outer covering. They don't have breasts, she thought, still curious despite the awkwardness of looking at naked people. Maybe that means they lay eggs.