China Mieville - The Scar

“I was just in a bar in the the Landside Quarter. There was…” His hands jigged in and out of tight shapes as he illustrated what he was saying. “You just step out of the boat through a big doorway, in a big room, with dancers-woman dancers.” He grinned, puerile. “And next to the bar, the floor’s fucking gone… and there’s a ramp, going down for miles into the sea. All lit up underneath. And cray coming and going, up and down that walkway, into the bar or home again, in and out of the water.”

Shekel kept grinning and shaking his head.

“One of our geezers gets so drunk he sets off himself.” He laughed. “We had to haul him out of it, sopping. I don’t know, Tanner… I never saw anything like it. They’re scrabbling around right now, right underneath us. Right now . It’s like a dream. The way it sits on the sea, and there’s more below than above. It’s like it’s reflected in the water… but they can walk on into the reflection. I want to see it, Tanner,” he said urgently. “There’s suits and helmets and whatnot on the ship… I’d go down in a minute, you know. I’d see it the way they do…”

Tanner was trying to think of something to say, but he was still tired. He shook his head and tried to remember any of Crawfoot’s Chronicles that told of life in the sea. Before he could speak, though, Shekel swayed to his feet.

“I better go, Tanner,” he said. “Captain’s put signs up everywhere. Assemble in the morning, important instructions, blah de blah. I’d best get shut-eye.”

By the time Tanner remembered the story of Crawfoot and the Conch Assassins, Shekel had disappeared.

When Bellis rose the next day, the Terpsichoria was in the middle of the open ocean.

It was growing less cold as they traveled east, and the passengers who congregated for the captain’s announcement no longer wore their heaviest coats. The crew stood in the shadow of the mizzenmast, the officers by the stairway to the bridge.

The newcomer, Silas Fennec, stood alone. He saw Bellis watching him and smiled at her.

“Have you met him?” said Johannes Tearfly, behind her. He was rubbing his chin and watching Fennec with interest. “You were with the captain below, weren’t you? When Mr. Fennec appeared?”

Bellis shrugged and looked away. “We didn’t speak,” she said.

“Do you have any idea why we’ve diverted?” Johannes asked. Bellis frowned to show that she did not understand. He looked at her with exasperation. “The sun,” he said slowly. “It’s on our left. We’re heading south. We’re going the wrong way.”

When the captain appeared above them on the stairs, the murmurs on deck silenced. He hefted a copper funnel to his lips.

“Thank you for assembling so quickly.” His raised voice echoed tinnily above them in the wind. “I have unsettling news.” He put down the mouthpiece for a moment and seemed to consider what to say. When he spoke again he sounded pugnacious. “Let me say that I will brook no argument or dissent. This is not for discussion. I am responding to unforeseen circumstances, and I will not be questioned. We will not be heading to Nova Esperium. We are returning to Iron Bay.”

There was a burst of shock and outrage from the passengers, and mutters of bewilderment from the crew. He can’t do this! thought Bellis. She felt a surge of panic-but no surprise. She realized that she had been expecting this, since Cumbershum’s hint. She realized, too, that somewhere inside her there was a joy at the thought of return. She battened that feeling down hard. It won’t be a homecoming for me, she thought savagely. I have to get away. What am I going to do?

“Enough!” the captain shouted. “As I said , I do not take this decision lightly.” He raised his voice over shouted protests. “Within the week we’ll be back in Iron Bay, where alternative arrangements will be made for paying passengers. You may have to sail with another ship. I’m aware that this will add a month to your voyage, and I can only offer apologies.”

Grim-faced and livid, he looked totally unapologetic. “Nova Esperium will have to survive a few more weeks without you. Passengers are confined to the poop deck until three o’clock. Crew remain for new orders.” He put down the speaking trumpet and descended toward the deck.

For a moment he was the only thing moving. Then the stillness broke and there was a surge as several passengers strode forward, against his orders, demanding that he change his mind. The captain’s barks of outrage could be heard as they reached him.

Bellis was staring at Silas Fennec. Piecing it together.

His face was immobile as he observed the agitation. He noticed Bellis watching him, held her eyes for a moment, then walked unhurriedly away.

Johannes Tearfly looked absolutely stricken. He gaped in an almost comical show of dismay.

“What’s he doing ?” he said. “What’s he talking about? I can’t wait another fortnight in the rain of Iron Bay! Godspit! And why are we heading south? He’s taking the long route past the Fins again… What is going on ?”

“He’s looking for something,” said Bellis, just loud enough for him to hear. She took his elbow and gently led him away from the crowd. “And I wouldn’t waste your breath on the captain. You won’t hear him admit it, but I don’t think he has the slightest choice.”

The captain strode from rail to rail on deck, snapping out a telescope and scouring the horizon. Officers shouted instructions to the men in the crow’s nests. Bellis watched the bewilderment and rumor-mongering of the passengers.

“The man’s a disgrace,” she overheard, “screaming at paying passengers like that.”

“I was standing outside the captain’s office, and I heard someone accuse him of wasting time-of disobeying orders,” Miss Cardomium reported, bewildered. “How can that be?”

It’s Fennec , thought Bellis. He’s angry because we’re not going directly back. Myzovic is… what? Looking for evidence of the Sorghum , on the way .

The sea beyond the Fins was darker, more powerful, and cold-unbroken by rocks. The sky was wan. They were beyond Basilisk Channel. This was the edge of the Swollen Ocean. Bellis stared at the endless green waves with distaste. She felt vertiginous. She imagined three, four, five thousand miles of brine yawning away eastward, and closed her eyes. The wind butted her insistently.

Bellis realized she was thinking again about the river, the slow stretch of water that connected New Crobuzon to the sea like an umbilicus.

When Fennec reappeared, walking quickly across the poop deck, Bellis intercepted him. “Mr. Fennec,” she said.

His face opened as he saw her. “Bellis Coldwine,” he said. “I hope you’re not too put out by the detour.”

She indicated for him to follow her out of earshot of the few passengers and crew around them. She stopped in the shadow of the ship’s enormous chimney.

“I’m afraid I am, Mr. Fennec,” she said. “My plans are quite specific. This is a serious problem for me. I have no idea when I’ll be able to find another ship that wants my services.” Silas Fennec inclined his head in vague sympathy. He was clearly distracted.

Bellis spoke again. “I wonder if you’d shed light on the forced change of plans that has our captain so angry.” She hesitated. “Will you tell me what is happening, please?”

Fennec raised his eyebrows. “I can’t, Miss Coldwine,” he said, his voice mild.

“Mr. Fennec,” she muttered coldly, “you’ve seen the reaction of our passengers; you know how unpopular this diversion is. Don’t you think I-all of us, but I most of all-deserve some explanation? Can’t you think what would happen if I were to tell the others what I suspect-that this whole mess was instigated because of the mysterious newcomer-” Bellis spoke quickly, trying to provoke or shame him into telling her the truth, but her voice stopped short when she saw his reaction. His face changed suddenly and utterly.