James Roy - The Gimlet Eye

‘Don’t drop it,’ Danda muttered.

‘Let the girl work,’ Verris said quietly. ‘She knows what she’s doing.’

Even in the growing daylight, their faces were brightly illuminated as Tab placed the tiny gem into the red claw. With a sound that was felt in the gut rather than heard, the gnarled fingers closed around it.

Tab allowed herself to breathe again. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Verris, how far are we from the surface now?’ she asked as she pored over the pages of symbols and incantations once more.

Verris looked over the edge. ‘You’ve got two minutes, I’d say, maybe three.’

‘That should be about right,’ she said. ‘And it’s still just ocean?’

‘Just ocean.’

‘All right, I need silence,’ Tab instructed, throwing a telling glance at Danda. Then, passing her hands over the bright gem, she began to read from the book.

She didn’t need words – the symbols were a language all of their own – but they were a language that could never have been written in any other script. They started as something quieter than speech, more like a low guttural growl, and drifted between the growl and wordless, breathy sighs, like the cries of a baby who has lost its voice. Tab had no awareness of how long the incantations went on, but when she reached the end, she sat back on her haunches and tried to catch her breath. It was as if someone was squeezing her chest.

‘Check now,’ she said to Verris, who went to the railing of the pod and peered down again.

‘What am I looking for?’ he asked.

‘Um… it translates to “bowls”, whatever that means.’

‘Bowls?’

Danda had joined him at the rail. ‘Bowls! Yes! There, see?’

Verris was squinting. Then: ‘Yes! I see it too! Tab, come and see!’

Tab got to her feet and went to the rail. They were quite close to the surface now, perhaps only three hundred feet or less. And in the odd light the waves of the violet ocean seemed sluggish, as if the liquid was thicker than regular water.

But of greater interest was the indentation just off to one side. It looked like a pothole in the surface of the sea, and was as wide across as the People’s Square back in Quentaris. Beyond it was another of these potholes, a little smaller, and when Tab looked harder she saw more. In fact, the closer they came to the surface, the more there were, until they could see that there were hundreds of these depressions, some large, some small, but scattered around the surface of the ocean like pockmarks.

‘It seems like we’re moving towards that one,’ Verris said, pointing at the first crater they’d seen.

‘I hope you said your spell properly,’ Danda said in a voice that Tab felt quite sure she wasn’t meant to hear.

Verris’ face was stern as he turned to face Danda. ‘It seems to me that your opinion of Tab here has been influenced by her size. But you should know that I’ve fought alongside this young woman, and I can tell you that she is immensely brave, a very fine person, and an extraordinary magician. Furthermore, once the time comes for you to start interpreting, she isn’t going to be standing next to you saying, “Are you sure you said that word properly?” I trust I’m being clear.’

‘Very well,’ said Danda, tilting her nose slightly upward. ‘I can see that my opinion isn’t welcome.’

‘Your opinion is welcome, but in this instance, unnecessary.’

Tab felt a tiny smile growing, deep in her chest. She hadn’t realised just how much she’d missed Verris and his forthright, passionate manner.

They were approaching the depression in the ocean’s surface rather more quickly now, almost as if some invisible force was drawing them in, faster and faster. And it was only then that Tab thought to feel afraid. Up until that moment she’d been busy, making sure that her spell was uttered correctly, worrying about whether or not she’d get it done before they landed, trying not to let Danda annoy her, and being concerned about Torby. But now, with the distance between them and the silent, slow-moving waves closing, she finally allowed herself to think about what they might find. Or if in fact they might find nothing, because there was absolutely no sign of life to be seen at all. Except for the depressions pocking the ocean, it was as desolate and endless as anything she could ever imagine.

‘Ten feet,’ Verris said. ‘I think we should probably find something to hang onto.’

While Verris and Danda dropped to the deck and clung to the railing supports, Tab slid across the boards to Torby and threw herself over him. ‘It’ll be all right,’ she whispered. ‘I promise.’

But even as she said it, she knew that she was making a promise that she might never be able to keep.

It was over so quickly. One minute Tab was holding Torby tightly, her eyes squeezed shut, and the next… silence. Complete silence.

She opened her eyes and looked around. The light had changed. Above the surface of the ocean it had been morning, just on dawn, but down here the pearly light was somehow brighter. Its luminescent blueness reminded her of opening her eyes underwater on a bright summer day, back when there was time for swimming. Back when there was summer and fun, rather than the constant vortexes in the sky and strange lands below.

Overhead, the sky was low and glassy, and moved slowly in waves.

On the other side of the pod, Verris and Danda had sat up and were looking around as well.

Verris spoke first. His voice sounded muffled and distant. ‘Everyone all right?’ he asked.

‘Fine,’ Danda replied, her voice also dull and muted.

‘Tab?’

‘I’m fine,’ Tab answered. Her own voice filled her head, as if she had her fingers pressed into her ears. She checked on Torby. There had been no change. His eyes were open, he was breathing, but other than that, he was like the shell of a person.

She stood up, and felt herself being held back by a surrounding pressure. Then, as she turned, she found her feet coming off the deck slighty. Instinctively, she waved her arms up and down, and her feet lifted even higher. It was like she was flying. Flying slowly through thick, heavy air. But then she sank back down onto the deck.

‘Um… this is just a thought,’ she said, ‘but are we… underwater?’

Verris looked up at the low, silver-blue sky, rippling above. Then he too began to flap his arms, and was soon drifting around above the deck. ‘You know, I believe we are,’ he said at last, a half-smile on his face. ‘This is indeed strange magic. Underwater, but talking and breathing.’

‘And not floating away, either.’

‘I don’t like it,’ said Danda.

Ignoring her, Verris went to the railing and looked over the side, and Tab half-walked, half swam over to join him. Below the pod was nothing but deep blue-green, blending into the most impossible blackness.

‘Oh my,’ Tab breathed. ‘That’s deep.’

‘Indeed it is.’

‘So, Verris, you’re the expedition leader,’ she said. ‘What happens now?’

‘You’re the appointed navigator – you tell me.’

‘Um…’

‘The book, Tab.’

‘Oh, of course.’ She went back to the little copper-bound chest, with the icefire fragment beside it on its mat, still glowing coolly in its red fist. She opened the book, and the pages swayed slightly in the water.

‘Anything?’ Verris asked.

‘Yes, there’s something here,’ Tab said. ‘Should I do it now?’

‘You’re the navigator.’

Again, Tab began to ‘say’ the incantation, with its guttural yet high-pitched wordlessness. Almost imperceptibly the pod began to move again, sinking lower in the water, like a body drifting towards the ocean floor. The pressure was beginning to build, and yet at no time did Tab think to worry. Her confidence was returning, and she took comfort in the symbols and diagrams before her.