These will be chapters of a novel I'm working on. The setting is a steampunk-ish non-earth world and focuses on the city Sar Chona and events leading up to a Solstice.
The first 4 chapters are 2-2.5k in length and I appreciate that may be longer than some folks are comfortable with reading.
If any one would be interested in collabing on art, drop me a line.
The ship, Meayvil, was hoisted out of the sand, and crew members were busy clearing out sand-weevils and barnacles. Matthias and Chanda were beneath the prow, Salaman and Gurron were back at the stern.
Normally it was a job the crew didn’t mind doing, but a khamsin was blowing in from the heart of the sand-sea and brought a fine golden dust which hung in the air like a dry suffocating fog.
Chanda stopped to wipe her brow with a damp cloth and then used a dry one to clear her goggles. Matthias tapped her shoulder.
“Chanda, someone’s coming,” Matthias said, his voice muffled by the filter worn to prevent dust chocking the airways.
Chanda turned and watched a tall stranger pick his way across the sand, avoiding pieces of timber, stepping round rope and winches.
The edge of mans thawb flapped in the wind, the garment clinging to his chest and legs as the wind pushed against it. It was un-dyed linen and the dusty sand had worked into the material giving it a variegated look which reminded Chanda of the brickwork in far away Sar-Chona, where they would be in a month or so. A nagging desire to be back home flickered at the edge of her thoughts as she watched the man continue towards them, his footsteps precise and, despite his obvious size, almost dainty in the way he walked.
The man saw he’d been observed, and waved, but carried on towards them at the same pace cautious, deliberate, pace.
When about a dozen yards away he called, “Is this the Meayvil?”
His accent wasn’t Uplander native, more like someone from Andemon or Chaffer.
‘Yes,’ Chanda said, pointing at the name on the prow, ‘You want something?’
‘I’m looking for Captain Shamy.’
“You got a name?”
“Lmarr.”
“And what do you want with Captain Shamy, Lmarr.”
“Are you the captain?” Even hidden behind thick green goggles his eyes bore a palpable intensity. Small filter plugs were clipped to his nose, and attached to the wrap round mouth gaurd.
“First Mate,” Chanda said.
“Well, maybe you could get the captain. It’s her business, not yours.’
“When I disturb her, and we haven’t finished cleaning, she’ll likely make it my business.”
Chanda turned and waved at the others to get on with things, before digging the hard rubber tip of the accretion removal tool right in to a crevice. A sand-weevil had nested, and removing the built up calcite was difficult.
“I’m looking for passage to Sar-Chona.”
The constant wind muffled his voice and it took a moment for Chanda to work out the destination.
“Come back in ten days. We’ll be leaving then, and she’ll know what our route will be.”
“I need to leave sooner than that. I must be in Sar-Chona by the Solstice.”
Chanda stopped scraping and turned back. She hadn’t been in Sar-Chona during solstice for over a decade. An already lively city exploded with street markets and entertainments and for over a week an attempt was made to forget days were short, nights long, and the weather cold. If they were already heading to San-Chona, why not try and get there early and enjoy the party? If the choice was hers they would, but the Captain had her own ways of doing things and turning down a real passenger for her pretend passenger ship was the most likely of outcomes.
Lmarr said, “Tell her I can pay for the journey.”
He held up the single, large, leather case he carried, bracing it against his chest as the breeze buffeted it.
“I’ll go speak to her,’ Chanda said. ‘You wait here.”
-=-=-=-=-
The price Lmarr offered must have been substantial. The next day Meayvil was back in the sand and moving out of harbour. The khamsin still blew so sails remained furled and the ship moved on engines only, thick columns of steam and smoke came out of twin smokestacks and were laid on their side by the constant wind, trailing behind and dissipating into the dusty sandy cloud which soon obscured the harbour.
Lmarr was bunked in a cabin that had needed frantic work to make ready for a passenger. Like all the bunks on ship it was normally used for storing goods, illicit or otherwise. The cost of docking a passenger ship was lower than that for a goods ship in every port around the sand-sea. The closest it got to parity were at Sar-Chona, and Yeginder. Maybe it was because those were cities people wanted to visit. Charging high passenger levies for somewhere like (namevill), the largest city east of Ghalac Erg, probably wouldn’t have discouraged the few who made the journey, but may have delayed when they could afford going.
Salaman and Gurron had retreated to the engine room, and Gurron would remain there for the majority of the journey. Matthias was in the galley continuing to store the provisions which had been purchased and brought aboard at a rush. When that was complete he’d start planning meals for the trip.
Captain Shamy and Chanda were on the bridge pouring over charts and weather forecasts.
“Are you happy that we’ll be that far out?” Chanda asked. ‘It’s the empty quarter for a reason.’
Captain Shamy screwed her nose sideways, she did this when she found something distasteful, or frustrating, “It’s worth the risk. We have water, food and enough fuel even if the wind blows against us the whole way.” She leaned over the map and traced a line which followed a shallow curve through the heart of the sea “We need to follow this route as much as possible.”
Travelling the desert oceans is an act of skill, a hunk of art and a lot of determination and luck. The Meayavil is a Lugger class vessel. It’s not designed for long haul trips, but Captain Shamy had her stripped out and fitted with extra water and fuel tanks, along with other artfully concealed compartments. Even then, the routes taken normally dipped into quiet areas of the sand where unpopulated islands were places that contraband could be picked up and left on schedules which only Captain Shamy knew and arranged with people whose identity she never revealed to the rest of the crew.
The weather machine pinged and both turned to look as the valves glowed and the spool of thin paper was dragged through the autotyper. When it finished Chanda took the couple of steps over to tear the strip, and peered at it.
‘There’s a storm brewing up towards the (place). The way it’s tracking, we don’t need to worry.’
They both looked out the window, staring across the expanse of sand as if they would be able to see a storm that was forming fifteen-hundred miles away.
‘So long as it stays up there,’ Captain Shamy said, ‘we’ll be fine.’
‘We’ve coped with storms before, we’d manage.’
‘We’ve managed because we’ve never been too far out and I’ve been able to drive us hard for safety. If we get caught in the middle of the (empty quarter) I’ll be nursing us, hoping nothing goes wrong with the engines, cursing our passenger and his haste to be in Sar-Chona, and me for accepting his price.’ She screwed her face up in annoyance, then shook her head and turned to Chanda. ‘I’m going to get some shut eye. Wake me if there’s anything, otherwise I’ll see you in six or seven hours.’
She headed for her cabin, which was directly behind the bridge, though entry was from a corridor entered at the other end of the ship. A feature suggesting the early Lugger class had been designed by someone with little experience on any ocean, sand or salt.
Chanda left the map out, placed the weather report in the sailing log, and settled herself into the Pilot’s Chair. She’d seen salt sea ships with their open decks and wondered how sailors coped, what about when storms blew, when the rain fell? Did they just stand there in the open? Or maybe things had changed in years since she last had a good look at one. She picked up the engine tube and rang the bell.
Salaman answered. ‘YES?’
The noise of the engines meant anyone down there shouted into the tube, they assumed because it difficult to hear what was being said to them, it was same the other way round.
‘Everything okay with the engines?’
‘They’re fine.’
‘Is Gurron happy with them?’
‘When is Gurron every happy with the engines? Seven years he’s been aboard. Never happy with the engines one day. But yes, they’re fine. They must be fine, I heard him muttering about abominations and the great maker earlier.’
Gurron’s religious beliefs were heavy on damning people, but he generally kept it to himself. If he was vocalising them he must be content with the engine room.
‘So long as he keeps it down there, and I don’t have to listen to it.’
‘Not really fair on me, is it?’
‘Rig an oil leak then.’
Salaman laughed, then asked, ‘Was there anything you wanted?’
‘Just to know the engines are running fine. We got out at a clip, and Gurron normally doesn’t like to rush.’
’They’re fine. And we’d let the Captain know damn quick otherwise. Go have a nice watch, and don’t make too many changes in speed.’ He hung up the tube at his end and the background noise of engines changed to one of blood hissing in Chanda’s ear, amplified by the tube she held to the side of her head.
Relaxing into the chair Chanda watched the wind whip the top off the low dunes, the worlds slowest moving waves. The sun was setting low on the horizon, hazy through all the dust in the atmosphere. The wind had changed direction, shifting to come more of the front left of the ship than head on. If it continued to change they’d be able to put the sails up for extra speed. Getting to Sar-Chona early wouldn’t earn any bonus from the passenger, she assumed, but it would allow for them to load up early and star heading for the next port sooner, and sooner meant making money quicker and quicker money meant-
“Is it permitted to be in here?”
“Sure, come in Lmarr. Have a seat. Watching sunset is second only to sunrise in my opinion.”
Lmarr stepped over to the chart table and peered at the map on it.
“I understand navigation. But I am in awe of your abilities to cross the featureless expanses. It is the same on the salt-sea,” he said.
“It’s like any other skill. When your life depends upon it you become adept quickly, or you die. I’m sure I would be amazed by whatever skill you are proficient in.”
He moved away from the chart table to stand and stare out of the window. Chanda watched him. A firm stance, balanced. Arms clasped behind his back, he looked like a feudal lord surveying his domain. With his formal pattern of speech, he sounded like one.
His height was accentuated in the cabin, there was little clearance between the top of his head and the ceiling. Though that distance would be increased if his chestnut colored hair wasn’t quite so bouffant. It shone in the dying light, and part of the aroma that followed him around was an obviously expensive pomade.
Chanda fingered her natural, tight, curls jealously, thinking it was a long time since her hair had been so cared for.
The weather machine pinged again and its valves glowed gently, the ticker machine began to unspool. Lmarr turned and watched it. Chanda eased out of the chair and took the new weather update. She went over to the chart and made a light pencil mark showing direction and strength. The storm had shifted course since the last update. For this to have come through so soon meant the storm was passing plenty of places it could be observed. The only worry was when it dived into the deep desert and no-one knew what direction it veered in.’
“Well, Lmarr. If the coming storm blows the right way, we may get you to Sar-Chona a day or two earlier.”
“What if it blows the wrong way?”
“Then we may not get to Sar-Chona at all.” Concern clouded the mans eyes and Chanda carried on, “Don’t worry, we’re well provisioned. A day or two delay is the more likely outcome.”
“I must be there before the Solstice. It is essential.”
Chanda wondered at his urgency, but was not crass enough to ask. She nodded, put the updated weather message in the log, and settled back into the Pilot’s chair, noting their direction and speed on dials set into the binnacle on her left.
The sun set. The soft glow of tube lighting cast shadows around the cabin, while ahead the way was lit by powerful lights mounted in an array atop the wheel-house. The shadows ahead jumped and danced as the light climbed the sides of dunes, and then flew off the edge.
“I think I must be going mad,” said Lmarr, “I’m sure I keep seeing animals.” He pointed at a dune of to the left. “There! Look!”
I laughed, “Yes, there are animals out in the sand. More than you can imagine. How big were they?.”
“Really, animals live out here, but we are already a day’s journey out. The creatures I saw were small,” he held up his hands to demonstrate the size, “maybe the size of a feral cat, or a silly dog.”
“A silly dog?”
“Yes, you know. People of wealth and little substance carry them in arm bags when they go out, like a little canine doll.”
His earnestness made Chanda laugh. She said, “I know what you mean now. If they were that size, you probably saw desert-weasels, some call them sand-otters. There must be a patch of upthrust nearby, they don’t live in the open desert, they need to have something firmer than sand to live in.”
Chanda altered course away from where the creatures had been seen. The maps didn’t show anything other than deep sand for many leagues in either direction. Crashing into a recently upthrust outcrop was a fear of everyone who sailed the deep desert. If these animals were there, firmer ground also had to be around.
“Do you know all the desert animals?”
Chanda had been concentrating on the course change, and noting it in the log. “Sorry, what? No, not all. Just the ones we have on bioscope reels. By the end of the trip you’ll know as much as the rest of us. We don’t have very many reels.”
“It is always good to learn new things. I will enjoy watching these. Though, for now, goodnight.”
Chanda nodded, and he left. The faint odour of his pomade lingered. Passengers, such as Lmarr, were unheard of. There were five crew operating the ship, only the captain knew what he paid for passage. The rest speculated on what their cut may be.
Chanda hoped it would be worth enough. Lmarr being a nice looking passenger paid nothing.