for one. The name alone freezes my spine. You’ll meet Hoyle all too soon, I’m sure.”
Hap couldn’t take his mind off the notion of a finite amount of air trapped inside with them. He felt as if there were a belt squeezing his ribs and an invisible hand clapped across his mouth and nose.
Think about something else, he ordered himself. And he turned to another matter that preoccupied his mind. With his legs soft as jelly, he walked to where Umber stood, gazing at a chart on the wall. “Lord Umber,” he said.
“Hmmm?” Umber replied, lost for a moment in his own thoughts.
“I would really like to know what that note said. Even if it was just for your eyes.”
Umber turned to look at Hap. His face was a blank. “I don’t think I ought to do that, Happenstance.”
Hap’s nerves were already on edge, and somehow that made his temper quick to rise. His fingers curled and squeezed. “But—did it say who I am? Did it say where I came from?”
Umber stiffened. “No. It doesn’t say those things. I can tell you that much.”
“But what did it say? Why won’t you tell me?”
A harder, darker expression appeared on Umber’s face. He shut his eyes for a moment. “In time, maybe. But no, not yet. You wouldn’t understand.”
Hap’s voice rose, drawing the stares of the others. “But I don’t know anything ! Not who I am, or where I came from, or what I’m supposed to do!”
Umber put a hand on Hap’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Hap. I won’t tell you.”
Hap shrugged off the hand and stepped back. “It was in my pocket! It was about me !”
Umber shook his head. “It wasn’t just about you, Hap. It was about me, too.”
Hap stared at Umber, unsure what to say next. The floor shifted under his feet and he heard a thumping sound. The apple that had rolled to one end of the cabin was tumbling back the other way.
“Ah. We’re surfacing,” Umber said, relieved by the interruption.
The tilt of the barge increased, prow up, and then came the sound of water churning into air. With a groan of metal, the hatch was tugged open. Nima’s head, dripping wet, appeared before a backdrop of stars. “Let the boy come on deck and see.”
“Go on, Hap,” Umber said.
With his jaw clenched, Hap climbed the stairs and joined Nima at the stern rail. “I don’t see that ship anymore,” he muttered.
Nima’s chest heaved as she gulped down deep drafts of air. Hap had observed this the last time she came out of the water. It seemed as if she was getting used to breathing air again. “Good,” she said, panting. “Tell the others it is time to sleep now. Boroon will rest soon as well.”
When Hap went back into the lower deck, he found the others settling down for the night. There were quarters in the rear, with a private berth for Umber, a small berth that Sophie took, and a larger room with cots and hammocks for more passengers. Hap chose a cot in the farthest corner of the big room. Balfour and a thunderously snoring Oates were asleep before a minute passed.
Umber’s head angled into the threshold. “Tired, Hap?”
Hap answered without looking. “Not really.”
Umber arched his back and yawned. “No? Well, it might be the excitement of the day. As for me, I could doze for a week. But I’ll see you bright and early. We’ll reach Kurahaven by noon, I believe. Try to sleep, all right?”
“I will,” Hap mumbled. He watched Umber close the door. Then he put his head on the cot and shut his eyes. It was no use; he wasn’t the least bit tired, nor could he imagine what the sensation felt like. He tried lying on his back like Oates, and curling up his side like Balfour, but no position brought sleep any closer. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he stood quietly, careful not to waken the others, and opened the door to the central cabin.
The only light in the room was from a candle on the desk where Umber sat with his back to Hap. Umber’s shoulders rose and fell slowly, and his head was
Hap couldn’t take his mind off the notion of a finite amount of air trapped inside with them. He felt as if there were a belt squeezing his ribs and an invisible hand clapped across his mouth and nose.
Think about something else, he ordered himself. And he turned to another matter that preoccupied his mind. With his legs soft as jelly, he walked to where Umber stood, gazing at a chart on the wall. “Lord Umber,” he said.
“Hmmm?” Umber replied, lost for a moment in his own thoughts.
“I would really like to know what that note said. Even if it was just for your eyes.”
Umber turned to look at Hap. His face was a blank. “I don’t think I ought to do that, Happenstance.”
Hap’s nerves were already on edge, and somehow that made his temper quick to rise. His fingers curled and squeezed. “But—did it say who I am? Did it say where I came from?”
Umber stiffened. “No. It doesn’t say those things. I can tell you that much.”
“But what did it say? Why won’t you tell me?”
A harder, darker expression appeared on Umber’s face. He shut his eyes for a moment. “In time, maybe. But no, not yet. You wouldn’t understand.”
Hap’s voice rose, drawing the stares of the others. “But I don’t know anything ! Not who I am, or where I came from, or what I’m supposed to do!”
Umber put a hand on Hap’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Hap. I won’t tell you.”
Hap shrugged off the hand and stepped back. “It was in my pocket! It was about me !”
Umber shook his head. “It wasn’t just about you, Hap. It was about me, too.”
Hap stared at Umber, unsure what to say next. The floor shifted under his feet and he heard a thumping sound. The apple that had rolled to one end of the cabin was tumbling back the other way.
“Ah. We’re surfacing,” Umber said, relieved by the interruption.
The tilt of the barge increased, prow up, and then came the sound of water churning into air. With a groan of metal, the hatch was tugged open. Nima’s head, dripping wet, appeared before a backdrop of stars. “Let the boy come on deck and see.”
“Go on, Hap,” Umber said.
With his jaw clenched, Hap climbed the stairs and joined Nima at the stern rail. “I don’t see that ship anymore,” he muttered.
Nima’s chest heaved as she gulped down deep drafts of air. Hap had observed this the last time she came out of the water. It seemed as if she was getting used to breathing air again. “Good,” she said, panting. “Tell the others it is time to sleep now. Boroon will rest soon as well.”
When Hap went back into the lower deck, he found the others settling down for the night. There were quarters in the rear, with a private berth for Umber, a small berth that Sophie took, and a larger room with cots and hammocks for more passengers. Hap chose a cot in the farthest corner of the big room. Balfour and a thunderously snoring Oates were asleep before a minute passed.
Umber’s head angled into the threshold. “Tired, Hap?”
Hap answered without looking. “Not really.”
Umber arched his back and yawned. “No? Well, it might be the excitement of the day. As for me, I could doze for a week. But I’ll see you bright and early. We’ll reach Kurahaven by noon, I believe. Try to sleep, all right?”
“I will,” Hap mumbled. He watched Umber close the door. Then he put his head on the cot and shut his eyes. It was no use; he wasn’t the least bit tired, nor could he imagine what the sensation felt like. He tried lying on his back like Oates, and curling up his side like Balfour, but no position brought sleep any closer. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he stood quietly, careful not to waken the others, and opened the door to the central cabin.
The only light in the room was from a candle on the desk where Umber sat with his back to Hap. Umber’s shoulders rose and fell slowly, and his head was
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