Heights of the Depths (8 page)

the vastly waters

I.

Jepp had never seen the
 Vastly Waters. Not really. Not in anything save her dreams. Naturally she had wondered how it was possible that she could see something in her dreams that she had never experienced in real life and have that dream imagery be anything remotely accurate. In fact, she had assumed that whatever the Vastly Waters did look like, it was somehow very much removed from her dream image of it.

As it turned out, she was right.

The Vastly Waters were far greater, far more amazing, than anything she could possibly have dreamt or even conceived.

First of all, the water seemed to go on and on forever. She knew that most of the Damned World was water, but the knowledge of that didn’t begin to approximate the astonishment of seeing it for herself. She had seen great plains, true, stained with Mandraque blood. But even plains had features to them, mountains and shrubs and holes. The Vastly Waters, on the other hand, were featureless. The surface wasn’t smooth. There were steady waves that caused the ship to bob constantly. For the first two days, Jepp had had a difficult time adapting to the unusual sensation. She had staggered around the deck of the ship, gripped the rail, vomited violently and repeatedly, and kept falling over. Any food that she had attempted to eat and keep down wound up being evicted back into the waters. By the third day, though, Jepp was managing to keep down simple broth, and by the fifth day she was walking around the deck with confidence, matching the swaying of the vessel with a rolling gait that enabled her to keep her feet. She was rather proud of herself, having developed that particular skill set.

The second thing that was amazing to her were all the physical sensations. The salt air stung her nostrils and yet also invigorated her. And the wind, gods, the wind was amazing. She loved standing at the front of the ship and just let the wind blow her long black hair around while droplets of water sprayed in her face and that wonderful smell would just pervade her senses.

Jepp became aware of the presence at her shoulder and turned to look.

The Traveler was standing there. It was her Traveler. She wasn’t quite sure how she knew he was hers, but she did.

There were three of them on the ship. Two of them seemed involved primarily in the running of the vessel. One was operating a wheel that appeared to control the direction in which the ship was going. The other tended to sails and occasionally engaged in activities that appeared related to navigation. They never spoke to each other, or at least if they did, they did not do so when Jepp was around.

The third Traveler had the sole responsibility of attending to Jepp.

He had not spoken to her. For that matter, knowing that he was, in fact, a “he” was more conjecture on her part than anything else. He had simply stayed right nearby her the entire time they had been on the ship. Perhaps he had feared that, given the slightest opportunity, she would throw herself into the Vastly Waters rather than endure one more minute in their presence. It actually had been an option that she had considered. Even the Mandraques, in whose company she had spent much of her life—even the inestimable Mandraque known simply as the Greatness—had spoken of the Travelers in uneasy whispers and talked about how certain death waited for anyone who looked upon them for too long, or at all. So Jepp, a mere human woman, would be a very likely candidate for suicide rather than endure the sustained presence of even one Traveler, much less three. And she was on a sailing vessel where, aside from the sparsely decorated quarters below where she slept, there was nowhere to hide from them.

Jepp had, in fact, been utterly terrified when the Travelers had first descended upon the Bottom Feeders and snatched her from their grasp. On one level their timing could not have been better. Her presence among the Bottom Feeders had reached a flashpoint. The clan’s leader, Zerena Foux, was insisting that she be forced to leave immediately while Zerena’s son, Karsen, was squaring off against his mother and demanding that Jepp be allowed to stay. As if Zerena’s prayers had been answered, the Travelers had suddenly come riding up on their draquons and whisked her away. She had screamed and kept screaming until her throat was sore. She also came to the conclusion that the screaming wasn’t doing her any good and she was starting to feel a bit foolish making all that noise for no return on her expended energies. Obviously the Travelers had no intention of harming her; otherwise they simply would have done so and gotten it over with. And so she had quieted down and decided to wait and see what happened next.

During the entire journey to the boat, not a single Traveler had spoken to her. When they had stopped, it had been briefly and apparently for her convenience rather than theirs. They seemed to have no need for sustenance or sleep. They had provided her with some sort of food that she had never seen, wafers that one would have thought would not be remotely filling and yet miraculously when she ate one she wasn’t hungry for many hours after. There was a stockpile on the boat that they were now on.

She had peppered the Travelers with questions. Why did they want her, where were they going, what was the purpose of all this? On and on, and none of them afforded her an answer to any of them.

On occasion they would speak to each other, but they did so in a language she could not begin to comprehend. It didn’t even sound like a language; it sounded more like winds whispering through trees. It was low and subtle and not meant to be understood by mere humans, or perhaps even mere mortals.

Once they had her on the boat and were heading off toward wherever their destination was, Jepp tried to keep track of how many days passed but lost track. All she knew was that they were heading west.

At one point she thought she spotted a Markene floating not far off. He paced the ship for a brief time, keeping up with ease, and then he submerged and she didn’t see him again. She felt that was a shame. She would have liked to talk with him. She would have liked to talk to anyone.

“Is it all right with you,” she said wistfully to the Traveler standing near her, “if I talk about Karsen some more?” She hadn’t been looking at him, but now she did turn to regard him thoughtfully. “I mean, I know I’ve talked to you about him a lot in the past days. I tend to go on and on and on and on and all you have to do to stop me is tell me that I should be quiet. That’s it. That’s all. Just speak up.”

The Traveler said nothing. She couldn’t even tell if he was looking at her because the hood enveloped the Traveler’s head and face, casting a shadow so encompassing that it almost seemed as if the darkness was alive and aiding him in keeping his features hidden.

“Okay. That didn’t work. I admit it. I was hoping it would, but…”
She shrugged.

A long silence followed, broken only by the lapping of the waves and the rippling of the sails as the stiff wind propelled the ship across the Vastly Waters.

“Do you have any idea,” she said at last, “how afraid everyone is of you? I mean everyone? No one knows why you do what you do. Everyone believes that you would just as soon destroy anyone who even thinks about getting in your way. And everyone is even more afraid of the Overseer. So since you work for the Overseer, that’s double the fear. That’s a lot of fear. More fear than I think anyone should have to live with.”

Still nothing.

“And everyone believes that there is nothing you fear anywhere in the whole Damned World. That must be nice, not to be afraid of anything. I can’t imagine that.” She looked down at her feet. “I’m a human woman. There were times in my life that I felt like I was afraid of everything. I was trained as a Pleasurer, you know. I can bring pleasure to just about every one of the twelve races. But then I bonded with Karsen, and that changed everything. And then—”

Suddenly she lunged toward the Traveler, her face twisted in fury, her fingers outstretched like claws.

The Traveler flinched back, even bringing up his arm to ward her off.

Jepp stopped a foot short of him and slowly lowered her hands. “So you are afraid of something,” she said. “You’re afraid of me. Why is that? What is it about me that you fear?”

The Traveler continued to make no reply. She didn’t know what to make of him. For some reason she suddenly felt a chill. Jepp was wearing far more than she had been when she had been with the Bottom Feeders. During that time she had not been dressed in much more than scraps of cloth, which was typical attire for one such as she whose main reason for existence was to provide pleasure for partners. On the ship, though, she had discovered more clothing, none of which fit her especially well but was more concealing and also warmer. At this point she was wearing a simple white shift that hung to below her knees and a cloak around her her shoulders. Her feet remained bare; she found that she preferred them that way. Now she drew the cloak more tightly around herself.

She squared her shoulders, her spine stiffening. “I am tired,” she said, as much to herself as to the Traveler. “I am tired of being afraid of the world, and uncertain of my place within it. During my time with Karsen, his mother did nothing but berate me, and the rest of the Clan never fully accepted me. They were, at best, indifferent toward me. But for you, they had very strong feelings. All do. All fear the Travelers. And you could have killed me, yet here I am, and you retreat from me. I am important to you. And not in any way related to providing pleasure. You have, in many ways, elevated me. Lifted me up above every other race, every other individual on the Damned World. Some say the Firedraques do not fear you, and perhaps that is true. But everyone else does, and not living in fear of you when so many others do…my gods, it’s more than elevating. It’s liberating.

“These Vastly Waters…they suggest things to me that I never imagined before. Vistas to be explored. Endless possibilities. I have never pondered endless possibilities before because mine were so limited. I looked to the skies but can never touch the stars. But I can touch the water below. I could leap into it, sink below it. That would be the end of me, true, but were I to die, I would die free. There are worse fates, are there not?”

As if to match deed to word, she abruptly put a foot up on the edge of the prow.

Instantly she heard those soft, eerie whispers between the Travelers, and the one closest to her started quickly toward her, noiseless as he moved. But he was not quick enough and suddenly Jepp was straddling the prow. It would have been a simple matter for her to throw herself over the side.

“It’s your own fault,” she said. “You backed up when I approached you. So you placed yourself too far away to stop me from doing this. Return me whence you took me. Return me to Karsen. Return me or I shall throw myself over the side and drown, for I cannot swim, and whatever greater purpose is connected to your desire for me, it will never be fulfilled. Do you fear that prospect too, I wonder? Shall we find out?”

For the first time, the Traveler spoke. It was soft, so much so that she could scarcely hear him, especially above the crackling of the sail and the splashing of the water against the ship.

“Don’t,” he said.

The simple word froze Jepp where she was. Her hair blew in her face and she brushed it away. “Why not?”

“You’d be quitting.”

“I’m not quitting. I want you to take me back.”

Although she could not see the movement of his head, the hood that covered his head slowly shook back and forth in the negative.

“So I have no reason,” she said, “not to do this. Not to kill myself.”

“One reason.”

“And that is?”

“Karsen,” said the Traveler, “is not down there.” He spoke with what sounded like weary patience, and perhaps even the slightest
 
touch of sympathy, which she most certainly would not have
 
expected.

The damning thing was that he was right. She knew that what she wanted more than anything was a reunion with Karsen. But Karsen did not wait for her below the waves; only death did. Death was the end of hope, and as long as she was alive, hope remained that she would be reunited with him.

“You’re not going to turn the ship around, are you.” It was not a question.

Again the Traveler slowly shook his unseen head within the hood.

“Aren’t you concerned over what will happen to you if I die and you fail in your mission.”

“No mission.”

This caught her off guard. She tilted her head, studying him, wishing that she could see some hint of expression so that she might get at least a glimmer of what was going through his mind. “No mission? You mean…the Overseer didn’t send you to get me?”

He shook his head.

“Then why? Why did you capture me?”

“Have to.”

“But why?”

“Cannot tell you.”

“Is it a secret?” When she saw him shake his head again, she persisted, “Then why?”

“Do not know.”

And with that, as if she no longer mattered, he turned and walked away from her. His long, encompassing cloak swept noiselessly around his feet. The unspoken message he was sending her was clear: It was up to her to do what she wanted. If she was resolved to pitch herself over the side and sink to a briny doom, then it was to be her choice and hers alone. He was not going to hover over her and force her to keep living.

Jepp felt slightly deflated over that, and even a bit embarrassed. She had spoken proudly, defiantly, made a threat that she was fully prepared to carry out. And now she was supposed to…what? Meekly withdraw herself from her precarious perch and go back to staring out at the water? How would the Travelers take her seriously if she backed off from her ultimatum?

On the other hand, if I go through with it, then they’ll take me seriously but I’ll be dead and so will hardly be in a position to appreciate it.

With a sigh, she eased herself back onto the deck and stood there, arms folded. The Traveler who had been walking away from her stopped, turned, and looked back at her.