He shifted in his seat and casually rested his left hand on the pommel of his seireiken. The sea of dead faces filled the cabin of the Finch and he glanced around quickly to find and nod his head at a very small man leaning on a slender cane. He muttered, “Old man?”
“He can’t hear you, he’s dead,” the captain said, frowning. “And he’s not that old.”
Omar ignored her and focused on the old Hindu physician, a master of the Ayurveda school who had surrendered himself to Omar’s sword willingly on his deathbed. The elderly healer limped forward so that he appeared to stand in the narrow space right in front of Garai and he peered down at the dead man for a moment before saying, It may have been his heart, though he is rather young for that, some families simply have weak hearts. Any number of mushrooms or serpent venoms might produce the same appearance as well, though few kill very quickly or quietly unless given in a massive dose. It was probably just his time, as untimely as it was. A pity.
The ghost receded into the crowd of souls in the seireiken and Omar took his hand off the sword. He leaned back again with a frown. “How old was he?”
“Not very. Late thirties, maybe,” Riuza said.
“Well, since he’s eaten the same food as us, and he isn’t very cold… if I had to guess, I’d say his heart just gave out in his sleep. A pity,” Omar said.
“I suppose.” Riuza nodded. “All right then. Help me with him.” She took hold of Garai’s sleeve and waved Omar to stand up.
Omar stood. “Help you with him?”
“Yes,” the captain said with a touch of exasperation. “Help me. With him. Outside. Now.”
“You don’t mean to dump his body out there, do you?”
Riuza let go of the professor’s sleeve and straightened up. “I’m sorry, did you want to keep a corpse in here for the next twelve days? Because he isn’t going to last long in this heat, and I can’t exactly shut off the boiler if you ever want to see home again.”
“But he was your friend, dear lady, your colleague! And you’re just going to dump his body out in the wilderness, alone, unburied, and forgotten?”
“He wasn’t my friend. And yes, I am going to dump his body in the wilderness. I have a schedule to keep, a mission to carry out, and several living people to see safely home. There isn’t time for a burial detail. I suppose we could lash his body to the outside of the gondola where it will freeze and keep well enough until we return to Marrakesh. Would you like to try that?”
Omar sighed. “No.”
“Then help me with him. Now.”
Omar still wanted to argue, but he couldn’t see any way around the facts as she had stated them. “So then you mean to continue the expedition without a naturalist? We’re not going back for a replacement?”
“Well, we won’t be stopping to inspect the local wildlife, but yes, we’re still heading north. We don’t scrap a mission just because something goes wrong. As long as we can fly, we do fly. The professor here knew the risks when he signed on. And we can still map the islands we came to see, including yours. Now, if you please.” She gripped the professor’s sleeve again.
Omar frowned, but there was nothing left to say. He grabbed hold of Garai’s coat and helped the captain wrestle the little man out the hatch and onto the glacier. They laid him out on his back in a restful looking position, and then went back inside.
He made up a quick breakfast of boiled oats and fruit, which they ate quickly and in silence. As soon as everything was stowed and ship-shape, they trundled outside to free the Frost Finch ’s lines from the icy rocks and jagged spires frozen into the surface of the glacier. Omar gave one last look over the body of Garai Dumaka, already frosted with fresh snow and ice, and then he followed the others inside.
They lifted off the Bayonne Glacier less than an hour after dawn and climbed up into a clear blue sky to sail among islands of huge gray clouds. Below them, the world became a single sheet of ice, veined in blue and white and black.
Kosoko Abassi closed his eyes and looked sick, Morayo Osaze fiddled with her console, and Riuza Ngozi sat tall and stiff at the controls.
Omar grimaced at the sight of the toilet beside him and then he tried to go back to sleep.
Chapter 6. One horn
For two more days the Frost Finch cruised up the western coast of Europa following the ragged line where the glaciers met the sea. They passed over deep ravines and long fjords that reached inland like bony fingers. In those gaps in the earth, Kosoko and Riuza pointed out the tiny fishing villages that they had already discovered and visited. Blaye, Acres, Royan, Fouras, and Charron. The names did not sound very Rus to Omar’s ear, but the captain assured him that the people there did speak a sort of Rus mixed with Espani. Each village was home to fewer than a thousand people, each one clinging to a fragile thread of life between the angry sea and the towering glaciers where they fished the cold waters of the North Atlanteen for seals, crabs, eels, and whales.
On the fifth day of the expedition, after crossing the vast green plateau of the Mayenne Glacier where the late Garai Dumaka had believed a forest was thriving hundreds of feet below the ice, the Frost Finch emerged from a cloud bank above a black spit of land thrust out into the white sea like an accusing finger. At the tip of the finger Omar could see the pale gray shapes that he had come to recognize as Europan buildings hidden between the frozen snow on the ground and the frozen snow on their roofs. But this village was larger than the last few and he pointed it out. “Have you been there before?”
“Once,” Morayo said. “It’s called Cherbourg. About seven thousand people.”
“You’ve only been there once?”
The engineer shrugged. “Sure. Kosoko mapped it, Garai picked some pinecones, and we got the name of the place. So why go back? There’s nothing special there. They don’t even have enough spare food to trade with us.”
They sailed on across the white sea to another dark shore that was marked Alba on both Kosoko’s new map and Omar’s old one. The Aegyptian slouched against the window, peering down at the world through his blue glasses. “It just goes on and on, doesn’t it? Just snow and ice, rocks and trees.”
The cartographer shrugged. “Well, of course it does. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know,” Omar said. “Something more interesting.”
Kosoko raised an eyebrow as he chewed yet another tiny sliver of his ginger. “The captain said you came along because you want to see if there’s snow on an island at the top of the world. That hardly sounds interesting to me.”
Omar smiled. “No, I don’t suppose it does. Still, I do want to know. Very, very much.”
On the morning of the sixth day, Omar awoke to a soft babble of new sounds and the strange sensation of stillness. Through the window beside his seat he saw that they were on the ground with the hatch open and a small crowd of people stood outside the airship talking to Kosoko while Riuza and Morayo ran their mooring lines around a few large stones sitting in the snow. He stood up, intending to hurry out and help them with the chores of securing the Finch, but the motionless deck beneath his feet seemed to tilt and weave and he stumbled into the wall of the cabin. After a moment, the dizziness passed and he stepped outside into the thick snow to help with the lines.
“I almost couldn’t walk,” he said to Morayo as they tied the last rope to a boulder. “I felt seasick, but we were on the ground.”
“You were landsick,” she said. “You got used to the Finch shivering around under your feet all day and night, and you forgot what it’s like to walk on solid ground. That’s all. Happens to everyone.”
“Even you?”
“No.” She grinned.
“So what’s this place called? Where are we?”
She pointed across the field to the snaking line where the frothing white sea lapped up on the dark gray stones of a beach, and above that beach stood a town. It was encircled by a ragged stone wall twice as tall as a man so that all Omar could see of the homes within were the peaks of the roofs and the tips of the chimneys, but
