thickened rapidly, creating a carpet of teeth rising from the dark water in an almost impassable pattern.
Asima drew a sharp breath. She’d had virtually no experience of sailing, despite having spent her entire life by the sea in one place or another, but a single glance at those reefs revealed no safe route between the shards. There was quite simply no hope of passing them, surely. She turned to examine the faces of the men on board. Each expression was one of intense concentration. She noted with fascination that few of the crew looked out at the rocks, keeping their attention locked on their work aboard.
Why would…
Asima blinked and touched her arm in disbelief. Surely this must be some kind of dream?
The closest rock, standing proud of the water, was now home to a figure in wet, grey, ragged robes. As she watched, stunned and vaguely frightened, the sleeves of the robe fell back and two thin, rubbery grey arms reached out imploringly toward the ship. The head rose slightly and two glistening eyes, reminding her of pools of water in the dark of the night, peered out from beneath the dripping hem.
Without intending to, Asima had taken two paces back, away from the railing.
Other figures swam into focus as she watched. One moment they weren’t there and the rocks were bare; the next, ragged, wet, grey figures pleaded with her to do something about their horrifying condition.
Her initial shock quickly faded, however. Others, with deeply superstitious minds, may be paralysed with fright, but Asima was made of sterner stuff. Putting aside the natural fear of the unknown, she concentrated on the important things. It was curious… she never saw a figure appear. If she looked at a rock and then looked away and back, there would be a figure on it. But if she concentrated on a rock, nothing happened while she watched.
They could, of course, be some sort of illusion, but that would have to be something that affected everyone, given the reactions of the other sailors, and such a thing was unheard of.
The ship creaked on slowly and, as she watched, Asima realised that there was a channel through the rocks; hidden, complex and almost too narrow to possibly fit a ship through. The rocks with their eerie occupants came closer and ever closer.
No. Not an illusion. It couldn’t be in her mind, since it was in everyone else’s. Also, given the fact that the figures cast shadows on the rocks and the lapping waves plastered their robes to their ankles, they were solid. They were real. The reefs of the dead, she’d heard them called. But the dead didn’t stand up or plead; the dead were lifeless husks returning slowly to the earth. So these were clearly something different that had never been encountered anywhere else and could not yet be adequately explained.
Satisfied with her more rational explanation, and with several minutes to go before the island would be in sight, she turned her attention to the ship itself. The sailors were busy about their tasks, bathed in the eerie silence. The officers…
Interestingly, it appeared that the crew had abandoned the raised command deck to the rear, leaving Samir alone with his first officer. Asima smiled to herself. Samir would be too busy with these rocks to spare time to drive her away. Taking a deep breath, she strode along the deck, paying no heed to the desperate grey figures reaching out to her as they passed.
A couple of the men glanced at her in mild surprise as she passed, though none made a move to stop her until she reached the ladder. She placed her foot on the first rung and a shadow fell across her. Looking up, she saw the shaved and tattooed head of the first officer as he leaned over the ladder from the upper deck.
“Top deck’s off limits ta passengers, miss.”
Asima smiled coldly.
“Unless you intend to physically assault me, step out of the way, you painted donkey.”
The man blinked, clearly taken aback, and Asima continued to climb. From somewhere above, she heard Samir’s voice.
“Let her up, Ursa. She’s a special case.”
The huge pirate, clearly irritated at this infraction of the rules, stepped aside and glared at her as she reached the top and stepped out on to the command deck.
“It’s alright, Ursa. I’ll be fine. Go deal with the men.”
Again, the second in command grumbled in disapproval and threw an unpleasant look at her before taking the ladder down to the main deck.
“Come, Asima. I’m sure you’ll be fascinated.”
Frowning, she approached the rear. Samir was directing the ship with infinitesimally small nudges of the huge rudder, and yet his eyes were affixed on the object in his hands, paying no attention to the ship or its surroundings at all.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing at the object he held.
He smiled and, as she approached, angled it slightly so that she could see clearly.
“This is one of the biggest secrets in the world, Asima.”
In his hands rested a bronze disk, around eight inches across, a flattened container with delicate and smooth glass on the upper surface. Inside, on a central pin, free to spin this way and that, was a human finger, dead and grey, but perfectly preserved within the case. Asima blinked.
“A finger. Your big secret is a finger? For this you keep your crew off the command deck.”
Samir shrugged.
“Its part of the rules laid down by the council of twelve. Only the captain and his first officer are supposed to know about the ‘dead man’s compass’. I trust my crew implicitly, but rules are rules. On some level, Ghassan was right. Without any rules there would be complete chaos. Even pirates need laws, Asima.”
“And this rotting digit helps you sail?”
Samir grinned.
“This is an almost unique thing. Don’t ask me how it works, though. I’ve asked the cleverest people and studied it for a long time, and there’s no reason I can see for it to work. But it does work; the dead man’s compass shows me the route… I just align the rudder with this fellow’s finger and off we go. I’ve never seen it fail.”
“Drivel.”
Samir laughed.
“Somehow I thought you might see it like that. But there are unexplainable things, Asima. Have you given up trying to memorize the route through the rocks now then? I presume that was your reason for sitting in the prow. I did that the first few times.”
Asima glared at him.
“The path is fairly clear, if narrow. Let’s face it, Samir, as long as I note where the entrance to the passage is, I’d be able to navigate my way out.”
She eyed him slyly.
“Should I wish to leave, of course, that is. But then, you’ll be taking me home soon when the sea is safe, so I have no reason to leave at the moment. Nice to know that I can, though; gives me a certain sense of security.”
Samir laughed.
“Is that right?”
The woman beside him frowned.
“You’ll not break your word and keep me captive?”
Again, the captain laughed.
“That’s not what I mean, Asima. I mean, are you so convinced of your ability to navigate the reefs without the compass?”
Asima shrugged.
“Hardly troublesome, particularly with a smaller vessel.”
Grinning like a naughty schoolboy, Samir pointed out over the rear rail, past the stern. Asima raised her eyes and followed his gesture.
Behind the vessel, a jagged carpet of impassable rocks jutted from the waves in every direction. Pleading grey figures occupied many of them, calling out silently to her. Asima frowned.
“How is that possible?”
“It’s not.”
Again, Samir laughed lightly.
“Not everything has an explanation Asima and, since there are only two of these compasses in existence,
