Dreamcatcher | ONC 2020 Honourable Mention | ✔

Chapter Three

Rav closed the door of the gondola and huddled beside it, praying someone would come find him and tell him what to do. If he started wandering, would he end up somewhere he wasn't supposed to be? Meeting someone who would prefer not to come face-to-face with a cabin boy? Or did he have duties he was being expected to do?

When nobody came, Rav steeled his nerves and crept to the other side of the room. A doorway led to a hallway down the center of the ship. Closed doors brooded in its walls, but further down, a curtain swayed in an open doorframe, lit cheerily from behind. Things clinked and rattled beyond it. Over the engine's throb, Rav heard a snatch of song. Rich, spiced smells wafted after it like the notes themselves had an aroma.

The galley. Someone in a ship's kitchen would not be a maharaja, and Rav had learned from experience that people who sung to themselves tended to be kind. Father's kitchen staff had always been singing.

Rav edged down the hallway with arms folded tight across his chest, like they might betray him and try to touch one of the doors. He reached the galley and realized he had no plan for explaining himself to the person there. And what if he wasn't allowed to talk to them? Father didn't like it when he spoke with the kitchen staff at home. But he was a cabin boy here, not a youngest son. Did that make it permissible? Paralyzed with indecision, Rav hugged himself tighter and listened to the deep, sweet voice as it harmonized with the galley's sounds. The singer paused to lift something, and Rav leaped back as the curtain swung aside.

The man in the doorway startled. "Gods above! I didn't hear you there."

His eyes flicked across Rav's face, and Rav already knew what they saw: boyish features and a build less intimidating than a chital deer's. Rav was not light-skinned by any stretch, but next to this man's rosewood complexion, he was certain he looked like a spoilt child who had spent his life indoors.

"Are you the new cabin boy?" The man's smile was bright and warm. He adjusted the huge pot he was carrying and touched his forehead, then chest in a greeting Rav recognized as one from the northern coasts. "Salai. Welcome aboard. I'm Manish."

Rav managed to stutter his own name. He willed his trembling stomach to silence, and shrank down further when it did not comply. With the curtain open, the smells from the galley were beyond mouth-watering.

Manish stepped back and held the curtain aside. "Come in. Are you hungry? You must not have eaten since sunrise if you came in on the morning ferry."

Rav ducked through the curtain to find himself in a kitchen space barely three paces across. Manish returned the giant pot to the stove. He was little taller than Rav, but his shoulders were broad and he handled the pot like it was full of fog, not water. Rav spotted a washbasin in the corner that looked meant for handwashing. He glanced at Manish to confirm this, but the man had procured a bowl and was filling it from one of many pots. Rav scrubbed his hands as quickly as he could and dithered in front of a tiny counter with two tall stools on its other side. Beyond them was the dining room, if it could even be called that. It was barely larger than the galley, with a table bolted to the floor and three chairs cramped around where there should have been two.

"Pick a seat," said Manish cheerfully. He waved towards the stools, so Rav scooted through the gap in the counter and took one. Manish set the bowl gracefully in front of him. The steaming dal turned Rav's mouth to a monsoon. Even the naan was still warm from the pan.

"Feeding the cabin boy, are we?" said a gruff voice from the doorway.

Rav nearly dropped the warm flatbread. Was he disobeying orders by eating here? He should have asked first if he was needed.

"Good," grumbled the captain. "He needs it."

Manish wiped his hands on a towel. "Do you need me on lookout?"