viii   

Now

The horizon was glowing with the last light of the sun. But for Fanning the sky was below her feet and the sea, reflecting the same rose hue, was above. Quite how she had allowed Remy Darras to persuade her to hang upside-down outside the ship’s hull, she was not entirely sure.

She was trusting her life to a crazy Frenchman. He had been pretty crazy even when not under the influence of whatever it was. The question of why she was unaffected still bothered her—along with the idea that perhaps she was affected after all and only thought she was sane.

Did crazy people think they were sane? They probably did.

Rocked by a gust of wind, the ship swung away from her and then returned. She put out her arms to cushion the blow but the hull bludgeoned into her, spinning her away. As she twirled, she caught a glimpse of the length of the vessel and Remy above her.

When she was close to the hull, she was on the border of the Faraday effect; it made her skin feel odd. As she swung away her weight increased to normal. The rope paid out until Remy gripped it harder.

She was almost down to the lowest level.

The idea was that she would be able to peek inside and decide what was to be done. What she wanted was to dump the cargo overboard and never mind the consequences. She had seen the way the dock workers had mishandled the boxes and crates. There was no question they had damaged them and something unpleasant had leaked out.

A fungus.

She had heard Lambington at dinner, but she already knew about Venusian fungus. The scientist who had done this to her and brother had also used fungi. It was in the pamphlets and science journals that he read. The fungus that resembled the human brain and could act like one if given a pattern to follow.

But it was too expensive for him, so he had chosen a different path.

The hull cracked Fanning on the head. She could imagine the sound echoing through the cargo hold and hoped no one would come to investigate. Rubbing her skull, she studied where she was in relation to the ship.

There was one porthole below her. The one she had been aiming for. She looked “down” and saw Remy leaning over the top of the rail. In the fading light, she couldn’t clearly see the expression on his face. Somewhere between a grin and a grimace.

She gave him a thumbs-up and he let out the rope again.

And then it was no longer supporting her at all.

As the porthole flashed past, she got the impression of a light inside. She flung out her arms. The sea was a long way below. Her hands dragged along the wood, failing to make any purchase. Her body turned as she fell until she was face down.

Then there was no ship’s hull, and only the wide ocean below. Her fingers caught. She gripped reflexively. Her feet swung underneath her and she came to a joint-jarring stop, dangling beneath the Frozen Beauty. Moments later there was a slight jerk around her waist as the loose rope stretched out to its full length beneath her.

From where she hung she could see the thin layer of wood that covered the Faraday grid in the bottom of the vessel. It was painted brightly with the Chinese characters that made up the ship’s name. If she were within the Faraday effect this would be easy, but she was not and her full weight dragged on her arms.

Carefully she looked up. She was clinging to a lip running along the lower edge of the hull; there were holes in it at intervals where the Beauty could be tied down if needed. It was solid but her fingers would carry her weight for only so long, and they were already tiring.

The Beauty’s engines ran up to speed and she swung as it moved off. Whatever disagreement there had been on the bridge had clearly been resolved.

It was hopeless. She could barely hold her own weight; there were no additional grips that she could see and nowhere to go except down. She adjusted one hand so that the tips of her fingers curled into one of the mooring holes. It was a little firmer like that.

Then she knew what to do. If she failed, she would just fall to her death a little sooner than if she simply hung until her muscles failed. It would mean she would have to grip by one hand for a time, but hope gave her strength.

She looked down at the rope dangling below her. It was long but she didn’t have to reel it all in—just enough to get a loop through the hole.

She hesitated. The longer she waited the harder it would be. She took a deep breath, made sure her right hand was firmly hooked into the hole, and then let go with the left. The fingers of her right hand felt as if they would give at any moment.

Reaching down to her waist she found the dangling rope and lifted it. She desperately wanted to hurry but her brother, whispering from the back of her mind, kept her moving slow. She brought her left hand up with the rope, playing through it as she did so.

The weight of it wanted to rip through her fingers but she kept her palm under it. She reached the position where both arms were stretched up and two lengths of rope were in front of her. It was not so much that her right hand hurt, as that it felt as if it was going numb and she would fall without realising it was going to happen.

Because only one arm was supporting her and stretched her shoulder, the other no longer reached all the way to the lip. Awkwardly she brought the rope down to her face and held it in her teeth while she made a loop and twisted it, forcing it to bend. Taking both parts of the loop in her free hand, she lifted it again.

She was able to see the end of the loop through the hole, even drag it across the fingers of her right hand. There was no way she could make it bend enough to come down through the hole. Shooting pains lanced through her shoulder. She could not last much longer.

Desperately she shoved the loop of rope against the hull above the hole. Again and again it flipped upwards. She twisted her arm and tried to get more height as she felt her fingers beginning to slip. One more shove. This time it slipped down and into the hole. She stared in disbelief as she shoved more rope and the loop descended several inches further.

Her right hand could hold on no longer. She released the rope with her left hand. As she descended the loop went up again. With one last flail of her left arm, she thrust her hand and then forearm through the loop before it slid back up through the hole. Her weight now pulled on both ends of the rope, and she came to a halt dangling a thousand feet above the ocean.