Pandora

 Siobhan stood at the railing, shivering in the damp mist that had enveloped the ferry ever since they had left Tory.  The boat had left after midnight, and the past three days had passed in a strange, sunless twilight. The passengers were allowed on deck, and many had spent that first day at the rails, squinting into the swirling mist. Eventually, most had returned below deck, to their cabins, to endure the voyage in solitude.

 Siobhan could not blame them. The mist swirled around the ship, illuminated as a white formless fog during the daylight hours, and a creeping gray menace after sunset.  The Captain and the crew did not seem bothered by it, going about their duties with aplomb, shooing the occasional passenger out of the way.

 Siobhan tried to stay out of their way. She stood close to the railing, peering into the mist, wondering if she would ever see the sun or moon again.

 Time had lost all meaning. The hours crept past at a snail's pace and, when she glanced at her watch, she wasn't surprised to see that it had stopped. In fact, she'd learned that the only dependable clock on the whole ferry was the Captain's pocket watch.

 "Penny for your thoughts, miss?"

 Startled, Siobhan turned to find the Captain standing next to her.

 He was a big man, broad-shouldered, with the weatherbeaten face of a lifelong sailor. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed and his eyes were dark and shining. He wore a black cap, and a heavy coat and smelt like spices and old wood.

 "My apologies. I didn't mean to startled you."

 "That's all right, Captain." She touched her breast, felt her heart pounding like a startled bird. "I was just wondering if we'd ever see the sun again."

 The Captain chuckled. It was an easy sound, but she sensed it wasn't something he did very often.

 "Soon enough, miss. We'll be into port within the hour."

 "What's Pandora like?" she asked.

 "Heaven to some. Hell to others. Home to many."

 She watched his face as he spoke, noticed that his expression did not change, but that his eyes gleamed when he spoke of their destination.

 "Which is it to you?" Siobhan dared to ask.

 The Captain's eyes went flat and black and she saw his jaw clench for a moment.

 "I couldn't say, miss."

 He inclined his head, and walked away.

 "You're a bold one."

 A lean, dark figure approached Siobhan. She recognized the youth as one of the crew. He wore the heavy, shapeless sweaters they all seemed to favor, over tough denim trousers. His hair was dark, short and spiky. A silver ring pierced his right eyebrow, and a web of vibrant red ink wrapped around his throat. His dark eyes gleamed and he had an easy, wide grin that, Siobhan suspected, got him into and out of trouble with equal ease. He was more pretty than handsome, and she thought he could have been Spanish or Hungarian or even Asian. But when he spoke, he spoke in the same curious accent as the Captain.

 "Am I?"

 "Oh yeah," said the youth. He leaned against the railing, grinned at her. "I've seen the Captain thump people for asking him questions like that. He must like you."

 "Thank heaven for small favors," said Siobhan. "You're Lizec? Yes?"

 He bobbed his head. "Lizec Garo."

 "You're Pandoran."

 "Born and bred," he said, flashing her another grin. "I've been away on promenade, but now I'm coming home."

 "Did you miss it?"

 Lizec sighed. "More than words can say."

 "What's it like?"

 He grinned, considered the question for a moment before answering. "Hard to describe. Like a house on fire on a moonful night. Or maybe riding a slow moving rollercoaster during a thunderstorm."

 "Those are very poetic descriptions, but not very clear," said Siobhan.

 "That's what Pandora's like," said Lizek. "A poem, whispered at night, in the ear of a lover. Or a song, howled into the void."  He shrugged.  "It's different for everybody."

 "I wonder which it'll be for me?"

 "Look ahead," said Lizek. He pointed ahead of them. "See for yourself."

 Siobhan followed his finger and saw that the swirling mists were thinning. Over the patient drone on the Ferry's engine, now she could hear waves slapping against a shore. Gulls screamed and wheeled overhead, against an overcast sky the color of slate. She lowered her gaze and looked ahead and saw Pandora for the first time.

 Siobhan's first impression was of activity. A busy wharf. Small fishing boats, painted bright shades of green and yellow, with billowing red sails, putting in and pulling away from crumbling stone and rotting wooden docks, dancing among and between the rusting hulks of half-sunken ships.

Noise. The sound of voices belonging to men and woman. Some shouting in conversation, others raised in anger. Weaving through it all the scream of gulls, the sputter of engines, the mournful sound of bagpipes and the bright shimmer of a guitar. Voices, fine and pure, raised in a song, piercing the din like a silver needle, the words a mystery to her.

The smells. God! The smells! The stink of the sea, of brine and fish, tangled up with the smell of diesel and burning coal. The wind carried the scent of unwashed bodies and rotting meat to her nose, slammed Siobhan's senses with smells of exotic spices and fresh-cut lumber, blood and ozone, fresh-baked bread and burning meat.

Her eyes drifted from the wharf, the docks, to wooden warehouses. Cobblestoned streets wove among the building, climbing a gently rising hill. She saw horse-drawn carts, laden with goods, plodding through crowds of pedestrians, bicyclists and even what she recognized as rickshaws. Siobhan's gaze went up the hill, noting old buildings of wood and stone, what looked like wrought iron street lamps. She saw more modern-looking buildings, standing on cliffsides, facing the ocean, and beyond them a haze of gray that could have been rain or buildings or just smoke.

She swallowed and clenched the railing.

"It's so much more than I thought it would be," Siobhan said, very softly.

Beside her, Lizec grinned.

"Welcome to Pandora."