Free The Voyage of the Unquiet Ice by Andrew McGahan

of stone was actually afloat on the sea – and higher above, the towers and the brazen dome looked down from an elevation that must be near to three hundred feet above the waterline.
    But for all that, Dow’s gaze was drawn to the expanse that lay between the palace walls and the masts, an area free of all sailing gear and adorned instead with – yes, he really saw it – a green bed of lawn some fifty yards across. There were trees too – four of them, one to each corner of the lawn, shady and spreading – as well as ornamental gardens, and finally, at the centre, a great stone fountain, playing water into the air.
    At first Dow thought it must all be artificial. The luxury and expense to grow lawn and trees upon a ship was unthinkable. But it was quite real. Dignitaries were gathering on the grass, served by attendants bearing food and drink, and when Dow’s party joined them he could feel how springy was the turf underfoot, and he could see, up close, that the trees were living and solid. And the smell! So earthy, so alien in mid-ocean.
    The dignitaries, however, paid all this wonder no mind. They were intent rather on conversation, some gathered about the fountain, others waiting at the foot of a grand staircase that led up to the palace. Vincente and Fidel were quickly drawn away to join a group of earnestly debating officers under one of the trees, and Dow and Nell were left standing together alone.
    It was an uncomfortable moment for Dow, and he strove not to gawk as he gazed about, aware that Nell was studying him. He was sweating under his coat. It was too warm there on the main deck; there was still no wind, and the air was clammier than ever.
    â€˜So – what do you make of it all, New Islander?’ the scapegoat asked at last, smiling sardonically. ‘Was it worth coming so far to see – the first of your people since the Great War, as the captain said?’
    Dow only looked at her. He found, to his own surprise, that he was less daunted by her scorn than in their previous encounters. Maybe it was because – last night – he had seen a less forbidding side to her. Or maybe it was because he’d just learned that she was only seventeen, a bare year older than Dow himself.
    â€˜Of course,’ she added tartly, ‘what the captain didn’t say was that in those days your countrymen were prisoners, brought here to be tortured and questioned and then thrown into the dungeons to rot. How fortunate for you that times have changed – if indeed they have.’
    She was trying to frighten him. He almost gave a disdainful response, but then it seemed better to refuse to do so, to prove, indeed, that he was more than the ignorant peasant boy she dismissed him as. So he said, ‘It was a prison anyway, my life back home. Whatever happens now, at least I’ve sailed once in a true ship, on the true ocean. That’s worth any price.’
    She blinked at that, her pale skin colouring slightly, but then she merely shrugged and turned away.
    Dow let out a breath, and returned his gaze to the palace. He had in fact noticed something strange about its walls – something about the great white blocks of stone – and now he grasped what it was. He was no stone mason, but he was a timberman, and there were some things about the grain of wood that were impossible to disguise. He nodded to himself at the discovery, and knew suddenly that Nell was staring at him once more.
    â€˜What?’ he asked.
    â€˜Why do you nod?’ she demanded.
    â€˜I just realised, the stone isn’t stone.’ He indicated the palace. ‘The walls are of timber, painted to look like stone.’
    She glanced up in surprise.
    â€˜You didn’t know?’ Dow asked.
    â€˜Of course I knew! It’s just that it’s easy to forget. The illusion is very convincing. But of course it can’t be stone – not even a ship of this size could cope with as