by Clive Barker
Before they could be delivered to the shores of that island, however, Malingo caught sight of their salvation.
“I see a sail!” he said, and started yelling to whoever might be up on deck. “Over here! Here!”
“They see us!” Candy said. “They see us!”
Chapter 3
On the Parroto Parroto
THE LITTLE VESSEL MALINGO’S sharp eyes had spotted wasn’t moving, so they were able to let the gentle current carry them toward it. It was a humble fishing boat no more than fifteen feet in length and in a very dilapidated condition. Its crew members were hard at work hauling up onto the deck a net full to bursting with tens of thousands of small mottled turquoise-and-orange fish, called smatterlings. Hungry seabirds, raucous and aggressive, wheeled around the boat or bobbed on the water close by, waiting to snatch up those smatterlings that the fishermen failed to get out of the net, onto the deck and into the hold of their boat quickly enough.
By the time Candy and Malingo were within hailing distance of the little vessel, most of the hard labor was over, and the happy crew members (there were only four on the boat) were singing a song of the sea as they folded the nets.
“Fishes, feed me!
Fishes fine!
Swim in the nets
And catch the line!
Feed my children!
Fill my dishes!
That’s why I love you,
Little fishes!”
When they were done with the song, Malingo called to them from out of the water.
“Excuse me!” he yelled. “There are still two more fishes down here!”
“I see you!” said a young man among the crew.
“Throw them a line,” said the wiry bearded man in the wheelhouse, who was apparently the Captain.
It didn’t take very long for Candy and Malingo to be brought up over the side of the boat and onto the stinking deck.
“Welcome aboard the Parroto Parroto,” said the Captain. “Somebody get ’em some blankets, will you?”
Though the sun was still reasonably warm in this region between Four O’clock in the Afternoon and Five, their time in the water had chilled both Candy and Malingo to the bone, and they were glad of the blankets and the deep bowls of spicy fish soup that they were given a few minutes later.
“I’m Perbo Skebble,” said the Captain. “The old man is Mizzel, the cabin girl is Galatea, and the young fellow there is my son Charry. We’re from Efreet, and we’re heading back there with our hold full.”
“Good fishin’,” Charry said. He had a broad, happy face, which fell naturally into an expression of easy contentment.
“There’ll be consequences,” Mizzel said, his own features as naturally joyless as Charry’s were naturally happy.
“Why do you always have to be so grim?” Galatea said, staring contemptuously at Mizzel. Her hair was shaved so close to her scalp, it was little more than a shadow. Her muscular arms were decorated with elaborate tattoos. “Didn’t we just save two souls from drowning? We’re all on the Creatrix’ side on this boat. Nothing bad’s going to happen to us.”
Mizzel just sneered at her, rudely snatching the empty soup bowls from Candy and Malingo. “We’ve still got to get past Gorgossium,” he said as he headed down into the galley with the bowls. He cast a sly, faintly threatening glance back at Candy as he departed, as though to see whether he’d succeeded in sowing the seeds of fear in her.
“What did he mean by that?” Malingo said.
“Nothing,” said Skebble.
“Oh, let’s tell the truth here,” said Galatea. “We’re not going to lie to these people. That would be shameful.”
“Then you tell ’em,” Skebble said. “Charry, come, lad. I want to be sure the catch is properly stowed.”
“What’s the problem?” Candy said to Galatea, when the father and son had gone about their work.
“You have to understand that there’s no ice on this boat, so we’ve got to get the catch back to Efreet before the fish go rotten on us. Which means . . . let me show you.”
She led them to the wheelhouse, where there was an old and much-weathered map pinned up on the wall. She pointed a well-bitten fingernail at a place between the islands of Soma Plume and Gnomon.
“We’re about here,” she said. “And we’ve got to get . . . up to here.” Their destination lay past the Twenty-Fifth Hour, way to the north of the archipelago. “If we had more time, we’d take the long way back, hugging the coast of Gnomon and then passing the Nonce and heading north between Ninnyhammer and Jibarish, and rounding the Twenty-Fifth till we get back to our village.”
The Twenty-Fifth, Candy thought: she’d been there briefly with the women of the Fantomaya. She’d seen all kinds of visions, including one that she’d dreamed of many times since: a woman walking on a sky full of birds, while fish swam in the watery heavens around her head.
“There’s no chance you could drop us off at the Twenty-Fifth, is there?” Candy said.
But even as she spoke she remembered the dark side of life on the Twenty-Fifth. She’d been pursued there by a pair of monsters called the Fugit Brothers, whose features moved around their faces on clicking legs.
“You know what?” she said. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea after all.”
“Well, we can’t do it anyway,” Galatea told her. “It’ll take too long. The fish’ll rot.”
“So which way are we going?” Malingo said.
Candy had guessed already, from looking at the map.
“We’re going between the Pyramids of Xuxux and Gorgossium.”
Galatea grinned. Every other tooth in her mouth was missing. “You should be a-fishing, you should,” she said. “Yep, that’s where we’re going. Mizzel thinks it’s a bad plan. He says there’s all manner of things that live on the island of Midnight. Monsterosities, he says. Horridy things that will come flapping over and attack the ship.”
“Why would they do that?” Candy asked.
“Because they want to eat the fish. Or else they want to eat us. Maybe both. I don’t know. Whatever it is, it ain’t good news. Anyhow, we can’t be squibbies about this—”
“Squibbies?” said Candy.
“Cowards,” Malingo said.
“We gotta sail past Midnight whether we like it or not,” Galatea went on. “Either that or we lose the fish, and a lot of people will go hungry.”
“Not a good choice,” said Skebble as he climbed out of the hold. “But like the girl says, we got no choice. And . . . ’fraid you got no choice but to come with us. Either that or we dumps you in the water again.”
“I think we’d rather stay on board,” Candy said, giving Malingo an anxious look.
They headed north, out of the bright afternoon waters of the straits between Four and Five into the dark seas that surrounded Midnight. It wasn’t a subtle change. One minute the Sea of Izabella was glittering with golden sunlight and they were warm; the next, waves of darkness covered the sun and a bitter cold swept in to surround them. Off to their port side they could see the immense island of Gorgossium. Even from a considerable distance they could pick out the windows of the thirteen towers of the fortress of Iniquisit and the lights that burned around the Todo mines.
“You want a closer look?” said Mizzel to Candy.
He passed her his battered old telescope, and she studied the island through it. There seemed to be immense heads carved from some of the stony outcrops of the island. Something that looked like a wolf’s head, something that looked vaguely human. But far more chilling were the vast insects she saw crawling around the island: like fleas or lice grown to the size of trucks. They made her shudder, even at such a safe distance.
“Not a pretty place, is it?” Skebble said.
“No, not really,” said Candy.
“Plenty of folks like it though,” the Captain went on. “If you’ve got a darkness in your heart, that be the place you go, huh? That be the place you feel at home.”
“Home .
. .” Candy murmured.
Malingo was standing beside her and heard her speak the word.
“Homesick?” he said.
“No. No. Well . . . sometimes. A little. Just about my mom, really. But no, that wasn’t what I was thinking.” She nodded toward Gorgossium. “It’s just strange to think of somebody calling that dismal place their home.”
“Each to their Hour, as the poet wrote,” Malingo said.
“Which is your Hour?” Candy asked him. “Where do you belong?”
“I don’t know,” Malingo said sadly. “I lost my family a long time ago—or at least they lost me—and I don’t expect to see them again in this life.”
“We could try and find them for you.”
“One day, maybe.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “When we don’t have so many teeth nipping at our heels.”
There was a sudden explosion of laughter from the wheelhouse, which brought the conversation to an end. Candy wandered over to see what was going on. There was a small television (which had red curtains to either side of the screen, like a little theater) placed on the floor. Mizzel, Charry and Galatea were watching it, much entertained by the antics of a cartoon boy.
“It’s the Commexo Kid!” Charry said. “He’s so wild!”
Candy had seen the Kid’s image many times now. It was hard to go very far in the Abarat without meeting his perpetually smiling face on a billboard or a wall. His antics and his catchphrases were used to sell everything from cradles to coffins, and all that anybody would want in between. Candy watched the flickering blue screen for a little while, thinking back to her encounter with the man who had created the character: Rojo Pixler. She’d met him on Ninnyhammer, briefly, and in the many weeks since she’d half expected to see him again at some turn in the road. He was part of her future, she knew, though she didn’t know how or why.
On screen the Kid was playing tricks, as usual, much to the amusement of his little audience. It was simple, knockabout stuff. Paint was spattered; food was thrown. And through it all jogged the relentlessly cheerful figure of the Commexo Kid, dispensing smiles, pies and “just a li’l bit o’ love” (as he would round off every show saying) to the world.
“Hey, Miss Misery,” said Mizzel, glancing around at Candy. “You don’t laugh!”
“I just don’t think it’s very funny, that’s all.”
“He’s the best!” Charry said. “Lordy Lou, the things he says!”
“Happy! Happy! Happy!” said Galatea, perfectly copying the Kid’s squeaky voice. “That’s what I is! Happy! Happy! Hap—”
She was interrupted by a panicked shout from Malingo. “We’ve got trouble!” he yelled. “And it’s coming from Gorgossium!”
Chapter 4
The Scavengers
CANDY WAS THE FIRST out of the wheelhouse and back on deck. Malingo had Mizzel’s telescope to his eye and was studying the threatening skies in the direction of Gorgossium. There were four dark-winged creatures flying toward the fishing boat. They were visible because their innards glowed through their translucent flesh, as though lit by some bitter fire. They gibbered as they approached, the chatter of mad, hungry things.
“What are they?” Candy said.
“They’re zethekaratchia,” Mizzel informed her. “Zethek for short. The ever-hungry ones. They can never eat enough. That’s why we can see their bones.”
“Not good news,” Candy guessed.
“Not good news.”
“They’ll take the fish!” Skebble said, appearing from the bowels of the ship. He’d apparently been attending to the engine, because he was covered with oil stains and carried a large hammer and an even more sizeable wrench.
“Lock down the holds!” he yelled to his little crew. “Quickly, or we’ll lose all the fish!” He pointed a stubby finger at Malingo and Candy. “That means you as well!”
“If they can’t get to the fish, won’t they come after us?” Malingo said.
“We have to save the fish,” Skebble insisted. He caught hold of Malingo’s arm and pressed him toward the brimming holds. “Don’t argue!” he said. “I don’t want to lose the catch! And they’re getting closer!”
Candy followed his gaze skyward. The zethek were less than ten yards from the boat now, swooping down over the twilight sea to begin their scavenging. Candy didn’t like the idea of trying to protect herself against them unarmed, so she grabbed hold of the wrench in Skebble’s left hand. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take that!” she said, surprising even herself.
“Take it!” he said, and went to help the rest of the crew with the labor of closing the holds.
Candy headed for the ladder on the side of the wheelhouse. She put the wrench between her teeth (not a pleasant experience: it tasted of fish oil and Skebble’s sweat) and clambered up the ladder, turning to face the zethek once she reached the top. The sight of her standing on the wheelhouse, the wrench in her hand like a club, had put a little doubt in them. They were no longer swooping down on the Parroto Parroto but hovering ten or twelve feet above it.
“Come on down!” Candy yelled to them. “I dare you!”
“Are you crazy?” Charry hollered.
“Get down!” Malingo called to her. “Candy, get—”
Too late! The closest zethek took Candy’s bait and swooped down, its long, bone-bright fingers reaching to snatch at her head.
“Good boy!” she said. “Look what I’ve got for you.”
She swung the wrench in a wide arc. The tool was heavy, and in truth she had very little control over it, so it was more by accident than intention that she actually struck the creature. That said, it was quite a blow. The zethek dropped out of the sky as if shot, striking the boards of the wheelhouse so hard they cracked.
For a second he lay still.
“You killed him!” said Galatea. “Ha-ha! Good for you!”
“I . . . don’t think he’s dead . . .” Candy said.
What Galatea couldn’t hear, Candy could. The zethek was growling. Very slowly he raised his gargoylish head. Dark blood ran from his nose.
“You . . . hurt . . . me. . . .”
“Well, come over here,” Candy said, beckoning to the beast across the fractured boards of the roof. “I’ll do it again.”
“The girl’s suicidal,” Mizzel remarked.
“Your friend is right,” the zethek said. “You are suicidal.”
Having spoken, the zethekaratchia opened his mouth and kept opening it, wider and wider, until it was literally large enough to bite off the top of Candy’s head. In fact, that seemed to be his intention, because he lunged forward, leaping across the hole in the roof and throwing Candy down on her back. Then he jumped on top of her. The wrench flew out of her hand; she had no time to pick it up. The zethek was upon her, his mouth vast—
She closed her eyes as a cloud of the beast’s breath broke against her face. She had seconds to live. And then suddenly Skebble was there, hammer in hand.
“Leave the girl alone,” he hollered, and brought the hammer down on the zethek’s skull, delivering it such a calamitous blow that he simply fell backward into the wheelhouse through the hole in the roof, dead.
“That was brave, girl,” he said, hauling Candy to her feet.
She patted the top of her head just to be sure it was still there. It was.
“One down,” said Candy. “Three to—”
“Help, somebody!” Mizzel yelled. “Help!”
Candy turned around to find that another of these wretched things had caught hold of Mizzel and was pinning him to the deck, preparing to make a meal of him.
“No, you don’t!” she yelled, and ran for the ladder.
Only when she was halfway down did she remember that she’d left the wrench on the roof. It was too late to go back for it.
The deck, when she reached it, was slick with fish oil and water, and instead of running she found herself sliding over it, completely out of control. She hollered for someone to stop her, but there was no one
close enough. Straight ahead was the hold, its door already opened by one of the beasts. Her only hope of stopping herself was to reach out and grab the zethek that was assaulting Mizzel. But she’d have to be quick, before the opportunity slid by. She put out her hand and made a grab for the beast. The zethek saw her coming and turned to ward her off, but he wasn’t fast enough: she caught hold of his hair. He squawked like an enraged macaw and struggled to free himself, but Candy held on. Unfortunately, her momentum was too great to bring her to a halt. Quite the reverse. Instead, the creature came along with her, reaching up to try and untangle her fingers from his ratty locks even as they both slid toward the gaping hold.
Over the edge they went and down among the fish. Luckily it wasn’t a long fall; the hold was almost filled with smatterlings. But it wasn’t a pleasant landing, a thousand fish sliding beneath them, cold and wet and very dead.
Candy still had her grip on the zethek’s hair, so that when the creature stood up—which he did instantly—she was hauled to her feet too.
The creature wasn’t used to being held by anybody, especially some scrap of a girl. He writhed and raged, snapping at her with his over-sized mouth one moment, the next attempting to shrug her loose by shaking his body so violently that his bones clattered.
Finally, apparently despairing of escape, the zethek called to his surviving comrades: “Kud! Nattum! Here! In the hold! Now!”
A few seconds after the call had gone out, Kud and Nattum appeared over the edge of the hold.
“Methis!” Nattum said, grinning. “You have a girl for me!”
So saying, he opened his mouth and inhaled so powerfully that Candy had to fight to keep herself from being pulled straight into the maw.
Kud wasn’t interested in such tricks. He shoved Nattum aside. “I take her!” he said. “I’m hungry.”
Nattum shoved back.
“So am I!” he growled.