‘Ellie,’ Loren said. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m okay. Um, how are you?’
‘Thriving, just thriving!’ Loren announced. ‘And so pleased that the Queen has accepted you into Her employ. On which subject, I do have a small request to make of you.’
‘Uh, of course?’
Loren glanced round at the eavesdropping sailors. ‘Oliver, how about a song?’
The bard strummed a chord on his lute, and the sailors launched into a rousing rendition of ‘Loren the Great’.
Loren leaned in close to Ellie. ‘By virtue of your new position,’ he said, ‘you will be privy to much that goes on in the palace. It would be helpful if, now and then, I could pick your brains about Our Beloved Queen’s activities.’
Ellie stiffened uncomfortably and glanced at Kate, who’d abandoned her swordfight and was eyeing Loren warily.
‘Oh, um …’ Ellie cleared her throat. ‘I don’t think so. That sounds like spying.’
‘Ellie, the Queen needs help from Her advisors. But we can’t help Her if She won’t tell us what She’s up to. She is … unstable, Ellie. She did threaten to execute you, after all.’
‘That wasn’t a real threat. I’m sorry, I don’t think I can spy on her.’
Loren frowned. ‘Ellie, it’s really the least you could do. Without my help, you’d probably be in a prison cell still. You owe me.’
The words were chillingly familiar to Ellie. She sat up straight. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not going to do it.’
Loren studied her a long moment, then smiled. ‘Very well. Personally, I’m just glad the Queen has someone as talented, imaginative and –’ he patted her on the shoulder – ‘principled as you in Her confidence. She will need the help of intelligent people in the weeks to come.’
From his robes, he produced a newspaper, which still smelled of fresh ink.
QUEEN USES FAKE FLOWERS TO HIDE TRUTH OF POOR HARVEST
The sailors spotted the newspaper and gasped, muttering to one another in disbelief. Kate marched over and snatched it from Loren’s grip. Her fingers trembled as she read.
‘Pardon me, I don’t think we’ve been introduced,’ said Loren, holding out his hand. ‘Loren Alexander.’
‘I know who you are,’ said Kate, not meeting his eye. Loren studied her a moment, then smiled.
‘And what is your name?’
‘Kate.’
Loren’s smile broadened, his eyes crinkling. ‘Charming, most charming.’
Ellie felt a tightness in her chest, but couldn’t say why. Molworth appeared at Loren’s elbow with a quill, an inkpot and a stack of his own crudely drawn portraits of Loren. Loren began signing them, one after the other, without even looking at them.
Kate gripped the newspaper furiously. ‘Why would you tell everyone this?’ she said, her voice low and serious.
‘Me?’ Loren blinked. ‘Dear friend, I don’t print these newspapers.’
‘Then why are they always going on about how great you are?’
‘They simply report the truth,’ said Loren, as Molworth passed him another picture to sign. Kate snarled and knocked the inkpot aside. Molworth yelped and ran to grab his mop, as Loren calmly dabbed black specks from his face.
‘You can’t tell everyone that the Queen’s been lying to them,’ Kate yelled, ‘when it was your idea to put those fake plants everywhere in the first place.’
The pub had fallen silent. Loren winced at his bard, who promptly began to play again, then leaned in towards Kate, his hand falling on the open box still sitting on the table.
‘A present?’ he asked, picking up the whale. ‘How lovely.’
‘Put that down,’ said Kate.
Loren continued to study Kate. He lowered his voice. ‘The Queen should know better than to threaten me in front of Her Royal Court. If She’s not going to show me respect, well … then I can be very disrespectful of Her. Take from Her the things that matter most.’
He turned the crystal whale over in his hand, then slipped it into his pocket.
‘Don’t you –’ Kate raised her fist.
‘You’d be amazed,’ interrupted Loren, adjusting the sleeves of his robe, ‘just how many secrets some people keep. Why, I bet even little Ellie here has secrets.’
He smiled at them both, and an icy hand gripped Ellie’s heart. ‘Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must be going. The Royal Court has tasked me with hiring musicians for the Festival of Life. Can you believe it’s only forty-one days away? Forty-one days, and the Queen will put all this nasty business with the harvest to rest. Won’t she, Kate?’
Kate’s lips paled as Loren watched her, his eyes dancing with laughter. He removed a purple rose from his pocket, and placed it in Kate’s hand.
‘Praise Her,’ he said.
A Question for the Dead
The farms of Shipwreck Island covered its entire western side: a patchwork of fields that stretched from the Guano Mines in the north to the volcano in the south, punctured by rocky spires from which seagulls scanned the water’s edge for their next meal. Despite the warm sun, the land was a grey bed of dead earth, with only the occasional clump of wheat or barley.
Grim-faced men and women worked the soil, sweat glinting on their bare shoulders. Ellie, meanwhile, was watching a small mechanical device crawl across an empty plot. She bit back the desire to swear as it fell on its side for the fifth time.
Ellie righted the tilling machine, so it could continue on its path. She had built the prototype over the last few days, with Kate’s help. It lacked the grace of her mother’s crablike oyster-catchers, which had seemed almost alive. Its cogs were exposed, its many limbs twitching as it walked, like a jittery spider. It tumbled over again, and there was a collective groan from nearby.
‘Bad luck, miss.’
Three small children were watching at a safe distance, torn between their fascination of the machine and their fear of Ellie.
‘If you want, you can come closer. I’m not a ghost.’
‘You do look like one, though, miss,’ one called.
‘You don’t have to call me “miss”, either. I’m thirteen.’
‘What does it do, miss?’
‘It’s for improving the soil. To help the plants grow,’ she added. The machine fell over again.
‘Miss, is it true we’ve only got two weeks to live?’ said one little girl.
‘No! Where did you hear that?’
‘My mum says that’s when the food’s going to run out.’
‘Well, even if that was true, we wouldn’t die straight away. It takes a long time to die of starvation.’
One small boy burst into tears.
‘Making friends again, I see.’
Ellie turned to find Seth, then spun away from him, lifting her chin. They hadn’t spoken since he’d been so grumpy in the pub at the weekend.
‘Wait, I’ve got news!’ he said. ‘I spent all day sailing round the island. That ship we saw, with the black sail – Hargrath’s boat? It’s gone.’
‘Gone? Why would he go?’
Seth shrugged. ‘You said that crowd attacked him. He must have got spooked and fled.’
‘Or else he’s gone back to get more Inquisitors,’ Ellie said, stroking her chin.
‘They probably won’t believe him. He’s insane. It’s good news, though, isn’t it?’
Ellie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘I’m still angry with you,’ she said. ‘This doesn’t make up for your behaviour on Saturday. Wait, what are you –’
She yelped as Seth pulled her to the ground.
‘Shh!’ Seth hissed. ‘There’s something at the edge of the field, watching us.’
Ellie squirmed out of his grip. ‘It’s one of the Seven Sentinels,’ she said, standing up and brushing herself off. ‘Kate’s bodyguards. That one’s protecting me from Inquisitors and strange boys.’
‘It’s not doing a good job – I just tackled you to the ground.’
‘Probably doesn’t think you�
�re very threatening,’ Ellie said, and Seth scowled. The three children had crept closer to gaze up at Seth.
‘I am very threatening,’ said Seth, and he growled at the children like a wolf. They fell about laughing. Seth glanced over to where the Sentinel stood in a tree’s shadow, a dark suit of armour with a cape and a featureless, reflective face. ‘How does it see through that mask?’
Ellie studied the bodyguard thoughtfully. ‘Back in the City, Altimus Ashenholme invented a kind of glass that could only be seen through in one direction – all it takes is a thin layer of silver on regular glass. The Inquisitors used it in rooms where they were interrogating people, so the suspect couldn’t see who was talking to them.’
‘Altimus Ashenholme is a stupid name,’ said Seth.
‘He was my mum’s mentor,’ said Ellie. ‘Though she was much smarter than him,’ she added hastily. ‘I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, because he invented a way to take nitrogen out of the air.’
She waited patiently for Seth to ask what nitrogen was, but he wasn’t listening. ‘Nitrogen can be used to make plant fertilizer. If I could figure out how Ashenholme did it … You know, I think I had some journals of his, only I left them in the underwater boat –’
‘What’s that?’ said Seth, pointing to a tall cylinder wedged into the soil, with three dials on its side, a piston-driven pump, and six nozzles sprouting from the top.
‘It’s for spraying fertilizer on the fields. When I figure out how to make fertilizer from the air, that’s what I’m going to put it in.’
‘So what’s inside it now?’
‘Bird droppings.’
Seth sighed. ‘Of course. So these machines are going to improve the harvest? Janssen thinks people will be eating each other by the end of next month.’
Ellie knelt down to wind up the tilling machine. ‘I hope they’ll improve it, if I can just get them working.’
The machine walked round in a tiny circle, then fell over. Ellie groaned. ‘But, more importantly, I need to talk to Kate about what the problem is with her powers. Hey! Could you keep it down?’
The children had gathered to inspect the dropping-sprayer and were giggling and shoving each other to get a closer look.
‘When I use my powers, it makes me feel sick.’ Seth put a hand to his stomach. ‘And leaves me tired. Maybe it’s the same for her.’
‘Wait,’ said Ellie. ‘That’s it! Maybe you could help!’
‘Me?’
‘You’ve been learning how to control your powers all this time – you can teach her.’
Seth stared at her, aghast. ‘But we can’t let her know who I really am. And anyway, my powers are completely different to hers – who knows if they work the same way?’
Ellie massaged her head, trying to think. The children continued to giggle.
‘Okay, well … what about the Crone? You said she contained the same god that lives in Kate. Maybe she can tell us something.’
‘Ellie, the Crone lived seven hundred years ago. She’s dead.’
‘Yeah, but the way you talk about your visions, it’s not like they’re memories, it’s like you’re really there. Maybe you can ask her questions and get answers.’
Seth blinked. ‘That might be the craziest idea you’ve ever had. Worse than when you tried to inflate that puffer fish to help the raft float.’
‘Sometimes I can change my dreams if I think hard enough.’
‘But these things actually happened. They’re not dreams!’
‘We might as well try it.’
‘You mean, I might as well try. I don’t like the visions.’
‘Don’t you like seeing Leila?’
‘Yeah, but I don’t like hearing the sound of a whole world drowning. Wait, what are they doing?’
The three children were fiddling with the dropping-sprayer, one of them cranking the largest dial on the side.
‘Stop!’ Ellie cried, as the machine began to rumble, the piston pumping angrily and the nozzles trembling. ‘Get away from that!’
The children shrieked and scattered, but nothing happened. The machine just rumbled away, with nothing coming out of the nozzles.
‘Eurgh, that’s not working, either,’ said Ellie, stepping towards it and pulling a screwdriver from her coat pocket.
‘Ellie, wait!’ Seth cried, grabbing her by the shoulder. The machine had begun to rumble louder, rattling wildly like someone was trapped inside. ‘It’s going to –’
There was a bang, and a wet squelching sound, like custard flung against a wall. Ellie braced herself, expecting to feel bird droppings leaking down her shirt. But the feeling never came.
The tall dark Sentinel stood in front of them, facing the wreckage of the machine, sword raised high. Ellie stepped round the motionless figure, between scraps of twisted metal. The Sentinel’s entire front was caked with bird droppings.
‘Are … are you okay?’ Ellie asked. The Sentinel looked round, but their mask was covered in droppings too, like globs of egg white flecked with black speckles. They tried to scrape some away with an armoured fist.
‘Here,’ said Ellie, taking a cloth from her pocket.
‘Why can’t it talk?’ asked Seth.
‘They’ve taken a vow of silence to keep the Queen’s secrets,’ said Ellie, then leaned in close. ‘They’re a bit scary, to be honest. Like they’re not even human underneath.’
The masked head turned sharply in Ellie’s direction, looking as insulted as it was possible for a blank face to look. One armoured glove clamped on to the other and pulled, revealing a pale, muscular hand underneath.
‘Well, I guess they have human hands at least,’ muttered Ellie, and she thought she heard a quiet ‘huff’ beneath the mask as the Sentinel turned and marched away. The ruined dropping-sprayer burped a final glob of guano. Ellie winced.
‘Seth, what if my machines never work? We have to help Kate use her powers. Please, just try to ask the Crone?’
Seth grimaced. ‘All right. But only because it will help everyone, not just Kate. I still don’t trust her.’
‘Thank you, Seth,’ said Ellie. ‘Can I do anything to –’
‘No, I need peace and quiet.’
He sat down in the dirt, and took several deep breaths.
He closed his eyes.
Leila’s Diary
4,783 days aboard the Revival
Varu was acting even stranger than usual today.
It was long past breakfast but he was still sleeping in his bedroll by the orchid patch. He is very lazy. I was watering the potato plants, navigating thick curtains of spider’s webs. I’d asked the Crone three times to let me get rid of the spiders but she refused.
There was a sharp cry, and I turned to find Varu looking at me like I was a ghost.
‘L-Leila?’
I threw a potato at his head. ‘Who else would I be?’
‘What’s the matter?’ croaked the Crone. I hadn’t even noticed her sitting in her chair among the tall sunflowers.
‘I … I could see something,’ said Varu. ‘A huge ship.’
‘You’re in a huge ship, fool,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘No, this ship grew out of an island. I was there.’
‘It’s called a dream,’ I said. ‘Someone who sleeps as much as you should be used to them.’
‘No,’ Varu said, drumming his knuckles against his head. ‘This was real. There was a girl talking to me, only she didn’t call me Varu. She wanted me to ask you something.’
‘Me?’ I said.
‘No, not you.’ Varu scowled, and threw the potato back at me. He looked at the Crone. ‘She wanted to know what it is you do to use your powers. To make plants grow. To heal the sick.’
The Crone studied Varu. ‘Can she be trusted?’
Varu nodded immediately, then seemed surprised, like he hadn’t meant to. ‘She’s … trying to help someone. She’s trying to help everyone.’
‘Wait.’ I glared at the Crone. ‘You’re n
ot taking this seriously, are you? It’s just some stupid dream.’
The Crone got to her feet with a clicking of bones. ‘It’s not so different to how you control the sea.’
‘But … I haven’t controlled the sea,’ said Varu.
‘Not in this manifestation, no, but you have, and you will.’ She put a hand on his shoulder. ‘To control the sea, you must become the sea in your mind. You must forget your own self: your thoughts must turn to currents, your emotions to tides. Of course, you must be able to find your way back again: if you forget yourself entirely, your mind will turn to nothing, and your mortal body will die. And the more power you use, the harder you will find it to return.’
Varu blinked. ‘So that’s what I tell her? She has to imagine she’s a plant?’
I snorted.
‘She must surrender her identity for a time, yes,’ said the Crone, ignoring me. ‘All Vessels share one thing – each time they call on the power of the god that lives inside them, they give that god a piece of themselves. For some Vessels, this is a wondrous thing – they gradually become one with the god, and live on within them for evermore, a part of the Divine Cycle. For others, it is the worst kind of death you can imagine. The god feeds on the Vessel’s soul until it is rent apart.’
‘The Enemy,’ I whispered. Varu and the Crone both looked at me. ‘That’s how the Enemy claims its Vessels,’ I said. ‘My mum told me.’
‘The Enemy.’ Varu frowned. ‘I’ve heard of it before.’
‘Everyone’s heard of the Enemy,’ I said. ‘It’s the god that drowned the world.’
‘The Enemy did not drown the world,’ said the Crone. ‘Though it played its part.’
Varu was lost in thought. ‘No. They know the Enemy. The pale girl. She’s terrified of it.’
The Crone nodded. ‘She should be.’
Varu looked at the Crone, deadly serious. ‘It lives in her. It causes her –’ Varu winced – ‘so much pain. Can anyone help her?’
The Crone hobbled back to her seat. ‘Not anyone. But someone. The Enemy was determined to destroy all the other gods, after it learned that one among them had the power to destroy it. The Enemy did not know which god that was, but I do.’ She looked at Varu a long time, then tapped her chest. ‘It is the god that lives in me.’
Shipwreck Island Page 12