I tried to Spellbind again as I listened to these sounds.
What I did was, I imagined a sort of muddy black blob of Shadow Magic, and my hands moved about pretending to weave a net around it. Nothing happened except that Victor swore at me to stay still.
‘We are trying to sleep here, Honey Bee,’ he snapped. ‘Stop wriggling like a worm.’
What a charming boy he is, a ray of sunlight.
Eventually, I fell asleep and dreamed of mines caving in on me, while Whispering supervisors chatted and laughed.
It’s hot these days. Summer is strong in the sun. It’s a half-hour trek in the heat to the mines, and then inside the mines is even hotter.
In the evenings, as we sit about on the clifftops watching the sea, we look out for things on the rocks below. ‘Oh, it’s a seal!’ children say sometimes. Or: ‘It’s a Water Sprite! It’s a mermaid!’ But it never is: it’s just the sun glowing on dark rock, or sparks of light on the water.
When I watch the sea, I see how the waves lift themselves up, hurling themselves backwards to show you all the craggy, sharp rocks beneath, and then they slam down on those rocks. It’s like a teacher slamming a cane onto a desk to show you what will happen if you carry on the way you are. The ocean is warning us, warning us all the time, watching us, keeping an eye on us: if you come any closer, it seems to say, WHAM! And it slams onto the rocks.
Tonight, after dinner, I chatted with some of the other children. I asked Hamish to join me, and he agreed.
I’ve forgotten to mention Hamish lately, but that’s because I’ve almost completely forgotten him. Do you know he stopped speaking on our second day here? After one day in the mines? And he has not spoken since? It’s so strange as usually Hamish is a chatterbox, even if his chat is all nonsense. All he does now is borrow Malik’s guitar sometimes, and he takes it off to a quiet spot on the bluff and plays it rather badly. That’s it.
Anyhow, there’s this one group of children who always sit together on the very edge of the cliff watching the dark ocean as they talk. I’d never taken much notice of these children before, as they are quite young,
most about seven or eight. But tonight, something about the brightness of their eyes in the moonlight made me ask if Hamish and I could sit with them.
They introduced themselves in a very grown-up way, and I realised the group included Connor, Amie and Bing from the Spindrift Orphanage, as well as a few children from various other Kingdoms and Empires. Even in the dim light, I could see how thin and bedraggled all these little children were, and the deep shadows under their eyes. This is ridiculous! I thought. We MUST get these children out of here!
To cheer them up, I pointed out the three ships now lined along the horizon. ‘Perhaps they are K&E Alliance ships,’ I said. ‘And they will soon rescue us?’
‘Yes, they are K&E Alliance ships,’ Connor told me politely. He’s the skinniest little thing with ears that stick out and hair that stands straight up on his head. ‘If you squint, you can see they’re flying the K&E flags.’
Oh, he was right. I felt a bit silly.
‘We’re hoping they’ll launch another attack on the Whispering Kingdom soon,’ redheaded Amie put in, ‘but we saw the last one and it was awful. They tried to attack at night, but pirates and Whisperers were ready for them. They used a classic naval manoeuvre called ‘crossing the T’. Risky move, but they executed their turns perfectly and hammered the K&E ships—flagship was lit right up, a battleship capsized, another one was spinning around in circles. We sat here watching the ocean on fire; you could hear the sailors screaming as their ships sank.’
I stared at her. How did she know all the military terminology?
I looked up and pointed out a particularly bright star, rather to change the subject.
‘Yes. And there’s another one,’ said a child lying flat on his back.
We all stared at the black sky awhile. Several dragons soared overhead and disappeared.
I rubbed my eyes.
‘Am I just tired,’ I said, ‘or are the stars here blurrier than they are at home?’
‘It’s the Mist Shroud,’ a boy with a scratched-up face said. (He looked as if he’d been playing with many angry kittens.) ‘It stops anyone above from seeing through. It’s transparent from our side, of course, but it still has a slight haze. Like frosted glass.’
I’d forgotten about the Witch-made Mist Shroud. It made me lonely, thinking that the stars and dragons we were watching up there could not watch us back.
I realise that stars cannot see. And that dragons are dangerous beasts.
But still.
The children confided in me that they often sit here after dinner, staring at the ocean and the stars, trying to get ideas how to escape.
‘Here are the options,’ Bing said, and he tapped them off on his fingers: ‘Cliffs, forest, fence.’
‘The cliffs are too steep and there’s only wild and rocky ocean below,’ a freckled girl told me.
‘The mines carry on until they hit the Impenetrable Forest,’ the boy with the scratched-up face said, and he pointed to his scratches. ‘And you can’t get through that. Already tried, didn’t I? Took me a day to walk by the mines, over the hills, around villages, and then I couldn’t even get past the first shrub.’
Oh my.
Here were Finlay and I thinking we’d come to rescue these children, but they’d been bravely working on their escape all this time.
‘So the chain-link fence is the only way out,’ the boy lying flat on the grass piped up. ‘We can’t climb it because of the Whisper—once a Whisper gets into your head, it lasts about a day. Then it fades. That’s why the supervisors reinforce their Whispers each morning. I will not climb the fence. I will not climb the fence. We get that message regularly.’
‘So we tunnel under it,’ Amie said. ‘Or cut through it. Those things are not forbidden by the Whisper. That’s what we’ve been thinking.’
Why had I not thought of that!
‘Clever children!’ I told them. They nodded, to show they agreed with me.
But the ground along the fence is rock-hard, the children explained, and there are no spades for digging. Also, no scissors to cut through the wire.
‘I know where some scissors are hidden,’ I said, ‘but I doubt they’d be sharp or strong enough. You’d need wire-cutters really.’
Now Hamish cleared his throat as if to speak. I was happy to hear this.
We all turned to him.
But he said nothing. Simply slumped behind his curtain of yellow hair. Not yellow anymore, more muddy brown.
By the way, little Jaskafar has taken ill. He is curled up in his hammock and has been sleeping feverishly the last three days. At first, he sucked his thumb but he no longer even does that—he simply lies there, mouth open, breathing raspily.
Malik feels Jaskafar’s forehead and frowns each morning, then he tips a little medicine into the boy’s mouth. Otherwise, no notice is taken.
‘Is it the flu?’ I asked the children by the fire now, but Connor shook his head.
‘It’s something to do with the mines,’ he told me. ‘Other children have got it too. The thread gets into their lungs or something. And they don’t—they never—’
He did not finish the sentence. They don’t get better—I think that’s what he was going to say. They never survive.
We need to find a way out.
We need to get Jaskafar to safety. To a hospital. He is the one we came here to rescue—and instead we are watching him die.
Also, we need Hamish to speak again, even if he drives us mad. His guitar-playing is quite dreadful.
Come on, Finlay! Write your next chapter! It will cheer you up! I promise! And then you can get back to resisting Whispers! Remember? You were on your way!!
YOUR TURN!
Honey Bee
Oh, sigh.
That didn’t work either.
Another two days have passed and no change in Finlay.
; Like Hamish, he has stopped speaking.
Worst of all, Finlay has been walking everywhere. This might not seem odd to you, but you don’t know Finlay.
In fact, it cannot be imagined! Finlay never walks! He leaps, climbs, runs, sprints, turns somersaults. He grabs an edge of something and swings himself up onto it!
To walk!
Unthinkable.
It is clear to me that this is the end of our story.
Finlay refuses to write anymore. He has given up. There is no way that we can escape from here. This must be our new life, here in these wrecks and these mines.
The good news is that one of the children has found me a stamped envelope that I can use to send out this story. Redheaded Amie, from the Orphanage, says that mail is collected from a sack by the mining office each day. She has stolen an envelope for me. I will put our tale into it and Amie promises to sneak it into the sack.
I will address it to Waratah Teevsky, Director of the K&E Alliance.
How should I finish?
I know!
The first part of our story began with the Spindrift Tournament. So I will end it with some final thoughts on the Spindrift Tournament.
And I shall say, for all the Kingdoms and Empires to hear, that Brathelthwaite Boarding School won that Tournament. We won it fair and square. The Orphanage School cheated. They changed their team at the last minute, and they did not change it in the proper way.
Also, Finlay is not a very fast runner. I believe that everyone is faster than him.
Especially Victor. His Grace, the Good Duke Victor, is the fastest runner in all the Kingdoms and Empires, certainly faster than Finlay.
Thank you and farewell.
The End
FINLAY
VICTOR IS FASTER THAN ME, IS HE???
Of all the BLATHERSKITE you have written, Honey Bee, this is the biggest truckload of rotting crabapple blatherskite of all.
I will challenge Victor to a race ANY DAY OR NIGHT OF THE YEAR. I could beat Victor running on my hands! I could beat Victor chained to a tree! I could beat Victor while I was taking a bath!
Victor, fastest boy in the Kingdoms and Empires. Most ridiculous thing I ever heard.
AND WE DID NOT CHEAT AT THE TOURNAMENT!! IF ANYONE CHEATED, BRATHELTHWAITE CHEATED!
WE WON THAT DAY!
WE WERE ALLOWED TO CHANGE OUR RELAY TEAM! IF MILLICENT PUT IT IN THE WRONG COLUMN OR WHATEVER SHE DID, THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE CHANGED ANYTHING!
THAT TROPHY BELONGS TO US.
SO, okay, fine, if you want to send our story out now, go ahead, Honey Bee, but only with THIS chapter as the FINAL chapter. You CANNOT end it with those lies, I FORBID IT.
You want to know about my day doing deliveries? I’ll tell you. The truth will end our story.
Here’s what happened.
They took me out of the Whispering Kingdom in the red motorcar. Through the gate in the chain-link fence, past the castle with waving thistle flags, along the cobblestone streets, by houses with flowerboxes in every window. We skirted marketplaces crowded with Whisperers, baskets over their arms, long hair streaming down their backs. A man in a smock painted at an easel on a street corner.
All very pretty, I thought, shaking my head.
All very sunny here, while the Kingdoms and Empires burn thanks to the war you people started.
But then, as we passed, the artist turned to stare at the motorcar, and there was something dark, like bruises, around his eyes. He chewed on the end of his ponytail, blinking slowly.
I looked more closely then, and saw that the paint on the flowerboxes was flaking, that a tree on a corner had withered and died. A Missing Person poster flapped on a pole, and a woman sat in a gutter scratching violently at her wrist. A long line of people waited, silent, at a bakery and then, as we drove by, a man leaned out and hung a SOLD OUT sign on its front door.
It reminded me of home. They’re at war too, I realised. Even if they’re safe from direct attacks—on account of their gates, the ocean, the forest, the Witch-made shroud—they’re still at war.
But they started it! I argued with myself—and then stopped. Their King had started the war. What if our Queen led us into war? Could we stop her? What good had our protests in the Town Square really done?
Around the next corner I saw tiles missing from a roof, a small crowd squabbling over a stack of firewood—and a man getting arrested, his hands being cuffed behind his back.
Through the three Whispering Gates, we drove.
Out of the Whispering Kingdom.
Along the coastal road.
Now I grew excited. Peering through the windows, looking for details that might help us escape. A man I didn’t recognise was driving. A Whispering officer, he was, all got up in a uniform, a rifle lying alongside him. Pale cheeks, friendly smile, hair in a coiled-up braid at the nape of his neck. Didn’t say much—didn’t tell me his name—but offered me water from a canister every now and then.
Whispering soldiers lined the roads, defending their Kingdom, waving us on as we passed.
We drove about an hour, slowed down eventually.
Pulled over.
Hid the car behind some trees.
The Officer led the way through a patch of forest. Gurgling sounds turned out to be a river. I tossed in a pebble or two as we walked by it. Sunlight dappling the water. Wildflowers and reeds. Nobody about.
Came out at a dirt road. Big warehouse in a clearing ahead. Nina Bay Cider, a wooden sign said. Carts standing about. People wheeling barrels, or leaning their heads together to speak. Someone called something and pointed, another person held a clipboard up and shook her head.
The Officer smiled at me again. Held a finger to his lips meaning I should be quiet. Gestured for me to crouch beside him. At this point, we were behind a bunch of shrubs.
‘Now we wait,’ the Officer said. He took an apple from his pocket and crunched a few bites. ‘Want some?’ He held it out to me. I didn’t want his half-eaten apple.
Soon a whistle blew. More people poured out of the warehouse, chatting to each other. A lot of waving and calling. A few barrels trundled along, people pushing them.
Then they all headed off, most around the side of the warehouse, a couple right by our shrub. Three barrels remained, standing upright in a row.
Things went quiet. I could still hear the river gurgling away.
The Officer checked his watch. ‘You have three minutes,’ he told me.
‘Three minutes for what?’
‘To make your delivery.’
He reached into his pocket, and drew out a tiny glass jar with a screw-top lid. Pale purple liquid swished about inside it. He tilted it back and forth, and it sparked, making me blink.
‘Witch-made flu,’ he told me, winking. ‘Latest batch. Far stronger. Lethal to all who contract it.’
Lethal.
That means it kills you.
Now the Officer curled the jar in his big palm and reached out, pointing to the row of barrels.
‘Prise open the lid of each,’ he told me, ‘and sprinkle in a few drops.’
I stared at him. ‘In the barrels?’
‘Apple cider. Nobody will taste the difference. Shipment being collected and sent to Clybourne in—’ He checked his watch again. ‘Two minutes. Heard you’re fast. Go on then. Run.’
I stared at him. Actually, I grinned. ‘No,’ I said.
I am going to take the jar from this man. I am going to sprinkle it into those barrels.
All I have to do is resist that Whisper. Two minutes. All I have to do is resist for two minutes.
‘No way,’ I began—
I AM GOING TO TAKE THE JAR FROM THIS MAN.
I AM GOING TO SPRINKLE IT INTO THOSE BARRELS.
Louder, fiercer, sharper than any the supervisors do at the mines.
I AM GOING TO TAKE THE JAR.
No, I am not—I only need to make it—
I AM GOING TO TAKE THE JAR NOW.
And I did.
&n
bsp; Took it from his hand.
Sprinted over there, sprinkled it into the barrels, sprinted back.
A horse-drawn wagon rolled in. Couple of guys jump off the back and start lugging the barrels away.
Anyone in Clybourne who drinks that apple cider will catch that Witch-made flu and die, I thought. I am a murderer. Two minutes. I only needed to resist for two minutes.
NOW I AM GOING TO REMAIN SILENT. I WILL FOLLOW OFFICER CLEGG BACK TO THE CAR, BACK TO THE WHISPERING KINGDOM, BACK TO THE SHIPWRECKS ON THE BLUFF, AND I WILL NEVER ATTEMPT TO RESIST A WHISPER AGAIN.
So that was his name, I thought: Officer Clegg.
And I did exactly as he said.
THE END.
Honey Bee
Oh, Finlay, no!
That Officer Clegg is the vilest, most MONSTROUS man in all the Kingdoms and Empires.
He murdered those people in Clybourne! Not you! You must not blame yourself! Officer Clegg must be an even more powerful Whisperer than the supervisors here. There is NOTHING anyone can do to resist! It’s not you fault.
They were afraid of you, I bet! Because you were learning to resist the Whispers! Malik must have told them! So they wanted to crush your spirit!
Oh, but what a horrible way to do it. What an awful thing to happen to you.
I am so sorry.
I know a little of how you feel. Here is why.
I will tell this story quickly as I never like to tell it.
When I was nine years old, I was visiting my Aunt Rebecca in the Kingdom of Vanquishing Cove. This is a teeny kingdom, not far from Spindrift. It is hidden on the coast amongst the various, nefarious Kingdoms and Empires. My parents were entomologists, which means they studied insects. Their favourite insect was the honey bee—that is how I got my name. Anyhow, each summer, they attended the Annual K&E Entomologist Conference, and I stayed with Aunt Rebecca in her cottage by the sea.
The summer that I was nine, the conference in the Dzopfy Empire, right next door to the Kingdom of Vanquishing Cove. So, one weekend, in the middle of the conference, my parents surprised us by dropping in at the cottage!
The Slightly Alarming Tale of the Whispering Wars Page 23