by Angie Sage
Tomas comes over to me. He is holding his Zip, his combi-tool, with the blade flipped up. “I am going to finish what Maximillian started,” he says.
Mattie is there beside him. “Tomas, you can’t,” she says. “Not with those awful cuffs on.”
“Tomas can’t, but we can,” I tell her. “We have no cuffs.” And I hold my hand out to Tomas for Zip.
M
Parminter and I are flying low and fast. I watch our shadows racing over the waving grasses in wonder; beneath the Orb the only time we see our shadows is by lantern light.
We reach the top of a range of low hills and hover, pausing to allow Papa and Parminter’s grandmama to catch up with us. We are looking down onto a wide valley with a glimmering ribbon of river winding through it, and far away, flying down the middle of the valley is the SilverShip. It is heading toward a brilliantly bright expanse of deep, dark blue that sparkles in the sunlight and spreads across the horizon for as far as we can see. That, Parminter and I both know, is the ocean—so beautiful and yet so deadly. Above it is the sky, a paler, hazy blue, but where they meet is hard to tell. It is the strangest thing I have ever seen.
Below us two white horses crest the hilltop. We drop down to join them and together we watch the SilverShip flying relentlessly toward its destination. Papa is upset. “Ever since I heard that your sister and brother were on this abomination, I’ve been waiting to shoot it down,” he says. “But I messed up. Again.”
I understand, because I often feel like this too.
“No one has messed up,” Parminter tells him. “Look!”
We all look at the SilverShip and I think there is something different about it. It is a little less fat maybe. And, yes, it is moving strangely too—meandering just like the river below it, as though it cannot make up its mind which way to go. A feeling of hope steals over me. “It’s losing air!” I say.
“But not fast enough, Max,” Papa says. “It will be over the ocean before it touches down. All that will happen is that it will fall into the ocean sooner.”
This is a terrible thought. “No, that will not happen,” I tell him. “Parminter and I will catch it.” I grab her hand and we do a double takeoff from the top of the hill, our breath swept away in the rush of air as together we soar upward; then we break our grasp and glide down the hillside and into the valley.
And you, my young watcher, are with us. Let us fly together down this impossibly green valley with a silver strip of river snaking through it. Let us swoop over this abandoned settlement where rotting boats litter the riverbank like carcasses of long-dead fish, and let us chase that indecisive giant silver fish in the sky—which I do believe is wobbling—before it reaches the deep, dark ocean. And then, please, let us catch it. Because now I truly believe we can.
K
It is wild up here. The wind funnels through the gap between the belly of the ship and the swaying top of the cabin. The struts are so fat and slippery that there is no way Mattie or I can climb them—but that doesn’t matter, because when we look up we see a jagged hole in the fabric and feel the rush of gas coming from it. The whole underside of the ship looks soft like melting jelly. Maximillian and Parminter have done it.
Two large white birds with big yellow feet and crazy orange beaks glide past, free as . . . well, free as birds, while I cling to the strut taking in deep breaths of air; it is like breathing in sparkles. I watch the long, thin strip of yellow sand ahead and the white foam of the waves breaking upon it, drawing ever closer and think how strange and yet how beautiful it is, and how much I would love to be down there, barefoot with the grit of the sand beneath my toes and the softness of the water running over my feet. I want to be part of this world for as long as I possibly can. I want to be . . . alive.
I am so immersed in my thoughts that, when a faint and tinny voice calls my name and I wheel around to see Maximillian and Parminter clambering up beside me, I very nearly fall off in shock.
“We’ll take two off now,” Maximillian is saying. “And then we’ll come back. And we will keep coming back until—” He is cut off by a sudden shout.
It is Tomas, his head poking out of the capsule. “Hey, you, Vermin!” Tomas yells. “Wait right there!” And he ducks back down.
J
Tomas is horrible. He has taken Nettie. “Give her back! Give her back!” I shout at him but he won’t and they are lifting him up through the hole in the roof and Nettie has gone and no one will let me go after her. “Nettie!” I yell. “Netteeeeee!”
M
Tomas hands me a round squashy thing like a limbless bear. “Jonno’s new attachment object. Poor kid’s not had much luck with those recently,” he says with a rueful smile. Puzzled, I take this attachment object. “Fishing net,” Tomas explains. “A big one. Strong too. Chuck it over the propeller. I reckon it might stop us if we’re lucky.”
This is a very good idea indeed. “Thank you, Vermin,” I say.
“Vermin yourself,” Tomas says and he gives me a thumbs-up. And then he suddenly disappears with a yelp and I hear him say, “Hey, Jonno, cut it out will you?”
I open out the net and see it is indeed big and very light too; but it is a dangerous thing to fly with because it could easily entangle us. Holding it at arm’s length, Parminter and I hover beneath the flabby underbelly of the ship as it moves forward above us. We watch the huge, powerful propeller slowly turning, dark in the shadows beneath the tail, the tips glinting as they catch the sunlight and I fear that it will, as Parminter would say, eat the net for breakfast. But we must try. We wait until the ship has passed over us and then, like hunters creeping up behind their prey, we fly fast toward the huge blades. And then we throw.
The net lands upon one of the blades and I am so sure it will be thrown off that I drop down, hoping to catch it for another try. But there is no need. It snags on the second blade, then the third, and in a moment the propeller is winding the net around the long shaft that disappears into the flabby silver skin of the ship. The blades slow until they are hardly moving, and then from deep inside the ship comes a long, low grinding noise and the propeller stops. There is silence. The SilverShip slows to a wafting drift above the long strip of yellow sand that meets the pale green water of the ocean.
Parminter and I stare at each other in amazement. “We did it!” she squeals with excitement. “We did it!”
I see Tomas pop up again like a rabbit from a burrow, waving his arms in triumph despite his Astro cuffs. “Great throw, Vermin!” he calls out, laughing.
“Great idea, Vermin!” I shout back. And I am laughing too.
K
The SilverShip is sinking gracefully, crumpling like an old paper bag. I cut a big hole in the side of the capsule so that we can easily crawl out onto Maximillian and Parminter as they hover beside us. We decide they will take the youngest ones first and work upward in age, which means that Tomas will be the last one left on board. I say that I should stay behind until last and that Tomas and Mattie should go down together—I can tell that Mattie would like that too—but Tomas insists. “Oldest last, Kait. That’s only fair.”
J
Me and Leon are flying. I am on Maximillian, the big Roach with the bent antenna, and Leon is on the smaller Roach, who is quite bossy. We land on the beach and I see Daddy galloping toward us through the sand dunes on a big white horse. It feels like a dream but it is real.
M
Parminter and I set the final pair, Mattie and Kaitlin, safe upon the sand, but as we rise up to get Tomas, a sudden gust of wind whistles through the gap in the dunes. It picks up the SilverShip and sends it skittering out across the waves, flip-flopping from side to side like an old paper bag.
“No!” Mattie yells out. “No, no! Tomas, Tomas!” She runs into the water with my sister chasing after her, catching her and holding her tight, stopping Mattie from throwing herself into the ocean to swim after Tomas.
“We will bring him back to you,” I tell Mattie. “I promise.”
; Together, Parminter and I fly low over the water, the taste of salt in our mouths, the smell of the ocean in our nostrils, flying as fast as we possibly can. But all I can think of is what will happen when the SilverShip hits the water and how Tomas, with his great iron Astro cuffs, will be dropping down through the cold, dark depths of the ocean like a rock.
Chapter 33
Sand, Sun and Stars
K
We watched Maximillian and Parminter chase the SilverShip until they were no more than little black dots against the blue. Maximillian said by the time they caught it, it was just a skin of fabric floating on the surface. Our capsule had already sunk. Tomas had managed to grab the edge of a tail fin, which was still inflated, but his Astro cuffs were pulling him down.
But they got him and they brought him back, and that is all that matters.
And now I am on the beach—how strange it is to be able to say that. I am looking out to sea, watching the waves, which really are like the ones they showed us at Countdown, and what Dad calls the “swell of the sea,” which makes it rise and fall, up and down, like a monster breathing. I cannot quite get past the impossibility of so much water. It tastes of salt too, which is a big surprise. The beach is bigger now than when we arrived because the sea is retreating, but Dad says it will slowly come back again. The sand is soft and damp, and if I stand very still, my feet sink into its coolness and water oozes up between my toes. It feels just as wonderful as I thought it would.
The big orange ball of the sun is dropping down toward the line where the dark blue of the water meets the pale blue of the sky and the colors are so bright they make me dizzy. In the distance I can see the glint of a silver skin lying flat upon the ocean, and the sight of it makes me shudder. Beside me stand Tomas, dripping with water, and Mattie, quietly watching too. Suddenly, we see a distant flash of silver as the tail upends and the SilverShip is gone forever.
I promise myself that there will never be another. Ever. I will make sure of that.
I leave Tomas and Mattie to watch the sunset and head off toward the smell of cooking. Right now I want to be with everyone, safe by the fire, away from the great emptiness of the ocean. I crest the dunes and head down toward the dark shapes of ruined stone cottages beside the broad, shallow river where Dad and Parminter’s grandma have set up our camp. As I reach the flat expanse of grass that leads to the group of people clustered around the fire in the twilight, I see a small figure break away and come running toward me, yelling, “Katie! Katie!”
It’s Jonno and he sounds happy. Not whiny, not cross, not scared. Just happy.
J
“I caught three fish for supper,” I tell Katie. “And us Bears are sleeping by the river. Just like we planned. Come and see!” I pull her along, trying to make her go faster. I am so happy.
But then I remember Nettie.
K
“Kaay-teee . . . ,” Jonno says. “I asked Tomas to give Nettie back, but he won’t. And he won’t say why. It’s not fair.”
It seems like Tomas has ducked that one, but I guess he’s allowed. “Nettie had an important job to do, Jonno,” I say. “Nettie saved our lives.”
Jonno’s eyes are wide. “Did she?”
“She did. And she’s been very brave. But . . . well, I’m sorry, she had to go away and she won’t be coming back.”
Jonno’s eyes fill with tears. He’s been through a lot for a little boy of only six, I think. I scoop him up and carry him, and he snuggles his head into my shoulder. And as we walk toward the flickering firelight and the smell of cooking becomes ever more delicious, he says sleepily, “I told you I would catch fish for supper and we would make camp by a river, didn’t I?”
“You did,” I agree.
“I know you didn’t believe me, but I knew we would. I just knew it—here.” And he thumps his little balled-up fist over his heart.
Maybe, I think, there is more to Jonno than I realize.
M
Night has fallen and we are sitting around a fire beside the river. Entranced, we watch flames untrapped by glass leaping up into the darkness and I am amazed at the heat they give out. I find it strange to be outside after dark with no fear of Night Roaches and nothing but the vastness of the sky above. Every time I look up at the blackness I feel as though I am going to fall into a deep pit. It is most peculiar, but Parminter says I will get used to it.
In the background I hear the rhythmic rasp of a saw. Papa has found some rusty old tools in a ruined boat builder’s shed. He took off Parminter’s cuff first, and now he is cutting through Tomas’s Astro cuffs. It is a good sound.
Parminter’s grandmama—who brought cooking pots, blankets and potatoes on her horse—has made a fish stew and we dip spoons into the big pot and share it. I have never been so close to so many young Wingless ones before, and I confess I find it quite tiring. They are noisy, full of energy and say such very silly things. However, they are also charming in their squishy way and it is delightful how sweetly they sing. They have just embarked upon what Jonno tells me is the “Good-night Song.” It is quiet and slow and Papa plays the tune with them on his flute. I listen to it with a strange new feeling: happiness and sadness both together. It is a not unpleasant sensation. By the end of the song some of the littlest ones, including Jonno, are already asleep. “Let them sleep by the fire, poor little mites. I’ll sit with them,” Parminter’s grandmama says. She covers them gently with blankets and when she is finished she comes over to me and says, “Maximillian, dear. Why don’t you take Parmie to see the moon over the ocean?”
And so I do. I walk through the dunes with Parminter toward the swish-ish sound of the waves upon the beach. At the top of the dunes we stop. I gasp—there is another sun rising over the low hills in the east. I know it must be the moon, but it is so bright and big and round just like the sun that I can hardly believe this is the dull glimmer we used to call the moon. The ocean is huge beneath it, dark and deep with a hundred thousand little moons dancing upon the wavelets. Parminter’s small hand has crept into mine. “The stars,” she whispers. “Look at the stars.”
And away from the brightness of the moon, at last I see them: a dusting of silver as though someone has thrown a handful of glittering white sherbet across the sky. There are so many I can hardly believe it. But I find that I do. I do believe in stars.
We sit on the soft dry sand at the foot of the dunes gazing up at the indigo darkness sprinkled with silver dust. I think of how we belong to the stars and the sky and the Earth turning beneath us, and I am dizzy with happiness.
“How small we are,” Parminter whispers. “Like grains of sand.”
“Two grains of sand,” I say. “Together.”
Chapter 34
Teapot
M
Ah, my young watcher, here you are! I have not seen you since two evenings ago at our camp, but now I find you waiting for us in Parminter’s house. You understand me too well—you knew I would come back with Parminter to find her mama. It is good to see you, but please excuse me a moment while I help Papa, Tomas and Kaitlin to immobilize the vile Cassius Crane. Yes, we found Cassius sitting here, gloating amid the destruction with poor Andronicus tied up in the corner. But now it is Cassius who wears Andronicus’s bonds. And he is gloating no longer.
So, let me tell you what has happened since you disappeared. We spent another day at the camp to get our strength back and we left first thing this morning. Mattie stayed behind with Parminter’s grandmama to help out. Papa, Tomas and Kaitlin rode the horses back to their field beside Parminter’s grandmama’s cottage on the far side of the hills and then we all walked along the sunken lane and through the secret tunnel to Parminter’s skylon hut.
Andronicus had found his way out of the hut all the way back to Parminter’s house, but unfortunately he had also found Cassius Crane roosting in the kitchen. Cassius took Andronicus prisoner and it has not been a good experience for my poor friend. He has been a little flustered since our arrival and it is only n
ow that Cassius is lying upon the floor, wound around with rope so that he resembles a giant and very angry caterpillar, that Andronicus notices Tomas. “Oh my,” he says to me, “you have brought the Vermin.”
“He is a good Vermin,” I tell my dear friend. “A very good one indeed.”
Tomas laughs and puts his arm around me. “This is a pretty good Vermin too,” he says.
Andronicus looks stunned.
“Cassius, however,” I say, “has turned out to be a particularly nasty kind of Vermin.”
Cassius attempts a hiss, but he cannot draw a deep enough breath.
“He has indeed,” Andronicus agrees. “We must consider what to do with him.”
“I am already considering,” Parminter says angrily as she strides over to Cassius and glares down at him. “Where is my mother?” she demands. “What have you done with her?”
“I forget,” he says with a smirk. “As will everyone else.”
We all know only too well what he means. Parminter turns away from the vile Cassius and I see tears springing into her eyes. “Parminter,” I say. “Even if your mama is in Oblivion, it is has only been for three days.”
“Only!” says Parminter.
“She will be all right,” I tell Parminter. “We will find her, I promise.”
Cassius chuckles. “Good luck with that,” he says. “You’ll need it.”
Unfortunately Cassius is right. Oblivion is a prison maze that occupies at least five subterranean floors of the Bartizan. It is guarded and locked. Even if, somehow, we managed to get in unnoticed, we would need a whole ton of luck to find Parminter’s mama. A prisoner is put into a cell at random, no records are kept of where they are and the key is, literally, thrown away. I feel Parminter looking at me in despair and I cannot face her. I fix my eyes upon the little eagle teapot that sits untouched upon the table. I stare at it, thinking how unfair it is that such a delicate, nasty thing manages to survive and Parminter’s mama will not.
Papa follows my gaze. He picks up the teapot and holds it at arm’s length, as though he is expecting its sharp little beak to bite him. “How did this thing get here?” he asks.