by Lian Tanner
‘Haaa!’ roared Albie, and his wrench swung through the air with deadly accuracy.
But Dolph ducked under the blow, the way her mam had taught her, and jabbed the iron rod towards Albie’s ribs.With her other hand, she sliced at his bare arm and drew blood.
The Chief Engineer didn’t even flinch. He swung hard and low at Dolph’s knees, and she leapt out of the way just in time, her heart racing. In the background she could hear the rest of the fighting, like a muffled roar, as the core of the mutineers battled to keep the crew away from the engines.
‘Give – up – Albie,’ she panted.
His lips parted in a vicious grin. ‘You – give – up, Orca’s girl.’
‘Never.’ And Dolph’s knife darted in and out again, so quick that Albie couldn’t guard against it.
More blood, though not enough to slow the Chief Engineer down. Dolph bounced on her toes, trying to look as if she still had all the energy in the world. But she was tiring, and she knew it.
Albie’s next swing clipped her right arm, so that she nearly dropped the knife. She didn’t make a sound, but Albie laughed and swung again. Dolph stepped backwards – and found herself wedged into a corner next to the digester.
The stink of the ship’s waste. The greasy floor. Nowhere to jump. For the first time, she realised that she might be about to lose this fight.Albie’s grin spread as he realised the same thing.
Mam, thought Dolph. Help me! And she surged out of the corner, using her knife to drive Albie back.
He grunted with surprise— And all around them, the pipes began to rattle out a message from First Officer Hump on the bridge.
Shore party due to be executed in morning, said the pipes, in general ship code. They need us NOW!
It was impossible not to be distracted by it. Dolph’s first thought was that Missus Slink must have fixed the telegraph. Her second thought was that Albie was still taking in the message, and that she could kill him right now, if she wanted to. It was probably the best thing to do – otherwise he’d always be a problem. Her mam, Orca, would have killed him without hesitation. And Dolph was as loyal as she could be to Orca’s memory.
But at the same time, she was trying to do things differently. And so, instead of using her knife, she raised the iron rod and whacked Albie across the skull. And as he fell to the deck, unconscious, she leapt over his body, shouting,‘Put him in the Dufftown brig.And get those engines going.We’re heading north, full speed!’
WE KNEW YOU’D COME FOR US
Sharkey crept up the north side of the quarry, as quickly and silently as he could. The moon was high now, and he could almost see where he was going, which was just as well. Prickly bushes jabbed at him from all sides. Stones and pebbles turned under his feet. Below him, in the heart of the quarry, a hundred small fires burned, and the sound of hammering filled the night air.
No distractions, Sharkey told himself. I can’t help ’em, so it’s a waste of time even thinking about it.
He heard something moving up ahead, and froze. It was a dragging sound, a rustling of grass and twigs, and for a moment he wished Rain was there with him – she’d know what it was.
But then he remembered. Rain was the enemy. If she was here, she’d just betray me again.
He waited.The dragging sound stopped.Somewhere near Sharkey’s foot, a small rough voice said, ‘Come to ’elp, ’ave you, shipmate?’
Sharkey almost fell off the edge of the quarry, he was so startled. ‘Mister Smoke,’ he whispered. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Been sendin’ a message to the Oyster. Givin’ ’em our position. Lettin’ ’em know what’s happenin’ down yonder.’ He twitched his long nose towards the quarry.
Sharkey swallowed.‘What’s happening?’
‘Ain’t you looked?’
‘Not yet.’
The rat beckoned him. Sharkey didn’t want to go, but he found himself dropping to his hands and knees and crawling to the edge.
What he saw was like a scene from a nightmare. A hundred or more crude torches were arranged in a circle, so they lit up the quarry like sunclimb. No one was chipping at the rocks, however. There were no prisoners at all, just the Devouts and their dogs, standing beside the torches, with anticipation rising from them as hot and hungry as a diesel engine.
No. Wait. There were prisoners. In the middle of the circle, like the eye of a storm, the whipping posts held four sagging figures. Petrel. Fin. Krill. The silver child.
The hammering stopped, then started again. With an effort, Sharkey dragged his eyes away from the four figures to where a score or so of Devouts were building a platform, with three posts on it.
Sharkey’s guts tried to tie themselves in a knot. ‘What’s that for?’ he whispered.
‘That’s a gibbet, shipmate. They’re gunna hang Petrel, Fin and Krill at dawn. And over yonder you’ll see a bonfire.That’s for the cap’n.They’re gunna burn what can be burned, and melt the rest.’
Sharkey stared at him. ‘Will the Oyster get here in time? To save ’em?’
‘Not a chance, shipmate.’
I can’t help ’em, thought Sharkey. I’ve got to rescue my people. No distractions.
Except if their positions were reversed, if it was Sharkey down there in the quarry, he couldn’t imagine Petrel walking away. She’d be up here plotting, and so would Krill and Fin.And the little silver captain would be wanting to help, and Rain would—
No. Don’t think about Rain.
‘I could come back,’ whispered Sharkey, his eyes fixed on the gibbet. ‘I’ve got to get the Sunkers out and send ’em down the coast, but then I could come back. I don’t know what I can—’
‘I knew you wouldn’t let us down, shipmate,’ said the rat. ‘’Ere, do you want this?’ And he dragged the sack out of the bushes and dumped it in front of Sharkey.
‘The comm,’ said Sharkey. ‘Adm’ral Deeps’ll need it to signal Claw.’ He opened the sack, and his fingers brushed against tin.
The masks.
The original plan, thought up by Petrel and added to by everyone else, had involved Mister Smoke smuggling the masks into the re-education camp, along with enough wood and rags to make several flaming torches, and a note to explain how terrified the Devouts were of the ‘demon’.
Because of the tunnel, the masks were no longer needed. But it struck Sharkey that maybe he could use them for a different purpose . . .
‘I’ll take the whole thing,’ he said, tying the mouth of the sack shut and slinging it over his shoulder. ‘I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll do my best. What about you, Mister Smoke?’
‘Don’t worry about me, shipmate. I got me own plans. Gotta find Scroll, for a start. I’m ’opin’ she can ’elp me with somethin’.’
‘Well then,’ said Sharkey.‘Fair tides and clear water.’
‘Same to you, shipmate.’ Mister Smoke turned away.
Sharkey whispered,‘Wait!’
‘Aye? What is it?’
‘You’re not— You’re not really the adm’ral, are you? You’re not really one of the ancestors?’
He heard a whisper of sound, like rat laughter. ‘What do you think, shipmate?’ said Mister Smoke. And, with a twitch of his nose, he was gone.
Rain was curled up on her bed in the little closet, waiting for the night to pass. Now that she was back, it was hard to believe that the last two weeks with the Sunker children had happened. Everything was exactly as it had been before. She had managed to talk to Bran, after he was released from the punishment hole, but apart from that all her time had been spent acting as her uncle’s unpaid servant.
After supper he had locked her in her room and would not let her out until an hour or so before dawn. Her job then would be to feed Brother Thrawn spoonfuls of gruel, while Uncle Poosk tucked into a breakfast of eggs, black pudding, crab cakes, roast goose and pastries – all of it meant for his ‘dear leader’.
Once breakfast was finished, the day’s audience would begin, with Devouts
from all over the world bringing their reports and questions. At least, that was the normal order of things. Today would be different, because of the executions.
Rain turned her face to her wooden pillow, trying not to think about anything except Bran. She had managed to save him from a whipping, but she was not sure that she could save him from turning into a proper Devout. Not unless she got him away from here.
‘And that is why,’ she sang under her breath,
‘I WILL do this.
No matter how
Afraid I am—’
A sharp rap on her door made her flinch. She heard the key turn in the lock, and dressed quickly, throwing on skirt and vest and pulling on her boots. Then she crept out the door.
Uncle Poosk was already seated at the dining table, his face pink with pleasure at the sight of the crab cakes. ‘Executions give me an appetite,’ he said to Rain.‘Hurry up and feed our dear leader, and we will be on our way.’
Brother Thrawn was sitting in his wheeled chair in the next room, dressed in clean robes. His mad eyes stared at Rain as she draped a rug over his knees. ‘Gurr—’ he mumbled. ‘Gurr-lll.’
Rain froze. Was that a word? A proper word? She licked her lips. ‘Did— Did you say girl, Brother?’ she whispered.
There it was, the slightest nod, and sweat breaking out on the man’s gaunt forehead as if the movement had taken nearly all his strength.
‘Are you— Are you getting better?’
Another infinitesimal nod.
Rain stood there, gaping. What did this mean? Should she tell her uncle? Did it change things?
No.
‘Brother Thrawn,’ she whispered. ‘Do you want to get your revenge on Uncle Poosk? Do you want your people to know the truth about what he is doing?’
She could see the answer in Thrawn’s eyes. It was like a shout, and she almost fell backwards with the force of it.
But she sang a quick silent song for courage, then said,‘I will help you. But you will have to help me, too. Can you pretend, just for the next little while, that you are not getting better?’
A third nod.
‘Good. This is what we are going to do,’ said Rain.
She bent closer, and whispered hurriedly in his ear. Then she grabbed the back of the chair and wheeled it into the dining room, where Uncle Poosk was stuffing himself as if he could not get enough of the rich food – which was probably true.
Like Rain’s mama, Poosk had grown up in poverty and had struggled all his life to climb out of it. He was not the sort of man who would ever rise to wealth and power on his own. But in the weeks since the disastrous expedition had returned from the icy south, he had done it through Brother Thrawn.
‘Greetings, revered leader,’ he murmured as Rain pushed the chair to the other end of the table.‘What a day we have ahead of us, beginning with an execution at dawn.You must be there, of course. How would we manage without your wise presence?’
His words were humble, but the sarcastic tone gave him away. He never bothered pretending when it was just Rain and Brother Thrawn in the room with him. Brother Thrawn couldn’t betray him, and Rain wouldn’t. Not when he could so easily hurt Bran.
She fed Brother Thrawn as quickly as she could, which was not very quickly at all. He hated the gruel, and she hated spooning it into him. But at last, with a quarter of the bowl still full, he clenched his teeth and refused to eat any more.
Rain picked up the bowl and stood there, as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.
‘What is the matter?’ asked her uncle, looking up from his plate with a crumb of pastry clinging to his lip.‘Have you forgotten your duties?’
‘No, Uncle.’
‘Then put the bowl next to mine, here.’ He rapped the table with his knuckles. ‘I have nearly finished.’
‘Yes, Uncle.’ Rain walked towards him, singing under her breath, ‘But will we cower, will we hide . . .’
And then, somehow, in the middle of her song, she tripped, and the bowl flew out of her hand and spilled gruel all over her uncle’s clean robe.
‘Oh! I am sorry!’ she gasped, backing away with her hand over her mouth.
Apologies were never enough for Uncle Poosk. He leapt to his feet with a cry of anger, and slapped her across the face. ‘Useless girl! Now I will have to change.’
‘I am sorry,’ whispered Rain again. She dared not touch her stinging cheek.‘Can I help? Tell me what to do and I will do it.’
She ran ahead of him, opening the door of his room and hovering there anxiously.
‘Bah!’ said her uncle, elbowing her to one side. ‘Make sure Thrawn’s hands are clean. I do not want to waste another minute.’
And he slammed the door in her face.
With trembling fingers, Rain turned the key in the lock. Uncle Poosk was too busy cursing to hear it, but she knew she didn’t have long. She ran back to the table, grabbed Brother Thrawn’s chair and, without a word, wheeled it towards the audience chamber.
They were not quite there when the door handle rattled behind them. Rain flinched.
‘What is this?’ cried her uncle. ‘What have you done, stupid girl? Let me out at once!’
Quickly Rain pushed Brother Thrawn through the empty audience chamber, and shut the heavy doors behind them. Her uncle’s cries grew muffled.
The Initiates’ dormitory was four long corridors away, just past the door that led to the underground storerooms.To Rain, every step seemed like an eternity. Her hands were clammy and cold, and she was having trouble breathing. She kept expecting Uncle Poosk to break free from his prison and come after her.
But then she saw Bran, waiting outside the dormitory as she had instructed. She hugged him with all her strength. ‘Are you ready?’ she whispered.
The little boy nodded.
Rain dredged her memory for the bravest song she knew.To her surprise, it was one of her own.
‘I tried to break the depth gauge
To save my brother’s life—’
She nodded to herself. She had been terrified then, just as she was now. But she would do what had to be done.
With her heart beating wildly, she went over the words she had prepared for the guards at the gate. Brother Thrawn is going to oversee the execution of the demon and its followers. Let us through.
Then she and her little brother pushed the leader of the world out the door of the Citadel.
By the time Sharkey made it back to the mouth of the tunnel with the sack over his shoulder, Adm’ral Deeps was already crawling out.
She was filthy and bruised, but when she saw Sharkey she pulled herself up to her full height and gripped his arm. ‘Well done,’ she murmured. ‘Very well done. We had no idea the guard dogs were gone! Without you, we’d never have tried the tunnel tonight.’
‘It was Poddy, Adm’ral, as much as me,’ said Sharkey.
Deeps laughed under her breath. ‘Modest as usual, eh? Here, give me a hand.’
More people were coming out of the tunnel by then, some of them so weak they had to be dragged along. There were two of them, then three, then a dozen. Sharkey and Adm’ral Deeps stood on either side of the entrance, helping the Sunkers to their feet and propping them up until they were steady.
Out came Sharkey’s uncles and aunts and cousins, and Cuttle’s ma, and Gilly’s fa and all the other people he had been so relieved to see in the quarry. Only now it was even better, because they were right there in front of him, and he could grip their hands and clasp their shoulders without even trying to wipe away his tears.
Nearly everyone who emerged whispered, ‘We knew you’d come for us, Sharkey.’
‘It wasn’t just me,’ he said, over and over again. ‘There’s others, and they’re in trouble.’ But no one seemed to hear that last bit, no matter how often he said it.
At last the whole of Rampart’s crew was gathered under the trees, a filthy, ragged, whispering crowd, as familiar and dear to Sharkey as his own two hands. With a quick signal, Adm’ral Dee
ps called the senior salties to her side and said, ‘We’re heading sou’-west, keeping well away from the road. No stragglers. Stickle, Pike, Scale, you three bring up the rear. Sharkey and I’ll lead the way. Come!’
Sharkey started to obey her. It was automatic, and besides, he wanted to go with her, he really did. After all the confusion and fear of the last fortnight, he was back with his people.What’s more, he was a hero, a real one this time. Everyone loved him. He could go with them, and no one would know he’d deserted Petrel and her friends just when they needed him most.
No one except him and Mister Smoke.
Before he could change his mind, he stopped and took the comm device out of the bag. ‘Adm’ral, you can use this to signal Gilly on Claw. She’ll only be able to take four or five, and the rest of the crew’ll have to hide. Did Poddy tell you about the Oyster?’
‘She did,’ said the Adm’ral, accepting the comm. ‘Will they pick us up?’
‘I reckon so, though not straight away. Some of their people are in trouble. Ship’s coming to the rescue, but they’re too far away to help. Which is why I have to go back.’
‘Go back?’ Deeps stared at him, the bruises on her face as dark as ink. ‘Nay, Sharkey, you’re coming with us.’
‘But I want—’
‘It’s not what you want, Sharkey, it’s what you must do.’ The Adm’ral’s voice hardened. ‘I thought you understood that.Your duty is to your people.And if we have to manage without the Oyster, we will.’
‘But I—’
‘Nay, I’ll have no argument.What if you get caught again? We can’t take such a risk. Who else among us can hear the ancestors?’
Sharkey stared at her, his heart sinking.‘But—’
‘Poddy told us about the talking rats, but I don’t believe they’re Lin Lin and Adm’ral Cray, any more than you do. You’re the only one the ancestors have ever spoken to. And right now, we need their wisdom more than ever.Which means we need you.’
Her hand gripped Sharkey’s wrist. He tried to pull away, but even half-starved she was stronger than he was, and he found himself being hauled through the trees, towards the waterline.