Sunker's Deep

by Lian Tanner

  He knew that Adm’ral Deeps was right, in one way. The Sunkers did need him. Not to talk to the ancestors, but to guide them across strange country and make sure they found the bay where Claw was waiting.

  Trouble was, Petrel and her friends needed him more.

  He didn’t have to ask himself what she would do, not this time. He knew what was right. And he knew the exact words that would make Adm’ral Deeps let him go. But he didn’t think he could get them out. Because once they were said, there’d be no more ‘hero’. There’d be no more back-patting and ‘Well done’ and ‘We knew you’d come for us’.

  In fact, he’d be lucky if any of the Sunkers ever spoke to him again. Especially Adm’ral Deeps.

  He dug in his heels. The Adm’ral jolted to a stop, saying, ‘What is the matter?’

  ‘It was—’ The words stuck like a fishbone in Sharkey’s throat.

  All around him, Sunkers were heading to the waterline as quickly and quietly as they could. Anyone too weak to hobble was carried. Presser Surgeon Blue was limping from one small group to another. And there was Poddy, trotting towards Sharkey, her face bright with joy.Which made it even harder.

  But not as hard as walking away, with the gibbet and the bonfire behind him.

  ‘It was a lie,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ Adm’ral Deeps was losing patience with him, hero or not. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Sharkey took a jagged breath. Then he looked straight at the adm’ral and said, ‘The ancestors never spoke to me. Never. I lied. I’m sorry.’

  The joy in Poddy’s face went out like a light. At the same time, the Adm’ral’s fingers loosened with shock.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ said Sharkey again, more to Poddy than to anyone else. And he pulled his hand free and ran back the way he had come.

  One hand, thought Petrel. All this time, and I’ve only got one hand free.

  But one hand was better than none.And no one had noticed, not yet, which meant she could start work on the other hand. Her head still bowed. Her face still dull with stupidity. And in her heart, the desperate need to save her friends.

  She’d hoped the Devouts might grow careless, standing guard all night, but they showed no sign of it. If anything, they watched Krill, Fin and the captain more closely than ever. The only one they ignored was Petrel.

  Her left hand was easier to untie than her right. Carefully, she flexed her wrists, keeping the rope around them and watching the guards out of the corner of her eye. Something was happening. What was it? The hammering behind her had stopped and the Devouts were milling around purposefully.

  They went for Krill first, a mob of them with cudgels at the ready. They untied the ropes that held him to the whipping post, then dragged him bodily past Petrel, with the Head Cook struggling all the way. But his hands were bound and his ankle was useless, and all he could do was bruise a few of them, and get worse bruises in return.

  Petrel turned her head as he passed, and saw the platform behind her. With its ropes. And its nooses. And Krill being dragged towards it.

  Her heart almost tore itself from her body in fright. They were going to hang him. They weren’t going to wait for dawn, they were going to do it now. What’s more, another group of Devouts was advancing on Fin and the captain. And on her. Her hands might be free, but that wasn’t nearly enough. It was time for the executions, and she couldn’t do a thing to stop them.

  EXECUTION

  Sharkey ran south along the road, feeling as if he had a fever. His face burned at the thought of what he had just done. His chest ached. He knew there was a good chance he’d never see Claw again.And if he did, it certainly wouldn’t be as captain.

  Maybe the Oyster’ll take me, he thought bleakly. I could work in the engine room and pretend I’m still in the Undersea.

  He tightened his grip on the sack, and looked up at the stars. By the position of the Lobster, it was less than an hour till dawn, which meant he had to be extra careful. Rain’s trap was about to be sprung, and he was determined not to get caught in it.

  He’d just passed the road that led up to the Citadel when he heard something coming down the hill towards him. A cart maybe, its wheels rattling on the icy pebbles. Sharkey slid into the ditch and crouched there in the mud and the weeds, trying to quieten his breathing.

  The rattling sound came closer. And there in the moonlight was Brother Thrawn, hunched in his wheeled chair, with Rain and Bran pushing him towards the quarry.

  If Sharkey could’ve killed them with a look, he would’ve done it, and danced around their dead bodies. He shrank down as they passed, his face inches above the freezing mud, his eye half-closed so as not to catch the moonlight. A frog croaked nearby.The rattle of the wheeled chair grew louder and louder, then it passed him and continued down the road.

  Sharkey didn’t move. Poosk’d be along any second, keeping an eye on Brother Thrawn. There’d be guards too, ready to spring the trap.

  Which I’m not going to fall into.

  He waited, with the cold seeping through his clothes. But there were no more footsteps. Brother Poosk and the guards did not come.

  Sharkey’s pulse hammered in his ears. Where were they? Had they gone to the re-education camp instead of the quarry? Was that part of the trap?

  No. Poosk wouldn’t let Brother Thrawn go anywhere without him! It’d be too easy for things to go wrong, for the whole pretend nursemaid thing to fall apart. So if he’s not here, where is he?

  Sharkey inched his way out of the ditch, staring after the chair. This didn’t make any sense. What was Rain doing? She had betrayed him, so she must be against him. She must be working with Poosk. But if that was the case, where was Poosk? Where were the guar—

  The realisation hit him like a flood tide. If Poosk wasn’t here, maybe he didn’t know what was happening. Maybe it wasn’t a trap after all!

  And suddenly Sharkey saw the sense in Rain’s betrayal.

  Those two guards and their dogs would’ve caught him in the end – he knew that now. For all his determination, he’d been lost from the moment they came out of the trees. He hadn’t understood it at the time. But Rain had.

  And she’d understood, too, that she was more useful free than as a prisoner. Free, she could send Bran to let Sharkey and Poddy out of the punishment hole. Free, she could set up a diversion.

  Sharkey felt as if the weight of oceans had lifted off his shoulders. She hadn’t betrayed him after all! She’d just been clever.

  He almost laughed out loud at the beauty of it. She’d fooled him as effectively as he’d ever fooled the Sunkers.What’s more, she’d fooled Poosk.

  He raced after the wheeled chair, leaving a trail of mud behind him. Hope I’m right, he thought. Hope this isn’t the stupidest thing I ever did.

  And he hissed,‘Rain!’

  She stopped dead, but didn’t turn around. Sharkey thought he heard a whisper of song, trembling on the night air. He tried again. ‘Rain! It’s me, Sharkey!’

  Rain spun around, her hand to her mouth. Her little brother leaned against her, his face concealed by his hood.

  ‘Sharkey,’ whispered Rain.‘You got away.’

  ‘Aye,and Poddy too,and all the rest of the Sunkers—’

  There was a grunt of protest from the man in the wheeled chair, and a barely formed word.‘Nnno-o.’

  Rain bent over him and said, ‘If you want, I can always give you back to Brother Poosk. I do not mind.’

  At which Brother Thrawn fell silent.

  ‘Are you taking him to the quarry?’ asked Sharkey. ‘Is he your diversion?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s a good start, but I don’t think it’ll be enough.’

  ‘I know,’ said Rain.‘But it was all I could think of.’

  ‘Mister Smoke’s around somewhere – he’s got plans too, though he didn’t say what. And I’ve got these.’ Sharkey tapped the sack. ‘You start things off, and I’ll come in when they’re already shaken up a bit.’

 
; He was trying to sound confident, and it must have worked because Rain beamed at him and said,‘We are going to save them!’

  ‘Aye,’ said Sharkey, ‘course we are. Bran, do you know much about goats?’

  The little boy pushed his hood out of his eyes and nodded.

  ‘He is good with animals,’ said Rain.

  ‘Then he’d best come with me,’ said Sharkey. ‘Because all I know is fish, and I suspect goats are a bit different.’

  The noose around Petrel’s neck was coarse and scratchy.The stool she balanced on had a wobbly leg. One of the Devouts stood ready to kick it out from under her.

  Where are you, Mister Smoke? she thought. I wish you’d come!

  But even if Mister Smoke did come, it could only be to say goodbye. Because Fin had a stool beneath his feet and a noose around his neck too. So did Krill. And on the other side of the quarry, three men waited for the signal to plunge their flaming torches into the wood stacked around the silver captain.

  Petrel’s hands were loose inside their ropes, but what good was that? Even if she could grab the noose as she fell, the Devouts would be upon her in an instant. She’d still die. It’d just take a bit longer.

  This is the end, she thought. I wish Krill and Fin weren’t so far away. I wish I could hug ’em. I wish I could talk to the cap’n one last time, tell him I’m sorry we never found his Singer.

  She wondered what the Devouts were waiting for. Someone important, maybe? Whoever it was, she hoped they never came! She hoped—

  A movement near the quarry entrance caught her attention. The ranks of Devouts were parting to let someone through. Someone important.

  A chill of horror ran down Petrel’s back. The waiting was over.

  The doves in their cote fluttered restlessly as the two boys crept past. Next door to them, the goats were quiet. Sharkey followed Bran into the pen and closed the gate behind them. Under his feet, the ground was chopped, and frosted with ice.

  ‘Du-usk!’ called Bran softly.‘Mee-eek!’

  Sharkey heard a crying sound, like a baby wanting its ma, and a patter of hooves. Next moment, he found himself surrounded by a dozen or more hairy bodies, all butting up against him and trying to nibble his fingers, as excitable as a bunch of middies and twice as smelly.

  He stood very still and tall, trying to keep his hands away from the curious mouths. But Bran rubbed the goats’ heads and scratched their ears and chatted to them as if they were old friends.

  ‘What are we going to do with them?’ he asked.

  Sharkey undid the neck of the sack and showed Bran the contents.‘I want to tie these to ’em, and send ’em running into the quarry.’

  ‘Where the Brothers are?’ Bran’s eyes were enormous.

  ‘Aye. Can we do that?’

  The little boy thought for a minute, scratching his lip with his finger, then said,‘If I take a bucket of grain they will follow me up the road, and then I could throw the bucket – except I cannot throw very far.’

  ‘I can,’ said Sharkey.

  And they set to work.

  The last person Petrel expected to see was Rain. But there she was, her face white in the torchlight, pushing a stooped figure in a wheeled chair. A murmuring rose all across the quarry, and the Devouts edged forward.

  Petrel turned her head carefully to look at Fin and Krill, and they looked back at her with desperate eyes. Rain might have pretended to be their friend on Claw, but she had shown her true colours when she betrayed Sharkey. She wasn’t here to help them. She was here to watch them die.

  The wheeled chair stopped halfway between the platform and the unlit bonfire. Rain bent over the stooped figure, listened – and moved the chair back ten yards towards the quarry entrance, as if to get a better view.

  The Devouts made way for her, nudging each other into position with their elbows.The three men on the platform, waiting to kick away the stools, straightened up expectantly. The guards with the flaming torches moved closer to the silver captain.

  Petrel heard a flurry of wings overhead, and the torches guttered, then sprang high again. She stared at the figure in the wheeled chair. It was Brother Thrawn. She’d only seen him once, but the harsh lines of his face had stuck in her mind.

  The man nearest the chair held up his hand for silence. Rain said something to him, and he repeated her words. ‘Before the executions are carried out, our dear leader wishes to make an announcement,’ he bellowed.

  His voice reached every corner of the quarry, and bounced off the rough stone in a wave of echoes. Announcement . . . announcement . . . announcement . . .

  ‘He has important news that he particularly wishes to convey to us. In person.’ Person . . . person . . .

  ‘He cannot speak above a whisper, but—’

  Rain gestured an invitation.The man with the loud voice puffed out his chest with importance.‘But I will listen and pass on his words.’

  And he bent over Brother Thrawn.

  For half a minute or more, nothing happened. The man shifted uncomfortably, waiting for his leader to say something.

  Petrel thought she heard a grunting sound. And suddenly, she felt a spark of hope. She wasn’t sure why. Nothing had changed – or had it? She flexed her fingers, trying to get the blood flowing.

  ‘What was that, Brother?’ asked the man.

  Another grunt, like someone trying – and failing – to speak. The man straightened up, his face red. He whispered to Rain, and she whispered back.

  ‘What?’ cried the man, his eyes bulging. ‘I do not believe it!’

  Somehow, quiet Rain found her voice. ‘It is true!’ True . . . true . . . true . . . ‘He cannot talk.’ Talk . . . talk . . .

  Disbelief rippled from one side of the quarry to the other.Voices rose in protest.

  ‘Of course he can talk, he has been giving us orders.’

  ‘You are not listening carefully enough.’

  ‘Where is Brother Poosk? The man is a fool, but at least he knows how to listen.’

  One voice could be heard above them all – the man who had first spoken. ‘His condition has grown suddenly worse, yes? Is that what he wanted to tell us?’

  Petrel had to make herself breathe. The hope that they might not be going to die after all was almost as painful as the despair.

  ‘No,’ said Rain. ‘He has not suddenly grown worse.’ Then she cleared her throat and began to sing, softly at first, then more strongly.

  ‘He has been like this

  Since he came back from the south.

  He cannot say a word.

  Brother Poosk has taken you all

  For fools.’

  The Devouts stared at each other. ‘Fools?’ they said. ‘No, I do not believe it!’

  Within seconds, both Rain and the man with the loud voice were pushed aside by a dozen brothers, who pressed as close as they could to Thrawn’s chair, begging him to speak.

  But all Brother Thrawn did was grunt.

  The men stepped back, staring at each other in horror. ‘The girl was right,’ said one of them in a low voice. Then he raised his head and shouted it. ‘The girl was right! He cannot speak! Poosk has taken us for fools!’

  Fools . . . fools . . . FOOLS . . . The word echoed around the quarry, bouncing off stone and growing in volume as the Devouts repeated it in outraged voices.

  ‘Fools? Us?’

  Those disciplined ranks disappeared as if they had never existed. Torches waved this way and that. Some of them fell to the ground and were extinguished by the mud. The three men on the platform jumped down and joined their fellows, surging towards Brother Thrawn in a shouting throng.

  Petrel eased her wrists out of the ropes and hopped off the stool. No one tried to stop her. They were too wrapped up in their own anger, bellowing at Rain, who cowered behind the wheeled chair.‘Where is he?’ they screamed. ‘Where is Poosk? Where is he?’

  Petrel slipped the noose from Fin’s neck and untied his ropes with quick fingers. ‘You do Krill,’ s
he whispered. ‘I’ll do the cap’n.’

  The ropes that pinioned the captain’s arms and legs were too tight, and she couldn’t untie them, not with time so short. But the rope that tied him to the stake was looser. Petrel dug at it with her broken nails until it came free, then looked around for Fin to help her carry the captain. But Fin was beckoning her—

  Which was when Petrel remembered Krill’s ankle.

  The blood roared in her ears. We can’t carry both of ’em. But we can’t leave one of ’em behind, either.

  She began to drag the captain towards the platform, thinking that maybe Krill could carry him, while she and Fin supported the Head Cook.

  Somewhere in the shouting crowd, the man with the loud voice bellowed, ‘Quiet! Quiet! We will find Poosk and bring him to justice. But we cannot all go.’

  Petrel froze.

  ‘Some of us must stay here and guard the prisoners.’

  NO!

  But the brown-robed men at the back of the crowd were already remembering their duty, and turning around . . .

  In the sudden shocked silence, as the Devouts saw that the platform was empty and their prisoners loose, Petrel thought she heard three things.

  Wings overhead.

  A baby crying.

  A grunt of effort, as if someone had thrown something with all their strength.

  The next minute, that something came hurtling over the heads of the Devouts. It was a wooden bucket, and it hit the empty platform with a thud. A man shouted. A dog barked. Another man, closer to the quarry mouth, screamed. Echoes bounced off the rock walls, and heads turned in every direction, trying to work out what was happening.

  More screams. Then someone cried, ‘Demons! Demons! A horde of them!’ And the Devouts scattered in every direction.

  But not all of them were panicking, not yet. Two men ran grim-faced towards Petrel and the captain. Four more closed in on Fin and Krill. Petrel lowered the captain to the ground and stood over him with clenched fists, determined to defend him to the last. She heard the wings again, but dared not look up.

  The first man knocked her aside with a single blow. The second one raised his cudgel to smash the captain—