by Lian Tanner
‘No!’ shrieked Petrel, scrambling to her feet and throwing herself at him. But he was more than twice her size and he shrugged her off as if she hardly existed, then raised his cudgel again. Ten yards away, Fin and Krill were taking a battering.
Petrel looked around frantically. She couldn’t believe this was the end.There must be a weapon or – or something—
And then she saw it. She threw herself at the man a second time, with such ferocity that she spoiled his aim. The cudgel smashed into the ground, an inch from the captain’s head.The man cursed, and began to lift it once more.
But before he could strike, Petrel pointed to a spot behind him and screamed,‘Demons!’
Fin’s head jerked up, his cheek dark with blood. He saw what Petrel had seen. ‘Demons!’ he shouted.
And ‘DEMONS!’ bellowed Krill. ‘COMING THIS WAY!’
For men whose whole lives had been built on superstition and fear, it was impossible to ignore.All six of the Devouts glanced over their shoulders – and then they were screaming too, everything else forgotten as a horde of hairy demons raced towards them. Or rather, a flock of goats with shiny tin masks tied between their horns – masks that, in the torchlight, looked exactly like the captain’s silver face.
The six men fled without a backwards glance. A single captured demon, half-dead and trussed up, was one thing. But a horde of the creatures, free to wreak their terrible revenge, was another.
Petrel was breathing hard, as if she’d just run the length of the Oyster and back. She bent down and grabbed the captain under his arms.
A familiar voice said,‘Stand aside, shipmate!’
‘Mister Smoke!’ cried Petrel, and there was the rat, grinning up at her, with his fur filthy and a feather tucked behind his ear.
‘You ’elp Krill,’ said Mister Smoke. ‘We’ll take the cap’n.’
He whistled. And suddenly Petrel heard the wings again, directly overhead, and found herself in the midst of hundreds of pigeons.
But before they could land, the goats dashed past a second time, and now there was a pack of dogs nipping at their heels.The pigeons took to the skies. Goats and dogs raced around the platform and back the way they had come.
Somewhere a boy’s voice cried above the uproar, ‘Haiiii! Haiiii! Run!’
Mister Smoke whistled again, and again the birds came down. This time, their claws fastened onto the ropes that bound the captain’s arms and legs. A third whistle, and they began to beat their wings so hard that Petrel was driven backwards by the rush of air. For a moment the captain did not move. The wings beat harder. The birds strained. Petrel thought she saw Scroll in the middle of them.
The captain lifted off the ground.
‘Outta the way!’ cried Mister Smoke, and as the captain rose into the sky, the rat leapt onto his chest and clung there.
‘Where are you taking him?’ shouted Petrel.
‘To find the Singer,’ replied Mister Smoke.
‘But he’s broken!’
Mister Smoke didn’t answer. Petrel heard his rough voice one last time. ‘Full speed ahead, shipmates!’
And the pigeons wheeled as one, and disappeared into the darkness.
Sharkey was hoarse from shouting. Every time the goats tried to run out of the quarry, he and Bran sent them back.‘Haiiii! Haiiii! Run!’
One or two of the masks had fallen off, but most of them stayed where Sharkey had tied them, reflecting the firelight, so that the goats not only looked like hairy demons, but like hairy demons with flaming eyes.
All through the quarry, brown-robed men tumbled over each other, trying to escape. Some of them managed to climb a little way up the steep walls, only to slide down again in a flurry of panic. Their frantic cries added to the chaos, and the goats, already unnerved by the fires and the nipping dogs, jibbed and jumped in all directions.
But Sharkey knew it couldn’t last. He grabbed Bran and dragged him towards the gibbet. On the way, they met Rain, shaky, but singing at the top of her voice.
‘Hobgoblins tiptoe through the night
And imp and ghost and evil wight—’
‘Quick!’ cried Sharkey. And the three of them ran towards the platform.
Petrel was staring up at the sky with a strange look on her face. Fin had his shoulder under Krill’s arm, trying to help the big man hobble along.There was no sign of the silver child.
‘Where is he?’ asked Sharkey, looking around. ‘Where’s your cap’n?’
‘He’s gone,’ said Petrel. For a moment she sounded lost, but then her face cleared and she snapped back to practicalities. ‘And we’d best be gone too. Rain, you coming with us?’
Rain nodded.‘Yes, please.And Bran.’
‘Come on, then.’ Petrel tucked herself under Krill’s other arm, and grimaced as she took some of his weight. Sharkey snatched up a discarded cudgel. Bran flapped along in his too-big robes, Rain still sang – though quietly now – and they hustled towards the road.
Sharkey kept expecting someone to stop them. But the demon goats were still cutting a swathe from one side of the quarry to another, and the torches were guttering and the dogs were howling, and not one of those superstitious men could gather his wits for long enough to stop the prisoners escaping. In the middle of the chaos, Brother Thrawn sat in his chair, seething.
The children and Krill reached the road without being challenged, and headed sou’-west as fast as they could go, which wasn’t nearly fast enough for Sharkey. He looked over his shoulder and said,‘Someone’ll stop being scared soon, and start thinking. And then they’ll be after us. Krill can’t run, which means we need somewhere to hide.’
‘What about a horse?’ asked Petrel.‘If we stick Krill on its back, and maybe Bran too, we could run.’
Sharkey nodded. ‘Bran, d’you know where the horses are kept?’
The little boy pointed past the dovecot and the goat pen, and they hurried off the road, dragging Krill over a stile and across a ploughed field.
Behind them, a dog yelped. Sharkey thought he heard someone shout,‘Poosk!’
He hoped the Devouts would be so furious with the man who had fooled them that they wouldn’t bother with their escaped prisoners. But he knew it was unlikely. Some of them might go after Poosk. But any moment now, the rest would be on the heels of the escapees.
‘Rain,’ he said. ‘Can you and Bran run ahead and bring back a horse? Fast as you can?’
Rain and her little brother set off running into the darkness. The others followed, with Petrel and Fin stumbling across the furrows, and Krill wincing with pain every time he put his bad foot on the ground.
Bran and Rain didn’t come back.
‘Horse must’ve taken – one look at Krill and – refused to budge,’ panted Petrel.
But there was worry in her voice, and worry in Krill’s too when he rumbled,‘None of your – cheek – bratling.Any horse’d be – honoured – to carry me.’
‘Perhaps they are – lost,’ said Fin. ‘Though I—’ He broke off abruptly. Ahead of them, looming up against the background of stars, were three enormous round shapes.
‘Balloons,’ whispered Sharkey.
‘They must be tethered – behind the stables,’ said Fin. ‘Perhaps Rain and Bran – have been caught.’
‘Then we’ll have to – uncatch ’em,’ said Petrel. ‘Sharkey, will you swap – for a bit?’
Sharkey gave her the cudgel and took her place under Krill’s arm.They set off again.
When they reached the stables, Krill leaned against the wooden wall, breathing heavily, while Fin slipped inside. He came back with the news that there was no sign of Rain or Bran. ‘Let us try around the back,’ he whispered.
‘Wait! Listen!’ Petrel held up a hand.
Sharkey pinned back his ears, wondering what—Then he heard it too. A shout from the road behind them.
‘They’re after us,’ he whispered.‘No time for horses. We’ll have to take a balloon.’
It was a mad suggestion,
but the others nodded grimly, knowing what would happen to them if they were caught a second time. Petrel, Sharkey and Fin crept around the back of the stable, with Krill hopping after them, hanging on to the wall for balance.
Sharkey wondered what they’d find. Bran and Rain tied up and helpless? An armed guard blocking the way to the balloons?
The first person he saw was Rain. She wasn’t tied up. In fact, she had a knife in her hand and was hacking at the rope that tethered one of the balloons to the ground. Even as Sharkey watched, the balloon jerked, bobbed – and soared up into the night sky with its basket dangling empty beneath it.
Petrel gasped.‘What’s she doing?’
The word betrayal tried to slip into Sharkey’s mind, but he wouldn’t let it. He saw a second figure lying unconscious on the ground. A guard, maybe. And a third, standing next to one of the remaining balloons—
‘It’s Poosk,’ he breathed.‘He’s got Bran.’
The little boy was a limp bundle of robes in his uncle’s arms. At his throat was another knife, glinting in the moonlight.
‘Hurry up, girl,’ snarled Poosk.‘Loose the other one. I will not have them coming after me.’
Rain started sawing at the next rope. Poosk glanced towards the Citadel – and that’s when Sharkey saw a stream of torches, pouring down the hill towards them.
He nudged Petrel and pointed.There were Devouts behind them – running across the fields – and more Devouts chasing Brother Poosk. They had to get out of here now. But the knife at Bran’s throat didn’t waver, and Sharkey couldn’t think of a single way past it, not without causing the little boy’s death.
The second balloon disappeared upwards with a rushing sound, like a flock of gulls.The children edged forward, with Sharkey and Fin supporting Krill, and Petrel gripping the cudgel. Rain’s eyes gleamed for a fraction of a second, as if she’d seen them.
Poosk hadn’t seen them, not yet. He hadn’t noticed the men running across the fields either. All his attention was on the river of torches flowing down the hill. And on the sole remaining balloon.
‘Get into the basket, girl,’ he snapped. ‘Get ready to release the rope. And don’t think to take off without me. If you do, your brother will die.’
Rain sidled towards the balloon, her head hanging. Sharkey’s breath burned in his lungs. Do something, he told himself, and he slid out from under Krill’s arm.
Behind him, there was a chorus of shouts as the men running across the field saw the torches coming down the hill.‘This way!’ they shouted.‘This way!’
Poosk spun around, startled.At that crucial moment, as the knife in his hand wavered, Rain dashed forward and kicked her uncle in the shins. At the same time, Bran bit his fingers, and Petrel flew across the last few yards and whacked at him with the cudgel.
With a cry of rage, Poosk dropped the little boy and turned on Petrel. His knife slashed the air in front of her. She skipped out of range, shouting, ‘Bran, get in the basket!’
‘No!’ growled Poosk, and he tried to seize Bran again, but Sharkey leapt onto his back and clung there, knocking him off balance.
‘Bran, go!’ cried Sharkey.
Rain grabbed hold of her brother and threw him into the basket. Poosk tried to stab Sharkey in the arm, but Petrel dashed in a second time, swinging the cudgel, and the knife went flying off into the darkness.
Poosk was desperate now, Sharkey could feel it. It was like trying to ride a Massy shark, but he dug in his heels and hung on, determined to keep the man away from the balloon.
A dozen Devouts with burning torches rounded the corner of the stables, shouting, ‘There he is! And the prisoners too! Stop them!’
Rain clambered up the side of the basket and tumbled in. Krill hauled himself over the edge, and Petrel and Fin followed him. The torches were no more than twenty yards away.
‘Sharkey!’ screamed Petrel.‘Come on!’
But now Sharkey was the one who couldn’t get free. Poosk held him with one hand and pummelled him with the other, blow after blow, until he was dizzy. In desperation, Sharkey threw his arm over Poosk’s eyes. Poosk staggered five blind steps – and tripped over the unconscious guard. As he fell, Sharkey sprang away from him and ran for the basket.
He had his hands on the rim when Brother Poosk, staggering to his feet, grabbed him from behind.
Sharkey saw Fin’s blood-streaked face staring at him in horror. He saw the burning torches and the brown robes closing in fast. He saw—
‘SHARKEY!’ bellowed Krill. And a giant fist shot out of the basket and hit Brother Poosk square on the chin. Poosk’s head snapped back, and he fell to the ground.
Sharkey scrambled into the basket quicker than he had ever moved in his life. ‘Go!’ he gasped.
Rain seized hold of a lever and pulled it down. A rope flew out of its socket. The basket jerked. The leading Devouts threw themselves forward, their faces distorted with effort, their hands grabbing—
And the balloon soared upwards out of their reach.
THE BALLOON
So the sun rose and they were still alive. Petrel leaned over the edge of the basket and watched the grey sea pass slowly beneath them. Behind her, Rain fed the fire pot with scraps of wood, and Bran perched on Krill’s knee, talking about goats. His brown robes had been stuffed unceremoniously in a corner of the wicker basket, and he was wrapped in the Head Cook’s jacket. Everyone else wore the mittens and scarves that Rain had dug out of that same corner.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Fin, who was standing beside Petrel.
‘I don’t know.’ She looked over her shoulder.‘Rain, can you steer this thing?’
Rain shook her head.‘It goes where the wind goes, unless it is tethered to a ship.’
‘In that case,’ said Petrel,‘we’re going sou’-east.’
‘Nothing sou’-east of here except ocean,’ said Sharkey. His lip was swollen and he’d be covered in bruises tomorrow. But for now he looked happy.
Petrel gazed out over the water. ‘I hope the cap’n’s safe,’ she said. ‘I hope Mister Smoke can mend him, and that they can find the Singer and—’ She broke off, shading her eyes with her hand. ‘What’s that?’
‘What?’ said Fin.
‘Where?’ said Sharkey, coming to stand next to them.
Petrel pointed to a dent in the smooth line of the horizon. She wasn’t even sure there was anything there. It was just a smudge, slowly growing bigger . . .
‘It’s the Oyster!’ she cried.
Krill dropped Bran like a hot fish fillet and hauled himself upright.‘Where?’
‘There!’
‘Looks like a gull to me,’ scoffed the Head Cook.
But his face was wreathed in smiles, and he gripped the side of the basket as if he could make it go faster.
‘Our courses won’t cross,’ warned Sharkey. ‘They’ll go west of us unless they turn.’
‘No,’ said Petrel.‘They’ll see us.’
‘They will think we are the Devouts,’ said Fin.
Petrel stared at him, horrified. ‘Then we’ll have to show ’em we’re not,’ she said. And she began to wave and shout, though the ship was much too far away to hear her.
‘Dolph!’ she screamed. ‘Missus Slink! It’s us!’ She turned to her companions.‘Help me.’
They waved until their arms were almost falling out of their sockets and their voices were hoarse from shouting. But the ship continued on its course. Petrel could hardly bear it. After everything that had happened, to see the Oyster sailing straight past, not knowing who they were.
Beside her, Sharkey said tentatively, ‘Would they pick us up if we were in trouble?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Petrel.
‘I—’ He flushed.‘You said I was like the Devouts—’
‘Not any more,’ said Petrel quickly. ‘I don’t think that now.’
Sharkey nodded. ‘But you said that your people bend, to help their friends. Might they also bend to help their enemies, if t
hose enemies were in trouble?’
‘What are you thinking, lad?’ asked Krill.
Sharkey said, ‘I thought we might go down. Land in the water.’
‘But we cannot swim,’ said Fin. ‘You are the only one—’
‘The basket will float,’ said Rain. ‘Even if it turns over we can cling to it. But if the Oyster does not pick us up, we will be lost.’
‘Aye,’ said Sharkey.‘That’s the idea.’
Krill’s knuckles were white. ‘If Albie’s in charge, he’ll go straight past. Probably laugh in our faces.’
‘He can’t be in charge,’ said Petrel. ‘If he was, the ship’d be heading south, fast as it could go. It must be Dolph or Hump, or Weddell maybe.’ She gulped air. ‘I say we do it. It’s either that, or keep flying till we run out of firewood.’
No one liked that idea. Bran stuck his thumb in his mouth, his eyes enormous. Rain picked up the lid of the fire pot. ‘We will have to cut the ropes,’ she said, ‘at just the right moment. Otherwise the balloon will collapse on top of us.’
Everyone nodded. She covered the fire pot.
Without the heat of the fire to keep it aloft, the balloon began to descend. Sharkey and Fin sawed at the ropes, cutting them just far enough – but not too far – so they could be finished off at the last minute. The basket swayed. Petrel kept her eyes fixed on the Oyster, willing it to turn, begging it to turn.
‘Grab hold!’ cried Sharkey.
They hit the water in a long bumpy skid, sending spray everywhere and throwing Petrel hard against Fin. The two children clung to each other as the balloon began to settle over their heads. Just in time, Rain whipped the lid off the fire pot and Sharkey hacked the final strands of rope apart, and the balloon rose up again, up and up into the sky—
Leaving the basket bobbing in the water.
They were all wet and bruised, but that didn’t matter, not now. All that concerned them was the Oyster, a couple of miles away and showing no sign of turning.
No one spoke. Petrel’s whole being was focused on the ship, on the wind turbines and the cranes, and the familiar superstructure of the bridge.