She pointed upward, so that he could see it towering above them. The City. A mountainous grey roost of ancient buildings, swarming with squawking seagulls. The boy’s gaze flitted from chimney to gargoyle, following the serrated lines of streets and stairways that cut down from the peak of the City to the sea. He stared at three little rowing boats tied to metal hoops, swaying in the gentle tug of the waves. He looked out to the horizon, then winced.
‘What’s that noise?’ he said. ‘Where is that noise coming from?’
He put his hands to his ears, gritting his teeth. Anna and Ellie shared a glance.
‘Where are my brothers and sisters?’ he asked.
‘Um . . .’ Ellie scratched her head. ‘I . . . I don’t know?’
There was a commotion on the sea wall. Ellie could hear the old preacher returning from the streets above, talking eagerly in his shrill voice.
‘It’s the Enemy!’ he screeched. ‘I was just leading a funeral at the Church of St Horace, you see, Master Inquisitor, when I heard all this uproar.’
‘What’s happening?’ said Seth.
‘An Inquisitor’s coming,’ said Ellie, toying nervously with a hole in her coat sleeve. ‘But don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Unless it’s –’
The crowd parted. People were falling over each other to keep their distance from the new arrival.
‘Oh no,’ said Ellie.
A powerfully built man appeared at the sea wall, taller than anyone in the crowd. He wore a black sealskin greatcoat that spilled down to his ankles and a silver chain across his chest. He had a thick neck and broad shoulders and a face that was pale and puffy, haunted by a shadow of handsomeness that had been lost along the way. His eyes were deep, dark pits, and held no expression. He looked like a corpse for whom death was a small inconvenience.
Seth raised an eyebrow. ‘Who’s that?’
‘He’s . . .’ Ellie’s mouth was dry. ‘Inquisitor Hargrath.’
‘I had just arrived,’ the preacher prattled on, ‘when this boy burst from a whale. It must be the work of the Enemy.’
‘Silence,’ Hargrath rumbled. ‘I will judge that for myself.’
A balding, diminutive man dropped to his knees in front of Hargrath. ‘Saint Killian!’ he cried. ‘Save us!’
‘On your feet,’ Hargrath said. ‘I’m not a saint yet. Only dead men get to be saints.’
He vaulted over the sea wall, his black boots crunching slate as he landed on the roof. His eyes swept from Seth, to the hole in the whale, then back again.
He took two steps towards Seth, but, after a moment’s pause, took a small step back. It was odd to see such a monster of a man hesitate before this skinny, barely dressed boy, yet Ellie almost thought she saw fear flicker in Hargrath’s dead eyes. With his right hand, Hargrath rubbed absently at the empty left sleeve of his greatcoat, which lay folded in half against his body, held by a silver pin. The arm that should have been inside it had since been taken from him.
‘What do you want?’ said Seth. He spoke like a grown man, in a serious, commanding tone.
‘What were you doing inside that whale?’ said Hargrath.
‘Sir, the boy’s done nothing wrong.’ Ellie stepped quickly between them. ‘He was stuck in that whale – I had to rescue him.’
Hargrath showed no sign of hearing Ellie, or seeing her either. His eyes drifted impassively over Seth, like a butcher deciding how to carve up a carcass. ‘Do you see it, child?’ he asked Seth, in a quiet growl.
Seth frowned. ‘See what?’
‘The Enemy.’
‘Who?’
‘The God Who Drowned the Gods. It’s been speaking to you, hasn’t it? It saved you from this whale?’
‘I saved him from the whale,’ said Ellie. Still Hargrath ignored her.
‘Only the Vessel could survive being inside a whale,’ he said.
‘What’s the Vessel?’ said Seth.
‘You are,’ said Hargrath.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Ellie. ‘What would the Vessel be doing inside a whale?’
Hargrath’s hand moved towards the hilt of his sword. Ellie breathed in sharply. Seth’s whole body tensed, his hands clenching to tight fists.
Hargrath reached past his weapon and into his coat pocket. He took out a small pistol, and Ellie barely had time to cry out before he pointed it at Seth and pulled the trigger.
‘No!’
There was no gunshot, just a sharp hiss, and something embedded itself in Seth’s neck with a thick thud. Seth clutched at it – a metal dart protruding by three inches. He fell to his knees. Ellie caught hold of him, but he was heavy, his eyes shut, and he tumbled through her arms to the slate.
‘What did you do to him!’ she cried, putting two fingers beneath his chin to check he still had a pulse.
Hargrath returned the pistol to his pocket. ‘A sedative,’ he said. ‘Your mother’s greatest invention. If the Vessel is unconscious, he can’t ask the Enemy to save him, when we burn him on the fire.’
Ellie’s stomach twisted. ‘He’s not the Vessel,’ she said. ‘You’re making a mistake.’
‘Don’t try my patience, Lancaster.’ He shoved Ellie away from Seth, and Anna ran to catch her. Hargrath lifted Seth easily with one hand, draping him over his shoulder, then strode back towards the sea wall. Ellie chased after him, her heart pounding.
‘This is all wrong! He’s not the Vessel – he’s just a boy. You’re . . . you’re just frightened of a little boy! Coward!’
Hargrath stopped. He looked up at the crowd, who watched him with their hands to their mouths. He dropped Seth roughly at his feet, and the crowd jumped back as if the boy were a live firework. He turned and strode back to Ellie. His hand shot out and gripped her by the neck, driving her to the edge of the roof.
‘You’ve never seen the Enemy, child,’ he said, lifting her so they were face to face. ‘But I have. I saw it burst out of the Vessel. It took my arm, even as I plunged my sword through its throat. While my friends lay dead around me. I see it still, when I close my eyes. And the worst part . . . is that I knew that Vessel. He was a good, kind man. Yet from him emerged a creature of nightmare.’
Hargrath gripped Ellie’s neck tighter. She batted desperately at his arm, coughing for air.
‘Anyone can be the Vessel,’ he said.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ellie saw Anna rushing at Hargrath, only to be knocked back by a nudge of his shoulder, sending her tumbling. Ellie’s vision crowded with white dots. Her thoughts turned hazy.
‘Anyone. Little boys, little girls. And I’d kill them all to keep the City safe.’
And with that he smiled, and dropped her into the sea.
From the Diary of Claude Hestermeyer
After the funeral, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I left St Horace’s and walked back to my dusty study in the university – the study I’d shared with Peter. I sat at my desk, staring at his empty armchair. My heart felt like a small, hard apple in my chest.
I was so distracted that it was a moment before I noticed the man standing by the door. I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a black veil for some reason.
‘Excuse me,’ I told him, ‘I appreciate you coming to offer your condolences, but I said all there was to say at Peter’s funeral. Now please leave me in peace.’
‘Professor Claude Hestermeyer,’ said the man, in a deep voice.
‘That’s my name, yes,’ I replied. ‘Saying it does not excuse the rude way you’ve barged into my office.’
‘Don’t you recognize my voice?’
I didn’t, but I did notice the way my fingers were trembling, and the tingling sensation running up and down my spine.
‘Sir, I’m afraid I must insist you leave,’ I demanded.
‘That’s not how this arrangement works,’ said the man.
‘Arrangement? What arrangement? Is this some cruel joke? Peter Lambeth was cremated today – show some respect!’
Tears trickled hotly down my cheeks
. I stood up and marched round my desk, prepared to use force if necessary. But before I got close the man pulled the black veil from his face.
I snapped the pencil I was holding.
There, standing before me, was my dear friend Peter Lambeth.
The Boy in the Green Velvet Waistcoat
Ellie could hear distant shouts from above. Seawater filled her mouth.
Her leg had scraped against the edge of the roof when she’d fallen, tearing her trousers and cutting her skin. She squirmed as the sea salt stung her leg.
She looked into the murky depths. Ghostly spires and rooftops rose from the gloom like an underwater skyline. Most of the City had been drowned a long time ago.
Ellie scrabbled for the surface, but her coat dragged her down. She cursed herself – the pockets were too full! She’d crammed them with wrenches and compasses, telescopes and oil canisters, penknives, screws and matches. A smoke bomb and a pocket watch floated past her head. She was about to wriggle out of her coat when she heard a deep, watery clunk. She looked up and her heart leapt.
The pole end of the flensing tool!
With a surge of strength, Ellie grabbed hold and was hoisted up immediately. The sounds of the surface crashed in around her and she was blinded by the sudden light. She spluttered for breath as she was hauled on to the roof of the chapel.
‘Ellie!’ Anna cried, dropping down next to her. The young guardsman was there too, clutching the flensing tool.
‘Hargrath’s taken the boy, hasn’t he?’ said Ellie. She coughed, and seawater dribbled from her mouth.
Anna nodded. With great effort, Ellie hauled herself to her feet.
‘Ellie, sit down or you’ll throw up,’ said Anna, stepping back hastily.
But Ellie shook her head. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and staggered forward, weighed down by her sodden clothes. She held her hand out to the guardsman. ‘Thanks for saving me.’
The guardsman looked uneasily at her hand. It was the one she’d just wiped her mouth with.
‘You need to go back to the workshop and change,’ said Anna, peeling seaweed from Ellie’s neck. ‘Here, let me take this,’ she added, tugging at Ellie’s sopping-wet coat.
‘No, I’m fine,’ said Ellie, pulling it protectively around herself.
‘You’ll catch a cold!’ Anna insisted.
‘All right, all right,’ said Ellie, shedding the coat resentfully. ‘But I can’t go to the workshop yet – I have to get to the Inquisitorial Keep. Someone needs to defend that boy. He’s not the Vessel!’
‘Ellie, if the Inquisitors want to kill him, then we probably shouldn’t get in their way.’
‘But the Vessel always knows they’re the Vessel, according to the books I’ve read, and that boy didn’t even know his own name! Also, the Vessel always looks ill, but Seth seemed very healthy. Well, under all that blood anyway. Now listen, I need your help on an important mission.’
Anna’s ears pricked up. When getting Anna to run an errand, it was important firstly to never call it an errand, and secondly to dress it up with the promise of sailors. And violence, if possible.
‘I need you to go to the Great Docks and see if any sailors have heard about a boy falling from a ship, and maybe even getting swallowed by a whale.’
‘Why?’ said Anna.
‘Because, if we can find out who Seth really is, it might help us clear his name. But just be careful – they’re having a walrus fight by the docks today, and those can turn violent.’
This was a lie, and it worked excellently: Anna turned and ran off. Ellie limped after her, shoes squelching with every footstep. She passed alongside the whale, its eye peacefully closed. One of the gargoyles was pressed hard against its tail, and looked about ready to break off and tumble into the sea. Funnily enough, it was in the shape of a whale.
Blue eyes, Ellie thought, then felt a sharp pang as she worried what might be happening to Seth. What if the Inquisition had already decided he was the Vessel, and were even now throwing him on a bonfire? She sped up, clambering over the sea wall and squeezing through the crowd, racing towards the cobbled street above.
The business of morning was fully underway as Ellie ran up through the City. The Angelus Market was packed with shoppers, merrily haggling their way from stall to stall. The rooftops were lined with hungry gulls, the air thick with the stink of fish. Three bearded musicians played a mournful tune on their cellos, while an old lady heckled them from a window above, throwing a boiled turnip at them and demanding they play something more uplifting. A street magician with a bulging woollen cap and a grey smock performed an illusion for a group of clapping children, who cheered even louder as the trick went wrong, and the seal pup he’d been trying to pull from his cap leapt out and bit his finger.
Ellie slowed down, rubbing at the cut on her leg. It was still stinging terribly from the salt water.
‘Nellie!’ called a happy voice.
She looked up, and grimaced. A smiling boy was walking jauntily towards her, dressed in a fine leaf-green velvet waistcoat and a black cloak.
‘You’re all wet,’ he said, looking her up and down. He had short golden curls, a sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks, and bright blue eyes that stared intently. He was slightly younger than Ellie, and pretty – he looked like a cherub that had grown up and shed its puppy fat; some angelic boy who mothers would coddle and priests would steer eagerly to the front of the choir.
‘Yes, I’ve just been swimming,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful.
He noticed the tear in her trousers, frowning in concern. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ Ellie took a deep breath. ‘What do you want?’
‘Oh.’ The boy seemed surprised by Ellie’s bluntness. He fiddled with the silver chain around his neck, from which dangled an assortment of trinkets: keys and seashells and brass figurines. ‘Well, I heard a boy came out of a whale.’
‘I don’t have time for this, Finn,’ said Ellie, and she hastened up the street. She passed a priest standing on a wooden platform in his black robes, yelling to the sky.
‘Trust not your neighbour!’ he cried. ‘For the Great Enemy could be lurking behind his eyes. Trust not in your family, or even yourself. But fear not! The gods may be gone, but the saints watch over us, and have sent the Inquisition – brave men to keep us safe from ourselves.’
‘How do you think he was able to breathe in there?’ said Finn, skipping at Ellie’s side.
‘Where?’
‘The whale of course!’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Finn. Maybe he stuck a tube out of its blowhole?’
‘You don’t have to be rude; I was only curious. Where is he now?’
‘Hargrath took him,’ said Ellie. ‘He thinks the boy’s the Vessel.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Can I help?’
‘No,’ said Ellie flatly. ‘I’m going to speak to the Inquisitors.’
‘Girl! GIRL! Come here this instant!’
An old man was shuffling through the crowded market, wheezing and hugging a large mechanical device to his chest. It looked sort of like a metal crab, but was the size of a small pig. He glared down at Ellie. His glasses were so large they magnified his eyes to twice their normal size.
‘Now listen here, this oyster-catching machine of yours is broken, and every moment it’s not working is time I’m losing business.’
‘I’m afraid I’m really busy at the moment, sir,’ said Ellie politely. ‘There was this whale –’
‘Whale?’ the man snapped. ‘I don’t care about whales – oysters, girl, oysters! Now, you built this machine, so you can fix it!’
She sighed. ‘I didn’t build that machine.’
The man squinted. ‘But you’re Hannah Lancaster, aren’t you? The inventor?’
‘I’m Ellie. Her daughter.’
‘Oh.’ He readjusted his glasses. ‘I thought you were shorter than I remembered. So where can I find your mother?’
‘Nowhere. She’s been d
ead for five years.’
‘Oh,’ said the man again, rocking back on his heels in surprise. ‘Well, um, I still need this machine mending! And I expect you to do it.’
Ellie grimaced, looking up to the City peak. Every second of delay put Seth in more danger.
‘Shame she’s dead, though,’ the man muttered to himself. ‘I doubt we’ll ever see her talents again.’
With a sigh, Ellie took the oyster-catcher and placed it belly-up on the cobblestones.
‘I can help with that if you like,’ said Finn, but Ellie ignored him. She fished out a screwdriver from her wet trouser pocket, shoving it into the oyster-catcher’s underside and prising off a metal panel. She peered inside, prodding the countless cogs that made up the machine’s innards.
‘Blockage . . .’ she muttered.
Rummaging in her pockets, she pulled out a brass key, a walnut, and finally a long pair of tweezers. Biting her tongue in concentration, she extracted the blockage – a glittering, moon-white pearl.
‘That’s mine!’ said the man. ‘It was in my machine – give it to me.’
Ellie rolled her eyes, and dropped it in his outstretched hand. ‘Fine.’
She wound the handle on the back of the oyster-catcher until its six legs twitched, then laid it on the cobbles. It waddled along the stones, gathering up imaginary oysters with its two tiny arms.
‘Bye!’ Ellie yelled, darting back into the marketplace, between a girl leading a goat and a handcart laden with fresh sardines. Unfortunately, she had failed to shake off Finn.
‘I could have fixed that in half the time,’ he said proudly. ‘Say, remember when I helped you build your boat? The one that goes underwater? We should really fix it one day.’
Ellie turned sharply left. Four burly men came down the street, carrying a dead tiger shark on a plank, its toothy mouth lolling open. Ellie slipped round them, leaving Finn on the other side.
‘So this boy,’ he said, reappearing next to her, ‘what can he do? Is he really clever or something? You’re not hoping to replace me, are you?’
‘As what?’ said Ellie. ‘You’re nothing to me.’
Orphans of the Tide Page 2