by Paul Collins
Tab flushed. Florian, a short, plump boy with a moon-shaped face, sour expression and receding hairline, always managed to hit a nerve with Tab. It was as if he could read her mind – or her fears.
Florian snorted. ‘Put it over there,’ he said, pointing languidly to an in-tray.
‘It's to be hand-delivered to First Lieutenant Crankshaft immediately,’ Tab said firmly.
Florian smirked. ‘Is it now? Well I'll deliver it myself then.’ He fingered the jewelled dagger in his belt. All the children wore daggers these days, just as all the adults wore swords. Times were uncertain. ‘Put it in the in-tray and get out of here. I've more important matters on hand than to talk to a witless rift girl.’
Stung, Tab nevertheless dropped the scroll in the in-tray. Such scrolls were usually urgent communiques between navigators and sailors. If Florian failed to deliver it within a set time, she would get into trouble. And that was all she needed.
‘You'll remember it's there?’ Tab pressed.
Florian didn't bother to look up.
Tab slept uneasily that night, tossing and turning. Finally she woke, drenched in sweat. Taking a cool drink of limewater she lay back down, staring at the ceiling. Maybe she should have insisted on delivering the scroll to the first lieutenant. But no, there was no way she could have. Clerical assistants weren't allowed upside. And she couldn't make that idiot Florian do anything. He was almost as useless as his uncle, the Archon.
Tab tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. Almost at once she was conscious of a feathery sensation in her mind. She had felt it many times this past year. Knowing what was about to happen, she tensed, frightened. And with a sickening lurch, she found herself in a dungeon.
She was low down, close to the floor. In her immediate field of vision were flagstones slick with scum, some large metal poles, and a snout from which whiskers jutted. She was seeing with the eyes of a rat. To some extent, she also felt the rat's awareness. The rat was hungry. It had been searching for food for some time now. The sound of water dripping sporadically came to it. Then a scream.
The view froze. The rat, sitting in shadow, did not dare move. There were more screams, hopeless and high-pitched, as if a child were being hurt. Tab's heart ached for the screams’ owner. The rat started to edge back into deeper shadow.›››No›› The other way – find out what's happening!
Tab had no idea of what she had done, but suddenly – back in her room, Tab gasped – the rat obeyed. Tab felt a dizzy excitement. Was she actually controlling the rat? Or had it just decided to investigate the noises itself? That seemed unlikely.
The rat scuttled forward, darting between the metal poles which Tab now realised were the bars of a cell. It crossed a passageway and nosed in between more bars, edging along the wall and into the shadows cast by a bunk bed.
A youth and two men, all with cruel faces, occupied the cell. One was torturing a small boy with a pale, freckled face and sandy-coloured hair. The boy, who must have been about eight years old, screamed again. His face was wet with tears and his upper lip and chin were covered with snot.
‘Where is the icefire?’ demanded one of the men. At a nod from the questioner, a brute of a man tightened a knotted rope around the boy's throat. ‘What did you say?’ the interrogator demanded. ‘Speak up!’
Tab was breathing heavily. An uncharacteristic anger was building up. She could tell from their livery that they were Tolrushians, but how could the enemy be on board Quentaris?
Tab now saw the main speaker more clearly. He was a boy of about fourteen, but dressed in rich clothes. He had a crafty look about him. ‘We know your people have icefire,’ he snarled, ‘and we will have it from them!’
The victim whimpered. Tab could see that he was very, very scared.
The torturer tightened the rope. The boy choked, and fainted. The boy-leader scowled. ‘Leave him for now,’ he said, spitting on the straw-strewn floor. ‘There are other matters at hand – prey, for instance.’
One of the men cleared his throat. ‘You still mean to attack, then?’
‘I do.’
‘Is that wise, m'lord, when our own icefire fuel is so depleted?’
The boy-leader stopped at the door, eyeing his advisor. ‘There is more than one source of icefire, Genkis. There is also the matter of revenge.’
The boy stalked out of the cell. No one noticed the rat watching from the shadows.
Abruptly Tab's vision lurched again. This time she was wheeling through the sky. On either side, great bat-like wings slowly flapped. The view banked hard, and into her line of sight swept something that left her stunned.
Floating in dense cloud was a city.
Above it stretched enormous sails, torn and tattered and filthy. A grim castle bulged from the port side prow, and huge grappling arms like crab claws projected forward on either side of the bowsprit. The whole thing had an evil look. Like a sky pirate's ship. Or a man-o’-war.
Tab had never seen such a place, but she recognised it immediately.
Tolrush.
It couldn't be, but it was. Tolrush had become a flying city, just like Quentaris. And slowly it dawned on Tab that Fontagu had inadvertently pulled Tolrush into the spell so that the two cities had, in that moment of Rupture, been magically joined. What had happened to one, had happened to the other. And who knew what other cities had also been ripped into the vortex?
Tab's heart thudded with sudden realisation. Judging by what the boy-leader had said, the Tolrushians blamed Quentaris for their misfortune.
Which could only mean…
Tab sat bolt upright.
She dressed hurriedly and ran as fast as her legs could carry her to the Navigators’ Guild headquarters. She didn't stop at the gates. A guard yelled a warning and she felt an arrow hiss swiftly past her shoulder. Angry shouts followed. She ran faster.
Breathless, she skidded to a stop outside the operations room. By now alarms were clanging. The doorway opened suddenly, revealing several guards.
‘Gotcha!’ someone snarled from behind. Tab was whisked off her feet.
‘Put her down,’ said a calm voice.
The guard dropped her and Tab went sprawling. When she looked up she saw a navigator staring quizzically down at her. She's scanning me – seeing if there's any danger, Tab realised.
‘What is it, child, that brings you here in the dead of night?’ The woman's face was gentle and her voice soothing. But Tab knew that with one flick of her finger, the magician could kill her.
Tab took a deep breath. ‘I've seen Tolrush,’ she said quickly. ‘It was pulled into the rift worlds at the same time we were. They're after icefire and… they blame us for what's happened to them. We have to do something, they're coming for us!’
One of the guards sniggered but was cut short by a stern glance from the navigator. ‘How is it that you know these things? You're a clerical assistant, are you not?’
Tab looked down at her feet. ‘Yes, ma'am.’
‘You were tested for ability with mage-craft?’
Tab's voice grew smaller. ‘Yes, ma'am.’ It had been one of the worst days of her life. She had actually managed to persuade Dorissa to have her tested, only to discover that she lacked even a speck of magical skill. She had cried for a week.
‘And you say you had a vision?’
Tab paused before answering. So far she had told no one about her odd ability, not even Philmon. At first, it had scared her. She thought she was going mad. And then she had feared what others might think. Mind-melding with animals was almost unheard of. She was scared that people would think she must be evil to have such a talent. Sometimes she thought that too.
And so she lied. ‘I had a vision – yes… ’
The magician did not appear to be angry. She patted Tab's shoulder. ‘Your heart was in the right place, child. You feared for your city and for your friends and family -’
And why should this child fear?’
Tab gaped. Stelka had arrived. Tab had seen th
e Chief Navigator many times, but never this close. She didn't seem too pleased either.
Her hair was dishevelled and her usually powdered face was pasty, her pouting lips pallid. The middle of the night was not kind to Stelka, and she knew it.
‘Answer my question,’ demanded the head magician.
The kindly navigator, who seemed a little cowed by Stelka's presence herself, quickly related Tab's story.
Stelka eyed Tab for several long moments. Tab found herself blushing.
‘Is this so?’ she finally asked, directing her question at Tab.
Tab nodded, then blurted, ‘And they're really close. We have to do something.’
Stelka snorted, and signalled two guards over. ‘Escort this girl back to her lodgings.’ To Tab she said, ‘You had a nightmare, child. Quentaris is the only enchanted city in this rift world. And no one is coming after us.’
‘But it seemed so – real,’ Tab protested.
‘As the best nightmares are,’ said Stelka. ‘Go now, and be thankful I don't have you flogged for charging in here and waking everyone.’
When Tab reported for duty the next morning, Quartermaster Dorissa looked up tiredly from her charts. Tab saw immediately that all was not well.
‘Sit down, Tab,’ Dorissa said, indicating a chair.
Tab felt her insides go cold.
‘I'm really sorry, Tab, but I must relieve you of your duties.’ She held up a hand when Tab opened her mouth to speak. ‘It isn't just about last night. Yes, I've heard. I don't know what you were thinking!’
She sighed. ‘But this other matter… I gave you an important duty yesterday. I was obviously in error to do so. I have been duly chastised.’
‘But I -’ ‘The scrollarrived too late, were observed could forgive your dalliance, as I have on previous occasions. But added to the events of last night… ‘ She shrugged.
‘You caused quite a stir. Wild talk of Tolrush. Our imminent peril. We simply cannot have guild members, no matter how insignificant, opening us to such ridicule.’
‘But it's true,’ cried Tab. ‘Tolrush is out there, and they're coming after us!’
‘Enough,’ said Dorissa. She almost glowered, which Tab had never seen her do before.
‘But what I saw -’
‘Was nothing more than a bad dream. Face it, child.’ Dorissa's voice grew stern, though not unkind. ‘Don't you think I know it broke your heart when you failed the magicians’ test?’
‘But -’
‘I have no choice in this matter,’ said Dorissa sadly. ‘Stelka has spoken. I'm sorry, Tab, but you can no longer serve this guild.’
Tab's vision blurred. She got to her feet unsteadily, blinking back tears. Slowly, in a kind of stupefied trance, she walked to the door. There she stopped, turning.
‘They're coming,’ she said quietly, then ran from the guildhall as fast as she could.
Tab fled through the streets of Quentaris. She didn't stop till she had reached the fifth floor of the lodging house where she lived. She collided with Philmon as he was leaving his room. Philmon was tall and skinny with a mop of brown hair. He was wearing his sky sailor's uniform.
‘Ho, Tab,’ he said. ‘Sorry, can't stop. My shift starts in twenty minutes.’
Tab puffed like a pair of bellows.
‘You all right?’ asked Philmon.
‘Nothing's all right,’ Tab gasped. She quickly told him everything that had happened, including the truth about the visions. He looked hurt when she admitted that she had been getting strange ‘visions’ through the eyes of animals for quite some time.
‘Philmon, I'm sorry I didn't tell you.’
He scowled. ‘I thought we were friends.’
‘You know as well as I do that Tolrushians are reviled for their mind-casting. They control animals with their minds, hideous race that they are. So I was scared… ’
‘Of what I'd think? Of me?’
Tab looked away. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Of me… I thought I was going crazy… I thought you might not… ’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Might not what?’ asked Philmon, hands on his hips. ‘Might not want to be friends with somebody who can see what animals see? Sometimes, Tab, you're as thick as two planks, you know that. I know you're not Tolrushian. It's plain to see!’
Tab smiled, and wiped at her eyes.
‘So you'll help me?’
Philmon blinked. ‘What can I possibly do?’
‘You can get me in to see First Lieutenant Crankshaft.’
Philmon's eyes boggled. ‘Are you joking? He'd have me tossed overboard!’
‘It's important, Philmon. The safety of Quentaris rests on us alerting somebody.’
Philmon was shaking his head. ‘You're asking too much. I mean, what you've told me is so fantastical, even I don't know what to think. Is there any proof?’
He looked at her hopefully. She shook her head. ‘I'm not lying,’ she said stubbornly.
‘I'm not saying you are,’ said Philmon. ‘But you could be wrong. Stelka could be right. Maybe it was just a nightmare.’
‘I'd know the difference,’ said Tab. ‘This was real. They're coming, Philmon. And they're going to catch us unprepared, ‘like sitting ducks.’
Philmon gave a small shuddering sigh. He could imagine what would happen to Quentaris if Tolrush attacked right now. Total panic, and defeat. They would all be killed. And those who weren't would end up as slaves.
‘There's no evidence,’ Philmon said, but his resolve was weakening. ‘We've been travelling a whole year and not set eyes on them… ’
‘They might've been sucked into a different rift world to begin with. But it doesn't matter, because they're here, in this one.’
‘I'll lose my job,’ Philmon said despondently. ‘I mean, First Lieutenant Crankshaft… ’
Thirty minutes later, Philmon was standing to attention on the lower bridge while Tab concluded, once again, her outrageous story.
First Lieutenant Crankshaft nodded when she had finished. ‘Thank you for bringing this to my attention.’ He glanced at Philmon. ‘At ease, ensign.’ He steepled his fingers. ‘Now, although the protection of Quentaris is in our hands, the Admiralty cannot mobilise the city's defences on the basis of a dream.’ As with the magicians, Tab had not explained exactly what kind of vision she had had. ‘And from a non-accredited person at that.’ He shook his head. ‘We have little enough crew to man the rigging, girl. If I take them shipside Quentaris will be compromised. A sudden squall could see us crash. And if that happens… well, it doesn't bear thinking about.’
‘So you won't do anything?’ said Tab. She knew Philmon was glaring at her.
Crankshaft stood. ‘Not won't, child. Can't. Ensign, take this girl home.’
Philmon snapped to attention. ‘Aye-aye, sir.’
‘When you're done, return here immediately,’ said the first lieutenant. ‘And think long and hard on why I'm not relieving you of your duty.’
As soon as they were outside, Philmon rounded on Tab. ‘See? You almost cost me my job. Oh, why did I listen to you?’
Tab ignored him. She looked scared. This made Philmon shut up. ‘So the navy doesn't have enough crew to defend Quentaris,’ said Tab. The idea staggered her. She had never given any thought to their defences before, had never realised just how vulnerable they were.
‘We've never met an enemy we couldn't handle, so what's the -?’
‘Where would you find an extra crew, if you needed one?’
Philmon looked at her balefully. ‘Huh?’
‘Answer me,’ said Tab, urgently.
Philmon scratched his head. ‘I don't know. You'd need people who've got naval experience, I guess.’
Tab's face lit up. ‘That's right,’ she said. ‘You would.’
‘But there aren't any,’ said Philmon. ‘I mean, the Sky Sailors’ Guild is what used to be the Merchant Navy. We've already got everybody with shipboard time, even the deck scrubbers!’
‘Not everybody,’ said
Tab, and she turned and sprinted away. Philmon stared after her, frowning.
‘Absolutely not!’ Fontagu said crossly to Tab. He always got cross when he was frightened. ‘Count me out. There is nothing you can say to change my mind.’
An hour later, Tab was creeping along a wall, keeping to the shadows. She came to a sudden stop. Somebody bumped into her from behind.
‘Fontagu!’
‘You said to stay close,’ came his nervous reply.
‘Not that close!’
Fontagu grumbled, backing off an inch or two. He looked furtively about in all directions. ‘This is a big mistake,’ he hissed, not for the first time. ‘They'll slit our throats and make us beg for mercy!’
‘Probably not in that order,’ said Tab, but she kept her voice too low for Fontagu to hear. She had to admit it was a crazy plan. Even stage one was crazy: that is, enter the Thieves’ Quarter unarmed and at night. It was well known that the city watchmen themselves avoided the quarter after dark, unless they were at least a squadron strong, or on a suicide mission.
Tab gave Fontagu a quick look. Once again, she nearly laughed. He had donned a thief's outfit, as he called it. He wore baggy pantaloons, a gold-braided vest with brass buttons and puffed sleeves, a head scarf, and – as usual – a fake wooden sword painted silver to look real. Tab had had a big job talking him out of wearing an eye patch.
‘You read too many trashy stories,’ she had told him in exasperation.
It wasn't hard finding the tavern called The Purple Wart, partly because some enterprising owner had paid to have a gigantic nose bearing a wart, complete with little wart hairs, erected above the main door. By some magic, the wart even changed colour, from red to blue to glorious purple.
‘Charming,’ said Tab, eyeing the monstrosity. ‘You sure that's the place?’
Fontagu nodded. ‘Can I go now?’
‘Sure.’
‘Really?’ Fontagu seemed surprised.
‘Yep,’ said Tab. ‘If you want to walk all the way back through the Thieves’ Quarter by yourself wearing those ridiculous clothes, be my guest.’
Fontagu straightened up and looked down his nose at her. ‘My clothes are not ridiculous,’ he said.