by James Roy
›››Where’s Stelka?
›››I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you››You’re not usually this skittish
Eventually, and with much encouragement, she managed to turn Rat around. Back at the opening of the little tunnel, she gently prodded it forward onto the floor and over to the bars of the cell to have a proper look around.
The instant she screamed, she knew that this rat would never allow her back into its mind. For this rat wasn’t her rat. It wasn’t the rat. It wasn’t Rat. The body of her rat was on the floor near its little triangular tunnel, in a small pool of shiny darkness, with its head lying a good pace or more away. She’d seen it, registered what it meant, and reacted with a scream. And a fraction of a moment later the rat in which her mind was riding had squeezed and panicked and arched, and her mind had been ejected like a drunk from a chapel.
For the second time that night Tab sat on her bed, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. It was only a rat, that was true, but it was a rat which had, with its last thought, provided the passage for Stelka’s agonised plea for help as she was dragged off… where? And it was that which made her pull her cloak around herself, slip on her boots, and begin climbing the wall at the end of the stable. She didn’t know how yet, but she was going to find Stelka.
***
As she hurried through the deserted streets, Tab considered her options. Verris would have been her first choice, but even thinking about him made her feel terribly, terribly sad, so she quickly pushed the thought away. No point dwelling on things that could never be.
Should she go to Fontagu? No, he was too preoccupied with his precious play. He’d only be dismissive and selfish.
Philmon? Maybe, but most of the time he simply tagged along and did what was needed, but rarely came up with any good ideas of his own. Unless heights were involved, or knots, it wasn’t the right time to ask him for help. Besides, he hated being woken up in the middle of the night. He’d stay grumpy about it for hours, maybe even days.
Amelia. It had to be Amelia. She was once a magician as well. Two former magicians teamed up – even very young ones – had to be better than one former magician teamed up with a sky-sailor, a missing former pirate, or a self-obsessed actor.
The other advantage of choosing Amelia was that she was easy to get to. Her room was on the first floor of the Flegis Arms where she now worked, but there was a woodshed and a kind of lean-to at the back of the building that offered fairly easy access to her window ledge. Yes, it was something of a climb, but for someone as agile as Tab, it was about as difficult as climbing a flight of stairs.
She rounded the corner of a building and stopped, stepping lightly into the shadows of an eave. Something felt wrong. She had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that someone was following her. It felt like something prickling at the base of her neck.
She looked behind her. The street was empty, except for a few barrels and crates stacked outside the door of the building on the opposite side of the narrow street. The windows of the houses and shops around her were all dark – not so much as a glimmer of light from a lamp or a candle. Somewhere far off in the distance a dog barked, and one or two lonely creaks wafted down from the network of rigging overhead. But other than that, nothing.
Tab considered closing her eyes so she could feel around for a mind with which to meld, but to close her eyes and concentrate on searching for a mind would be to lower her guard, and she didn’t want to risk it at that moment. Not here, when it was already so dark.
She cleared her throat, and the noise momentarily startled her, it sounded so loud in the silence of the laneway. With another glance over her shoulder, she stepped back onto the pavement, taking care to stay close to the walls.
A moment later she stopped again. She’d heard nothing, and yet she felt so strongly that there was someone very close behind her.
‘Hello?’ she called, her voice low and timid.
There was no answer, so she continued on. But then, a few seconds later, she felt the urge to stop yet again. ‘Hello?’ she repeated. ‘Is someone there?’
She jumped as a cat snarled nearby. Perhaps that was all it had been – a cat out in the night, off on a mission of its own.
‘Come on, Tab,’ she muttered, squaring her shoulders and heading up the hill again. It must have been raining while she was asleep, because here and there were small puddles. Some she stepped over, but the larger ones she had to walk around, which took her out into the brighter, more moonlit part of the street. Just as soon as she could, she returned to the shadows.
Again came the awareness that she was being followed, and she stopped once more. But this time the awareness was so strong, almost as strong as a certainty. Crouching down behind a handcart that had been parked near the darkness of a narrow alley, Tab swallowed down the hard-edged lump in her throat and tried to calm her thudding heart. ‘There’s no one to be afraid of,’ she murmured below her breath. ‘It’s just a cat.’
She wondered if it was time to go searching for a nearby mind again. Perhaps if she began feeling about, she’d find herself in the mind of a cat, she’d see herself crouching in the shadow of the handcart, and then she’d feel better.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do, she thought. It won’t take more than a moment.
She’d just squeezed her eyes shut when she heard a sudden shuffling noise behind her, a little like a…
VOICES IN SACKS
Tab opened her eyes slowly, and flinched away from the pounding pain in the back of her skull. Everything was dark, and smelly, and stuffy, just as it would be if an old dung sack had been pulled over her head.
She tried to lift her hands, but she couldn’t – they were tied behind her.
Oh, well that’s just great, she thought wryly. Someone’s gone and knocked me over, tied me up and pulled an old sack over my head.
Judging by the rumble and jolting of wheels, the rocking motion, and the clop-clop-clop of hooves, she decided that she must have been in a cart of some kind. She tried to call out, but it was only then that she noticed the rag that had been stuffed into her mouth. The only sound she could make was something between a grunt and a moan.
‘Quiet,’ a man’s voice growled beside her. ‘You’ll get us all killed.’
By working her mouth back and forth, Tab was finally able to force the rag out. She spat a couple of times to get the musty taste from her tongue. ‘Where are we?’ she whispered. ‘And where are we going?’
‘I don’t know,’ the man said. ‘I can’t see anything.’
‘Have you got something over your head as well?’ Tab asked.
‘We all do,’ replied a third, woman’s voice.
‘I told you, be quiet,’ the man said again. ‘We’re heading somewhere, and I don’t know where, but I’m quite sure we’re not going to like it. One thing’s for certain, however – it’s going to be a lot worse for us if our captors think that we’re going to give their game away, whatever that might be.’
The man’s voice seemed very familiar to Tab, and she frowned to herself as she tried to place it.
‘Um… do I know you?’ she asked.
‘Are you talking to me?’ the man replied.
‘Yes.’
‘Then it’s best you don’t. Seriously, you need to be quiet.’
The cart continued rocking along the cobblestones.
‘We’re heading for starboard,’ said the woman’s voice. ‘We just went past the Quartermaster’s Inn.’
‘How could you know that?’ the man asked gruffly.
‘Because the Quartermaster’s Inn is the only place that has Fresni folk music on a Bursday evening. Hear that? That’s the sound of a grue-harp.’
‘You’re right,’ Tab replied.
‘Very good,’ the man muttered. ‘We’re heading starboard. That’s one thing we know, at least.’
‘Verris?’ Tab said, finally managing to place the voice.
‘Yes. Why – who’s that?’
&
nbsp; ‘It’s Tab. Tab Vidler.’
‘Tab!’
‘This is amazing, Verris! I thought you were dead!’
‘Not quite, although sometimes it felt like it. But listen, we must keep quiet. I don’t know where they’re taking us, but I quite suspect that they’d think nothing of killing us. So we need to lie low until we know better what’s going on.’
‘I can’t believe this,’ said the woman. ‘It all happened so fast. One minute I’m eating my dinner, the next I hear a sound behind me, and I’ve got a sack over my head. I don’t even know why. But what if they’re taking us somewhere to kill us?’
‘I doubt it. If they’d wanted us dead – and I can’t think why anyone would – they’d have killed us by now. No, I think they’ve got plans for us.’
Plans, thought Tab. She didn’t like the sound of that. There was only one way to deal with a plan, and that was to come up with a better one.
‘Verris,’ she whispered.
Verris grunted.
‘We need a plan.’
‘For what?’
‘To escape.’
She heard him sniff. ‘Tab, how can we possibly plan an escape when we don’t know where we’re being taken, or for what purpose? All we really know is where we are at this moment. So sit tight for now.’
‘Agreed,’ Tab said, suddenly thinking about Philmon. His skill with knots would have been handy.
It was hard to say nothing, so Tab occupied herself trying to mind-meld with the horse pulling the cart. She flicked through the mental noise in her mind like pages in a book, and eventually felt a pressure in her shoulders, a tightness in her thighs, and the cold hardness of a bit in her mouth. She knew she was in the mind of a horse.
›››I hope you don’t mind if I take a look at where we’re going
›››Sorry
After a time – it was impossible to know how long, exactly – the cart began to slow. Then it stopped.
‘Steady,’ she heard Verris murmur. ‘Just do whatever they say, for now.’
The horse stamped and snorted, and the sound echoed about, as if they were in a large room. Tab heard a large, heavy door close. Then the cart jiggled as someone stepped up into it.
‘There they are, like I promised,’ said a thin, copper-coloured voice.
‘Is the pirate here?’ asked another voice, thick, like it was speaking through gruel.
‘Yes, he’s the big one.’
‘So that’s him, huh? I was starting to wonder if he really existed.’
‘Oh yes, he exists all right. They’ve kept him very safe.’
‘And who are these others?’
‘That’s the interpreter there.’
Suddenly Tab felt her arm being prodded with a foot. ‘And who’s this?’ Thick-voice asked.
‘She’s the one we’ve been tailing for a while. The magician.’
‘She’s pretty small for a magician. So, where’d you find her – Skulum Gate?’
‘No, she’s young.’
‘Right. And who’s the runt? What’s the boy’s skill?’
‘Think about it.’
‘Oh, right.’ Thick-voice laughed. ‘Yes, I see now.’
‘All right, let’s get them unloaded. Big one first, I reckon.’
Any thoughts Tab might have had about resisting disappeared as she felt Verris struggling beside her, and heard a dull, thuddy blow, followed by a grunt.
‘What did I tell you about fighting back?’ Copper-voice growled.
Then Tab felt hands reaching under her arms and lifting her by the shoulders. ‘Just you hold tight there, girly, and nothing bad will happen to you just yet,’ Thick-voice murmured in her ear.
Just yet, she thought. That sounds reassuring.
She was lowered to the ground, and staggered for a moment in the darkness of her sack. Then she was directed forward with a hand at the nape of her neck. One step at a time, she began to walk tentatively forward. ‘Step up,’ Thick-voice grunted, and she raised her foot high. The surface on which she stood felt slightly unstable, like she had just walked onto a gangplank. She hesitated. Where were they taking her?
‘Keep going, you’re not there yet,’ Thick-voice said. ‘Big step down.’
Tab took one more step, and found herself falling forward. With her arms tied she was unable to break her fall, and crashed heavily onto the floor of wherever it was she’d been led. Behind her, she heard the men laugh, and she fought back the tears that sprang into her eyes. Even with a sack over her head to hide her face, she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. She had to keep her wits about her.
Somewhere beside her, she heard a thud, followed by another. Someone was sniffling. Footsteps could be heard around them.
‘Barbarians,’ she heard Verris say.
‘Shut up, pirate,’ Thick-voice snapped. ‘All right, listen up, all of you – I don’t want to have to repeat myself. Pirate, you’re in charge.’
‘In that case, I order you to let us go,’ Verris replied. His voice was cut short by the sound of another thuddy blow.
‘Pirate, you’re in charge,’ Thick-voice repeated. ‘You, crying woman, you’ll be interpreting.’
‘In… interpreting? Interpreting what?’
Thick-voice ignored her. ‘And you…’ – here Tab felt a toe poke her in the ribs – ‘… you’re going to navigate.’
‘What?’
‘You used to be a magician, didn’t you?’
‘For a while, but I wasn’t much more than an apprentice -’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll do.’
‘It’ll have to,’ said Copper-voice.
‘Since I’m the navigator, where exactly am I navigating us to?’
‘You’ll work it out.’
‘I’ll work it out? How exactly -?’
Thick-voice cut her off. ‘Now listen up, I’m getting tired of all this back-chat. You’re on a scout-pod, which you’re to crew on a very special mission. We’re about to cut you free.’
‘You’ve got to untie us if we’re going to do as you ask,’ Verris said. ‘And mark my words, you’ll be dead before you’re so much as halfway down that gangway.’
The men laughed. ‘You don’t think that’s been thought of? The ropes that tie you are enchanted. You’ll remain bound until your scout-pod is clear of the city, when they’ll release. Pirate, you’ll find your orders in the mission chest. Oh, and there’s a bag aboard with weapons in it.’
‘And if we choose not to follow these so-called “orders”?’
‘Return prematurely and you’ll go back until it’s done, as many times as it takes. I’d say it’s in your interest to do exactly as you are told, and to do it the first time, wouldn’t you?’
‘That’s all you can tell us?’ Tab said.
‘You’ll not get away with this,’ Verris warned.
‘Oh, I quite suspect that we will,’ Thick-voice said. ‘It’s all at the pleasure of the Emperor.’
‘Shut up!’ snarled Copper-voice.
‘What? It’s all in the orders anyway!’
‘Still…’
‘Well, all the best to you. Quentaris thanks you,’ said Thick-voice. Then he and Copper-voice both chuckled.
Tab heard their footsteps moving away, and a woody scraping noise. Then, somewhere below them, a loud, echoey grinding sound that made Tab screw up her face in the musty darkness of her sack.
‘They’re cutting us loose,’ Verris said. ‘They’re taking away the gangway. Try to stop crying – it’ll be all right,’ he said to the woman. ‘What’s your name, anyway?’
‘Danda,’ she replied, her voice quivering. ‘I’m sorry that I’m being such a cry-baby, but nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Oo!’ she suddenly exclaimed, as the pod shifted slightly beneath them, and began to drop. ‘We’re moving!’
‘Yes, they’re sending us groundwards.’
‘Groundwards?’ said Tab. ‘But there is no ground. It’s just ocean down there!’
‘I
don’t like this,’ Danda said.
‘Neither do I,’ said Verris. ‘So, we’ve got Tab the navigator, and Danda the interpreter, and the boy. You, boy – you’re not saying much. What’s your name?’
There was no response.
‘Maybe he’s dead,’ Tab suggested. ‘He hit the deck pretty hard when they threw him on.’
‘Hold on,’ Verris said, and Tab felt him wriggling past her. ‘He’s not dead – I can hear him breathing.’
The scout-pod continued to sink, buffeted and gently tossed in updrafts and air pockets as it descended. Tab closed her eyes under the cover of her sack and stretched her mind in every direction, feeling for anything that had eyes or other senses she could borrow, but there was nothing about. A very slight flicker appeared on the very fringes of her consciousness, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Either they were already too far below Quentaris to enable her to reach the minds of anything in the city, or there was something about this pod that was blocking her mind-melding skills.
Then, as she squeezed her eyes shut and probed even further into the blackness, she felt a strange tingling about her wrists. ‘My ropes feel like they’re getting looser,’ she announced.
‘Mine too,’ Verris replied. ‘Just as those thugs said they would.’
‘They’re much looser now,’ Tab said. She began to pull her arms apart behind her, just a little at a time, trying to stretch the loosening ropes. And finally, like unravelling stitching, they fell away.
‘They’re off!’ she said, rubbing her wrists.
‘Then get ours off as well – we might be able to do something before we’re too far from the city,’ Verris said.
Tab pulled the sack from her head. The fresh air hit her face like a bucket of water, and she sucked in huge lungfuls of clean air as she looked around. In the dim light of the moon behind the thin cloud, she could see that the pod was like a small boat, only square, with railings instead of gunwales, and a stubby mast about six feet tall. In one corner was a barrel, in another some ropes were loosely coiled on the deck, a long sack lay against one side, and right in the middle of the pod was a chest, secured to the deck with two heavy metal straps.