by Lian Tanner
“Mama would’ve liked it,” said Gwin. “Don’t you think so, Papa?”
Her father kissed the top of her head and said, “She would indeed.”
Gwin’s battered heart felt warmer than it had in weeks. The three of them were a proper family again, and between them they’d keep Mama’s memory alive. They’d sing when the sun was shining, and they’d sing in the middle of the storm.…
“Watch where you’re treadin’, shipmate,” said a voice at Gwin’s feet.
She took a hasty step backward and saw Mister Smoke peering up at her, with another rat, green-ribboned, by his side.
Papa squatted down. “Sir rat, you are even more amazing than I realized. I never thought to hear you speak. Or see you fight.”
“Well, now you ’ave, shipmate,” said Mister Smoke.
“I don’t suppose,” said Papa, “that you and your friend would consider joining us? Such a performance it would be—”
The other rat, the one with the green ribbon, interrupted him. “Too much to do,” she said. “Crops to be sown, laws to be made and unmade, lessons to be taught. Smoke? We’d best get started.”
And the rats skipped away.
Gwin was just turning back to Papa when she heard a yelp of delight. And there was Wretched, barreling up the monument toward them, barking all the way. His ragged coat was even filthier than usual.
“Wretched!” cried Nat, with an enormous smile on his face. “You got out!” He squatted down and opened his arms. “Here, boy!”
The dog raced around him, wagging his tail so hard that it looked as if it might fall off. But then he stopped and looked toward the northwest.
Nat stood up, saying, “There’s something coming. I don’t know what.”
A moment later, Gwin heard it too: a clattering sound, like a hundred oxcarts jolting over stone. It bounced off the Grand Monument and rolled up and down the road, so that all the people who were milling around, with no idea what to do now that the Devouts were beaten, stopped in their tracks and stared.
Something came over the horizon.
Gwin couldn’t put a name to it. It floated through the air like a monstrous, oval-shaped bubble, wobbling this way and that, but somehow heading all the while toward the Grand Monument.
Most of the villagers fell to their knees, shrieking with fright. A few glanced suspiciously up at the Grand Monument, as if Gwin and her friends were responsible for the approaching monstrosity, just as they had been responsible for Coe, and for the sun coming back.
The noise grew worse. It rumbled and buzzed and rattled and whined and roared, until Wretched began to howl in sympathy. Gwin could see ropes crisscrossing the bubble, and a huge cradle hanging below it, and puffs of smoke issuing from the back of the cradle in time with the clatters.
“’Ware below!” bellowed a loud voice, and the monstrous vessel began to descend.
People screamed and scattered. Parents covered their children’s eyes, as if to protect them from something evil.
But as the whole contraption sank slowly toward the base of the Grand Monument, Gwin gasped. Because in a way she was responsible for it.
“Nat,” she shouted, trying to make herself heard above the racket. “It’s them! It’s Hob and Bony! They’ve come to save us!”
Then she realized what she’d said, and she began to laugh. “Except we don’t need them anymore. We saved ourselves!”
Nat and Papa laughed too. Wretched yipped with delight. Below them, Hob swung his leg over the edge of the cradle, leapt to the ground and beamed up at them.
“Afternoon, Fetchers,” he cried. “What d’you think of our zeppaleen?”
* * *
Petrel couldn’t find Fin; there were just too many people. Shipfolk and Sunkers were tending wounds, consulting with their leaders and inspecting the zeppaleen with professional curiosity. The villagers tiptoed around them, or climbed onto the monument to peer down at the Devouts with stunned expressions on their faces.
They can’t believe it’s over, thought Petrel as she scrambled down to ground level. And neither can I.
But it was over, and Fin’s mam was safe, which made Petrel both happy and sad. I’m pleased for ’em, I really am. But I hope Fin doesn’t forget me. I hope he doesn’t go without saying good-bye.
She passed Sharkey and Rain, who were talking to Admiral Deeps. “We’ll let bygones be bygones, then,” said Deeps, smiling in a severe sort of way. “You and your friends did a fine job, Sharkey.”
Farther along, Krill and his daughter, Squid, were hugging each other and laughing. “Never seen you move so fast, Da,” said Squid. “Don’t reckon the Devouts knew what hit ’em.”
Petrel would have asked Krill if he’d seen Fin. Except she couldn’t help remembering how he had agreed with Admiral Deeps.
Your first mistake was thinking that we care about the girl.
One part of Petrel knew that the whole thing had been a trick. But the bit of her that would never forget the loneliness of being Nothing Girl couldn’t help believing it.
Your first mistake …
Sadly, she turned away from Krill and Squid. Then she stopped. “No,” she told herself. “You ain’t been Nothing Girl for a long time. You’ve gotta speak up.”
And instead of creeping away, she marched up to the Head Cook and jabbed him in the ribs with her finger. “Are you my friend or not, Krill?”
“What?” The big man spun around. “Course I am, bratling. Why?”
“’Cos you…” Now that she was standing right in front of him, it was surprisingly hard to say. “Um—you nodded. When Deeps said that stuff about no one caring for me.”
Krill laughed. “Aye, I did. It was part of—” He looked at her more closely, then reared back, astonished and appalled.“You didn’t believe it, lass? What, when you’re as dear to me as a second daughter?”
“I—I am?”
“He’s always talking about you,” said Squid. “He was just saying the other day—” She nudged Krill. “No, you tell her. Go on.”
“I wondered if—if maybe you’d like to call me Da.” Krill hesitated, suddenly shy. “That’s only if you want to, of course, and no disrespect to your real da; he was a fine man. But he’s not here, and I am.” He looked sideways at Petrel. “What d’you say?”
Petrel’s heart swelled up, so big and warm that she could hardly speak. But she managed to whisper, “Aye.”
Krill threw back his head and whooped. Then he picked Petrel up, danced a few steps and put her down again. “Squid, you’ve got a sister at last!”
“Couldn’t ask for a better one.” And Squid hugged Petrel too.
Petrel felt muddled and happy. At least, she would be happy, once she got over her best friend leaving. “Have you seen Fin?” she asked.
“Nope.” Krill shaded his eyes. “But if you come with me, I’ll find him for you.”
As the Head Cook strode through the crowd, Petrel trotted alongside him, listening to the conversations that were springing up in all directions. Some of the bolder villagers had gathered around the captain and were bombarding him with questions.
“Who’s going to rule us now? You?”
“What do we do with the Masters? Can we set them to work for us?”
“What do you mean, a water pump? What’s that?”
“Are you going to stay and teach us stuff?”
“Can you take that mask off, Witch?”
“It is not a mask,” said the captain calmly. “It is my face. I am not a witch, nor am I going to rule you, or tell you what to do with the Devouts. You must learn to govern yourselves. But I will stay and teach you whatever you want to know. That is what I am for.”
“Does this mean we ain’t got a cap’n anymore?” Petrel asked Krill when they’d passed out of earshot. “Is he gunna leave us? Is he gunna leave the ship?”
“Don’t know, daughter.” Krill beamed on the word “daughter,” then grew serious again. “Don’t know much about anything right now
, including whether or not we go back to the ship. I don’t think we can leave these folk straightaway, not even with the cap’n to advise ’em. Their whole world’s been about the strong trampling on the weak, and it’ll take ’em a while to get used to something different. Those mountain folk are stopping around to help, and I reckon we could too, if we cared to. Then there’s the places beyond West Norn. No one knows what things are like there. Maybe we’ll help out here for a while, then go and see.” His beard swiveled one way and then the other. “Isn’t that Fin over there? Talking to a woman? Who would that be?”
“His mam?” Petrel craned her neck. “I can’t see, Krill.”
“We’re nearly there. What’s his mam’s name, d’you know?”
“Hilde.”
Krill surged through the crowd like a ship through spring ice, and Petrel bobbed in his wake, trying not to fall too far behind. By the time she caught up with him, he was shaking Hilde’s hand.
“I’m Head Cook Krill,” he said. “And this—where is she now? Ah, this is my daughter Petrel, heroine of the Oyster and loved by all. Well, except for Chief Engineer Albie, of course, but he doesn’t love anyone except himself.”
Hilde smiled. “My son”—she looked at Fin as if she couldn’t believe he was truly there—“my son has been telling me about the Oyster. And about Petrel.”
Fin blushed and stared at his boots. His mam continued, “I’m indebted to you all for taking such good care of him. I never thought I’d see him again. But here he is. My own boy. My Hew.”
“Hew?” Krill wrinkled his great brow. “His name’s Fin.”
“No, his real name is Hew. I gave it to him myself, the day he was born.”
It doesn’t suit him at all, thought Petrel. But I don’t spose I’ve got any say in it. Just as I’ve got no say in what happens next. They’ll go off together, and I’ll never see Fin—I mean Hew—no, I mean Fin, again.
Except that wasn’t right. You’ve gotta speak up.
“So what’re you going to do now?” asked Krill.
Hilde shook her head. “I don’t know. I was thinking about going to my cousins…”
“You could stay here with us,” Petrel said quickly. “Both of you. Sounds as if shipfolk might be here for a while, and you’d be very welcome. Fin’s part of the crew, and we don’t want to lose him.”
Fin looked up at her, and she met his eyes. This was the boy whose life she’d saved twice over, the boy who had saved her from loneliness. This was her best friend.
“I mean, I don’t want to lose him. I don’t, Fin. I don’t want you to go.”
“Hew, not Fin,” said Hilde.
“Mama—I am Fin.”
“No,” said his mam. “That’s not—”
“I have been Fin for months; it is how I think of myself. When you say ‘Hew,’ I do not know who you are talking about.”
Hilde swallowed. “But what would we do? If we did stay here?”
“There’s a whole country to be rebuilt,” said Petrel. “There’ll be lots to do.”
“I don’t know.” Hilde shook her head uncertainly. “This is all very hard to get used to.”
“What you need,” said Krill, leaning over her, “is a bowl of soup. There’s no problem that can’t be made better by soup.”
CHAPTER 34
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
An hour or so later, Fin, Petrel, Krill and Hilde stood by one of many cooking fires with bowls of soup warming their hands.
“I do like the sound of doing something useful,” said Hilde. “And besides, I’m not sure my cousins’d take us in, not really. Hew? I mean—Fin? Would you like to stay here?”
“Yes,” said Fin. “I would.”
Krill leaned toward him and said, in what he obviously thought was a whisper, “Fine woman, your mam.”
Petrel grinned into her soup. Somewhere nearby a voice rose above the crowd, a voice used to making itself heard. “This is a day that will go down in the history of West Norn!”
It was the Fetcher, standing on a nest of barrels with a fiddle in his hand and Gwin and Nat on either side of him. Wretched was there too, tucked in behind Nat’s legs, and the Fetchers’ ox stood patiently beside the barrels, chewing its cud, with the remains of its harness dangling on the ground.
“I’m not denying there’s grief aplenty to go round,” Gwin’s da said loudly. “There’ll be nights yet when we weep for those we’ve lost. But the Devouts are beaten and the Citadel’s empty. There’ll be no more tithe, no more stealing of children.”
A few folk cheered, but most of them were too stunned to recognize the truth of what the Fetcher was saying.
Nevertheless, he kept going. “So what comes next, people of West Norn? What are we going to do with this brand-new world of ours? Any ideas?”
No one answered him. They just gaped, too used to being told what to do to take him seriously.
The Fetcher laughed. “No? Me neither. But we’ll have plenty of help from those who know what it is to be free. Including mountain folk, who came too late for the fighting, but just in time to help us with whatever comes next. They’re talking of village councils and of machines too, if we want them, to make our lives easier.”
A buzz ran through his audience, half-afraid, half-excited. The Fetcher raised his hand for silence. “But you know what I think? This isn’t about machines; it never has been. It’s about how we treat each other. It’s about kindness and respect. That’s what we’ve lacked. But we’ve got a chance at them now, and I think we should celebrate!”
With that, he raised his bow and began to play. A few notes in, Nat joined him on a musical pipe. Gwin started to sing, her voice as big as her da’s.
“There once was a girl, a blue-eyed girl,
A girl with a song
And a bold, bold heart…”
Petrel had never heard music like it. It made the hairs on her arms stand up and her blood fizzle. All around her, shipfolk and Sunkers were tapping their feet. Villagers were shaking off their shock and beginning to smile. The folk who’d come in the zeppaleen, some of them even bigger and hairier than Krill, sang along with gusto.
“Come sing with us of her hidden world
As she traveled the land
With her ox and cart.”
By the end of the second verse, the villagers were joining in the last two lines. By the third, they were grabbing each other’s hands and dancing in circles. They were clumsy and unpracticed, but no one seemed to care. And as they moved, they grew more graceful, as though the memory of dancing had been tucked away inside their poor wintry bones, waiting for spring.
“‘No songs?’ cried she, and her blue eyes blazed,
‘No tunes for the ear?
No joy for the heart?
Then I will sing loudly for all of my days,
As I travel the land
With my ox and cart.’”
A voice said in Petrel’s ear, “I know many things, but I do not know how to dance. Will you teach me?”
“I’m not sure I know myself, Cap’n,” said Petrel. But the tune was irresistible, so she took his hand and joined one of the circles. Fin came in next to her, with his mam on his other side, and Krill one step farther along, dancing so vigorously that his beard looked as if it might fly off.
And then Squid was there too, and Rain and Sharkey, and Dolph, dancing the same way she fought, with a fierce intensity that had everyone around her watching out for their toes.
But when she saw Petrel, Dolph laughed and shouted, “We beat ’em, cousin! Huzzah for us! Huzzah for the Oyster! Huzzah for the Sunkers!”
Her cheers, copied by everyone in the circle, got caught up in the song and the dance, and before long they were being echoed on every side.
“They chased her east and they chased her west,”
“Huzzah for the west!”
“They placed a price
On her head and heart.”
“Huzzah for her heart!”
“A hundred crowns in a wooden chest
As she traveled the land
In her ox and cart.”
“Huzzah for her ox! Huzzah for her cart! Huzzah huzzah huzzah!”
Petrel danced and cheered with the rest of them and thought about the folk who had started all this, so long ago. Serran Coe. Admiral Cray and Lin Lin. And the very first Fetcher, Ariel. What would they think if they could see us now? she wondered.
She thought of her parents too and wished they were here to witness such an amazing day.
Except if they WERE here, I’d never have been Nothing Girl. Which means I might never have met Mister Smoke and Missus Slink or saved Fin from the ice or woken the sleeping Cap’n. Everything would’ve turned out differently.
Something grabbed at her ankle as she skipped past, and there were her two beloved rats, jumping backward and forward to avoid being stepped on. Petrel scooped them up and sat them on her shoulder.
“Crops to be sown,” said Missus Slink in a querulous voice. “Boxes to be dragged up from the bottom of the ocean, books to be written. And what do they do? They dance.” But one of her paws was tapping out the rhythm on Petrel’s ear, and she joined in the “Huzzah!” at the end of the next verse.
“Full speed ahead, shipmate,” cried Mister Smoke. “There’ll be time later for boxes and crops. Full speed ahead!”
And Petrel leapt back into the dance.
“I am the spark that will not go out,
I am the life,
I am the song.”
“Huzzah for the song!”
“Loud is my voice and my heart is stout
And I’ll travel the land
My whole life long.”
“Huzzah for life! Huzzah for the land! Huzzah huzzah huzzah!”
All across the fields, up and down the Grand Monument, folk cheered. The ground shook with their dancing; the sky rang with their singing. The sun shone.
The long darkness was over at last.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This has been such a great series to work on, and as usual I’ve been helped by many people. My heartfelt gratitude to my US publisher Feiwel and Friends, particularly editor in chief Liz Szabla and senior creative director Rich Deas for giving the books such care and attention. And extra thanks to Liz for the wonderful title, Battlesong.