A Whisper of Horses

by Zillah Bethell

  “No.” I found the words difficult to form. “We left because … because I wanted to look for something.”

  “Yer father?”

  “No. Not my father.”

  “Wha then?”

  I waited a second, unsure whether or not to spit out my secret to this boy so totally against me. “Horses.”

  “Horses?” His face didn’t split into the mocking smile I’d imagined it would.

  I nodded.

  He nodded.

  “They’re as good a thing to go looking for as any,” he agreed, his face serious.

  We sat there for a few minutes watching the world come slowly alive. Tab’s reaction to what I’d said about finding the horses surprised me and I started to think about what the Professor had said just the night before—I’m sure Tab will help. I can tell he has a good heart. It was at that particular moment—a vaguely foolish explosion of a moment—that I decided to put my trust in him.

  “There’s something I want to show you,” I said, pulling the locket out from inside my shirt. “Something my mother left to me.”

  I clicked the latch on the locket and took the map out, unfolding it and flattening it with my hand. Tab looked at it with squinty eyes.

  “Wha is it?”

  “It’s a map.”

  He twisted his head to get a better look. “Wha’s it show?”

  “I think,” I began, “it shows where you can find horses.”

  Tab pointed at the horses drawn on the map. “Here?”

  “Yes. This is an old road—the Emm Four. Do you know it?”

  “Course I know it,” he barked. “It’s one of the roads smugglers use to get to some of the small towns. There’s loads of good stuff still in some of them towns. We go along, borrow things—”

  “Steal them, you mean?”

  Tab ignored me and continued. “We borrow things, then we smuggle them into the city and sell them all to the posh people. Them Aus. Pay good money for partiklar things, the Aus. Love their little nicker-nackers, they do.”

  Part of me wanted to argue the borrowing/stealing point with him further, but a more sensible part stepped in and told my mind to forget it. It wasn’t important. Not anymore.

  “The horses are in a place called Whales. Just over this bridge.” I showed him. “Have you ever been to Whales?”

  He scrunched his face up and thought. “No…” He gave his head a tiny shake. “No. Don’t fink I’ve ever been there. Wha’s tha?” He poked his finger at the house with a star over it.

  “I don’t know, but the Professor says it may be somewhere safe to go.”

  “Nice.”

  “Good morning, Tab. Serenity.” We both jumped at the tall figure in front of us. It was King Billy, escorted by some of his Council. “How are you both?” His eyes squinted down at the map I was holding. “What’s that you’ve got there? Something interesting? Something we could sell?”

  Tab leapt to his feet. “Good morning, Yer Royal ighness. No, no. Nuthin interesting at all.” I crumpled the map up in my hands. “Jus a rubbish piece of paper from the olden days. Wouldn’t fetch a penny. Shoppin list or summat.”

  “Oh.” The King looked disappointed. “Pity.” He looked much older in the daytime and his hair fell clumsily away from under his cobbled-together wooden crown. His robes were slightly stained and his hands were rough and gritty-looking.

  He turned to me. “I trust you slept well, Serenity. All good smugglers need their sleep, you know?” I didn’t know what it was—it might have been a glint in his eye or the twist of his lip. It might have been the way his head gave a tiny, hardly noticeable jerk as he addressed me, or even just the tone of his questions. But something—something—told me that King Billy didn’t really like me.

  “Yes,” I replied. “Thank you, sir. But my name is Serendipity.”

  He frowned. “I wouldn’t be too worried about your name, girl. It shows an unhealthy obsession with one’s self. Never good to be too concerned with one’s self. Especially around here.” And with that off they all went, shuffling through the rubbish-strewn landscape like brightly colored beetles in search of food.

  chapter 17

  FLIGHT

  THE EVENING PASSED like the one before with the smugglers partying and dancing and fighting and singing. It was all an enormous clashing of light and color and noise—especially noise—and I felt overwhelmed just watching. In the early hours I fell into bed and instantly dropped off to sleep.

  It was a little later that something tapped on the sides of my tent, jolting me awake. Then came a snuffle along the edge of the tent.

  “Hey.” A voice hissed through the fabric at me. “Wake up.”

  The snuffling stopped and I could hear the tiny patter of tiny feet on hard ground and a slight grumble in the back of an animal’s throat. Then a bark.

  Mouse.

  “Shut it, you stupid dog. Keep yer stupid muzzle shut.”

  Tab.

  He tapped on the side of my tent again. “Wake up. Come on. You gotta wake up, now,” he hissed.

  I whizzed down the zip on the tent to find him standing outside with his finger on his lips, showing me that I needed to be quiet.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “You need to get yer stuff and come with me.”

  “What? Now? But it’s the middle of—”

  “Before they come to get you,” he fizzled, his eyes wide with worry.

  I looked at him. He was carrying a bag over his shoulder as if he was going somewhere. Mouse nuzzled up against Tab’s leg, his little tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No time to understand. Get yer stuff and come with me. I’ll explain on the way.”

  For some reason—the look on his face or the fact he was carrying his possessions on his back—I realized I needed to wriggle on. Something serious was happening.

  I pulled on my boots and stuffed all of my stuff into the rucksack before squirming outside. Tent City was dead again. Just a mass of poles and fabric. Not another soul to be seen. Mouse skittered about my feet like I was his long-lost best buddy and Tab pointed into the distance before crouching away.

  I followed, crouching too. “Where are we going?” I asked, perhaps a tad too loudly. Tab turned and frowned, his finger once again waving in front of his lips. So I nodded and shut my trap, plodding on softly behind him.

  Once we’d cleared Tent City, Tab tugged at my sleeve and we squatted down behind a graying fallen tree that had probably not erupted in leaves for well over a hundred years. Tab’s eyes darted around before his mouth hissed into my ear.

  “The King has guards that patrol the outer areas. We need to wait until the next guard has passed before we can escape.”

  “Escape? Why are we leaving? Why do you need to escape?”

  “Shut up, will yer.” He pulled Mouse close to him and clamped his hand around the dog’s nose. The dog seemed quite happy for him to do it, his tail wagging as if it was just a strange game that they were playing.

  The minutes passed like hours and we both struggled to keep our breathing as silent and invisible as possible, which was difficult when every breath we let out made a puffy white cloud that floated up above us into the raven-black sky.

  Then the guard came past, not paying attention to the slightest thing, humming to himself and kicking stones away from under his feet. His hands were deep in his pockets and his eyes seemed miles away; if any enemy had made some sort of attack at that moment he would have been totally dumbfoundled and overcome. Dead before he knew what had happened. So it was no surprise when he shuffled past us, the tune still rattling around his head—a whistle half forming on his lips—and disappeared slowly into the darkening distance.

  “Now.” Tab crawled over the tree trunk and pattered off, Mouse on the ground alongside him.

  I crept along, slightly slower, my eyes straining on the daydreaming guard. After about thirty yards I came alongsid
e Tab, who looked across at me with strangely angry eyes.

  “We need to get a bit of distance between us and the camp. There’s a village not too far away. If we hide away there tonight, we should be okay.”

  I nodded, suddenly trusting him and his scruffity dog.

  * * *

  The moon gave little light and we stumbled our way across dodgy turf and abandoned roads for a good hour or so until we made out the silhouette of houses and long-dead streetlights. As we edged into the village, Tab nodded towards me and we slipped into an old bus shelter, tucked away from the pavement, holes worn through the corrugated roof. We sat on the wooden shelf-like bench and caught our breath.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why are we running away?”

  Tab reached into his bag and tossed his dog a piece of something or other. Mouse chewed it down in no time whatsoever.

  “The King wanted to return yer to the Minister.” Tab didn’t look at me. “Said he’d pay a good price to ave yer back.”

  “What?”

  “The King thought he might get a modpod or two out of him for returning you.” I noticed his eyes darting up at me. “Tha’s what he said. Said the Minister’s Police hardly ever leave Lahn Dan but that last night two of their modpods came out looking for something. He thought they might have been looking for you.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would the Minister pay to have me back? I’m nothing. Just a Pb.”

  Tab shrugged. “Dunno. But I listened in. The King and the people on the Council thought it was best to have you returned. It might have benefited them in some way. Tha’s what they said. Keep the Minister’s Police Force off their backs for a while.”

  I didn’t know what he meant. The last couple of days had been a rush of happenings and my mind was finding it hard to take everything in. I watched Tab as he tossed another tidbit to his dog.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. “You didn’t have to help me, but thanks.”

  “S’awright.” He patted Mouse on the head. “Dun matter.”

  The night was pitchy black again. And cold. I pulled my jacket around me and repositioned my bottom on the bench.

  “Look, Tab,” I said. “You’d better get back. Before anyone notices you’re gone.” Mouse was sniffing my boots. “If you go now you’ll be back before anyone else is up. You can sneak back into camp and into your tent and nobody will know any difference.”

  “Not going back.” He sounded sulky. “Not ever.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t wanna go back. They can all go jump as far as I’m concerned.”

  “But…,” I started. “But they’re your family.”

  “Family! Huh. Buncha stupids, that’s wha they are. Buncha thieving stupids. Besides”—he tickled Mouse under the chin—“the King said he’d chuck Mouse over a cliff or drown him in a bucket if I slipped up one more time. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that at all.”

  I sat and watched him in silence for a while, his eyes focused on his filthy, wiry mutt. Mouse’s stubby tail wagged left and right like a blur as his master’s fingers stroked him. Each dependent on the other.

  “So what will you do?” I asked eventually. “Where will you go?”

  His shoulders jerked up and down awkwardly. “Dunno,” he said. “Thought I might go along with you for a bit. Be nice to show Mouse what a horse is. He’d like that. Be nice to see one for myself, for that matter.”

  chapter 18

  TAB’S PATH

  THE REST OF that night we slept in an empty cottage on the edge of the village and in the morning we downed a couple of food pills each. I was just packing up my bag when Tab rushed into the room.

  “Sssh,” he insisted. “Can you hear that?”

  I stopped and listened. In the distance I could just make out the sound of an engine. It was getting nearer.

  “It’s a two-wheeled modpod,” Tab whispered even though the sound was still a long way off. “A smuggler’s motorbike.”

  We went down to the sitting room and peered out of the front window, hiding ourselves behind the dusty curtains. The roar got gently louder until, a few minutes later, a single motorbike came along the road. I noticed the rider was helmetless as he pulled up on the road outside the cottage, the engine still running beneath him.

  “Tab!” he shouted and I could make out that he was the yawning boy from the camp. “Tab!”

  “It’s Hunter.” Tab got up as if to go outside but I tugged at his shirt.

  “Don’t! It might be a trap.”

  “No, Hunter’s cool. I trust him.” He pulled my hand from his shirt and went out to the hallway. I could hear the front door opening up.

  “Over here.”

  Hunter waved and smiled as Tab came out towards him, and he switched off his engine. It was a feeling of guilt and awkwardness that drove me outside in the end.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello,” I replied, still not entirely convinced that he could be trusted.

  Tab turned to look at me. “He says that the Minister’s Police Force were out again last night.”

  Hunter nodded. “Federico—one of the outlookers for King Billy—he got close and overheard a couple of them talking. Said something about finding the girl and the old man. He wasn’t too sure what they were on about.”

  “Old man?” I said, my heart suddenly filling my body. “They said ‘old man’?”

  “Yes. Old man.”

  They were still looking for the Professor! I couldn’t believe it. That meant they hadn’t captured him that night. They still thought he had escaped like Tab and me. I felt like throwing my arms in the air and dancing and hugging Hunter.

  “That’s fantastic.”

  Hunter gave me a slightly odd look. “Thought I’d better let you know,” he started absentmindedly, “so you can try to avoid them. They seem to be sticking to the main roads.”

  “What about the King?” Tab asked. “How’s he feel?”

  “Bit cheesed off. I don’t think he’ll ever take you back now, Tab. Think you’ve done for yerself as far as the King is concerned.”

  Tab looked a little sad but tried shrugging his shoulders in an attempt not to. “Fair enuff.”

  “Thought you’d head out this way,” Hunter continued. “No one reads your mind like I can, Tab.” He ruffled the top of Tab’s head before Tab tried patting his hair down again.

  “You’re not going to tell on us, are you?” I looked Hunter straight in the eye.

  “What? No, no. I’m not gonna go lemongrassing you up.” At that moment, Mouse scuttled out of the house and skidded to an ungainly stop right at Hunter’s feet. “Mouse, boy! The worst dog in the world. How are you, eh?” He bent over and scratched the dog’s rough fur with the tips of his fingers. Mouse panted like an idiot and kept turning around to try to position Hunter’s fingers in the place where, at that very second, the fleas were most bothering him. “You look after your master now, Mouse. He needs looking after, does young Master Tab.”

  Tab’s face fell. “You going?”

  “Got to. Can’t stay long. Someone’ll start wondering where I’ve got to otherwise. Here.” He leant back over his bike and pulled up a large sack. “Come to give you this.” He shoved it coarsely into Tab’s hands. “Leftovers from last night’s party. Thought you might need some, now yer out on yer own.” He turned to look at me. “Well, you know what I mean.”

  “Thanks. Thanks a lot.” I thought I saw Tab’s eyes starting to fill with tears, but not for long.

  “We’re going to—” I began, but Hunter cut me off.

  “Don’t tell me. If I don’t know, then I can’t say, can I? And if I can’t say, then nobody’ll find out. And then … well … you’re safe, yeah?”

  Tab nodded.

  Hunter grabbed him by the shoulders and they stood face-to-face.

  “You take good care of yerself now, bruv. Eat well, wash yerself properly—all that sort of guff. They say there are good people living out to the west and to the north.
Not like around here. Remember that. And also remember”—his hands seemed to squeeze Tab’s shoulders—“that you know where I am. If you need me. Ever.” It was Hunter’s turn to blink back tears. “Yeah, bruv?”

  He pulled himself together and patted Tab in a jokey, joshing sort of way before turning back to the bike and climbing on. He twisted a key and the engine roared loudly into the silence.

  “Take care.”

  He winked at us both and the bike rolled off slowly out of the village.

  * * *

  Tab seemed in a huff. He marched on ahead of me; even Mouse was finding it tricksome to keep up with him. As we passed through the dead countryside and into another small collection of houses and rusted-down modpods, I caught up with him.

  “What’s wrong?” I frowned at him. “Why’re you in such a moodle?”

  He frowned right back at me. “Eh?”

  “You’re in a moodle.”

  “Yeah, well … I didn’t like the way you nearly told Hunter we were going off together to find yer beloved horses.”

  “Well, we are, aren’t we?”

  “No.”

  “But we’re walking together now, aren’t we? You’re walking with me.”

  “No. You’re walking with me. I’m the one in front. You’re the one scratching along behind.” He tugged the bags tighter over his shoulders. “Feel free to push off whenever you like. Toodle pip.” He stretched his legs and put more distance between us.

  “Don’t you want to find horses?”

  “No,” he called back. “Don’t think I do.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby!”

  Then he stopped and turned to me and I could see in his eyes that it wasn’t horses he was thinking about. His eyes were drooped and sad and I realized that that was probably the way I’d looked just the other night when the Professor turned back and left me to get out of Lahn Dan without him.

  Everything in Tab’s life had changed just as suddenly as everything had changed in my own. Like a rabbit caught in a deadlight. He was stunned and he didn’t know what he was saying. He was just lashing out at the person standing nearest to him.

  “I’ll help get yer to the Emm Four,” he said, without any feeling, his heart not really meaning it. “Then I’ll probly go me own way.”