by Lian Tanner
The boy shook his head, then nodded, confused by her words. In all his years in the Citadel, no one had ever looked after him.
‘Kindness is a mistake,’ Brother Thrawn had said in one of his regular sermons, ‘and you will find none of it here. Should we smile at those who commit crimes against society? Should we pat them on the shoulder and send them on their way to commit more crimes? Should we soothe them, and tolerate their foolishness?’
He made soothing and tolerating sound so dreadful that the boy joined with his fellow Initiates in roaring, ‘No! No!’
‘No, indeed,’ said Brother Thrawn. ‘Some may call us cruel—’ Which was true, the boy knew it. He had been called cruel on several occasions.
‘—but we know the truth. We are like surgeons, cutting away the rotten flesh so the body can grow healthy. And if the rotten flesh complains, do we listen?’
‘No!’
Those enthusiastic voices seemed oddly distant now. The boy knew he should despise Petrel for her kindness, but he could not. His fever seemed to have burned something out of him, though he was not yet sure what it was . . .
He wondered how long he had been lying there. Half a day, perhaps?
‘How long was I sick?’ he asked.
‘Three days.’
For all his weakness, shock brought the boy to a sitting position. ‘Three days?’
‘Told you it was a bad case,’ said Petrel, with considerable satisfaction. ‘Mostly boat fever comes and goes so quick you barely know you’ve got it except for the rash. But it clung to you like a limpet shell.’
The boy hardly heard her. He had wasted three days! While Brother Thrawn and his Devouts trailed after the Oyster in their wooden sailing ship, risking their lives to make the world a better place, the boy had wasted three whole days!
He groaned aloud, and Petrel said, ‘You feeling bad still? You should lie down—’ A knock on the door interrupted her. Petrel unlocked it, then stood in front of the boy protectively. ‘He’s awake,’ she said, ‘but only just. And he’s not feeling too perky, so don’t you go bothering him.’
‘You’re as bad as my daughter,’ said a deep voice, and an enormous hand picked Petrel up and moved her to one side.
The same hand pressed the boy back in his cot, and he could not resist it. He saw a massive chest, and a beard with bones plaited in it, and fierce, intelligent eyes above the beard.
‘That’s Head Cook Krill,’ called Petrel from somewhere behind the man. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not as mean as he looks.’
‘Oh, but I am,’ rumbled Krill, ‘if the circumstances require it.’ He leaned over the boy, scowling. ‘You’ve got questions to answer, lad. Quite a few of ’em.’
‘Not now,’ said Petrel, squeezing around the side of him. ‘Look at him, Krill, he can’t even sit up properly. And he hasn’t had anything to eat for three days.’
Three days, thought the boy savagely. I am a fool. I am not worthy of the trust they placed in me.
‘But is he going to answer my questions,’ said Krill, ‘even when he’s fed?’
‘Course he is,’ said Petrel, nodding furiously at the boy.
‘Let’s try him out then,’ said Krill. At Petrel’s instant protest, he raised his hand. ‘I just want to hear his voice, that’s all, make sure he knows how to say aye or nay. Cos from what I heard, all he’d give Albie was I don’t remember. And that’s no good to any of us.’
He turned back to the boy. ‘Think of this as a test question, lad. What’s your name?’
‘It’s Fin,’ said Petrel.
‘You be quiet,’ said Krill. ‘He’s not a baby, to be carried around all day. Let him answer for himself.’
The boy set his jaw. There must be no more mistakes. No more delays. I promised myself that I would not take a name. But that was only my pride. We are saving humanity from its own foolishness. Set against that, my pride is unimportant.
With an effort, he dragged himself back up to a sitting position.
‘Well?’ said Krill, steadying the cot with one hand.
The boy took a deep breath – and nodded. ‘That is my name,’ he said, and the world around him seemed to tremble with shock. ‘Fin. I am Fin.’
The Dufftown border guards were just as sympathetic as those in Grease Alley, but less willing to let Dolph pass.
‘Krill heard you were poking round,’ they told her. ‘He sends his sympathies, but he’s with Crab on this one. “Let’s keep things tidy,” he says. “Braid should stick to Braid. Our folk can search Dufftown better than anyone else.”’
Dolph nodded slowly. ‘Maybe he’s right,’ she said. ‘Let me know if they find the stranger.’
But as she climbed back up to Braid, her mind was a whirl of suspicion. When had Krill ever concerned himself with tidiness? Dolph had seen his apron so thick with soup she could’ve lived off it for a month.
Under her breath, she whispered, ‘Things have changed on the Oyster, Mam, but not that much.’
And she headed for the other Commons ladderway, closer to the ship’s bow.
Dolph was not a girl who showed her emotions easily, nor had she ever used tears to get what she wanted. Now however, she set out to do both. She scrubbed at her eyes until they were red and puffy, and ruffled her usually neat hair. She wished she could squeeze out a few real tears, but she was too angry. This would have to do.
The border guards on the for’ard ladderway were embarrassed about stopping her. ‘If it was anyone but Krill who’d given the order we’d let you through,’ said one of them. ‘Everything’s turned upside down as it is – one more rule broken isn’t going to make a difference.’
‘I – I just want Mam’s killer found,’ sobbed Dolph.
‘Course you do,’ said the same guard. ‘It’s only natural. No sign of him in Braid, then?’
Dolph shook her head. ‘Nor in Grease Alley, though Albie’s got nearly everyone on the hunt. I expect Krill’s the same.’
The guards looked at each other. ‘Mm,’ said the second one, noncommittally.
Dolph pretended not to notice. She choked out another sob and said, ‘I expect Krill’s tearing Dufftown apart. I know he and Mam didn’t get on, but when it comes to the safety of the ship, you can always count on the Head Cook.’
‘You can,’ said the first guard. He stared at his knuckles. ‘Mind you, he’s not perfect.’
‘Now then, Cod,’ said the second guard in warning tones.
‘Well he’s not, is he?’ said Cod. ‘That wasn’t a proper search, not so far as I could tell.’
‘Krill said—’
‘I know what Krill said. He doesn’t think the stranger murdered Orca.’
Dolph stared at the guard, forgetting for the moment to look tearful.
‘He says he’s not even sure there is a stranger,’ continued Cod. ‘Thinks maybe it’s some trick of Albie’s. But he’s wrong—’
The second guard tried to interrupt, but Cod ploughed on, ‘—and he knows he’s wrong too. Him and Squid, I’ve seen ’em whispering in corners—’
‘You shut your mouth,’ snapped the second guard. ‘What are you thinking, spilling Dufftown business to anyone who passes?’
‘She’s not just anyone,’ protested Cod. ‘She’s Orca’s kin. She’s got a right—’
‘She’s Braid. The ship may be turned upside down, but she’s still Braid.’ The second guard nodded apologetically at Dolph. ‘Sorry, lass, but that’s the way things are. You’d best get back to your own decks. I’m sure someone’ll find the stranger soon, and you’ll have your revenge.’
Dolph sobbed out her thanks, then scrambled back up the Commons ladderway. She felt breathless, but sharp too, like a knife blade that had been stropped against stone until its edge was thin and deadly.
‘They’ve got him, Mam,’ she whispered as she hurried towards the bridge. ‘Krill and Squid’ve got him, and they’re keeping it a secret. I bet they’ve got the Nothing girl too. But they’re going to get a very nasty
surprise if they think they can keep those murderers safe from me.’
HALF A TRUTH
By midday, the boy had eaten a meal of fish and was strong enough to stand on his own, though his legs were still shaky. Whenever Petrel or Squid called him Fin, he answered them without protest.
But the name unsettled him. It felt dangerous. It felt like a fine thread connecting him to Petrel, and he had to fight the desire to constantly watch her in case she wove him into something he did not want to be a part of.
He had to fight his memories too, shaken loose by the fever and still lurking in the dark corners of his mind. His memories of a thin-faced woman . . .
The mission, he told himself grimly. Nothing matters but the mission.
He looked up at Krill, who was looming over him, hands on hips. ‘I will answer your questions now,’ he said.
Krill nodded. ‘Good. So what’s all this about a demon?’
Fin’s mouth almost fell open with shock. It was only the years of discipline that kept his face blank. ‘A demon?’ he said mildly, though his heart was beating apace. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t try and twist things round, lad. You’re the one who started this, while you were feverish. “Must not warn the demon” – that’s what you said. “It’ll blow us out of the water if it suspects.” And a bit later you said something about the ship.’ The Head Cook puffed out his cheeks until the bones in his beard rattled. ‘Now I’m just a simple man—’ Behind him, his daughter rolled her eyes. Petrel frowned and fidgeted.
‘—but I can smell bad fish quicker’n anyone. And this fish stinks.’ Krill lowered his head, like a bull about to charge. ‘So I ask you again, Fin lad. What’s this about a demon?’
Fin swallowed. This was a question that Brother Thrawn had not anticipated. He could refuse to say anything, of course, but if he did he would probably be locked up again, and the mission would fail.
The mission . . .
It struck the boy suddenly that if the mission succeeded, Petrel would die at the hands of the Devouts, along with the rest of the crew. Petrel, who had looked after him when he was ill. Who had been kind to him— He dragged his mind back to Krill’s question. ‘There was a – a ship,’ he began, wondering what he was going to say next. Perhaps he could tell them a half-truth, something that would make them sympathise with him.
‘It brought me south to the ice,’ he said. ‘The men on board were cruel; they forced me to come with them and – and—’ He jumped as the pipes behind him began to clang. But his shock was nothing compared with that of the other three.
‘What?’ roared Krill, his face crimson above his beard. ‘They wouldn’t dare!’ And he charged out of the cabin, with Squid hurrying after him saying, ‘They must’ve found out, Da.’
As the door slammed behind them, Fin turned to Petrel. ‘What is it?’
‘Attack on Dufftown, that’s what,’ said Petrel, her eyes wide. ‘Double attack, from above and below, which is a nasty thing. Albie and Crab have found out you’re here, I reckon, and they want to punish Krill and catch you at the same time.’
Fin felt sick. ‘They will kill me.’
‘Don’t worry, Krill won’t hand you over without a fight,’ said Petrel. ‘And him and his Cooks are a powerful force once you get ’em away from the burners.’
Nevertheless, she looked anxious.
The pipes rattled again. ‘Is that another message?’ asked Fin. ‘What are they saying now?’
‘Krill’s calling the Dufftown fishing shift back. That’s serious, that is. Fishing shift usually stays out of the fighting.’
Fin thought he could hear a dull roar in the distance, as if scores of people were shouting all at once. He stood up and began to pace from one end of the cabin to the other. ‘What if Krill loses?’
‘Why then,’ said Petrel, ‘I reckon you’re a goner. And me too if they catch me here.’
‘Then— Then you should go.’ The words were out of Fin’s mouth before he could stop them.
‘No.’ Petrel gave him a lopsided grin. ‘Rather stay here where it’s comfy.’
Fin paced up and down, clenching and unclenching his fists. The dull roar grew louder. Neither of the children spoke again, but they glanced at each other often, then looked away. Fin wished desperately that the whole mission was over and done with, and that he was back in the Citadel, where life was simple, and unsettling thoughts did not plague him.
The door flew open and Squid tumbled into the cabin, her face white. ‘Dufftown’s in trouble,’ she panted. ‘Da wants us to get Fin away and hide him till Albie and Crab come to their senses. Might be a few days, he reckons. He’s trying to barricade the galley, but he’s not sure it’ll hold. He says most of the attack came from the for’ard ladderway, so we should go aft.’
She caught her breath. ‘Though they might be there too, for all I know, and if they see Fin, he’s lost.’
Petrel threw open the chest that sat against the wall and dragged out an outdoor jacket and trousers. ‘Put these back on,’ she said to Fin. ‘You’ll pass for Grease as long as no one looks too close.’
Fin took the clothes and began to pull them on. Petrel said, ‘You’re the other one they’ll go for, Squid. If they can grab you they’ll have a powerful hold over your da.’
Squid nodded. ‘True enough. I’ll hang back, so I don’t endanger you two.’
‘No.’ Petrel shook her head. ‘I reckon we should stick together.’
‘We should go to Grease Alley,’ said Fin quickly.
Petrel agreed with him. ‘Good hiding places down there, and Albie’s too busy chasing Krill to think about his own territory.’
She dug into the chest again and handed Fin the iron device he had found.
‘If we end up anywhere near the fighting,’ she said, ‘Squid and I’ll start to run, and you chase us, waving that spanner as if you want to whack us with it.’ Her forehead creased. ‘Can you run, do you reckon, without falling over?’
‘I will try,’ said Fin, relieved to be moving at last, and in the right direction. He hefted the spanner in his fist, wondering whether he might be able to use it to force the hatch where the demon was hidden . . .
‘You ready?’ asked Petrel.
Squid nodded. So did Fin. Petrel opened the cabin door and peeped out. ‘All clear,’ she whispered. ‘Put your hood up, Fin.’ And she climbed over the sill.
The fighting was closer than Petrel had realised. She could hear the furious shouts and the clash of pipe wrenches and knives as Albie and his crew advanced through Dufftown.
‘This way,’ she hissed at Fin, and dragged him in the opposite direction, with Squid hurrying behind them.
Krill’s cabin was not far from the old growing vats. Petrel avoided looking at them as they passed – she had promised to keep the tunnels secret, and would not go back on that promise, no matter what.
By the time they had passed the vats, the sounds of fighting had grown fainter. But Petrel didn’t trust her ears, not where Albie was concerned. She checked every corner before they rounded it, and kept her eyes peeled for Engineer-shaped wrongness. It’d be just like Albie to send two or three fighters up the aft ladderway, to lie in wait for unexpected prizes. Orca would’ve done the same if she was still alive, but Petrel wasn’t so worried about Crab.
Which was maybe why she didn’t see Dolph until it was too late.
A PATCH OF WHITE
There was no warning. One moment Petrel was leading the way past a cabin; the next, Fin yelped behind her, and she spun around to see Dolph holding the tip of her knife to the boy’s neck.
‘Lucky me, I’ve caught a Grease boy,’ hissed Dolph. ‘Wonder why he’s keeping company with rat and Duff, instead of fighting like he should be?’
Petrel’s heart shrank within her. ‘Dolph,’ she whispered.
‘Ooh, clever rat. It can talk—’ Squid broke in. ‘Leave her alone, Dolph. Leave the Engineer alone too. He’s not important. It’s— It’s me you wa
nt.’
‘Is it?’ said Dolph, her knife not moving from Fin’s neck. ‘I spose Crab’d be pleased to see you. Albie, too. But maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’m curious about this Grease boy.’
Petrel’s mind was a-whirl, her fear of the older girl all mixed up with the brand-new knowledge that they were cousins. That Dolph’s mam and Petrel’s da had been sister and brother.
And that one had killed the other.
But that didn’t matter, she told herself, not right now. What mattered was Fin.
‘He’s Squid’s secret feller,’ she said quickly. ‘They’re love-smitten, they are, which is just plain stupid in my opinion, cos Krill and Albie’ll have a fit if they find out, and—’ She broke off as the tip of the knife flicked Fin’s hood back, exposing his face.
‘Then again,’ said Dolph, as if Petrel’s words had been nothing but rat squeaks, ‘maybe he’s not Grease. Maybe he’s something a lot more interesting. Like a murderer.’
Fin’s eyes flickered from side to side. The knife pressed harder against his throat.
‘He didn’t do it, Dolph,’ said Squid. ‘Fin didn’t kill your mam.’
‘Course he didn’t,’ said Dolph. ‘Not on his own, anyway. He had help, didn’t he, from a certain rat girl.’
‘What?’ said Petrel, astonished at the accusation. ‘What are you talking about? I didn’t go near your mam. You think I’m stupid? If she’d caught me anywhere near her cabin she’d have whacked me on the head and thrown me to the Maw.’
‘Squeak squeak squeak,’ spat Dolph. ‘You’ve got more words than I ever thought, Nothing Girl.’
‘I’m not nothing,’ said Petrel, stung. ‘I’m Braid and Grease, which is more than anyone else on this ship—’
‘Shame!’ hissed Dolph. ‘A walking shame, that’s what you are. Maybe when Mam saw you, she stopped her hand out of disgust. Or maybe you tricked her, caught her eye in one direction while the murderer crept up in the other. It doesn’t matter how you killed her—’
It was then that Fin spoke up for the first time. His eyes were white around the edges, but his voice was steady. ‘We did not kill your mother. It was not Petrel and it was not me. You should let me go. I have done nothing to harm you.’