He carries a tray with a teapot and mug, and two dark scones on a plate. “Sit, girl. No standing on ceremony here.” He smiles a little, as if he’s enjoying my discomfort. “Tell me, are we really expecting your father? I’ll fetch another mug if we are.”
I don’t trust him. “My father’s dead,” I say. “He was a fisherman.”
“Was he.” His flat tone gives nothing away. “Either he’s long dead then, or he’d turned his hand to another trade.”
I don’t want to discus my Pa as if he’s some coinage in negotiation. “How do you know Merryn?”
His thick eyebrows lift. “What makes you think I do?” He pours dark tea from the pot. “I’ve no butter or jam — but nor do you look as though you’re starving.”
I can’t make him out. Each word seems a test, but of what? “Merryn told me you were a fisherman once.”
“Once. If it’s your dead father that you’re hunting, I’m still on the wrong side of living to help you.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, I shake my head. “What do you do now?”
“Whatever I can. Have a scone.”
I take one. It’s stale but I bite into it gratefully. I was too nervous to eat much before we left Explorer.
“Not starving, but hungry,” Wilum observes.
A crash sounds outside, followed by a muffled cry and a dull thud. Wilum doesn’t move. A moment later the front door opens and steps sound in the hall. A man looms in the doorway. He nods to Wilum and eyes me suspiciously. “Caught this one lurking outside,” he says, gesturing behind.
A second man sidles in towing Malik. I start up and Wilum waves me down. The room is crowded with so many in it. Wilum points the men towards the chairs and they prop Malik, head lolling, between them.
“Now, who might this be?” Wilum asks. “Surely not your dead father.”
I raise my chin. “He’s a friend, and we’d have come together but for the man who showed me the way here. I didn’t want to make him suspicious.”
“Your friend seems to have run into a bit of trouble already,” Wilum comments, as one of the thugs tilts Malik’s head up by way of the bandage around his jaw. He mumbles and blinks.
“He has toothache,” I tell them.
Wilum leans towards me. “Ness — if that’s really your name — you’ll gather by now that I don’t take kindly to being spied on. I suggest you tell me your business, and hope I believe you.”
“We’re not spying. I was led to believe you’d be interested in what I have to tell you. Merryn didn’t say how she knew you — and I doubt now that she does. I can’t imagine she’d have such thugs for friends.”
To my surprise Wilum throws back his head and laughs. “Thugs we are now, boys. Well, right enough, you did give her friend a wee tap.” His mirth disappears. “And rightly, too, finding him peering in at my window. I’ve had trouble before, young Ness. I’ve found it pays to be cautious.”
“If it’s Colm Brewster you’re worried about, I’m no threat to you. Colm wants me dead.”
“Then it’s a threat you surely are. An enemy of Colm’s taking tea in my living room — now what would the Council make of that?”
“I —”
Wilum smiles, more gently this time. “Shall we call the preliminaries over and get down to business? Tell me what is it that Merryn thinks I should know — she’d not have sent you without reason.”
I glance at Malik, but there’s nothing I can do for him till I’ve convinced Wilum that our intentions are honest. “I left Dunnett three years ago,” I begin, and Wilum, leaning forward, looks less the ruffian and more the leader I’d hoped for. As I describe the circumstances of my departure, his expression tells me he’s heard some version of my story before. All three men become intent as I sketch details of Vidya.
Halfway through my telling, Malik moans softly. I break off. Wilum says nothing when I cross the room and explore Malik’s scalp with my fingertips. There’s a swelling the size of a hen’s egg rising behind one ear.
“Your friends are a little hasty in their judgements,” he mumbles, his words slurred by more than the bandage.
“They’re sorry for that.” I give the men to either side a hard stare. “You could fetch me cold water and a cloth,” I tell one of them. He turns to Wilum for approval before he rises.
“And is this the stranger you found in Skellap Bay?” Wilum asks.
I shake my head. “This is Malik. He’s a member of Vidya’s sea research team.” I pause, framing my words. “We came to Dunn because we thought Explorer’s findings might be of use to you, along with other things Vidya has to offer. The governors are hoping that the island might be interested in trade.”
Wilum’s face is impassive. I decide I’d best come right out with it. “It’s not the only reason I volunteered to come back. I’ve a favour to ask as well.”
Ban, Wilum’s nephew, leads me through a tangle of streets that I’d never have negotiated alone, even with the stink of the tanneries to guide me. As we round a corner I stop in my tracks. A man and three boys are standing in the yard before us. Even dressed in rags and with his back to me, I recognise Ty.
He’s grown. He’s a head taller than he was and wiry, but painfully thin. His wrists, large and bony, show blue with cold where he bends to lift a dripping pile of half-tanned skins from a vat. Ban glances at my face and draws me back around the corner.
“That’s him then?”
I nod.
“It’d draw too much attention to speak to him now. I’ll take you somewhere to wait and fetch him to you if I can.”
The tavern where Ban leaves me is squalid, and I eye with distaste the murky pitcher of ale a weasel-faced woman slops onto the table. Dread rests cold in my chest as I wonder whether Ty will harbour as much resentment as Sophie — or more, for it’s clear that the life he’s come to holds none of the promised comforts of hers.
As the minutes tick into an hour, I wonder whether he’ll refuse to come; if even seeing me is too much to ask. The room holds a handful of men, their appraising looks like filthy fingers on my skin. The barmaid glares at my un-emptied glass and I order food to appease her, though I’ve no appetite for it.
I’m beginning to wonder what I’ll do if Ban fails to come back when the door swings open and my brother walks in. There are shadowed hollows beneath his eyes and the red welt of a scar mars his face, running from temple to jaw. With his head low he darts quick glances to either side. His eyes skip over me then back, his body jerking as if someone stuck a branding iron to his skin.
Stiffly, his eyes on the floor, he walks across the room and slides into the table’s empty chair.
“Hello, Ty.”
The muscles in his jaw tighten and shift. “I didn’t expect it to be you.” His voice has grown deep.
“Did Ban not tell you?”
Ty’s eyes skitter across the stained surface of the table. “He said my sister. I thought maybe Sophie had come. I never thought …”
“I’m sorry.” I wonder whether he can know all that I’m sorry for. Ty doesn’t respond. “Are you hungry?” I ask.
His eyes flick up and away. I slide the grey-coloured pie towards him, and the ale. He wolfs both as though they’re his first food in days.
“Sophie told me you’d been apprenticed to a tanner. That’s how I found you.”
“You’ve seen her? I’ve seen none of them, nor had any news since the trial.” He breaks off. His hands, lying on the table before him, are cracked and stained. “How’s Marn?” he asks finally.
“I didn’t see him. From what Sophie and Merryn told me, he’s taken things hard.”
“And Sophie?”
I take a breath. “She’s engaged to be married next year. To Colm Brewster.”
Ty holds my gaze for the first time.
“She says it’s what she wants, and that it means Marn can stay on the farm.” A muscle twitches near Ty’s eye. I reach across the table and wrap my fingers around his. “We have to get you awa
y from here.”
He stares down at my hand as if he doesn’t know what it is.
“Anything else here?” The barmaid’s interruption seems purposefully timed.
I release my brother’s hand. “The same again,” I say, laying one of Ban’s coins near her hip. She shoots me a hard look as she scoops it up.
The barmaid returns, breaking the silence as she thumps another mug of ale and an even greasier-looking pie onto the table. I watch her back as she flounces away.
“Why did you come?”
I pitch my voice low. “Vidya, Dev’s community, wants to establish contact with Dunnett: maybe trade with the island.” Even as I say it, I know it’s not the truth, not for me. “I came to find you.”
Ty says nothing.
“I can help you.”
He reaches for the pie and stuffs it down, then drinks half the ale in a single gulp. When he’s done he wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “I have to get back. I’m already late.” He finishes the ale and pushes to his feet.
“You don’t have to go back.”
Ty stares for a moment then shakes his head. “Hope’s the last thing I need, Ness. Abelton taught me that three years ago.” He turns away.
I trail him out of the tavern. “Ty.”
He doesn’t look back. Tears well in my eyes as he rounds the corner of the lane. Behind me the door opens and a man jostles against me. “Sorry, young miss.” He reaches out to steady me, his hand locking around my arm.
“What —”
He pulls me sideways, away from the door. A second man stuffs a stinking kerchief over my mouth and together they tow me into an alley at the side of the building. I kick and struggle, and get my mouth free long enough to scream for my brother, then there’s an explosion in my head. As I gasp at the pain, something is shoved between my teeth and I gag. Rough hands on my arms drag me through a twisting maze of lanes, my feet stumbling to keep pace. It all happens so quickly I can’t find a way to resist. Abruptly I’m pressed against a wall, a moment later, bundled through a doorway. A hand in my back shoves me forward and I realise, too late, there are steps. Hard edges batter me as I fall, while behind me the door slams, closing me into darkness.
CHAPTER 14
There’s no part of me that doesn’t feel bruised. My arm, my hip, my knees. Slowly I gather myself together. Moving hurts only fractionally more than staying still. My injuries mostly came from the stairs — mercifully there were only a few, and a mattress at their base. The dank air and darkness press heavily against me. Nothing is broken. One side of my face feels aching and numb at the same time: a distant part of my brain notes it as a curiosity.
I have no idea who’s taken me, or why. Fear reaches icy fingers through the dark, Colm’s face rearing up before me. With a little hiccough of dread, I curl myself small, wrapping my arms around me to try to still my trembling.
Time is impossible to measure. It could be minutes or hours later that I hear steps beyond my prison. The door rattles and light floods into the room. I shutter my eyes against its glare, pushing myself along the mattress till my back comes up against a wall.
“Well now.” I don’t know the voice, high and thin. “Duggan said he had a prize, and for once he weren’t lying. What’s yer name?”
I squint, trying to see around the flare of the man’s lantern.
“Answer me, girlie. I ain’t known for patience.”
“Becky,” I tell him.
“Becky.” He rolls the word round his mouth. “You shouldn’t be messing with what don’t belong to you, Becky.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yeah, ya do.” As he leans forward I see his face, sharp as a rat’s with a nose that beaks forward below narrow-set eyes. “That boy you was talking to belongs to Abelton, limb and hide. And Abelton don’t take kindly to people messing with his property.”
“You’ve no right to keep me here. My father will report you to the Council.” My voice can’t quite hold the edge of outrage I’m wanting.
He laughs in a wheezing hiss. “The Council is it? Abelton’ll be interested to hear your plaint. And I don’t think he’ll much care if you’re not in mint condition.” His hand closes on my ankle. I lash out, my heel catching him in the ribs. He stumbles back and drops the lantern. Its glass smashes on the floor, the light gone. I scuttle sideways, my hands searching for something, anything, I can use as a weapon.
The man’s cursing tells me where he is. My fingers find a length of wood. I jerk it up before me.
“She-cat,” he mutters. “Puss-puss. Here now.” He laughs again.
I swing my makeshift club in an arc, aiming for the voice. The wood connects, and his cursing takes on a more urgent tone. “You’ll regret that, ya little —”
I swing again, feeling the solid weight of the blow as it meets flesh. There’s a crash. My breathing is ragged. I weave the club before me. Boots thud on the stairs then a broad shaft of light shows me a filthy cellar and my attacker, one hand held against his face, blood spewing between his fingers. I dart towards the opening, tripping on the first step, my momentum carrying me onward so that I reach the landing on my knees just as my captor slams the door in my face. My hands grope for a handle but the door is bolted from the outside. I pound my fists against it, earning myself a splinter from the rough wood.
Fear replaces my fury. I’m trapped, and I don’t doubt that my gaoler, whoever he is, will be back. I slump against the door, the floor cold beneath me. How long will it be before he returns? I think of Hetti and dread crawls through me. Perhaps he won’t be alone. Perhaps —
“Ness.” The whisper, fine as a cobweb, comes from close by my cheek. I turn my ear to the crack at the edge of the door. “Ness, are you there?”
“I’m here.” I know the voice.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to break the lock. Be ready to run.”
Heart racing, I clamber to my feet and step aside from the door. There’s a scraping sound then the wrench of tearing metal. Another, and a thud. The door swings open. “Come on.”
I scramble through, my eyes fixed on my brother.
He pulls the door closed behind me and, fingers curled around my wrist, tows me into the shadows that hug the side of the building. My skin jitters with nerves as we dart across one alley and down another. At the sound of voices, Ty bundles me into a doorway. The door gives behind us. It’s an old warehouse, long disused. The smell of mould clogs my nose as Ty leads me deeper into the building.
The light that filters through its boarded up windows slants in bars across the littered floor. At the rear of the space, a door sags from its hinges. Ty edges it wide with his boot. The room beyond is empty save for furniture shunted into a broken heap and a rat that scurries swiftly out of sight as we enter. A narrow window overlooks an alleyway, crammed with rubbish. Ty leans against the wall beside it.
I meet his gaze. “How did you find me?”
“I heard you call, but by the time I got back you were gone.” He shrugs. “I knew you couldn’t be far away. When I saw Welp come barging out of that cellar with his face streaming blood I had a hunch you might have had a hand in it.”
“You know him?”
“I do.” His fingers tighten on the length of metal pipe in his hand. “We need to get farther away.” He glances out the window. Setting his pipe aside he begins to drag broken timbers from the mounded rubble.
I’ve begun to wonder about Ban and what he’ll do when he can’t find me, when my brother hands me a half-filled sack. “We’ll attract less attention if we look as if we have a purpose.” He eyes me critically. “Have you something you can wrap around your hair?”
I pull out my knife and slash a strip from the bottom of my skirt, binding my hair within it. Ty smears dirt across my face. I flinch as he touches the bruise. “Did they do that?”
I nod. Ty is still a moment, then he turns to pick up his metal pipe. “I’m sorry I didn’t ge
t there sooner,” he says, and rams the pipe through the window clasp. The noise it makes as it tears from the wood makes me flinch. I shrug his apology aside.
Pushing the window wide, Ty lowers his stack of boards into the alley then swings a leg over the frame. “Bring the sack,” he says, and disappears.
I feel sluggish and stupid. Perhaps it’s the shock of seeing my brother, perhaps the blow to my head. Ty is waiting outside the window. I hand the sack through and climb after. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safer than this.”
Ty adds his bar to my sack then stoops to gather the wood, balancing it over his shoulder. I duck clear as he turns. “Stay behind me and keep your eyes down. If anyone stops me, keep on as if you don’t know me.”
The street beyond the alley feels crowded with people, though it’s probably no more than a handful. I watch the roadway and my brother’s feet, a few paces ahead. The sack is heavier than it looks and my bruised hip and knees complain with each step. Ty leads me through half a dozen streets, stopping at last in a narrow lane bounded by high walls. He dumps the boards with a clatter. I drop the sack beside them. “Are we near the harbour?” I ask.
Shaking his head he cups his hands and boosts me over the wall. It’s an old churchyard, the markers tilted at sad angles, their commemorations obscured by time. The pipe lands beside me, then my brother. Inexplicably, he grins. “This way.”
We wend between the gravestones until we reach a derelict mausoleum. Its fence has fallen, its little gate lying flat. Ty pushes through the ivy that clings to the walls. Where a section of iron fence has fallen inward against the squat building there’s a triangular gap, large enough for us both. “We can rest here.”
I sink down beside him, my back against the cold stone of the tomb.
“At the cellar,” Ty says, without looking at me. “Did Welp hurt you? Beyond that bruise on your face.”
“He would have, but I got in first.”
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