Fetcher’s Song: The Hidden Series 3

by Lian Tanner

  The Initiate didn’t seem to hear him. He stepped down onto the track and kept walking, his back stiff, his eyes straight ahead.

  Poosk shouted at him. ‘Initiate! I said, put the demon down.’

  The Initiate hesitated, and for an odd moment, Gwin thought he was going to run off, taking the mechanical boy with him.

  ‘Put it down!’ yelled Poosk.

  The Initiate swung around, red-faced. ‘My apologies, Brother. I was deep in the Spire Contemplation and did not hear you.’ And he laid the mechanical boy on the ground.

  Brother Poosk pursed his lips. ‘Do not get too keen, boy. It is dangerous to be too keen.’ He turned to Bartle. ‘It is also dangerous to be too reluctant. Pick up the demon.’

  ‘But—’ said Bartle.

  ‘If the Initiate can carry the creature unharmed, so can you. Pick it up.’

  Gwin stepped forward. ‘What about Papa? You said you would let him go.’

  But they were still ignoring her. The Initiate sidled up to Poosk and said, ‘Brother, do you want me to run ahead? I will run all the way to the Citadel if you wish, and tell them you are coming, with the demon. That way they will have time to – to plan a great celebration. By the time you get there, they will be lining the roadway.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Poosk, sounding pleased. He nodded. ‘Go!’

  And without a backward glance, the Initiate sped off down the road.

  ‘Now!’ Gwin said loudly. ‘You promised!’

  At last Poosk turned towards her. ‘Ah, yes. The little Fetcher girl. We made a bargain, did we not, that you would be reunited with your father? And so you shall.’

  There was something about his words that raised the hair on the back of Gwin’s neck. Without consciously thinking about it, she found herself up on her toes, as if she was about to leap onto Spindle’s broad back.

  Poosk snapped at Cull, ‘Take her!’

  For all his size, Brother Cull was fast. But Gwin was faster. She had run and leapt and somersaulted all her life, and even though she was nowhere near as good as Nat, the big man didn’t have a chance against her. As his hands closed over her arm, she sprang backwards and scrambled up the little path. Cull laboured after her, but she was too quick and the path was too narrow, and it wasn’t long before he gave up and went back to his fellows.

  ‘Useless, Brother Cull,’ grumbled Poosk. ‘Completely useless.’

  ‘How could I have caught her without breaking my neck, Brother? Tell me that.’

  From her perch, high on the path, Gwin shouted down at them. ‘You promised! You promised to let him go!’

  Poosk didn’t even look up. ‘I suppose it does not matter. We have two big prizes – the Fetcher and the demon. We cannot complain.’ He laughed.

  Gwin thought she might be sick, right there and then. ‘They never meant to free you, Papa,’ she cried. ‘They tricked me!’

  But in her heart she knew that she’d tricked herself. She’d known from the start that the Devouts were not to be trusted, but she’d been so desperate to save her father that she’d refused to listen to her own wisdom.

  She’d traded away the mechanical boy for nothing.

  EVERYONE SHE LOVED

  Fin was no more than a few hundred yards down the road and running hard when he heard a low whistle from somewhere above him. He skidded to a halt, his eyes searching the cliff top.

  Petrel and Sharkey scrambled down the rock face to meet him. Rain stayed where she was, watching the track.

  ‘They – have him,’ panted Fin. He put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. ‘They have – captured him!’

  ‘Who?’ asked Petrel. ‘What’s happened? Fin, are you all right?’

  Fin pressed his fingers to his side, and straightened up. ‘Yes. No. Brother Poosk has – caught – the captain!’

  His friends stared at him in shock. ‘The cap’n’s here?’ said Sharkey.

  ‘Yes. There are caves. He was – hidden in one of them—’

  ‘How did Poosk find him if he was hidden?’ demanded Petrel. ‘Did you talk to him? Was Mister Smoke there?’

  Fin just about had his breath back by then, enough to explain about the Fetcher girl and what she had done. ‘The captain looks just the same as when we last saw him. When I was carrying him, I whispered to him, told him we were here, but he did not answer. I thought of running off with him, but I would not have got far. And now Poosk has him. I could not think of anything to do except come and tell you.’

  The horror on Petrel’s, Sharkey’s and Rain’s faces reflected Fin’s own dismay. In their search for his mama, none of them had forgotten the captain. But they had believed he was tucked away safely somewhere, and would come back to them when he was mended. Now that belief was shattered.

  ‘What was Mister Smoke doing?’ asked Sharkey. ‘Why didn’t he stop them?’

  ‘He was not there.’ Fin dragged off the hated Initiate robe and threw it to the ground. ‘Perhaps he was hiding. But there was nothing he could have done, anyway.’

  ‘We could’ve helped, if we’d been there.’ Petrel looked around wildly. ‘We could’ve— We could’ve grabbed that Fetcher girl before she said anything, and – and tied her up. How could she betray the cap’n like that? How could she?’

  Up to that point, Rain had been silent. But now she called down, ‘She was just trying to save her papa, Petrel. I do not think we can blame her for that.’

  ‘I can blame her,’ cried Petrel. ‘I don’t care about her papa. He’s not nearly as important as the cap’n.’

  ‘And I doubt if she did save him,’ said Fin. ‘A Fetcher is too fine a prize to let go, no matter what Poosk promised.’

  ‘Serves that girl right.’ Petrel dug her toe under a rock and kicked it to the other side of the track.

  ‘So what now?’ asked Sharkey. ‘What’s Poosk doing?’

  Fin shrugged. ‘I suspect he will go straight back to the Citadel.’

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ said Petrel, brightening. ‘It means your mam’s safe, for a while at least, and – and we don’t have to rush to find her. I mean, we will find her, but we’ve gotta save the cap’n first, don’t we? Fin, can you go back, d’you reckon? You might be able to sneak the cap’n out while they’re all asleep.’

  Fin shook his head. ‘I am supposed to be running back to the Citadel with the news. If they see me now, they will know something is wrong.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to find another way,’ said Petrel.

  Rain called down to them again. ‘Uncle Poosk will see the captain as his ticket back to power and influence.’ She clasped her hands together, the knuckles white. ‘He will not let him go easily.’ And she began to sing, the way she always did when she was frightened.

  Sharkey smiled up at her. ‘We’ve already beaten your uncle once, remember? We can beat him this time too.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Petrel. ‘Course we can, can’t we, Fin?’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ Fin wished he could be as certain as Petrel. But he was not certain, not even a little bit.

  Rain is right to be afraid, he thought. I am afraid too.

  Gwin had believed that things were as bad as they could possibly get. That was before she looked north and, from her high perch, saw a familiar figure hurrying down the mountain track towards the Devouts.

  It was Nat, his left hand trailing along the rock face, while his right shoved Hilde away. Wretched was with them, and Spindle and the cart trundled along some distance behind. The pigeon flew in circles over their heads.

  Gwin almost fell from her perch in horror. ‘Nat!’ she whispered. ‘What are you doing?’

  She couldn’t understand it, not until she saw the rat trotting beside her brother. Then she knew. Mister Smoke had discovered what she’d done. Maybe he’d even been there, watching from a dark corner.

  This was his revenge. A boy for a boy. With Nat in such a reckless mood, it wouldn’t have been hard to persuade him that he was needed. That he and the skinn
ing knife could somehow tip the balance and free Papa.

  At the bottom of the path, Brother Poosk was issuing orders. ‘I see no need to continue with the other matter. This is far more important. We will go straight back to the Citadel—’

  Gwin wanted to scream, Nat! Stop! But she couldn’t, not without giving his presence away. She couldn’t do a thing except bite her knuckles, hard.

  And then, just a few steps from the corner, Hilde managed to seize Nat’s arm. He tried to shake her off but she wouldn’t let go. Gwin held her breath. She could see them arguing in whispers—

  Neither of them noticed Wretched until it was too late.

  He must’ve caught Papa’s scent. With a yelp of delight, he raced around the corner – and stopped, with his tail tucked between his legs.

  Brother Poosk glanced up and beamed. ‘A dog,’ he murmured, kneeling down in the middle of the track. ‘A fine dog. Where did you come from, I wonder? Here, doggie. Nice doggie.’

  Wretched’s ears went back and forth, trying to work out who this stranger was and whether or not he could be trusted.

  Poosk raised his voice. ‘I have heard,’ he crooned, directing his words towards the corner, ‘that dog meat is very tasty.’

  He knows, thought Gwin, and a terrible chill ran through her. He knows there’s someone else there.

  ‘And now I can try it for myself,’ Poosk continued. ‘Cull, Bartle, step away from the prisoner, if you please. But keep hold of the rope, and be ready with your cudgels. Fine dog. Nice dog. Come closer now, doggie.’

  Cull and Bartle raised their cudgels. Wretched inched forward. ‘Nearly there,’ Brother Poosk said loudly. ‘Just a few steps further . . .’

  ‘Wretched, no!’ shouted Nat, and he tore himself away from Hilde and ran around the corner after his dog.

  Gwin groaned out loud, as did Papa. Wretched backed away from Brother Poosk, and hid behind Nat’s legs.

  Bartle and Cull grinned and started forward. Nat slid the skinning knife from its sheath, and they paused.

  They don’t know he’s blind, thought Gwin.

  Nat wasn’t acting blind, that was the thing. He never did. He knew where the two men were, from the sounds their boots made as they shifted on the track, from their whispers, from their breathing. His knife turned towards Cull, and then towards Bartle.

  But it wasn’t going to be enough.

  Gwin started to creep down the path, hoping against hope that she might be able to do something.

  But she was only halfway down when Brother Poosk said cheerfully, ‘Stay where you are, Gwinith, or I will slit your father’s throat.’

  Gwin froze. Nat turned his face towards Poosk and cried, ‘If you kill him, I will kill you!’

  In that moment of distraction, Cull nodded to Bartle. Gwin cried, ‘Nat, they’re going to rush you!’ And then, because her brother didn’t have a chance against those two huge men, she screamed, ‘Hilde, help him!’

  She wasn’t entirely sure what happened next. She thought she heard Poosk shout, ‘Bartle, up the track!’

  But by then Cull was upon Nat, lashing out with his cudgel, and Nat was fighting with all the anger that had consumed him since Mama died, and Wretched was leaping around them, barking.

  Gwin couldn’t take her eyes off them, hoping for a miracle.

  It didn’t come. In a fight like this, neither Nat’s anger nor his astonishing hearing were enough. As Gwin watched, a sly blow from the cudgel knocked the knife out of her brother’s hand, and Cull kicked his legs out from under him. He kicked Wretched too, and the dog yelped and ran for cover.

  Bartle came back around the corner dragging Hilde. ‘I have her, Brother Poosk. And there’s an ox and cart to go with her, if we want them.’

  ‘An ox and cart?’ said Poosk. ‘How fortunate we are!’

  And so it was that, fifteen minutes later, Spindle set off again, back down the track towards the lowlands, with the mule tethered to the cart. Cull wielded the whip, with a very satisfied Brother Poosk sitting beside him. Bartle was crammed in the back, keeping an eye on Papa, Nat and Hilde. Not that he needed to – they were trussed up so well that they couldn’t have escaped in a year of trying. The mechanical boy lay silent and unmoving at their feet.

  The only one left behind, apart from the pigeon, was Wretched. He sat at the bottom of the path, gazing up at Gwin with eyes that begged for comfort.

  Gwin didn’t have a scrap of comfort to give him. She felt as if someone had ripped her heart from her body and cut it to pieces.

  Everyone she loved was being taken away. Her whole life was disappearing down the mountain track towards the Citadel.

  IT CANNOT BE HER

  When Petrel heard the cart coming, she and Sharkey hauled Fin back up the cliff and hid. She didn’t think it was Brother Poosk and his men – they only had a mule – but her old habits of caution were always with her.

  Just as well. There was Poosk, riding on the front of an ox-cart with a smirk as wide as a glacier. His guards looked equally pleased with themselves, probably because of their prisoners.

  ‘I do not know where the woman and boy came from,’ breathed Fin. ‘Poosk must have caught them after I left.’

  ‘Prob’ly the Fetcher’s wife and son,’ whispered Petrel. She felt no sympathy for the captives, not after what the Fetcher girl had done. The only one she cared about was the captain. And Fin’s mam, of course, but she wasn’t there, which was like a secret weight removed from Petrel’s shoulders.

  She peered up at Rain, who was in a slightly better position. ‘Can you see the cap’n?’

  ‘Yes. He is in the bottom of the cart.’

  They waited until the cart had disappeared around the next bend, then Sharkey and Petrel helped Fin and Rain down the cliff, and they ran after the Devouts.

  They had not gone far when a voice hailed them. ‘Ahoy, shipmates!’ A large grey rat wriggled out from between a couple of rocks.

  ‘Mister Smoke!’ cried Petrel. She was so pleased to see her old friend that she scooped him up and kissed his nose. ‘Where’ve you been?’

  ‘I been waitin’ for yer, shipmate. Got a ride in the cart. You wouldn’t believe the things Fetchers’ve got ’idden in there.’

  ‘Tell us about the cap’n,’ said Petrel. ‘Fin reckons he’s still broken. D’you think we can get him away from Poosk? That man’s a nasty piece of work, and those two thugs he’s got—’

  Sharkey interrupted her. ‘We should keep walking. We don’t want to lose the cart.’

  ‘Don’t reckon you’ll lose it, shipmate,’ said Mister Smoke. ‘Poosk’s aimin’ for the Citadel. Might take a bit of runnin’ to catch ’im, but ’e won’t be makin’ detours. And besides, there’s someone you need to meet. If my calculations are right, she’ll be comin’ down the track in just a few minutes.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Petrel. ‘Not— Not Fin’s mam?’

  Fin turned white, but Mister Smoke shook his battered head. ‘It’s the Singer.’

  All four children gaped at him. ‘You found the Singer?’ said Rain.

  ‘But that’s wonderful,’ cried Petrel. ‘If we’ve got the Singer and the Song, we can do anything!’

  ‘Can we, shipmate? We’ll see. You just keep yer eyes open till she gets ’ere.’

  ‘Aren’t you staying with us?’

  ‘Nah. Don’t wanna leave the cap’n by ’imself for too long.’

  Petrel found it hard to stand and watch Mister Smoke trotting away down the track, when she’d only just found him again. It was even harder waiting for the Singer.

  She wriggled her toes and breathed on her hands. She shifted position one way, then the other.

  Fin was sitting back against the cliff with his eyes closed, as if nothing bothered him. But Petrel could see the pulse beating in his temple, and knew what he was thinking about.

  ‘That woman in the cart,’ Rain said suddenly. ‘She had hair just like yours, Fin. Could she be your mama?’

  Petrel froze. She h
adn’t thought of that.

  But without even opening his eyes, Fin laughed sourly and said, ‘I think I would know if my parents had been Fetchers. Or if I had a brother and sister. Besides, your hair is almost the same colour as mine. It is not so unusual.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Rain.

  Petrel shifted position again. ‘Wish the Singer’d hurry up. Maybe Mister Smoke was wrong. Maybe she’s not coming.’

  Sharkey squinted into the distance. ‘Some one’s coming.’

  Fin sat up quickly. Rain put her hand on Sharkey’s shoulder. Petrel stood next to them, peering at the girl who was hastening down the track towards them with a dog at her side.

  This was the mysterious Singer the captain had been searching for. This was the person who would help them change the world.

  Maybe everything’s gunna turn out right after all, thought Petrel.

  She was about to call out when Fin seized her arm. ‘No!’ he hissed. ‘It cannot be her. She is the one who betrayed the captain!’

  It was Wretched who warned Gwin that there were people about. He stopped suddenly, and cowered against her legs, which forced her to stop too.

  She heard voices raised in argument, but didn’t bother looking up. There was no room in her mind for anyone but Papa and Nat.

  I have to save them, she thought. I HAVE to save them! The voices, however, were too loud and insistent to ignore for long.

  ‘I tell you, it cannot be her,’ said a boy.

  ‘Course it can’t,’ replied a girl. ‘Except Mister Smoke reckoned it was.’

  ‘Perhaps there is someone else walking behind her.’ That was a different girl.

  ‘Can’t see anyone.’ And that was a second boy. ‘It’s her. It has to be.’

  ‘But it cannot be.’

  And they started all over again.

  Gwin looked up at last.

  A little way down the track stood four ragged children. They were about Gwin’s age, and when they saw her staring at them, they approached cautiously.

  Two of them – a tall boy with white hair and a small dark girl – were glaring at her as if they hated her on sight. Like the Devouts, they wore boots, and so did the pale-haired girl who hung back a little, watching the track. The boy with the patch over his eye had bare feet, but Gwin wasn’t going to trust him, not when she saw the company he kept.