by Lian Tanner
Behind that determined army came the townsfolk, twittering and crying like a flock of birds whose fledglings have been snatched by kelp gulls.
Thrawn gestured, and one of his companions broke away to speak to Poosk. Dolph couldn’t hear what they said, but after a brief exchange the man shook his head contemptuously, glared up at Gant and cried, ‘If you know what is good for you, you will hand over the prisoners right now. And if one hair on Brother Cull’s head has been harmed, you will pay for it.’
Gant managed a defiant smirk. His voice trembled a little, but there was no hint of submission. ‘And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll ’and over our little brothers ’n sisters.’ He paused dramatically. ‘Or all these prisoners’ll die, includin’ your Brother Cull. Right ’ere in front o’ your eyes.’
The Devout spluttered a bit, then trotted back to report this outrage to Brother Thrawn. Poosk followed, all smiles and humility. Thrawn loathed him, that was clear even from a distance, and so did his hangers-on. But Poosk bowed and nodded and murmured, and before long they seemed to be listening to him.
Dolph would’ve given a month’s supply of toothyfish to know what he was saying.
By this time, First Officer Hump, Adm’ral Deeps and Chief Engineer Albie were forcing their way through the thickets on the far side of the road, and closing in on Dolph. When Gant saw them, he crossed his arms to make himself look a bit bigger and shouted at them, ‘Don’t you come no closer. I’ll talk to the witch and Brother Poosk, no one else.’
Dolph had to hand it to him: it was exactly what she would’ve done. The boy was smarter than she’d thought.
Adm’ral Deeps scowled, and beckoned Dolph. She took no notice. She’d seen something from the corner of her eye – a flicker of movement that started near the top of the monument and headed downwards. She watched it without seeming to, and thought she saw Mister Smoke slip from one stone to another until he was right next to the captain—
And then Brother Poosk was back, as humble and worried as ever. ‘Dear me, dear me, young sir, they will not listen to me. I told them they must hand over the little brothers and sisters, but they would not. They do not take you seriously, I fear.’
‘Don’t take me serious?’ cried Gant, jumping to his feet. ‘Then I’ll make them.’ He put his knife to Brother Cull’s throat. Cull’s eyes bulged above the gag and he gazed desperately down at Brother Poosk.
But Poosk merely shook his head in a helpless sort of way and said, ‘You are right, perhaps that will convince them. Although—’ He paused and looked embarrassed.
‘Although what?’ demanded Gant.
‘I should not say it. After all, every life counts for something.’
Dolph narrowed her eyes. She knew manipulation when she heard it. Brother Poosk might as well have had an invisible hook in Gant’s mouth, and been hauling him up the side of the ship.
Gant, however, didn’t even know he’d been caught. ‘You say it or else.’
Poosk sighed mightily. ‘I told you before that Brother Cull was one of our finest guards. And so he is. But he is not popular, young sir. Even I do not like him, and I get along with most people—’
Gant interrupted him. ‘So no one’ll care if I slit ’is throat, is that what you’re sayin’? It won’t make no difference?’ His face reddened, and he swung around to Fin’s mam. ‘How about if I cut ’er throat?’
‘No!’ cried Poosk. ‘No no no no no! Please, you must not harm her, or any of your other prisoners. None of them, I beg you.’ He was almost weeping with sincerity, his hands clasped so tight that the knuckles showed white.
Gant grinned, and the knife touched Fin’s mam’s neck. She jammed her eyes closed, as if that might stop what was coming.
‘No!’ cried Poosk again.
And there’s the hook, showing itself at last, thought Dolph. She took a step forward. ‘Gant!’ she shouted. ‘He wants you to do it, he wants you to kill her. Can’t you see?’
The knife hesitated. Gant said, ‘No ’e don’t.’
Poosk shot Dolph a poisonous look.
‘He does,’ she said. ‘I told you he could talk anyone into anything, didn’t I? Well that’s what he’s doing now. Only he’s going about it backwards, because he knows you’ll do the opposite of whatever he says. He wants you to kill all of ’em except Brother Cull.’
Gant consulted his mates, but they were as confused as he was. They mumbled to each other, then Gant’s eyes flicked back to Brother Poosk. A slow smile spread over his face.
‘How about—’ he said. ‘How about I let them go, instead? All of them except your mate Cull. How about I let them loose if you don’t ’and over my friends’ little brothers ’n sisters?’
Poosk blanched – and this time it was an honest reaction, Dolph was sure of it. ‘Aye,’ she said. ‘They won’t like that.’
‘No.’ Poosk set his shoulders. ‘We would not like that, young sir. But I should point out that, once you have released them, you will have nothing left to bargain with.’
‘I’ll still ’ave Cull.’
‘So you will. And we would be sorry to see him die. But we would not give up our hostages just for him. If we did—’ He gestured at the grim ranks of shipfolk and Sunkers. His meaning was clear. The Devouts couldn’t give up the bratlings, not if they wanted to survive.
It was a deadlock.
But Poosk hadn’t finished. There was something in the pocket of his robe, something that he pulled out and glanced at, then quickly put away again. ‘Perhaps—’ he began.
Gant hadn’t learned his lesson. ‘Perhaps what?’
‘Perhaps there is a way around this that will suit all of us,’ said Brother Poosk. ‘But it might take some time to persuade my colleagues. Will you give me till noon, young sir?’
What’s he up to now? thought Dolph. That’s a couple of hours he’s asking for. Why does he need a couple of hours?
Gant consulted his mates again, then nodded. ‘But don’t you try nothin’. If you do—’
‘We will not approach you or your prisoners in any way,’ said Brother Poosk. The wheedling was gone, and he sounded as straightforward and honest as First Officer Hump.
Which made Dolph trust him less than ever.
She wished she could get word to Petrel and Fin about what was happening—
But I can, she thought. I CAN get word to ’em.
And she backed away from the monument, and ran towards Krill and his barrels.
The message came through like a whisper from another world. It was the Fetcher boy who heard it first, and he held up his hand to stop their explorations.
‘Listen,’ he said.
Petrel listened, and heard a faint and distant clanging. Her thoughts were so entangled in dials, switches, wires and turbines that she almost didn’t recognise it. But then her old life caught up with her, and she said, ‘Officer code.’
The others gathered around her, all except Mister Smoke. He had dashed off again ten minutes ago, trailing all manner of spare parts and muttering in satisfied tones about something called a Baniski coil. Which left the six bratlings standing in a circle around the red lever with the lantern flickering at their feet.
There had been one dreadful rumble when Sharkey pulled the lever from OFF to ON. But now it was so quiet that even Nat could hardly hear it.
All that lectricity going to the batteries, thought Petrel. If we could only work out what to do with it.
She didn’t speak till she’d heard the whole message and knew she hadn’t missed anything. Then she said, ‘It’s Dolph. She says Poosk’s trying to delay till noon – that’s two hours away – and she doesn’t know why. But she thinks he’s got something up his sleeve, something that’ll tip the balance.’
‘Why would he delay?’ asked Fin. ‘What would make a difference in two hours that would not work now?’
‘Don’t know, but it’s good for us, ain’t it? It means Mister Smoke’s got a bit more time to get the cap’n back to
his senses. And maybe we can figure out what we’re gunna do with this place.’
‘It seems to me,’ said Rain, ‘that we must work out why Uncle Poosk wants a delay. He does nothing without purpose. What is so special about noon?’
The dials flickered around them, and the water behind the glass wall surged in and out. Petrel couldn’t concentrate; her mind kept turning to the captain and Missus Slink. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing them, not after everything that had happened. Not when the Devouts were on the run at last, and the world looked as if it might have a chance of changing for the better.
Sharkey rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Maybe something to do with tides? That’s all I can think of.’
‘Midday meal,’ said Petrel.
‘The shadows are shortest.’That was Fin.
Nat frowned. ‘I’d say the sun, or—’
‘Sun,’ said Gwin under her breath. Then, ‘Sun!’ She turned to her brother. ‘Hob said an eclipse was coming, remember? And Papa said – he said tomorrow at midday. Which is today.’
‘Eclipse?’ said Petrel. ‘What’s that?’
Gwin was talking so fast she stumbled over the words. ‘We’d never heard of it, but Hob told us about it. It’s when the sun and the moon come together—’
‘—and the middle of day goes dark as night,’ said Nat.
‘Hob said there hasn’t been one in West Norn for two hundred and seventy years, but according to the old stories the day’ll get colder—’
‘—and the birds’ll go to bed—’
‘—and the villagers’ll be terrified.’
That last word seemed to echo around the walls. Rain’s eyes widened. ‘But if Uncle Poosk knows it is coming, he will not be terrified, and neither will the other Devouts, because he will tell them about it. He will use it somehow, to get the prisoners back.’
‘Then we’ve gotta stop him,’ said Petrel. ‘One way or another, we’ve gotta stop him.’
MOSS AND DIRT
The two hours passed slowly, and Poosk was visibly on edge for all of it. Dolph watched him so closely that she could almost see the dirt around his ears, and the way his upper lip twitched when he spoke. At first, he was engrossed in conversation with Brother Thrawn. He took that thing from his pocket again, whatever it was, and the other Devouts drew away from him in horror, then slowly came back, as if they could see the sense in what he had suggested, even if they didn’t like it.
That was the end of any sort of negotiation, as far as Dolph could see. Poosk was marking time, and whatever he had in his pocket was a part of it.
And so she too waited, as did the impatient ranks of shipfolk and Sunkers, and the townsfolk, who pressed forward among the broken trees, watching the Devouts and their captive bratlings with hungry eyes.
As noon approached, a dog started to howl. It was some distance away, back down the road, but Dolph was so on edge that she jumped. Poosk, however, took it as some sort of signal. He nodded at Brother Thrawn, and strode towards the base of the monument.
Dolph braced herself for whatever was coming.
The last thing she expected was that Poosk would drop both false humility and false honesty. But that was exactly what he did. He glared up at Gant and cried, ‘Release the prisoners, or I will bring doom upon you.’
At first, Gant and his mates just gaped. Then Gant jumped to his feet and said, ‘Is this your persuasion? Things ain’t changed, not that I can see. You said you was goin’ to bring somethin’ new. So where is it?’
The dog was still howling, and now another one joined it. And another. For no reason that she could understand, Dolph shivered.
‘That is the beginning of it,’ cried Poosk, pointing in the direction of the dogs. ‘They know what is coming. They know what I am bringing down upon your heads.’
Gant laughed nervously. ‘There’s nothin’ above my ’ead but sky. You got your balloony things back, ’ave you? Goin’ to start droppin’ stuff on us? If you try it, we’ll just let the prisoners go. All except Cull. He can stand ’ere and get ’is ’ead bashed in.’
‘Not sky,’ said Poosk, lowering his voice so that Gant had to lean forward to hear it. ‘Not sky, but sun.’
Dolph couldn’t help herself: she glanced upwards. She wasn’t foolish enough to look straight at the sun, but she looked close to it and thought she saw some sort of shadow.
She narrowed her eyes. The day felt – odd. It wasn’t just the howling dogs; the air was too still, the way it sometimes was before a storm.
‘You think the Devouts are finished?’ hissed Poosk. He turned in a circle and raised his voice, so that the nearest shipfolk and Sunkers could hear him. ‘You think our day is done? You know nothing. We still have power beyond anything you can imagine. Surrender now, or feel our wrath!’
It should have been ridiculous. After all, the Devouts had been starved out of their Citadel; they were on the run, and the only thing saving them from immediate defeat was their hostages. Their time was clearly over.
And yet—
Poosk was such a fine actor that the day seemed to grow colder as he spoke.
Dolph blinked and shook herself. If Mam could see me believing such nonsense, she’d laugh herself silly.
The town bratlings, however, were eyeing their prisoners and arguing in heated whispers.
‘Don’t take any notice of him,’ shouted Dolph. ‘It’s talk, that’s all. Devouts haven’t got enough power to boil an albatross egg, not anymore. They’re finished.’
Gant shook himself. ‘I know that, Witch. I don’t believe ’im, course I don’t.’
But Dolph could see the telltale whiteness around his eyes.
Poosk raised his voice again, and the uncannily still air carried it all the way across the ranks of shipfolk and Sunkers to the whispering townsfolk.
‘You will believe me soon,’ he cried. ‘Surrender now or I will bring about the end of the world. Surrender – or I will send a demon to eat the sun!’
Gwin was halfway up the stone wall outside the engine room door. Her fingers and toes dug into each miniscule crevice; her heart beat so wildly that she was afraid it might flip upside down in her chest.
She and Nat had climbed many a cliff together in the years before Mama died. It was one of the few areas where their skills were equal, and they used to race to the top, both of them laughing all the way.
But none of those cliffs had been as sheer and terrible as this wall.
Mister Smoke went up here twice, Gwin reminded herself. And I can feel a breath of air on my face, which means there’s an opening somewhere above me.
But still she had to force herself to keep going, scrabbling at the stone with torn fingers, while the ground tried to drag her back.
She stopped for a moment, her head swimming, her hands aching. ‘As strong-willed as Ariel,’ she whispered to the stone. ‘As stubborn as the blue ox.’
She thought about the astonishing revelation that she truly was the Singer, and about the code she had carried all her life without knowing it.
She thought of Papa and the way he had shouted ‘Run! Run!’ as if he didn’t care what happened to him, as long as his children were safe.
She thought of Mama murmuring, ‘We Fetchers help keep the heart of the world beating. The Devouts have tried to stop it so many times, but as long as there are songs, that old heart will just keep going.’
With a great effort, Gwin unclenched her fingers and wriggled them higher.
Far below, Petrel’s anxious voice whispered, ‘You still got the ropes and the cable, Nat?’
‘Yes,’ came the reply. ‘They’re round my ankle.’
Gwin couldn’t turn her head to check on her brother, couldn’t turn any part of her body. Moss and dirt trickled down all around her. She swallowed it; she breathed it in. Her fingers clutched at the stones, and so did her bare toes, and she dragged herself upwards inch by inch.
They had tried to get out the way they’d come in, of course. But when Sharke
y had dived through that horrible water tunnel and out the other side, he’d found the cave still full of smoke, with Brother Bartle on guard outside. Poosk might think them all dead, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
There’d been no sign of Wretched.
‘He must have escaped,’ said Rain, and they’d all agreed. No one had said that he might equally well have crawled behind a rock to die.
Gwin coughed. The dust was getting into her lungs and into her hair and down her back, and she wanted to scratch, but couldn’t.
For the briefest of moments she allowed herself to think about Hob and Bony. Maybe their airship was sailing across West Norn right now, getting closer and closer to the Grand Monument!
And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it only existed in her imagination.
‘Nat?’ she whispered.
‘I’m here.’
At last Gwin reached the place where wall met ceiling, and the only way to keep going was to crawl into a narrow shaft and squeeze between stones that didn’t want to be squeezed between. She clawed her way upward through spaces so small that they hadn’t been discovered in three hundred years. She scraped the skin from her arms and ankles. At one point she had to bend almost double to get between two of the stones, then curl sideways and wriggle, with one hand in front and the other trapped at her waist, and her plaits falling across her eyes so she couldn’t see where she was going.
‘Bad – bit,’ she gasped, when she was through. Nat grunted, but was too busy squirming between the stones to answer.
And still the monument rose above them. Gwin had lost track of time by then, and she began to worry that they were too late, that the eclipse had come and gone and Papa had been given up to the Devouts and dragged away to his death.
That thought almost drove her to a frenzy. She forgot how hard it was and climbed faster. She squeezed and wriggled and scraped—
And suddenly that tiny breath of fresh air became a lungful, and above her was a patch of sky. ‘Nearly there,’ she gasped.