Fetcher’s Song: The Hidden Series 3

by Lian Tanner

  Petrel didn’t know if he was trying to escape or intending to grab them again. But she wasn’t taking any chances, not at this stage. She tried to drag the captain out of the way, trusting that someone else would stop Poosk.

  But the captain wouldn’t budge. Instead, as Poosk ran past, he stuck out his mechanical foot.

  Brother Poosk tripped and fell, headlong down the monument. He landed on the very spot where he would have thrown Petrel, and did not move again.

  Petrel stared at that still body. ‘I— I thought you weren’t made for fighting, cap’n.’

  ‘That was not fighting,’ said the captain, in his sweetest voice. ‘That was science. If a body is moving at a certain speed, and you stop one part of it, the rest of it will keep going. For a little while, at least.’

  And with that, he left Petrel where she was, saying, ‘There is a lot to do. We must get started immediately.’

  OUR ZEPPALEEN

  Gwin hadn’t moved since Papa caught her. She didn’t want to move – she wanted to stay safe and warm in his arms, the way she used to when she was small.

  But she couldn’t stop the world from moving on, no matter how strong-willed she might be. And besides, they had to go and look for Spindle. And Wretched.

  She slid to the ground.

  Below her, the collapse of Brother Poosk and his men had ripped the heart out of the Devouts. Their hostages were gone and so were their weapons. Their fine brown robes were filthy. Up and down the road, for as far as Gwin could see, they sat with their heads in their hands and their world in pieces around them.

  ‘Nat! Here!’ shouted Papa.

  Gwin looked up in time to see Nat making his way across the stones with his hand on Rain’s shoulder.

  Papa hugged both his children tightly. ‘Thank you,’ he said to Rain over their heads, then he hugged them again. ‘“I am Coe”,’ he muttered into their hair. ‘That was clever, my dears. That was so clever.’

  ‘Mama would’ve liked it,’ said Gwin. ‘Don’t you think so, Papa?’

  Her father kissed the top of her head and said, ‘She would indeed.’

  Gwin’s battered heart felt warmer than it had in weeks. The three of them were a proper family again, and between them they’d keep Mama’s memory alive. They’d sing when the sun was shining and they’d sing in the middle of the storm . . .

  ‘Watch where you’re treadin’, shipmate,’ said a voice at Gwin’s feet.

  She took a hasty step backwards, and saw Mister Smoke peering up at her, with another rat, green-ribboned, by his side.

  Papa squatted down. ‘Sir rat, you are even more amazing than I realised. I never thought to hear you speak. Or see you fight.’

  ‘Well, now you ’ave, shipmate,’ said Mister Smoke.

  ‘I don’t suppose,’ said Papa, ‘that you and your friend would consider joining us? Such a performance it would be—’

  The other rat, the one with the green ribbon, interrupted him. ‘Too much to do,’ she said. ‘Crops to be sown, laws to be made and unmade, lessons to be taught. Smoke? We’d best get started.’

  And the rats skipped away.

  Gwin was just turning back to Papa when she heard a yelp of delight. And there was Wretched, barrelling up the monument towards them, barking all the way. His ragged coat was even filthier than usual.

  ‘Wretched!’ cried Nat, with an enormous smile on his face. ‘You got out!’ He squatted down and opened his arms. ‘Here, boy!’

  The dog raced around him, wagging his tail so hard that it looked as if it might fall off. But then he stopped and looked towards the northwest.

  Nat stood up, saying, ‘There’s something coming. I don’t know what—’

  A moment later, Gwin heard it too: a clattering sound, like a hundred ox-carts jolting over stone. It bounced off the Grand Monument and rolled up and down the road, so that all the people who were milling around, with no idea what to do now that the Devouts were beaten, stopped in their tracks and stared.

  Something came over the horizon.

  Gwin couldn’t put a name to it. It floated through the air like a monstrous, oval-shaped bubble, wobbling this way and that, but somehow heading all the while towards the Grand Monument.

  Most of the townspeople fell to their knees, shrieking with fright. A few glanced suspiciously up at the Grand Monument, as if Gwin and her friends were responsible for the approaching monstrosity, just as they had been responsible for Coe, and for the sun coming back.

  The noise grew worse. It rumbled and buzzed and rattled and whined and roared, until Wretched began to howl in sympathy. Gwin could see ropes crisscrossing the bubble, and a huge cradle hanging below it, and puffs of smoke issuing from the back of the cradle in time with the clatters.

  ‘Ware below!’ bellowed a loud voice, and the monstrous vessel began to descend.

  People screamed and scattered. Parents covered their children’s eyes, as if to protect them from something evil.

  But as the whole contraption sank slowly towards the base of the Grand Monument, Gwin gasped. Because in a way she was responsible for it.

  ‘Nat,’ she shouted, trying to make herself heard above the racket. ‘It’s them! It’s Hob and Bony! They’ve come to save us!’

  Then she realised what she’d said, and she began to laugh. ‘Except we don’t need them anymore. We saved ourselves!’

  Nat and Papa laughed too. Wretched yipped with delight. Below them, Hob swung his leg over the edge of the cradle, leaped to the ground and beamed up at them.

  ‘Afternoon, Fetchers,’ he cried. ‘What d’you think of our zeppaleen?’

  Petrel couldn’t find Fin; there were just too many people. Shipfolk and Sunkers were tending wounds, consulting with their leaders and inspecting the zeppaleen with professional curiosity. The townsfolk tiptoed around them, or climbed onto the monument to peer down at the Devouts with stunned expressions on their faces.

  They can’t believe it’s over, thought Petrel, as she scrambled down to ground level. And neither can I.

  But it was over, and Fin’s mam was safe, which made Petrel both happy and sad. I’m pleased for ’em, I really am. But I hope Fin doesn’t forget me. I hope he doesn’t go without saying goodbye.

  She passed Sharkey and Rain, who were talking to Adm’ral Deeps. ‘We’ll let bygones be bygones, then,’ said Deeps, smiling in a severe sort of way. ‘You and your friends did a fine job, Sharkey.’

  Further along, Krill and his daughter Squid were hugging each other and laughing. ‘Never seen you move so fast, Da,’ said Squid. ‘Don’t reckon the Devouts knew what hit ’em.’

  Petrel would have asked Krill if he’d seen Fin. Except she couldn’t help remembering how he had agreed with Adm’ral Deeps.

  Your first mistake was thinking that we care about the girl.

  One part of Petrel knew that the whole thing had been a trick. But the bit of her that would never forget the loneliness of being Nothing Girl couldn’t help believing it.

  Your first mistake. . .

  Sadly, she turned away from Krill and Squid. Then she stopped. ‘No,’ she told herself. ‘You ain’t been Nothing Girl for a long time. You’ve gotta speak up.’

  And instead of creeping away, she marched up to the Head Cook and jabbed him in the ribs with her finger. ‘Are you my friend or not, Krill?’

  ‘What?’ The big man spun around. ‘Course I am, bratling. Why?’

  ‘Cos you—’ Now that she was standing right in front of him, it was surprisingly hard to say. ‘Um—you nodded. When Deeps said that stuff about no one caring for me.’

  Krill laughed. ‘Aye, I did. It was part of—’ He looked at her more closely, then reared back, astonished and appalled. ‘You didn’t believe it, lass? What, when you’re as dear to me as a second daughter?’

  ‘I— I am?’

  ‘He’s always talking about you,’ said Squid. ‘He was just saying the other day—’ She nudged Krill. ‘No, you tell her. Go on.’

  ‘I w
ondered if – if maybe you’d like to call me Da—’ Krill hesitated, suddenly shy. ‘That’s only if you want to, of course, and no disrespect to your real da, he was a fine man. But he’s not here, and I am.’ He looked sideways at Petrel. ‘What d’you say?’

  Petrel’s heart swelled up, so big and warm that she could hardly speak. But she managed to whisper, ‘Aye.’

  Krill threw back his head and whooped. Then he picked Petrel up, danced a few steps and put her down again. ‘Squid, you’ve got a sister at last!’

  ‘Couldn’t ask for a better one.’ And Squid hugged Petrel too.

  Petrel felt muddled and happy. At least, she would be happy, once she got over her best friend leaving. ‘Have you seen Fin?’ she asked.

  ‘Nope.’ Krill shaded his eyes. ‘But if you come with me, I’ll find him for you.’

  As the Head Cook strode through the crowd, Petrel trotted alongside him, listening to the conversations that were springing up in all directions. Some of the bolder townsfolk had gathered around the captain, and were bombarding him with questions.

  ‘Who’s going to rule us now? You?’

  ‘What do we do with the masters? Can we set them to work for us?’

  ‘What do you mean, a water pump? What’s that?’

  ‘Are you going to stay and teach us stuff?’

  ‘Can you take that mask off, Witch?’

  ‘It is not a mask,’ said the captain calmly. ‘It is my face. I am not a witch, nor am I going to rule you, or tell you what to do with the Devouts. You must learn to govern yourselves. But I will stay and teach you whatever you want to know. That is what I am for.’

  ‘Does this mean we ain’t got a cap’n anymore?’ Petrel asked Krill when they’d passed out of earshot. ‘Is he gunna leave us? Is he gunna leave the ship?’

  ‘Don’t know, daughter.’ Krill beamed on the word ‘daughter’, then grew serious again. ‘Don’t know much about anything right now, including whether or not we go back to the ship. I don’t think we can leave these folk straight away, not even with the cap’n to advise ’em. Their whole world’s been about the strong trampling on the weak, and it’ll take ’em a while to get used to something different. Those mountain folk are stopping around to help, and I reckon we could too, if we cared to. Then there’s the places beyond West Norn. No one knows what things are like there. Maybe we’ll help out here for a while, then go and see.’ His beard swivelled one way and then the other. ‘Isn’t that Fin over there? Talking to a woman? Who would that be?’

  ‘His mam?’ Petrel craned her neck. ‘I can’t see, Krill.’

  ‘We’re nearly there. What’s his mam’s name, d’you know?’

  ‘Hilde.’

  Krill surged through the crowd like a ship through spring ice, and Petrel bobbed in his wake, trying not to fall too far behind. By the time she caught up with him, he was shaking Hilde’s hand.

  ‘I’m Head Cook Krill,’ he said. ‘And this— Where is she now? Ah, this is my daughter Petrel, heroine of the Oyster and loved by all. Well, except for Chief Engineer Albie, of course, but he doesn’t love anyone except himself.’

  Hilde smiled. ‘My son—’ She looked at Fin as if she couldn’t believe he was truly there. ‘My son has been telling me about the Oyster. And about Petrel.’

  Fin blushed and stared at his boots. His mam continued, ‘I’m indebted to you all for taking such good care of him. I never thought I’d see him again. But here he is. My own boy. My Hew.’

  ‘Hew?’ Krill wrinkled his great brow. ‘His name’s Fin.’

  ‘No, his real name is Hew. I gave it to him myself, the day he was born.’

  It doesn’t suit him at all, thought Petrel. But I don’t s’pose I’ve got any say in it. Just as I’ve got no say in what happens next. They’ll go off together, and I’ll never see Fin – I mean Hew – no, I mean FIN, again.

  Except that wasn’t right. You’ve gotta speak up.

  ‘So what’re you going to do now?’ asked Krill.

  Hilde shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I was thinking about going to my cousins—’

  ‘You could stay here with us,’ Petrel said quickly. ‘Both of you. Sounds as if shipfolk might be here for a while, and you’d be very welcome. Fin’s part of the crew, and we don’t want to lose him.’

  Fin looked up at her and she met his eyes. This was the boy whose life she’d saved twice over; the boy who had saved her from loneliness. This was her best friend.

  ‘I mean, I don’t want to lose him. I don’t, Fin. I don’t want you to go.’

  ‘Hew, not Fin,’ said Hilde.

  ‘Mama – I am Fin.’

  ‘No,’ said his mam. ‘That’s not—’

  ‘I have been Fin for months; it is how I think of myself. When you say “Hew” I do not know who you are talking about.’

  Hilde swallowed. ‘But what would we do? If we did stay here?’

  ‘There’s a whole country to be rebuilt,’ said Petrel. ‘There’ll be lots to do.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Hilde shook her head uncertainly. ‘This is all very hard to get used to—’

  ‘What you need,’ said Krill, leaning over her, ‘is a bowl of soup. There’s no problem that can’t be made better by soup.’

  THE END OF THE BEGINNING

  An hour or so later, Fin, Petrel, Krill and Hilde stood by one of many cooking fires with bowls of soup warming their hands.

  ‘I do like the sound of doing something useful,’ said Hilde. ‘And besides, I’m not sure my cousins’d take us in, not really. Hew? I mean— Fin? Would you like to stay here?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fin. ‘I would.’

  Krill leaned towards him and said, in what he obviously thought was a whisper, ‘Fine woman, your mam.’

  Petrel grinned into her soup. Somewhere nearby a voice rose above the crowd, a voice used to making itself heard. ‘This is a day that will go down in the history of West Norn!’

  It was the Fetcher, standing on a nest of barrels with a fiddle in his hand and Gwin and Nat on either side of him. Wretched was there too, tucked in behind Nat’s legs, and the Fetchers’ ox stood patiently beside the barrels, chewing its cud, with the remains of its harness dangling on the ground.

  ‘I’m not denying there’s grief a-plenty to go round,’ Gwin’s da said loudly. ‘There’ll be nights yet when we weep for those we’ve lost. But the Devouts are beaten and the Citadel’s empty. There’ll be no more tithe, no more stealing of children.’

  A few folk cheered, but most of them were too stunned to recognise the truth of what the Fetcher was saying.

  Nevertheless, he kept going. ‘So what comes next, people of West Norn? What are we going to do with this brand new world of ours? Any ideas?’

  No one answered him. They just gaped, too used to being told what to do to take him seriously.

  The Fetcher laughed. ‘No? Me neither. But we’ll have plenty of help from those who know what it is to be free. Including mountain folk, who came too late for the fighting, but just in time to help us with whatever comes next. They’re talking of village councils, and of machines, too, if we want them, to make our lives easier.’

  A buzz ran through his audience, half-afraid, half-excited. The Fetcher raised his hand for silence. ‘But you know what I think? This isn’t about machines, it never has been. It’s about how we treat each other. It’s about kindness and respect. That’s what we’ve lacked. But we’ve got a chance at them now, and I think we should celebrate!’

  With that, he raised his bow and began to play. A few notes in, Nat joined him on the pipes. Gwin started to sing, her voice as big as her da’s.

  ‘There once was a girl, a blue-eyed girl,

  A girl with a song

  And a bold bold heart—’

  Petrel had never heard music like it. It made the hairs on her arms stand up and her blood fizzle. All around her, shipfolk and Sunkers were tapping their feet. Townsfolk were shaking off their shock and beginning to smile. The folk who’d come in th
e zeppaleen, some of them even bigger and hairier than Krill, sang along with gusto.

  ‘Come sing with us of her hidden world

  As she travelled the land

  With her ox and cart.’

  By the end of the second verse, the townsfolk were joining in the last two lines. By the third, they were grabbing each other’s hands and dancing in circles. They were clumsy and unpractised, but no one seemed to care. And as they moved they grew more graceful, as though the memory of dancing had been tucked away inside their poor wintry bones, waiting for spring.

  ‘No songs?’ cried she, and her blue eyes blazed,

  ‘No tunes for the ear?

  No joy for the heart?

  Then I will sing loudly for all of my days,

  As I travel the land

  With my ox and cart.’

  A voice said in Petrel’s ear, ‘I know many things, but I do not know how to dance. Will you teach me?’

  ‘I’m not sure I know myself, Cap’n,’ said Petrel. But the tune was irresistible, so she took his hand and joined one of the circles. Fin came in next to her, with his mam on his other side, and Krill one step further along, dancing so vigorously that his beard looked as if it might fly off.

  And then Squid was there too, and Rain and Sharkey, and Dolph, dancing the same way she fought, with a fierce intensity that had everyone around her watching out for their toes.

  But when she saw Petrel, Dolph laughed and shouted, ‘We beat ’em, cousin! Huzzah for us! Huzzah for the Oyster! Huzzah for the Sunkers!’

  Her cheers, copied by everyone in the circle, got caught up in the song and the dance, and before long they were being echoed on every side.

  ‘They chased her east and they chased her west,

  (Huzzah for the west!)

  They placed a price

  On her head and heart.

  (Huzzah for her heart!)

  A hundred crowns in a wooden chest

  As she travelled the land

  In her ox and cart.

  (Huzzah for her ox! Huzzah for her cart! Huzzah huzzah huzzah!)’

  Petrel danced and cheered with the rest of them, and thought about the folk who had started all this, so long ago. Serran Coe. Adm’ral Cray and Lin Lin. And the very first Fetcher, Ariel. What would they think if they could see us now? she wondered.