Deeplight

  Each time a wave glinted mockingly in the sun, she wondered whether she had escaped at all. It was as though the sea had let her crawl, bruised and weeping, back on to the shore. Now it waited mere feet away for a chance to seize her again.

  Hark was still busy aft, talking to the crazy doctor who had bought him. He was facing away from her, but she had a view of the doctor’s face. Since Selphin was keeping the boat running and standing lookout, however, she was only reading tantalizing fragments of what was clearly an important conversation.

  You better not agree to anything stupid, Sanctuary boy, she thought. He obviously had a history of doing the wrong things for the wrong people.

  Selphin turned her attention back to the sea behind them. There was no sign of a pursuing sail, but her instincts were tingling. She stared into the wind, past the long streak of the boat’s wake, beyond the parade of headlands, rendered gauzy by a mist of spray. In the far distance, there was a tiny flash of foam as something broke the surface.

  A school of flying fish? It was possible, but she did not think so. She would probably have seen the telltale silvery glitter. A dolphin or a seal, perhaps? Selphin stared out to sea, looking for irregularities and breaks in its natural music. She had a feel for her great enemy, a sense of its rhythms and whims.

  Another flare of foam, still distant but slightly closer. For a second, the curve of a dark back was visible. Bigger than a seal or a dolphin.

  Still she waited, wanting to be certain. It could just be a young whale astray from its pod and too far inland, breaching to take a breath . . .

  The third time, there was no mistake. It was too narrow to be a whale, and as it plunged beneath the surface, she thought she glimpsed two legs instead of a tail.

  Selphin stamped on the deck to get the others’ attention, the way everyone did on her mother’s boats. Hark and the doctor both looked up.

  We’re being followed, Selphin signed.

  Are you sure? asked Hark.

  Yes, she signed. One person swimming fast. Very fast. Underwater.

  Hark went pale.

  Can we outrun it? he asked.

  The boat had the favour of the wind and was managing a good rate of knots. Every time Selphin had seen the pursuing shape, however, it had been closer.

  No, she signed.

  Will it catch us before we reach the third headland ahead? asked Hark, then pointed.

  Selphin narrowed her eyes, trying to reckon the distance.

  I don’t know, she signed back eventually. Maybe. Why?

  There’s a cove beyond it, Hark signed back. In a cave, there’s a submarine. It’s crazy and dangerous, and it screams. But it’s fast enough to chase the Leaguer sub. I can help the doctor drive it.

  Heart and soul, Selphin wanted to push on for Lady’s Crave. She wanted to see that beautiful, ugly double-humped silhouette appear on the horizon, with the greasy streak of smoke from the glue factory’s chimney. She wanted to sprint through the docks, and find her crew alive and well, and let them cuff her and scream at her and maybe never forgive her.

  If they pushed on towards Lady’s Crave, however, whatever was chasing them would catch up with them long before they reached it. Besides, they had to seize any chance to stop the Leaguers. What was the point of going home today if her beloved island was god-food tomorrow?

  Tell me everything, she signed.

  CHAPTER 37

  Hark quickly told Selphin about his conversation with Vyne.

  What is she doing now? asked the smuggler girl. Vyne was huddled over her notebook, scrawling on a torn-out leaf with a pencil.

  Writing a message to the governor, he answered. We should send that too, just in case. If the Butterfly plan didn’t work, which seemed likely, someone needed to warn the governor what was coming. You could take the note to Lady’s Crave, he suggested. Selphin was clearly aching to go home. You can run to the harbour and find a boat to take you.

  Maybe, she signed back, looking unhappy and conflicted. It was a less enthusiastic answer than he’d expected.

  You don’t have to, signed Hark, unsure what was wrong. I can give the note to my old priest friend. He’s waiting at the cove.

  As he mentioned Quest, Hark felt a flood of shame and dread. He would have to tell the old man that he had let the heart out of his possession, it was on the way to the Undersea, and that in fact it had been plugged into a ready-made god-body.

  He realized that Selphin was staring at him.

  The old priest is at the cove? she asked, her eyebrows rising. Is he good at running?

  Hark saw at once what she meant. They would reach the cove before their pursuer caught up with them, but it would not be too far behind. They would not have much time to get an elderly, sickly man and a badly wounded woman off the beach.

  As their destination cove finally came into view, Hark looked across and saw the shack, as expected. There was, however, an unexpected figure in yellow robes standing outside it. Hark had no time to react to this, though, because the boat was already committed to the turn, at a reckless speed.

  The cove wasn’t really a natural harbour, so they made a slight hash of their approach, running in too quickly, then yawing desperately to avoid rocks. They beached themselves on the shingle in the shallows and settled at a tilt.

  The Sanctuary attendant flinched back against the shack, looking startled. He was a strongly built young man, who had been at Sanctuary only six months longer than Hark.

  ‘Dr Vyne!’ whispered Hark, tugging at the doctor’s sleeve. ‘There’s a Sanctuary attendant on the beach! You need to talk to him! He’ll listen to you!’

  Vyne did not answer. She was still breathing, though with obvious difficulty. There were dark shadows round her eyes, and when he nudged her, she showed no signs of waking.

  ‘Hark?’ The junior attendant had spotted him. ‘Where have you been? Kly’s raging – he’s going to rip your head off!’

  Hark took a deep breath as his plans somersaulted, tumbled and tried to right themselves. He furtively slipped the doctor’s ring of keys from her belt and hid it in his own belt pouch, before standing up.

  ‘Help!’ he yelled at the top of his lungs. ‘Help us! Dr Vyne’s hurt – she’s been stabbed! You need to take her to Sanctuary!’

  ‘What?’ asked the young man, looking overwhelmed. ‘Who stabbed her?’

  ‘Leaguers! I can’t explain now – you need to take her to Sanctuary right now or she’ll die!’

  ‘But . . .’ The attendant looked back at the shack. ‘But Quest is in this hut! We’ve been looking for him all night! I saw him on the beach, but now he’s barricaded himself in there somehow—’

  ‘I’ll deal with that!’ Hark insisted. ‘He listens to me!’

  The promise was enough. The young attendant waded out into the shallows, and Hark and Selphin carefully lowered Vyne into his arms.

  ‘Go! Quickly!’ Hark knew he was pushing his luck, giving orders to someone higher up the pecking order. However, he knew that at any moment their negotiations might be interrupted by a sleek dark shape with razor-tipped limbs . . .

  Struggling a little under the doctor’s weight, the yellow-clad figure hurried over the rocks in the direction of the harbour. Before he was out of sight, Hark had dropped over the side of the boat into the shallows, where the breakers buffeted and dragged at his legs. Selphin splashed down behind him, and staggered, but kept her balance. She still had the Leaguer musket, and held it above her head to keep it dry.

  Belatedly, Hark remembered the note to the governor. He hadn’t claimed it from Vyne. Everything had happened too fast.

  ‘There’s a letter in her notebook!’ he yelled after the distant attendant, hoping he could hear him. ‘It’s for . . . Kly! Show it to him – he’ll understand! He’ll know what to do!’ Any number of Sanctuary attendants might be League sympathizers, but Hark was completely sure that Kly wasn’t.

  Clothes sodden, Hark hurried up the beach to the shack and pounded on the d
oor.

  ‘Quest! It’s me, Hark! Open up!’

  There was a faint shuffling of steps from within.

  ‘You’re sure it’s safe?’ Quest’s unmistakeable tones enquired.

  ‘Nothing’s safe!’ admitted Hark. ‘But we have to go!’

  The door opened. Quest’s red-rimmed eyes peered over the muffling of his clothes.

  ‘Who is your small friend, and why is she armed?’ asked the old man.

  ‘Selphin’s . . . on our side. We ran into trouble . . .’

  ‘What kind of trouble?’ Quest’s forehead furrowed deeply. ‘Tell me you still have the heart!’

  Hark couldn’t tell him that. He felt his face crumple miserably, and watched as realization dawned across Quest’s features, followed by devastation and despair. There was no anger or resentment in the old man’s expression, and that somehow made it harder to bear.

  ‘I’m going to stop them!’ said Hark, filled with a sudden surge of desperate resolve. ‘The Leaguers are taking the heart to the Undersea – they want a new age of the gods. I won’t let that happen, I promise! But right now, we have to get off this beach!’

  There was a wordless cry of warning from Selphin, who was pointing out to sea. Something dark was approaching the cove with frightening speed. It undulated and split the waves like a dolphin, but the shape was wrong, the ridges down its back were wrong, the things it trailed were wrong.

  ‘Run to the door!’ shouted Hark. He guided the startled Quest up the slope to the cliff door, closely followed by Selphin. As he wrestled with Vyne’s ring of keys, out of the corner of his eye, Hark could see Selphin facing the beach with her musket ready, bristling as much with terror as defiance.

  ‘Stay back!’ Selphin yelled, her voice cracking. ‘Stay back, stay back!’ He had never heard her voice sound so raw and uncontrolled.

  Hark risked a frantic glance at the beach, and regretted it. A glistening head and torso had emerged from the sea, and was moving towards the shore. Water poured out between its teeth, its too many teeth . . .

  He desperately fumbled key after key into the lock, his ravaged knuckles stinging.

  This key? No. This? No . . . maybe . . . no. Oh please, one of you!

  A key that seemed too small suddenly lodged in the lock. Hark twisted it in panic and heard something click. A fraction of an instant later, a gunshot a foot away nearly made him jump out of his skin.

  Selphin was screaming something at the top of her lungs, but he could no longer tell what. He flung his weight against the door. It opened, and he fell through into the waiting darkness. The other two shoved in after him, bumping into him in the dark. With panicky force Hark slammed the door behind them again.

  ‘Lock it!’ Selphin was shouting. ‘Lock it!’

  He couldn’t find the keyhole in the dark. His desperate fingers did find a bolt, however, and he wrestled it into place. A moment later he felt the door jolt violently, as something slammed into the other side. With shaking hands Hark found two more bolts and threw them, then felt for the keyhole and locked the door. Another blow from outside juddered the door, and there followed a roar of frustration.

  Dr Vyne’s scruples had room for improvement, but she did have a nice line in good, solid doors. Right now, this seemed like a highly redeeming quality.

  Selphin only calmed down properly once Hark had found and lit a scare-lantern. The hand-hewn cave filled with purple light and the smell of singed unease.

  It came out of the water, she signed hastily. It had hundreds of teeth. I told it to stay away. But it leaped out and ran for us, so . . . I shot it. I shot it. I hit it in the hip. It fell down and squirmed. Then it started to get up again . . .

  Selphin had dropped her musket outside after firing it. She was now hugging her own arms defensively. Hark couldn’t tell if she was bruised from the recoil or just shaken, and knew better than to ask.

  That shot gave us time to escape, Quest signed rather slowly and stiffly. Thank you. Hark was startled to find that Quest knew sign language, unlike the other Sanctuary priests. Then he remembered that the old man had still been out in the world long after the Cataclysm. What was that creature?

  Hark exchanged a glance with Selphin.

  My friend, he signed reluctantly. The one I thought I could save.

  Quest gave a heavy sigh. ‘I am sorry, Hark.’

  The roaring beyond the door had ceased. Hark imagined the dark, scaly figure lurking silently on the other side.

  Is there another way out of here? Selphin asked abruptly.

  No, Hark admitted. Only the submarine.

  But we can’t use that any more! signed Selphin. We don’t have Dr Vyne!

  Submarine? asked Quest.

  Hark inhaled deeply, then took the explanation at a run.

  ‘Dr Vyne and the League were working together to build a god. She thought they were just going to keep it in a box and trim bits of godware off it, like fleecing a sheep. But the League want to set it free and bring back the age of the gods. She found out their plans, so they stabbed her. They put the Lady’s heart in their god, but it wouldn’t come to life properly, so they’re taking it to the Undersea in a submarine so it can breathe more fear. Downstairs is a secret, fast submarine Vyne designed herself. She was going to pilot it, but she passed out. So . . . I’m taking it out and going after the League.’

  He felt his face heat up with panic as he said the words.

  ‘Show us this submarine,’ said Quest.

  Hark led them down the winding stone steps until they came to the cavern where the Screaming Sea Butterfly bobbed in the dark water.

  ‘It looks like the accursed offspring of a jellyfish and a stingray,’ said Quest after a moment. ‘You say you know how to pilot this . . . error of judgement?’

  ‘I’ve ridden in it with Dr Vyne,’ said Hark, aware that this wasn’t exactly an answer to the question. ‘You change the sound, and it makes the wings flap. It’s loud, so you have to wear a helmet . . .’

  ‘Anything else I need to know before we go?’ Quest asked.

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Hark, horrified. ‘But . . . you’re ill!’

  ‘Have either of you ever been to the Undersea?’ demanded Quest, his voice gaining force. ‘Do you have any idea what it is like down there? The switchback currents? The great waves where Undersea meets sea? The creatures that live down there? Trust me, you need me. There is room for three in there . . .’

  Selphin stamped her foot for attention, and waved at Hark until he looked at her.

  What’s the priest saying? she signed. He wants to come? You can’t let him come! Priests worship gods! He won’t want to stop the League making one!

  This priest is different, signed Hark.

  How? Why? demanded Selphin. Why should we trust him?

  He’s my friend! signed Hark in frustration, then realized that this was a poor argument, given his past record with friendships. And he’s right! We need someone who knows about the Undersea!

  That just means he can send us off course or get us killed! signed Selphin fiercely.

  He warned me about the gods! Hark protested. He tried to break the heart!

  How did he know it belonged to the Hidden Lady? Selphin returned to her earlier question, her signs expansive and exasperated. He knows something about all of this that he’s not telling you! Why are you so stupid?

  ‘Quest,’ Hark said slowly, ‘how did you recognize the Hidden Lady’s heart?’

  ‘There is no time for this!’ Quest’s face was contorted with anxiety.

  How many times had Quest side-stepped or deflected questions? Quest was like a dry rose, a tightly folded knot of old secrets. Every papery petal you pulled away revealed more. Even now, Hark knew that there were more layers. He couldn’t say how many, or what lay at their heart.

  Hark needed to know, before they went into the dark together. Selphin was right.

  ‘I want to trust you, Quest,’ Hark said quietly. ‘But I can’t just follow people
blindly any more. How did you know it was hers?’

  There was a pause, during which Quest breathed deeply and raggedly. Then he gave Hark a haggard, complicated smile. It was the smile of one who sees that a long game is over, and who realizes that he is very tired of playing it.

  ‘I knew,’ said Quest, ‘because the Hidden Lady showed me her heart. And because I tore that heart from her when I killed her.’

  CHAPTER 38

  ‘You . . . killed her?’ Hark repeated stupidly.

  You couldn’t! signed Selphin, looking flabbergasted. She was a god!

  The Lady with her drowned-looking beauty, and her impossibly long spider-crab legs, hidden in a forest of her own snaking, weed-like tresses. The Lady with her mysteries, and secrets, and otherworldly cleverness. The mistress of Lady’s Crave, a teller of tales older than the oaks . . .

  Quest turned to Selphin.

  May I explain in speech? he asked. My sign is slow and not good enough.

  Selphin gave a little frowning shrug, and turned up the scare-lamp to full brightness. Quest blinked as the purple light shone on to his face.

  ‘The Hidden Lady was a lonely god,’ he began. ‘That was her weakness. She told me her secrets. She had found a way to move her heart out of her core, up her neck and into her hair. She even showed me. It took a long time, and it hurt her, but she could push her heart to the end of a hair tendril – like a ball in a stocking.’

  Why would she put her heart in her hair? demanded Selphin.

  ‘She was lonely,’ said Quest again. ‘She was desperate. We priests spoke with her, but our lives were too small, warm and brief. She wanted to talk to her own kind, who had seen and breathed the abyss long enough to understand her. But she did not dare get too close to them.’

  Hark noticed Selphin looking uncertain, and hastened to explain.