by Lorna Reid
‘I hate this,’ breathed Russell. ‘It’s like, if we move, something will notice us.’ Danny could hear his ragged breathing and felt sorry for him.
‘It’s okay, there’s nothing here but us,’ Danny said.
‘It’s different in the dark, though,’ said Katrina. ‘I know what Russell means. It’s like a whole new layer; the world changes slightly. And when you move …’
‘The stillness gets rippled and it’s like … the darkness knows you’re there.’
‘Okay, can we shut up about this now, please?’ Poppy sounded annoyed, but Danny noticed that she was practically climbing into Katrina’s pocket.
‘It’s like it’s poised, moving so slowly that it’s almost undetectable,’ whispered Russell.
‘There’s nothing here but dust, cargo, and us – and those things – so stop it,’ Poppy snapped, trying to keep her voice even.
‘Patches said he’d leave a light,’ whispered Katrina.
‘He wouldn’t have made it too obvious,’ said Danny.
‘Probably near the rest of the cargo somewhere. It would be close,’ said Poppy.
Danny moved away and turned around, searching the blackness. ‘I think I can see something.’ To a gasp of horror from Russell, Danny stepped into the penumbra. Katrina followed, with Russell and Poppy forming a comet tail close behind her.
‘There’s something here,’ said Danny, finding the source of the faint orange glow between two crates. ‘A blanket and this …’
A light suddenly blazed, stabbing into their eyes, making everyone wince. Poppy snatched the lantern away from him, the motion sending shadows see-sawing to and fro.
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she said.
The hold was peaceful and quiet. Crates, covered pallets, and barrels were stacked innocently around them, the unseen horrors revealed as wooden, solid, and only threatening in terms of splinters.
Danny breathed deeply, tasting the wood and dust in the air. Katrina and Poppy squeezed between a few rows of boxes where they’d found the lantern and worked their way through to a small space. Someone had left blankets and a large flask on the floor.
Poppy placed the lantern down, its dull magical orange glow casting a net of comfort while they listened to occasional shouts and bumps from somewhere above them.
Danny pulled a blanket around his shoulders and watched his breath mist in the air. The cold hadn’t been as bad in the crate, but here it was different. Everyone was pulling blankets and cloaks around themselves, and slipping on jumpers from their bags in the case of Katrina and Poppy.
Danny shivered and pulled the blanket over his head to keep the cold from biting his neck, and they took turns sipping hot soup from the flask. From the motion of the ship, Danny guessed they were underway now, maybe even clear of the port.
I wonder if Mum is warm enough, wherever she is? he thought, puffing hot air down the blanket to create a tepee of heat. Does she know I’m trying to find her? Does she know we’re coming for her? That we’re going to save someone, like she does, like Dad and Thom and the rest do? He smiled at the thoughts, felt his throat burn at the almost-touch of his mother as he imagined her arms around him, and pulled the blanket closer, telling himself that she knew somehow. It made him feel better.
There was a creak from somewhere above and then a clunk, followed by footsteps. ‘This’ll be Patches,’ whispered Russell, looking relieved. Something bothered Danny, though, and they listened to the scuffling in the hold.
‘If it’s Patches, why hasn’t he come straight over, and why isn’t he being quieter?’ he breathed to the others. ‘It sounds like there’s more than one person out there.’
A light suddenly spilled across the hold, filtering down the gap to their hiding place, and they tried to shuffle out of its grasping fingers as quietly as they could.
‘How much do these things eat?’ said a voice.
‘I don’t bloody know. Just chuck a whole bag in there.’
Something heavy was dragged across the floor.
‘Aw, bugger,’ said one of the voices.
Danny’s heart stopped. Had one of them left something in the straw?
‘Ancient’s bollocks, where have they gone?’
‘The door’s open. They could be anywhere.’
The light shifted and Danny peeped down the gap into the hold where two figures moved around, swearing and bickering, lamps swinging frantically in the search for the two escaped creatures. He wished he had remembered to shut the crate after them.
‘You two still down there?’ called a voice.
‘Great,’ breathed Danny. ‘Three of them.’
‘How long before they start searching over here?’ whispered Katrina.
He was at a loss at what to do. They were on a ship – where could they run?
‘Give us a hand. They’re worth a small fortune – we don’t want to end up on kitchen duty.’
Danny watched the lights swinging across the hold, his heart skipping a beat every time they drew closer. Someone else came down the steps and there was a brief conversation before the fourth person joined the search, which was suddenly more subdued.
In a blinding flash, a lantern swung in front of the entrance to their hideaway. Everyone shrank back in terror, shuffling to get out of the way, but it was too late.
‘Over here,’ came the words Danny had dreaded hearing. The voice was quiet but authoritative. ‘Limpets.’
Danny reared back, bumping into Poppy, who was trying to melt into the nearest box, looking as scared as he felt. Any last shred of excitement that the cold hadn’t killed, died instantly.
The layers of their hiding place peeled back as boxes were dragged away and someone stepped toward them. It was too much for Danny. He swung his blanket over the man, lashing out with his boot for good measure, and grabbed Poppy’s hand, dragging her to her feet. It was the spur the others needed to leap up and shove past the man, who was doubled up and clutching his groin.
‘Where are we going?’ breathed Poppy, losing Danny’s hand when they dashed out. Someone grabbed her around the waist and she screamed and kicked back, scrabbling and punching.
Danny kicked hard at her captor and wrenched her away. Katrina and Russell were already lost in the darkness beyond the light’s embrace. From nowhere, someone crashed into Danny’s back and he hit the floor. Two lanterns flared brightly and were placed on the floor by the man who had discovered them.
‘Enough!’
Poppy followed his glare to Katrina and Russell; they were struggling with a short red-haired man who was desperately trying to hold onto them while Katrina sank her teeth into his arm. Russell was also fighting, repeatedly kicking and stamping on his foot.
Danny’s captor dragged him up and held a thin blade to his throat. Danny froze instantly, as did everyone else.
There was a hiss like sand through a timer as the man by the lanterns drew his sword from his side. His short, choppy dark hair was combed roughly forward, complimenting his deep green eyes, which locked with Danny’s own.
‘Captain?’ said the red-haired man, looking for instruction.
Danny and the others looked at the Captain in surprise. He looked much younger than Danny expected a captain to look. He’d imagined a pirate type, or a white-bearded old man, but this man looked about Thom’s age, with the same cat-like poise. Despite there being something familiar about him, there was no trace of humour or warmth, no lazy smile or grin like the one that always danced over Thom’s face – just cold anger, from his eyes down to his scarred jaw.
A woman handed the Captain the flask and blade that Patches had given them, and he studied them quietly, turning them over in his hands before bundling them back at her.
‘Go and get Jal. Now,’ he said.
Danny rarely felt guilt, but Patches’ kindness caught in his gut before being overtaken with fear about what would happen next. The woman clattered up the steps and out of sight. Will they really dump us in the sea? I wond
er if we can swim back to the port if we aren’t too far out, he thought, desperately. What if there are sharks?
The green eyes flicked over all of them, taking in their faces, clothes, and bags. His sword remained, to everyone’s relief, by his side.
He was dressed in black: breeches, shirt, short collarless jacket, and even his belt buckle; the only exception being a silver pendant and what looked like a tiny bottle with something in it on a cord around his neck. Heavy buckled boots came to his knees, meeting the bottoms of the tight black breeches with a small column of black buttons at the bottom. Dagger hilts protruded from his boot tops.
There was a flurry of feet on the stairs, and the woman reappeared with Patches. Danny’s heart jumped and Russell made a noise of relief.
When he took in the scene, a look of dismay flashed in Patches’ eyes. He quickly masked it and joined the Captain, whose eyes were fixed on Danny. Danny gave as good as he got, glare for glare.
‘Tell me this wasn’t you,’ the Captain said in a quiet voice. For one gut-wrenching moment, Danny thought Patches was going to deny ever having laid eyes on them, but he didn’t.
‘It was,’ he said. He must be perhaps fifteen years older than the Captain, maybe more, but he still looks wary of him, Danny noted.
‘What in Neath’s heart were you thinking?’ snapped the Captain. ‘Of all the people to try and make a few coins smuggling limpets on board, I would have figured you to be the last, after last time.’
Patches shifted uncomfortably under the man’s furious gaze and glanced over at them again, lingering over the knife at Danny’s throat.
‘Did you want me to explain now or after you throw four children overboard?’ Patches challenged. The good-humoured sparkle was gone; the dusty, laid-back traveller had melted into a hard, flint-eyed man who stood toe to toe with the Captain, refusing to be intimidated. He looked taller, tougher, all of a sudden. Despite Danny’s jangling nerves, somehow he felt comforted knowing that Patches was on their side.
Patches glared again at the man with the knife. ‘You want to take that blade from the boy’s neck or shall I do it for you?’ He turned back to his Captain. ‘Even through your usual paranoid fog, you can see they’re just children. And that fiercely bright brain of yours should know I’d have a reason for this.’
There was a gaping silence and the other crew members glanced at each other. ‘Why?’ said the Captain. All eyes shifted from the Captain to Patches like a tennis match where the ball could explode at any moment.
‘They needed help. You’ve known me long enough, Darnell. I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t important. I trust them.’
The Captain sheathed his sword and the coldness melted somewhat.
‘Your soft touch is nothing but trouble, Jal. Like the last thing you smuggled on board. I think it ate half the ship.’
Patches laughed at whatever unspoken joke had just broken the tension.
The Captain seemed to drop years in age when he smiled, and he shook his head. The knife vanished from Danny’s throat and Katrina and Russell were released.
‘They’re trying to make Varron – Darrant Ridge – before a company from Lallial. There’s more riding on this than you’d think,’ explained Patches.
The Captain stared into his eyes and gave a tiny nod. ‘Then we’ll discuss it over dinner. Stamp was threatening to heave the whole lot overboard, and I’d rather eat well before the Pass. Got a bad feeling about this one.’
At this, Patches’ face, and those of the other crew, turned to stone.
‘The Interfectrix hasn’t been sighted for months, Captain,’ ventured the red-haired man.
‘I know, that’s what’s worrying me,’ the Captain replied.
If it’s worrying him, whatever it is, then we should be terrified, thought Danny. He didn’t look the type to be bothered by anything. Patches was bigger, taller, and older, and even he was wary of going against him.
‘We’ll eat first and worry later, or our food will be floating to Port George with the tide.’
Chapter 17
◊
‘ARE YOU SURE THERE’S room?’ asked Danny, surveying the large tables crammed into the dining room, laden with food and surrounded by noisy crew members who watched the new arrivals with interest.
‘More the merrier, lad,’ said Patches. ‘We all come and go in between jobs.’ As he spoke, several people extracted themselves from the crush and left. Danny was guided to a bench between two men who were bickering over a newspaper article, and the others were found places around the same table.
The table was packed with food and laden with jugs full of sauces and gravy. Danny recognised potatoes and carrots and something that looked like cabbage, only it was pink; other than that, much of it was a mystery, but he couldn’t care less.
Steaming vegetables were piled up in bowls and joints of roasted meat lay half-carved on plates beside sticky wings. A dozen different smells teased his nose, and his stomach screamed at him as Patches handed them fresh plates.
‘Dig in,’ encouraged a heavy-set man with cool dark-brown skin, a wide, warm smile, and blue-tinged dreadlocks. ‘I’m Hasin Ives – Ivy.’ He began spooning potatoes onto Danny’s plate. On his other side, the man Ivy had been arguing with was doing the same, tipping yellow vegetables onto his plate for him.
‘I’ve never eaten some of this before,’ Danny said, watching them fill his plate with whatever they could reach.
‘Don’t worry, it’s all good. Stamp may be a miserable old scowl, but he won’t cook rubbish,’ said Ivy.
To the amusement of everyone else, the two men seemed to be trying to outdo one another. Vegetables, meat, and dribbles of different sauces heaped up until they had exhausted all their options. Danny, a connoisseur of food piling, didn’t know where to start for perhaps the first time in his life. In the end, he started at the edge, to the relief of his grousing stomach.
As he worked his way through the food, occasionally remembering to savour the new flavours, he watched the others, watched the crew, watched the Captain. Patches, in between mouthfuls, was busy explaining to Poppy what the various coins were that he had given them, while Russell listened in, happily poking at the colourful slivers of gemstone inset in the bright metal.
Katrina was eating slowly, content with being lost among the crowd of noise and banter. Danny looked over at the Captain and realised that he was watching Katrina, frowning, as if trying to place her. Danny looked on with interest until Ivy distracted him.
‘Where are you from, Danny?’ asked Ivy, slathering butter over a huge chunk of bread. Russell froze and Danny looked at Poppy for help, but she was busy pouring a trickle of red sauce over her food. He was painfully aware of the pause and struggled for something to say.
The Captain was watching him carefully, his green eyes inscrutable. Across the table, Russell’s face reddened and even Katrina shifted uncomfortably. Danny stared at his plate, feeling stupid. Ivy laughed. ‘Don’t worry, a lot of people don’t like to say.’
He bit into his bread and Russell sagged with relief while Poppy looked up, saw Danny’s face and gave a ‘What?’ look that made him want to pour gravy over her head. He could see the Captain still watching, but busied himself with his food, pretending not to notice. What is his problem? he thought, chewing on what he assumed was a chicken leg.
‘I’m the same,’ said Ivy. ‘Ran away when I was ten and got a job in Fallan, helping at the Delphan pods.’
‘We saw Delphans in Lallial,’ said Russell. ‘You used to look after them?’
‘Shame it didn’t make him a better Aquattrox player,’ sniffed the stony-faced man on Danny’s right. He noticed that the newspaper article the men had been bickering over had been torn up and screwed into a bowl of orange vegetables in the middle of the table.
There were groans and muttered remarks from around the table and several people made their excuses and left. The red-haired man, who had been introduced as Bayard, took a large bowl
of potatoes with him.
‘Here we go again. I’ve missed this these last few days.’ Patches grinned at the Captain, who leaned back in his chair, a tiny smile playing over his face.
‘Tabrann has to fixate on me because he was no good. Sank well though, didn’t you, Tab?’ sniped Ivy.
Tab snorted and waved his fork, nearly impaling the eyeball of the man next to him. He also got up and, with a muttered insult, left the table. ‘Where is your old team in the Grade? Rock bottom, that’s where.’ Tab stabbed his fork into a piece of meat. ‘Sediment,’ he added, for good measure. ‘We were the best in the Grade. I was Player of the Year.’
This was too much for Ivy, whose goading grin vanished under a taut line of incredulity. ‘Cheat of the year, I think you mean. At least we had a sense of honour.’ He dabbed and slammed his bread in his gravy, spattering Danny’s hand while he watched in amusement, accidentally over-saucing his potatoes in the process.
‘Honourable? How many send offs did you personally get? Eight-month ban at one point, wasn’t it?’
‘Six,’ snapped Ivy.
It seemed that Russell had decided to be diplomatic and attempt to intervene; Danny would have happily listened to them all evening.
‘Who did you play for, Tab? The Lallial Blades?’
There was an inrush of air from the surrounding tables.
Ivy laughed loudly, along with a green-haired young man who pounded him on the back when he choked on his bread.
‘No I did not!’ spluttered Tab, looking outraged.
Russell shrank back, looking horrified as the man turned puce. Across the table, Patches was laughing and the Captain was hiding a grin behind his cup.
‘Let’s just say the Sassifaxan Sharks aren’t good friends of the Blades,’ said Patches, giving Russell a reassuring pat on the arm and refilling his drink.
‘Or the Blue Thorns,’ added Darnell, nodding at Ivy, who was still laughing at his furious crewmate.
