The Knot Impossible

by Barbara Else

  “Goodbye,” the orphans cried from the veranda.

  “Goodbye!” Lu’nedda held out her arms to Murgott and tidied the flaps on his combat jacket. “Good luck and good strength, unless you return in half an hour because ship sinks. That did not sound exactly right but you know what I mean.”

  Murgott kissed her farewell in a terrible rush. “Look after our babies.” He kissed all the orphans and gave them bear-hugs. “Look after your Mamma Lu’nedda.” Then he shouted, “Come on. We must reach the sea while it’s still daylight.” He pounded for the dock and the small sailing ship.

  Lord Hodie’s combat jacket, an old one of Murgott’s, only just buttoned across his broad chest. It still looked ferocious, so many pockets and flaps all meaning military business. He eyed Rufkin. “Bring that cart, then hurry back here and stay out of trouble.”

  Old adventurers were already pushing carts off to the wharf. Littlewink and Delilah O’Lilah went running past. The gate and tangled tree showed through a final tendril of smoke from the winery fire.

  Rufkin shoved the packed cart. Beside him, Nissy hauled an enormous bag that held only pillows. At the wharf Lord Hodie and Swan were busy at once with ropes and the gangplank. The gray-haired troll was helping the Queen on board.

  For the first time Rufkin had a good look at the vessel. What on earth were they thinking? She was more round than ship-shaped. Two masts were crooked. The third, with a crow’s nest, stood straight only if he squinted. A shabby lifeboat hung on lop-sided davits. She might indeed be a ship of legend but she was so old. Well, “of legend” meant old but… His chest hurt from the last ashes, and from disappointment. Vosco had no chance of help. None at all.

  Swan, in a seaman’s sou’wester, came running off the ship. “Get that up the gangplank. What, are you scared?” He grabbed the handle from Rufkin and shoved it himself.

  Rufkin stayed where he was, feet safe on the wharf.

  Nissy and Delilah were wrestling over the bag of pillows. “I just want to stow them,” Nissy cried. “Please, let me help.”

  Old Delilah threw up her hands and marched onto the ship. Nissy nudged Rufkin and grinned. Then she climbed on and disappeared into the cabin.

  A shout came from the elderly troll. Rufkin looked up. A fire-lizard was circling the wooden ship. It dropped closer and peered with a bright red eye.

  Tiny Delilah rushed into view with a pistol. She braced herself on the deck, aimed, and fired. The lizard merely side-slipped in the air.

  “It’s a scout,” cried Hodie from somewhere. “If we don’t get rid of it, it’ll summon the rest. This old wreck’s a fire risk.”

  “Just get the wreck moving!” Murgott clambered the outside stairs to the wheelhouse. He spotted Rufkin there on the wharf. “Boy, get back to the house like you were told. Hodie, to the engine room. It’s old metal, never repaired, but it needs attention.”

  “What about fuel?” shouted Hodie. “What kind of boilers…”

  “Get down and find out,” Murgott roared.

  The fire-lizard scouted lower. Delilah shot a second time. The lizard soared up and spat out a spark.

  “Blast you,” she cried.

  Rufkin tried to remember. What had killed cave-lizards in Port Feather? Dogs. They had no dogs. What had killed the one in the mud near the salvage yard? He had no idea. But if cave-lizards could be killed, so could fire-lizards.

  He leapt to the troll and snatched a scarf from his neck. “Sorry. Pay you later,” he gasped.

  Then he slid down the bank to the edge of the river. As fast as he could, he scooped three gloops of mud into the centre of the scarf and twisted the long ends together. This had worked for the teacher escaping his pupils in No Easy Lessons.

  He ran back to the wharf, swung the makeshift sling around his head and let it fly. The sling rocketed up. The fire lizard dodged again but the mud package clipped the side of its head. The ends of the scarf flew out and tangled around the fire-lizard’s wings. The package of wet mud, scarf, and lizard tumbled into Simmering River. The water fizzed.

  Already Littlewink had hauled up the gangplank.

  Murgott roared again from the wheelhouse. “Cast off!”

  At a cabin window, Nissy’s head popped up and down.

  Murgott grabbed a speaking tube. “Steady ahead and you’d better be ready!” he bellowed to the engine room.

  A thick mechanical cough sounded inside the hull. The ship juddered.

  Rufkin saw twisting water between the wharf and the ship. The pit of his stomach filled with dread. But he dashed to the road, swung round, then sprinted back. He leapt over the gap and crashed onto the deck. Ow. Very ow. He hadn’t meant to do that last bit. Actually he hadn’t meant to do any of it.

  ~

  Rufkin rolled in through the cabin door. This was stupid. Utterly stupid! He’d better hide from Murgott till the Chalice was so far downriver it couldn’t return.

  But in less than an hour, Murgott was roaring louder than Rufkin’s father in the lead role of The Beast who Had Lungs of Brass Bellows. The curses were more horrible than in Revenge of the Vengeful New Wife.

  Then Murgott saw Nissy was on board as well. The roar creaked to a stop and he rubbed his throat. He pointed to the galley and the boxes of cooking gear. It meant, Store it away or you’ll both be keel-hauled. He slammed the wheelhouse door for some time on his own.

  Nissy rubbed her ears, found some old menus in a kitchen drawer, and sat down to read them. “Yum,” she muttered, “Chocolate Menace. Ew, Hot Lettuce Salad.”

  Rufkin sorted some cutlery into neat compartments. Why had he jumped? Why? He’d managed to beat one fire-lizard but there’d be much worse to come—like a deep-dragon. He’d been such an idiot! He crashed a fry-pan into its iron wall clamp.

  “Good job.” It was Queen Sibilla, a bunch of tea towels in her hand. “Where do these go?”

  Rufkin had no idea but he pointed to a drawer.

  “And thank you for dealing with the fire-lizard.” She had an odd look in her eye, as if she was especially pleased that he’d done it with an ordinary boy trick.

  His face felt as fiery as it could without actually scorching. She laughed and looked as beautiful as sunshine. Then she swung away up the internal ladder to the wheelhouse.

  “You’re blushing,” said Nissy.

  “Shut up,” said Rufkin.

  “She could have said thank you to me too. After all, I had proof of Madam Butterly’s dealings. Not that it matters.” Nissy did a terrible job of pretending she wasn’t offended.

  “If you want the Smile-careless, this is the way.” Rufkin made a side of his mouth curl up just the right amount. She gave a little laugh, then copied perfectly.

  “Ocean ahead!” Murgott’s roar was hoarse from overuse, which made Rufkin feel guilty. “Littlewink! Find the life-jackets!”

  The ogre shouldered in to rummage through the gear. “Sort out the life-jackets,” he grumbled. “Then bamboozle the enemy. Hoodwink and startle the foe, small or large, human or otherwise.”

  Rufkin tried a Smile-careless himself. It didn’t stick to his mouth for half a second.

  It was only moderately scary sailing through the estuary of Simmering River. The banks were too far away to see alligators.

  Then it was hilarious listening to Swan and Littlewink. They spread the old green sails of the ship over the deck to check for rips and holes in case they’d be needed. The ancient swearwords and insults they’d gathered during research and adventures would have sent his mother into a fit. Rufkin bet they would need the sails. The fuel Lord Hodie had found in the engine room would run out before three days were up.

  Now they’d reached Old Ocean. Rufkin stood on deck and watched the land shrink till it was a long dark line. The sea turned silvery, the sky like an upturned bowl of pewter with feathery clouds. How lovely it was—but Vosco, wherever he might be, must be confused and scared.

  Murgott’s head poked from the wheelhouse. “We’ll spot the Sea Honey’
s lights if they turn ’em on. But we won’t if they don’t. Boy, up to the crow’s nest.”

  What? Him? “I’ve never climbed a mast,” he called.

  “The rule of a first time is that it’s the first.” Murgott held up a finger to help make the point. “I didn’t ask you to come. Now you’re here, earn your keep.”

  Rufkin crossed his own fingers for luck. “Lord Hodie would do it better than me.”

  Bad luck. Lord Hodie just that moment came on deck, wiping greasy hands on a greasier cloth. “I’m wrestling with the engine.”

  Murgott glowered down. “And he’s heavier than you, boy, with some years of muscle. We haven’t checked the strength of those old masts. Go.”

  Delilah O’Lilah was lighter than Rufkin. But it was safest to say nothing even if his insides were water again.

  He wiped his hands on the back of his pants and set his hands on the rope ladder—rat-lines, he thought they were called. The tiny platform of the crow’s nest seemed…

  “Don’t look up!” Murgott shouted. “It’ll make you dizzy.”

  True. Rufkin climbed a few rope-rungs.

  “Don’t look down!” Murgott roared. “It’ll make you dizzier.”

  Also true. At the first cross-piece, he rested. Swan’s and Littlewink’s swear words swam through his head.

  “Get off that yard!” bellowed Murgott. “The sun’s setting fast.”

  At the second yard, he rested again.

  “The sun’s setting faster,” came a cry from Swan.

  Rufkin climbed for the third and final yard. There was the gap in the bowl of the crow’s nest. He wriggled through. As if they’d waited for the moment, prickles of sweaty fear rushed over him.

  He hauled himself upright, clung to old metal handles on the mast and closed his eyes. He begged that he wouldn’t see the vast shadow. But he was up here to search the horizon. For that, his eyes had to be open.

  It helped when he used both hands as a sort of porthole to help him focus. And it kept out some glare.

  Nothing to the north—that was the direction they’d come from, so of course not. After all they hadn’t overtaken the Sea Honey.

  To the east, nothing but silvery waves.

  Nor anything south, though this high up he saw the smallest blur on the horizon. If he’d had a map, he’d know if it was Battle Island.

  West? By now his eyes couldn’t be sure what they was seeing. The pink of the sky had begun painting the water.

  Voices below broke into argument. Argument turned into shouts. He peered over the rim of the nest. At the first yard Nissy clung to the mast.

  “Swan’s binoculars,” she called. “I’ve brought them this far and I’m not coming higher.”

  ~

  Rufkin muttered an ancient curse. He climbed down then up again very carefully. At last he was back in the nest, legs shaking with effort. Gulls bickered overhead. The crows’ nest swayed. Wind whistled in his ears and made his face sting. Inside he was crying to be on deck again before darkness fell.

  But he yanked on an ear to help him concentrate, then began a last scan of the waves. Nothing more to the north. Nothing east. South—yes, it was Battle Island, which looked very peaceful. He firmed his back against the mast to focus on west.

  There, far off, was the shape of a super-yacht. With the sun setting behind it, he couldn’t see for sure if she was the Sea Honey. She wasn’t using sails. The bow was pointing west. Rufkin trained the binoculars on the pennant flying on her highest mast.

  Steady, he whispered to the old ship beneath him, let me have one moment where it all comes clear. The air stilled around him. The sound of voices below and birds above quietened too. And far off on Old Ocean a breeze lifted the pennant.

  For a second he thought he saw a gleam of blue. The pennant folded in the breeze and the flash disappeared. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the pennant unfolded again. Rufkin saw a luminous B.

  The waves should rock a tired boy to sleep. The sleep should be filled with dreams of exploits and fun. The fun? Good times with family and friends, catching fish and telling lies about their size. Rufkin was chased to sleep by the sound of Hodie and Murgott arguing with Queen Sibilla. His sleep jumbled with dreams of trying to catch Madam Butterly, but she slipped away like butter on a hot plate. The dreams changed to ones about loneliness.

  The worst thing about the night was that it ended. He had to wake up.

  The worst thing about breakfast? It was oat-bars.

  The good thing was having breakfast at all. But none of the grown-ups dropped a clue about whether Madam Butterly and Vosco still headed west.

  Murgott said something with his mouth full of oat-bar.

  “Swallow,” said Swan. “It is scientifically proven, the voice is more easily understood if it comes from a mouth free of food.”

  “Excuse me,” Rufkin began. “What direction…”

  Murgott ignored him. “We’ve come a considerable distance overnight and I don’t like it. Nor does Hodie.”

  Hodie frowned. “How did you know?”

  “These days you don’t like anything,” said Queen Sibilla.

  Hodie pointed an oat-bar at the Queen. “Fact: the engine is too old to be anywhere but a museum. Fact: we have two days’ worth of toad-oil. Fact again: what happens at the end of three days? Where will we be? How far from land? Just for instance. If I may ask.”

  “Love,” muttered Littlewink.

  “And not me and you,” Delilah wheezed.

  Queen Sibilla’s eyes went even darker than Hodie’s. “Lord Hodie, if you don’t like it, you may leave.”

  “If you didn’t need my pair of shoulders along for the trip, Ma’am, I’d leave with pleasure.” Hodie crunched into the oat-bar, then made a face at it.

  Rufkin slid off his chair and hurried on deck.

  Nissy followed. “What’s up?”

  He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He definitely wouldn’t say how afraid he was. But she looked at him so hard that words he didn’t expect came rushing out. “Even if the Queen and Hodie are in love, even if it isn’t the end-of-days and if there isn’t a deep-dragon…all that would happen is they’d get married, have a family, and one of their kids would be useless and never fit in.”

  Nissy stared as if he was crazy. “What you ought to worry about is how long before they send you back to the crow’s nest.”

  “Where’s that boy?” came Murgott’s voice. “There’s work to do.”

  ~

  One good thing—the light was better now it was morning. Two—Rufkin had climbed the mast before, so it was easier. Three—he remembered the binoculars. Actually he didn’t, Nissy reminded him. He steadied himself again in the crow’s nest. The fourth good thing—this was all for Vosco with his skinny legs and puppy feet, his skinny neck.

  To the north the binoculars showed bumps and blurs that must be the coast. A few small boats.

  He swung east. In the never-ending crumple of the sea, sun struck the shapes of other ships, more than thirty all heading in the same direction as the Chalice. That seemed odd. He swung to look south, back to the east, then north again. From all over the ocean, at the same speed as the Chalice, ships were heading west. Dozens—even hundreds? One looked like a long riverboat. That one was a tug.

  He didn’t have much sense of direction. His Statement of Success in Geography made that obvious. But it seemed to him that the ships were all heading for the same place. If they were trying to reach the City of Spires, fair enough. Everyone would want to complain about all the disasters to the Council of Wisdom. But it looked as if none of the vessels were heading north-west to the City of Spires. They were—what was the word?—converging—on another point.

  And there was no wind. If most of those ships had new engines or new repairs, how come they hadn’t broken down? Deep currents wouldn’t send them all along at such a pace.

  Rufkin studied the ships a few minutes longer. There was the Sea Honey too, moving west at the same pac
e as the others.

  At last he was sure. It was like an experiment he’d had to watch because his science teacher had a grip on his ear. It had turned out to be really interesting: slivers of metal aligning themselves at the pull of a magnet. They just couldn’t help it.

  ~

  He slung the binoculars round his neck. The moment he set foot on the rat-lines a roar came up.

  “Stay where you are!” Murgott, of course, and—

  “Stay,” rumbled Littlewink. “Stay!”

  Rufkin wasn’t a dog. Which one of them was in charge anyway? He kept climbing down with his ears closed.

  “Let me in the wheelhouse.” He swung himself the last distance onto the deck. “Let me see the map.”

  “The nautical term is chart, boy!” said Murgott.

  “Murgott,” the Queen said from the cabin doorway. Then she waved an arm in a beautiful curve, pointing Rufkin to the outside ladder. Before she changed her mind, he scrambled up.

  In the wheelhouse, with its dull yellow walls and unpolished brass fittings, he stuck his chin out like Nissy’s. He might be wrong, he might be stupid. But this might be important.

  “Sir,” he said. “I mean Captain. I mean sirs…” Littlewink and Swan had crammed in as well. The Queen had followed. “And Ma’am…”

  “Get on with it.” Murgott pointed to a handy sloping desk with narrow drawers. Clipped to the desktop was a chart of this area of Old Ocean.

  Rufkin put his hands on it. “Where are we?”

  The Queen bent over the chart and rested her finger between Port Feather and Battle Island. “Round about here.”

  With his own fingers Rufkin traced the direction of the Sea Honey, trying to match it up with lines he traced from north, west, and south. It didn’t make sense.

  “What is it?” asked the Queen in her husky way.

  Rufkin explained about the hundreds of ships. “I thought they might be going to some special place. But if they meet up…” He checked again. “They might all keep going and pass each other. Or knot up in another big tangle. It’s only that…I’m sure they’ll cross at this place, where there’s nothing.”