by Barbara Else
Rufkin drooped back at the rail. His heart kept up a steady boom like a muffled drum. Vosco, hold on, he breathed. Vosco, hold on.
The Chalice coasted so sneakily, it seemed only the swish of waves kept her moving. A cry came to Rufkin’s ears, a lonely gull. The cry came again—his own name? He glanced to the wheelhouse—along the deck—nobody was there.
The cry came again. “Rufkin!”
The Chalice had edged up beside a battered yacht. At the rail was his sister in cabin-boy costume—this was the Lordly Sword? She stared at him in a genuine Attitude-horrified.
At once, he put a finger to his lips: Shut up.
She made quick gestures back in their family signals: What the blast are you doing here?
He felt sick, angry, betrayed: I’m trying to be some use this summer.
We thought you were safe, Ahria gestured. She’d started to sob.
“Rufkin, are you all right?” called Queen Sibilla’s soft voice from the cabin. Ahria blinked at her over his shoulder.
“Please, Ma’am, go inside,” he whispered.
The Queen did a good Attitude-angry—beat her fist on the red bandana round her forehead and flounced off.
Ahria started to point, but Rufkin drew the flat of his hand over his throat. Stop at once. Don’t draw attention.
His sister’s hand dropped. She turned her head away for a moment. Then her fingers appeared on the rail and carefully sent: Good luck.
The Chalice was passing the Lordly Sword more quickly now. He wanted to ask Ahria something.
Watch me. He hurried to swathe an imaginary fox-fur collar around his neck. He minced a few steps, widened his eyes—tried to widen his cheekbones as well, and gave the warmest smile his face could manage. Then he raised his own true hands in a question.
Ahria made a terrible face and stuck her finger down her throat.
Our parents think so too? he signed.
Ahria nodded and pretended to throw up in the worst possible way.
Oscar, looking drawn and worried, appeared next to Ahria. She jerked her head towards the Chalice and whispered in his ear. Oscar turned. The expressions crossing his face almost made Rufkin laugh.
Ahria sketched a quick bow to where the Queen had disappeared. He had a glimpse of his parents coming up on the deck, saw their shock and their fear for him. His mother reached out her hands. Oscar gave Rufkin a Salute-respectful. Then the Lordly Sword had fallen astern.
The Chalice snuck up into a narrowing channel. It was even easier now to act Feeble. They had to save Rufkin’s own family as well as Vosco. And there was still no real clue what lay ahead.
Slowly Murgott steered their stealthy path through the circle of ships. Some of the tablecloths ripped off their nails and blew into the sea. Nissy, pretending Tantrum as if she was born to it, hammered in the remaining rags so that they still disguised the bow. Ahead by three ships—then two—was the Sea Honey.
Though Rufkin felt heartsick, he whisked around with words of praise to help everyone maintain their Attitudes. He’d always done better if someone said, Good, now how about that? instead of Oh for heaven’s sake, you’re useless, improve your game.
Swan, as Desolate as a bird shedding feathers, handed out pistols. Lord Hodie stowed a bunch of handcuffs in pouches on his combat jacket. One set was big enough for Goodabod if they were so lucky.
Rufkin had only the dinky knife he’d stolen from the Sea Honey. Besides, he’d been told to stay put on the Chalice with Nissy. Thank goodness.
By now even from the deck he glimpsed the far side of the circle of ships. There must be hundreds of them, and thousands of people—maybe twenty or thirty thousand or even more. Another three warships, fishing trawlers with massive pulleys for hauling nets, and several ferries were stuck in the crush. A puff of smoke burst from somewhere—someone’s funnel might have exploded. The pulleys on a trawler buckled and crashed on the ship next to it. The turrets of one of the warships juddered and screeched as they started to turn.
All of a sudden, explosions and shots rang out around the circle.
“It’s random firing again. This is our chance,” yelled Hodie. “Go! Go! Go!”
Gunshot and cannon fire filled the air. Lord Hodie (Staunch) adjusted the davits supporting a lifeboat. Littlewink (Uptight and Panicked) pretended to knock the lifeboat by accident so it dropped into the sea. Down by the stern, Delilah O’Lilah (Sweaty) dealt with Nissy (Tantrum) to draw any attention away. Murgott (Brave) stormed from the wheelhouse with the Queen (Angry). Desolate Swan took charge of the wheelhouse.
Within moments, Hodie, Littlewink, and Murgott were all down in the lifeboat.
Rufkin remained staunchly Feeble at the rail. Now it was up to them, three men, all strong ones. Against Madam Butterly and her thugs—nine, because he counted Calleena. This time he would think things through. He would absolutely not rush into trouble, especially while random war raged overhead.
He thought for at least half a second.
~
Rufkin whisked onto the rope ladder, slid easily down the side of the Chalice and rolled into the bow of the lifeboat. A boom from a warship…
Nissy in her flailing Tantrum put both hands over her heart and sent a thumbs-up. He signed: Thanks, get inside where you’ll be safer.
Then Murgott had spotted him. His chest and shoulders began to expand. Like the build-up of pressure before an explosion, Lord Hodie glared. Littlewink’s eyes were black with fury.
But Rufkin was ready. He signed: Hush. “One sentence,” he said softly. “I’m the only one who knows the layout of the Sea Honey.”
“You’re not,” said Hodie. “I was on her for a week myself when I was Harry.”
Oh. “But I snuck down here without you noticing,” said Rufkin. “That’s a plus for me.”
A flash and explosion—sparks rained down, a plume of black stung Rufkin’s eyes.
“You’ve had three sentences,” said Murgott. “I’m a Special Major and captain of the Chalice. You’re crew. No more mister smarty-pants. No more sentences at all.”
The lifeboat joggled. Someone else had landed beside Rufkin.
“No argument,” said Queen Sibilla, hand on the scabbard of her leather belt. “Get going while they’re all distracted.”
~
Amid the crash of random cannon, Littlewink’s ogre-sized muscles guided the lifeboat through the inner ring of shipping. At first there was no view of the Sea Honey, but soon her hull was visible again between a freighter and a paddle steamer that should have been plying a river. Lord Hodie held up four fingers, then added one more for Rufkin. Rufkin wasn’t sure how he felt about being counted. Murgott pointed ahead at the Sea Honey, held up four fingers for Madam Butterly, Calleena, Thunderhead, Goodabod, and five more for the rest of her crew. So five against nine.
Erratic cannon continued to boom. Gunfire rattled.
“Nobody knows who’s enemy and who isn’t,” said Littlewink. “The damage Madam Butterly has caused must run into the billions.”
“If she’s caught, she’ll have to pay for it,” said the Queen. “She will be ruined.”
A new sort of roar sounded ahead. On the Sea Honey’s top deck, a turret rose up and started to turn.
“Her swivel gun too?” said Hodie. “I thought she was protected from the magnetic whatever-it-is.”
But the yacht’s gun emerged smoothly from the turret and tilted up. It fired three cannon shots eastward right over the ring of ships. The turret turned in a slow quarter-circle to the north and fired three times again. Another precise quarter-turn to the south and three shots…
“She’s showing everyone she has control.” Murgott was tense.
“It’s what you had us do in the War of the Blue Key,” said Hodie. “Wait for it.”
The experts were right. All the firing from the other vessels, random or otherwise, died away.
The Sea Honey finished quartering the water with her swivel gun. The last echoes faded. The ocean lake r
ose and fell as if it breathed.
A series of flags was run up her mast. With no wind it was hard to read what they said. Rufkin squinted. One was red, like an angular B. The other was a blue plus sign on white.
“The B and the X?” murmured the Queen.
They called the plus sign an X? Rufkin supposed the Queen might know.
“X—‘Stop carrying out your intention and watch for my signals,’” said Murgott. “The B—‘I am taking in—or discharging—or carrying dangerous goods.’”
“They’re carrying Vosco,” said Rufkin. “He’s not dangerous, he’s only four.”
“Pipe down, small-change,” muttered Murgott. “She’s warning other vessels to keep their distance. Don’t know what else they can do anyway. But at least she has the grace to give us a warning.”
Madam Butterly had also shown the thousands watching that she knew more than any of them. Rufkin saw how the Queen’s hand had moved close to the royal dagger. Chills ran down his spine.
“Surprise must be our friend,” murmured Littlewink. “But the faintest sound might be heard.”
“Light air.” Murgott glanced at Rufkin. “That means no breeze but not dead calm. It’s unusual for early summer.”
A strange stillness fell over the waiting vessels. Mist coming off the waves chilled Rufkin again. He glanced back at the Chalice. For a moment he saw part of the wheelhouse window through a hazy drift. Then the mist made it difficult to see any ships properly. They were ghost ships, flickers and shadows.
“This is our chance,” Hodie whispered.
A creak of oars, soft as a slow turning of a single page, and Littlewink had the dinghy against the platform at the Sea Honey’s stern.
Murgott took the oars. Littlewink braced a hand on a rung attached to the platform. Hodie sprang onto the ogre’s shoulders and slipped a grappling iron around a higher rung. For a moment he waited and listened—in a quick twist he was up on the platform.
“Stay here,” Murgott said to the Queen.
“You must be joking.” She sprang after Hodie.
Murgott’s teeth clenched at Rufkin. “You stay or I’ll have your guts for my dental floss.” He shipped the oars, then was up the rungs behind her.
Littlewink lashed the grappling-iron rope tight to the dinghy and scuttled up after Murgott.
Rufkin flexed his hands and set them on the ladder. The others had climbed the steps to the main deck. He climbed too, soft as a cat…
Ah—he’d forgotten the cat. There it was, peering down from a deck above, its fur like a puffball. The lime-green eyes turned from watching Hodie to watching Rufkin. He mimed Hush before he crept on.
Hodie led the way along the main deck, crouching, watching, then easing ahead. Rufkin stopped for a moment. The air felt hotter but it was probably just his nerves. Between feathers of mist the surface of the sea reflected the hull of the Sea Honey.
The ogre, Lord Hodie, Murgott, and the Queen were out of his sight for only a second when someone shouted. A pistol fired.
Rufkin flung himself forward, elbowed past Murgott—who was throttling the butler—on past an enemy sailor, and found a door into the cabin lounge. He leapt through and made for the door into the corridor, but Goodabod came roaring and had hold of him. Rufkin kicked the ogre’s wrist—Goodabod swung him around—then Lord Hodie leapt straight for Goodabod.
Rufkin was free.
He flung himself at the door again—it had jammed shut. Thunderhead appeared from somewhere and punched at Hodie’s stomach. But Hodie wheeled and knocked his own fist at Thunderhead’s ear. The wall of mirrors reflected the struggle, thrashing bodies, movement—a crewman came straight for Rufkin. He dropped to the carpet and rolled. The man fell over him.
Rufkin leapt up. The Queen had an arm round Calleena’s throat—where was Madam Butterly? Her fur coat hung on a hook—it hadn’t been there a moment ago.
The fighting stopped. Murgott had his pistol trained on one crewman and Thunderhead. Hodie had his on two crew members and the butler. Littlewink had Goodabod in an arm lock, and the Queen—now she had Calleena and the last man of the crew in her pistol’s sights.
“And the boy Robiasson as well,” came Madam Butterly’s voice.
The coat hadn’t been on a hook at all—it was on Madam Butterly. Her smile was narrow. So were her eyes. Her face was the face of Lady Gall drawn by a bigger and slightly clumsy hand. Well, Rufkin supposed her elastic surgeon was the large-handed Goodabod.
Murgott motioned with his pistol. “Sit down.”
Madam Butterly didn’t seem terribly worried. All she did was show her empty hands and stayed where she was. Hodie whisked manacles from his combat jacket and began snapping them on the crew.
“Where’s Vosco!” The Queen still had her pistol aimed at Calleena.
Calleena turned her eyes to Madam Butterly, who glanced at the double-faced clock. Both women stayed expressionless.
Rufkin flew to the inner door again. It still didn’t budge. He tried with his shoulder, hard as he could, but only rebounded. Littlewink waited for Hodie to handcuff Goodabod, then took a giant step and thumped once on the door. It popped open.
At once Rufkin was into the innards of the yacht. He slithered on the floor, throwing each door open as he came to it. “Vosco!” Was he on this deck or the one above? “It’s Rufkin! Vosco, say help!”
He refused to think of the deep-dragon. But how much time did they have left? Why did Madam Butterly want Vosco here, at the compass rose?
He came to a door marked engine room. His hand was on it when further along he spotted the cat at another door, a tilt to its ears. Rufkin sprang and slid the latch. “Vosco?”
There Vosco stood in the middle of a small cabin, hair so sleek it could have been paint. His face had been properly washed. So had all of him, very likely. He gave that look of his that was not a smile but meant he was interested. He patted his own chest.
“That is some shirt,” said Rufkin. It was far too big for a four-year-old though not big enough for a grown-up. The buttons were glinty and black. It had a stand-up collar and gold edging. The cuffs had gold edges too. Embroidered green and blue flame reached up the sleeves. Vosco turned around to show the back. Across his sharp shoulderblades lay an embroidered dragon in green and blue.
There were many pieces still missing in this puzzle of the knots of shipping, the failure of machinery, the plague of lizards, the flooding loneliness Rufkin had felt out on the sea. But something cold clutched his insides.
~
Rufkin grabbed Vosco’s hands and ran with him into the lounge. “Quick! Back to the Chalice!”
Queen Sibilla still had a pistol trained on Calleena. “Rufkin, keep him out of the way.”
Madam Butterly, not yet manacled, glanced at Queen Sibilla with the tiniest grin. Thunderhead and Goodabod exchanged sly winks. Calleena merely smiled as Lord Hodie fixed her handcuffs. He fished in his pockets for another set.
The Queen lowered the pistol and dropped to her knees next to Vosco. “He’s paler and thinner than any little boy should ever be.” She hugged him, then leaned back. “Such a shirt—where did you get it?”
Vosco flashed a sour look at Madam Butterly.
Madam Butterly spoke. “We don’t have much time for a welcome. But you’ve seen the young duke to say goodbye.”
“You don’t seem aware that you and your crew are under arrest,” Murgott growled. “Hodie, get some cuffs on her.”
“Please let me have two more minutes.” Madam Butterly’s elastic smile moved not another muscle on her face. “Thunderhead, you checked the speaker system?”
Thunderhead nodded.
“What’s this about?” asked the Queen.
Though the air seemed suddenly hotter and more humid, Madam Butterly nestled into her coat. “The royal family believes it is the only group of people with a form of magic in touch with nature.”
“It isn’t,” said the Queen. “Only mostly.”
At last Lord
Hodie took a pace towards Madam Butterly with a pair of handcuffs. She turned to the window, the outside of its pane moist from the mist. Then she touched a magazine on a pile beside her. “At moments of crisis, it is said you talk to your brother through using a picture. Would you like to try now?”
Lord Hodie put an arm out to stop Queen Sibilla, but she picked up the magazine. On the cover was a picture of King Jasper in vacation gear in the City of Canals. The air around it quivered. Rufkin stepped closer to see. The image of the King shimmered, then instead of a check shirt and fishing hat, he wore an army tunic. The image moved; the King passed a hand over his eyes and stared straight out as if he saw—well, his sister the Queen, Rufkin supposed. Would he also see the boy just to her side? Would he see Hodie, Murgott, Madam Butterly, the Sea Honey’s cabin?
“It’s all right, Jasper,” said the Queen. “There’s no need to hurry home. Madam Butterly seems to have engineered the disaster somehow. We’ve just caught her.”
“But where are you?” asked the King. “Who’s with you? Sibilla, I’m on my way. I’m in a Royal Fontanian air-car. It’s one of the first we made. No repairs with zirbonium, so it’s safe. We figured out that much. Quick. Tell me exactly…oh, is that Vosco? What—”
A chime came from the two-faced clock.
At the same moment a low rumble began outside. It increased to a roaring, louder and louder. Calleena let out a scream but bit it short. Madam Butterly’s face was frightened too but her cheekbones had turned bright with satisfaction.
Through the window Rufkin saw a quiver in the silvery ocean. The trembling intensified and he braced his feet. Then it stilled again, like the glass of a mirror framed by the vast loop of ships.
The Sea Honey rocked again, the Queen tipped sideways against Hodie, and the magazine dropped to the floor. Rufkin snatched it up. King Jasper’s eyes stared directly at his.
“Who are you?” demanded the King.
“I’m Rufkin. Nobody,” said Rufkin. “An ordinary boy.”
