by Angie Sage
“Piled up the crab pots,” Alex finished for him, standing on one and testing it.
Above their heads, they heard the creaking of floorboards. Quickly, Alex clambered up the stack of pots to the little shuttered window where the early morning light filtered through. Silently, she slid back the bolts holding the shutter closed, and it swung open with a small squeak. She stopped and listened for any reaction upstairs. All was quiet. Alex peered out and saw a narrow, cobbled street deep in shadow with a line of cottages on the other side, their curtains drawn, quiet before the day began. She breathed in the smell of the sea and freedom and felt her spirits rise. Teetering on the topmost pot, she swung herself out of the little space and dropped lightly down to the street below. Benn followed a moment later and then they were off, running to the harbor, not daring to look behind them.
At the top of the cliff, the Jackal tied their horses up at the Netters Halt stables, where an anxious whinny from Ratchet’s horse greeted them. The Jackal set off down the zigzagging path toward the harbor. A net of Xin, emboldened by the morning twilight, danced toward them, but the Jackal had no fear of Enchantments. Using their javelins, they batted the Xin away and allowed themselves a hoarse huff-huff-huff sound—the nearest Jackal came to laughing—as the Xin broke apart with a tinkling sound of breaking glass and tumbled away down the cliffs. Panting with excitement, the lead Jackal lifted the catch on the gate guarding the path down to Netters Cove.
Alex and Benn reached the harbor steps where Merry was tied up, and a voice brought them skidding to a halt. “Don’t come back, you hear?” It was Kirrin, the harbormaster, who was sorting through a pile of nets.
“We’re headed home. You bet we won’t come back to this dump. Ever,” Benn told her.
“Good. We don’t want trouble here.”
Neither Benn nor Alex deigned to answer. They hurtled down the steps to the ever-patient Merry and Benn jumped in.
Alex followed Benn into Merry, feeling as though she was meeting an old friend. She helped Benn raise the sail, and then as he took the tiller, she untied the mooring ropes and stowed them neatly. Then she took the oars and rowed quietly out of the flat, calm waters of the harbor, leaving Benn on the tiller ready to take control of the sail when they found the wind. As they were rounding the protective arm of the harbor wall, Alex saw three red-coated figures with large white heads loping down the cliff path. “Jackal,” she said to Benn. “Coming down the cliff.”
Benn turned around to look and whistled through his teeth. “Sheesh. That was close.” He grinned. “Looks like Kirrin’s got trouble whether she wants it or not.”
Alex returned his smile. “Not half as much trouble as those Ratchets are going to have when the Jackal find we’ve gone.”
Benn laughed. “Serves them right,” he said. “Here we go!” The wind filled Merry’s red sail and they set off at a fast pace, cutting through the waves, every second taking them farther away from a fate that neither dared to imagine.
Back at 13 Harbor Row, fate was knocking on the door. Ratchet had been waiting, clutching his message confirmation stick, while Merle dozed inscrutably on the hat shelf. At the knock he leaped to his feet and pulled the door open with a flourish. Three white-headed Jackal stared at him with unblinking yellow eyes. Even though this was exactly what he expected to see, Ratchet’s mouth went as dry as an old towel. He swallowed with some difficulty. “Ah,” he managed to say. “Come in.”
Ratchet stood aside and the creatures of King Belamus loped in. Ma Ratchet watched from the top of the stairs with an expression of horror. She had always been pleased that her Nigel had not become a fisherman, but had a very important job in the king’s strange city. Now she was not so sure.
The Jackal stood in the middle of the main room of the cottage, so tall that the tips of their ears brushed the low beams of the ceiling. With their hot breath on the back of his neck, Ratchet hurried through the little kitchen to the locked door of the storeroom. His hands were shaking as he turned the key and pushed open the door.
Ratchet stood in the doorway, confused. The little storeroom was usually so dark, but it was flooded with light from the open shutter. Why, thought Ratchet, is there a pile of crab pots beneath the window? With a feeling of dread, he rushed into the storeroom and swept the array of blankets off the two low shelves. He swung around to face the Jackal, whose tongues were flicking across their muzzles in the expectation of a capture.
Ratchet was consumed with panic. He did the only thing he could think of. “Ma!” he yelled. “Ma! Help!”
Ma Ratchet came thudding down the stairs to find the door of the storeroom blocked by a swath of long, red coats. Her first thought was what lovely wool the coats were made from and how she would like one for herself. Her second thought disappeared into a sea of terror. Something very bad was happening. “Nigel?” she called out tentatively. “Nigel, are you in there?”
A terrified croak answered her. “Ma. Those kids. They’ve gone.”
Ma Ratchet was confused. “Gone? How?”
“Out the window. Ma, hurry. Go see where they are. For Hawke’s sake. Find them, Ma!”
Ma Ratchet turned and ran. Out of the door, into the early morning sun and long shadows, she hurtled in her slippers and nightdress along the quay until she found Kirrin. “Those kids,” she said, breathless, “from last night. Where are they?”
Kirrin stood up and wiped her hand on her trousers. “Don’t worry, Ma,” she said. “They won’t trouble us again.”
Ma Ratchet was not to be fobbed off. “But where are they?”
“Gone home.” Kirrin pointed out to sea. “Took their boat about ten minutes ago. Good riddance.”
“You idiot!” Ma Ratchet screamed. “You let them go!”
Kirrin bristled. “Mind your language, Mrs. Ratchet. You insult the office of harbormaster.”
But Ma Ratchet stood her ground. She used to babysit Kirrin and was not going to be intimidated by someone who used to stuff her diapers down the back of the sofa. “With a pack of Jackal in my kitchen, I’ll insult whatever office I like, thank you very much.”
“Jackal?” Kirrin stopped her work and stared across the harbor to the street where Harbor Row began. “So why are the Jackal here, Ma? It’s your son, isn’t it? He’s brought them from Rekadom with him. Well, he can get out of Netters Cove too.”
“You carry on like this, Kirrin, and there won’t be anyone left in the cove,” Ma observed, and with that she ran back to Harbor Row.
She stopped for a moment outside the front door and took a deep breath to calm her fear of what she might find when she went inside. Then she pushed open the door and walked in. She found her son lying on the floor, bound and gagged, blue in the face with his efforts to breathe. The Jackal stared down at him impassively. Ma Ratchet forced herself to stay calm. It was, she told herself, no more than she had expected. Everyone knew that when the Jackal went out on a mission they never returned empty-handed. They always got someone.
Ma took another deep breath and said, very loudly, “Jackal. I know where the Beguiler brats have gone!”
Three long, white muzzles swung around to face her. Three impassive sets of yellow eyes looked down at Ma. The Jackal nearest her planted its hands on its narrow dog hips and tilted its head inquiringly. Ma breathed an inward sigh of relief—they were listening to her.
“The two Beguiler kids you’re after—the boy and the girl. They’ve gone home. To the roundhouse in Lemon Valley. I know it. It’s Nella Lau’s place. You can get there across the Titans and over the old railway bridge. Wait, I’ve got a map.” Ma ran to her desk and scrabbled through the papers until she found her old map from the days she would take the train to Luma. “Here, take this. The roundhouse is on there. Opposite Reed Cutters Halt. They’ve gone by boat, so you’ll easily catch them. Now please, please let the Chief Falconer go.”
The lead Jackal nodded its head and gave a sudden bark. Closely followed by the other two it strode out, stooping to
get through the low front door, and headed into the early morning sunshine. Ma flew to her son, dropped to her knees and began unwinding the gag as fast as she could.
Ratchet took a deep, shuddering breath and struggled to sit up, gasping as though he wanted to breathe in every scrap of air in the whole world. Ma sat beside him, patting his back and feeling weak with horror at what had just happened.
After some minutes, Ratchet said, hoarsely, “Ma. Thank you. But they’ll be back when they discover it’s not true.”
“Oh, but it is true.” Ma got up and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Ratchet joined Ma in the kitchen and slumped down at the table. “But how do you know?” he asked, his voice rasping.
“I asked the boy and that’s what he said. If someone knows where I live, then I want to know where they live. It’s only fair.”
Ratchet was impressed. “Perfectly fair,” he agreed.
His mother sat down at the table and took his hand. “Now, Nigel. We’ll have a quiet day today. And you must promise me you won’t go back to that nasty job of yours. Stay here. Go fishing. Enjoy life.”
Ratchet shook his head. “Can’t leave my birds, Ma. Not with Bartlett waiting to take over. Can’t leave them with her.”
Ma sighed and got up to rescue the whistling kettle. Rekadom used to be such a lovely city, she thought. Sparkling with Enchantment, full of people, vibrant with noise and laughter. She remembered how much she had enjoyed catching the train at Netters Halt to visit her son, and how proud she’d been of him when he had become Chief Falconer. But that was in the days before it all went wrong with that awful Oracle. That was before he’d had to look after that monstrous killer Hawke and the weird kids who Flew it. As she poured the hot water into a pot of dried chamomile, Ma reflected that maybe, with these last two Beguiler kids caught, all would be good once again. It was strange, she thought. They’d just seemed like normal kids. Quite nice ones too. It was a shame they’d soon be caught by the Jackal, she wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But what could she do? It was her precious Nigel or them.
No contest.
Chapter 28
Along the Estuary
“ARGH!” ALEX YELLED AS YET another wave threw a shower of cold water in her face. She picked up the bailer and scooped out the seawater that was swashing around in the bottom of Merry. Benn was sitting on the edge of the boat, holding on to the tiller with both hands, fighting to keep Merry on course as the wind and the tide combined to push them out to sea. Merry was almost flying across the top of the waves, traveling past the tall Titans, rapidly leaving the smallest one behind. The brisk breeze that had been blowing when they had set off no more than a few hours earlier had increased so that now the tops of the waves were flecked with foam and Alex—when she was not bailing—was next to Benn leaning out to balance the relentless pull of the little red sail.
The relentless progress of the Jackal chariots continued. Following the old railway line, with the desert on their left and the foothills of the Thirteen Titans on their right, they headed south toward the dusky outline of the Border Mountains. By midafternoon they had reached the top of a gentle incline and saw the distant glint of sunlight upon the waters of the estuary beyond. Here the track forked and they stopped to consult Ma Ratchet’s map. To their right the track continued past a low-lying wood of twisted oak trees, to their left it headed out along an embankment above the marshes, following the line of the river.
The lead Jackal pointed its manicured claw at the right fork and traced the route across the railway bridge to the far side of the estuary. Then it stabbed at the dot indicating the Roundhouse Groves so hard that the sharpened claw went right through the paper. “Hruh!” it half growled, half spoke. “Hruuuh!”
The horses set off at a brisk trot, heading past the dark and twisted salt oaks, toward the bridge over the churning waters of the estuary.
Merry was being steadily pushed away from the estuary, out to sea, twisting and turning in the swirl of waters that was tumbling out with a fast ebb tide, bringing with it branches and debris from the storm of the previous day.
“We’re not going to make it!” Alex was yelling.
Benn said nothing. He had a horrible feeling that Alex was right. Choppy waves were breaking over Merry’s prow and every time the little boat plowed her delicate nose into a wave trough, she lost ground, and when she came up she skittered away, heading ever farther away from the estuary. For the first time ever in Merry, Benn felt scared.
Alex had been scared too, but no longer. In her hand she held the Tau tightly, her fingers folded around the smooth, warm enamel. Into her mind came the voice she had heard the previous night when she had plunged into the deep-green water and a blue bubble of light had surrounded her and pulled her up to the surface: I am with you. You are with me. We are Two with the power of Three.
Alex stood up and with her free hand, she took hold of Merry’s mast.
“Sit down!” Benn yelled.
But Alex took no notice. Just as she had stared up at the surface of the sea the night before, willing herself to be there, she now focused on the dark choppy waters of the increasingly distant estuary and willed the same thing. Beneath her, Alex felt something in Merry shift. Slowly, slowly, Merry began to push against the outgoing flood tide, making way steadily as she danced through the waves, and the estuary began to draw closer.
“We’re doing it! We’re doing it!” Benn yelled happily. “Did you feel how she suddenly turned the right way?”
“I did! I did!” Alex yelled back.
As they neared the estuary, Merry hit a counterflow of water flowing from the side of the river. The boat gave a little twist, the wind filled the sail, and they shot forward. Alex felt the Tau relax and she knew the Enchantment was done—Merry was on her own now. Skillfully, Benn steered Merry into the eddy so that it swirled them into the safety of the estuary and sent them heading straight for the reed beds. Merry plunged her nose deep into the reeds and refused to move any farther.
Alex burst out laughing with relief.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Benn said grumpily. “We’re stuck in the reeds now.”
“Who cares? We’re safe!”
“Yeah,” Benn said, thinking that it was an undignified end to the voyage for Merry. “Let’s take the sail down. Not much use in the reeds.”
As Benn and Alex were lowering the sail, which showed above the reeds like a red flag, the two Jackal chariots were heading across the railway bridge that spanned the river about a mile up from the estuary. The chariots clattered over the railroad ties, setting the teeth of the Jackal rattling in their long snouts. When they reached the middle of the bridge, the lead Jackal stopped its chariot and sniffed the air. Sensing something interesting, it scanned the river with its keen eyes, looking particularly at the lush green of the reed beds near the mouth of the estuary. Something, it was sure, was moving in them. But the horses were restless, spooked by being on a bridge over fast-flowing water, and the chariots swayed to and fro, making it hard to fix on anything. The Jackal took in a deep breath, but any trace of a scent was drowned in the smell of horse fear, and its acute hearing was clouded by the rattle of harnesses and the panicky snorting of the horses. Irritably, the Jackal gave up and the chariots with their cages continued over the bridge.
On the far side of the bridge the Jackal took the left turn along the riverbank, going upstream, and followed the track for some miles until they reached a fork. There they slowly compared the letters on a wooden sign with those on the map: “Lau. Roundhouse Groves. 2 miles.” After a disagreement over the map and much bad-tempered snarling, the Jackal set off to the Roundhouse Groves, clouds of dust rising up as they rattled along toward their destination.
Merry too was heading toward her destination. Using the oars as poles, Alex and Benn were steering her along a narrow channel cut through the reeds. Ahead they could now see a disused dock built from huge blocks of stone. Standing on the edge was a
tall, skinny boy with long red hair tied into a single braid. He was turned away from them, shading his eyes, staring out to sea across the tops of the reeds. On the back of his leather jacket, Alex and Benn saw the outstretched silver wings and the glinting gold beak of the Hawke, something that had shocked them both when they had last seen it—but no longer. All had changed now that the Hawke was gone and Hagos had told them about Danny.
“Hey!” Benn yelled. “Hey, Danny!”
Danny swung around fast. At first he seemed not to understand what he was looking at. He stood and stared, his hands over his mouth as if he were seeing, Alex thought, a ghost. Because suddenly Alex understood that Danny thought that Benn was dead.
“Hey, Danny, it’s okay,” Alex said. “This really is Benn. And I’m Alex. Alex RavenStarr.”
Danny stared at Alex, hardly recognizing the girl he had last glimpsed in the back of a cart, deep in a Fade. “You’re Boo-boo?” he asked.
“Alex,” Alex sighed. “I’m Alex.”
In three long strides Danny was beside them, taking the rope from Benn and looping it around a post. He helped them climb out of Merry, and as they stood a little unsteadily on the dockside, Danny threw his arms around them as though they were old friends. “I don’t believe it. Where have you been?” he asked, but before they had time to answer, he said excitedly, “No, don’t tell me. Wait until we find Jay. He is going to be so, so happy.”
They went with Danny into the mouth of a large brick-lined tunnel that led into the side of the hill. The tunnel was high and wide, with a distinct sooty smell, and running along its floor was the same metal track that Alex had uncovered on her journey along the cliff to Netters Halt. The light was dim, but at the end of the tunnel—which was not long—they could see the bright glow of lantern light in a huge cavern beyond.
Benn knew what to expect at the end of the tunnel, but Alex had no idea. As they approached the light she was stunned to see the “monster” she had glimpsed in her cards the very first time she had met Benn in the marketplace in Luma. A steam locomotive sat upon its turntable looking out at the world beyond, as if, Alex thought, longing to be free. This, she knew, was the Big Puffer—the engine that, when she was little more than a baby, had taken her away from Rekadom, away from her parents, and deposited her with Mirram and her two foster sisters at the foot of the hill up to Luma. She stopped and gazed up at its huge round “face,” glimmering in the light of a lantern placed on the ground in front of it, as if at a shrine to a monster god.
