Snowbone

by Cat Weatherill

“They had to be stopped, Mouse,” said Figgis. “If we hadn't done something, they would be out there now, taking more and more trees. Sweetheart, you don't know how that feels. When your loved ones are cut down in front of your eyes … You don't have a family—”

  “And whose fault is that?” growled Snowbone.

  “If you did,” Figgis went on, “you would understand.”

  “I see that something has to be done,” said Mouse. “It isn't fair—it isn't right—that such things are allowed to happen. There must be laws. Justice! But what we did—what you want to carry on doing—isn't justice. It's revenge. Wild, bloody revenge.” She started pacing up and down. “When you take a life, you lose a bit of yourself. War isn't the answer. Love will save the world.”

  Snowbone shook her head. “I can't believe I'm hearing this.”

  “Well, you are,” said Mouse, “and you'd better listen, because I'm telling you the truth. You can take That Woman out of this world, but you won't stop slavery.”

  “I can try,” said Snowbone.

  “You can die,” said Mouse. “Is that what you want? To die in a strange land? Because I want to live—here, in a quiet country—and when my time comes, I want to Move On.”

  “And when you Move On,” said Snowbone, “do you want someone to come with an ax and cut you down? Steal your sap and leave you to die?”

  “No,” said Mouse. “Of course I don't.”

  “So?” said Snowbone. “How do you plan to stop it happening?”

  Mouse said nothing.

  “You see?” said Snowbone. “Mouse, we're fighting for you.”

  Chapter 41

  “ reckon you'd want the Paradise Bar for that,” said the road sweeper. “All the star sailors hang out there. Go along this road, turn left into Fortune Lane, then look for Goose Alley. It's down there. You can't miss it.”

  Figgis nodded his thanks and trudged on through the wet streets of Spittel Point. Another day, another mission. Now he was looking for a flight to Farrago, and that wouldn't be easy with no money to pay for it.

  He turned into Goose Alley and found the tavern. It looked just like all the others he'd visited in the town. Grubby windows, peeling paint on the front door, a tatty sign swaying in the sea breeze … As Figgis stepped in, glad to be out of the rain, he was completely unprepared for the surprise awaiting him.

  “Well, bless my bendy fingers!” he laughed. “What merri-ness is this?”

  The tavern was decorated to look like a tropical island. The floor was yellow and sprinkled with sand. The roof was supported with palm trees (not real, but very convincing), while the bar was a long beach hut, with a palm roof and a painted vista of the sea on the wall behind. The ceiling was peacock blue and covered with tiny silver lanterns. Even the air was exotic, rich with rum and coconuts.

  Figgis drifted over to the bar and ordered a beer. He looked around and saw two star sailors, Ashenpeakers, sitting together at the far end of the bar. He drank his beer, ordered a second one for courage, then sidled over.

  “I wonder if you can help me?” he said. “I'm looking to fly to Farrago.”

  “You've come to the right place,” said the first sailor. “But I can't take you. I'm flying to Pomona at the end of the week. How 'bout you, Pen?”

  The second shook his head. “No, I'm heading east. What about Moontar?”

  Figgis followed the sailor's gaze and saw a man studying a map. He was so absorbed in his work, he seemed blissfully unaware of the enormous purple parrot that dangled above his head, shredding one of the palm trees.

  “No,” said the first sailor. “Moontar can't do it. I was speaking to him earlier and he's off to the Geld Gardens tomorrow.”

  “Really?” said the second. “Blimey!”

  “That's what I thought!” said the first. He turned back to Figgis. “You could try Skua,” he said, pointing to a distant corner of the room. “He's been up to his elbows in repairs this past month, but he might be sorted now. Tall feller. Human. Big ears.” He pointed again.

  Figgis thanked the sailors and headed over. The room became darker; the air was smoky and close. The tables were empty. But then a figure loomed out of the shadows: a great bull of a man, with a shaved head and diamond ear studs. He sat alone at a table, with a whiskey bottle before him.

  “I'm looking for a flight to Farrago,” said Figgis. “I hear you might be able to help.”

  “I might,” said Skua. “Sit down.”

  Figgis pulled up a chair.

  “What's the cargo?”

  “Just me and a few youngsters.”

  “Is that right?” A lazy smile broke through the star sailor's stubble. “Like I said, I might be able to help. It depends how much you can pay.”

  Figgis shifted in his seat. Skua leaned forward, suspicious now. “Did I say somethin' wrong?”

  “We don't have any money,” said Figgis. “We were hoping to work our way across.”

  “Then you're talkin' to the wrong guy,” snorted Skua. “You need a first mate, not a star sailor. Go down to the harbor. Find a ship.”

  “We can't,” said Figgis. “It's a question of time. We're trying to find someone.”

  “You're tryin' to catch someone,” said Skua.

  Figgis said nothing.

  “It's not hard to guess,” said Skua. “Everyone in here knows the Esmerelda flew out this mornin' with no cargo except a good-lookin' woman. And she was goin' to … ? Oh, yes. Farrago.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes wearily. “I can't help you.”

  Figgis sighed. All the star sailors in the bar would say the same thing. Skua was just the first of many. He scraped back his chair.

  “Wait,” said Skua. “You said you were takin' youngsters. Ashenpeakers?”

  Figgis nodded. “Four of them. And a Balaan.”

  “Is that so?” Skua's eyes narrowed. “Have you been to the Nova Land before?” Figgis shook his head.

  “I see.” Skua poured himself another drink, buying time to think. “Sit down, er …”

  “Figgis.”

  “Right. Listen, Figgis. I'll make a deal. I'll take you and your friends to Farrago—for free—but you must do somethin' for me in return.”

  “What?”

  “I can't tell you now,” said Skua. “It's complicated. It'd take time, and that's somethin' you don't have. I'll explain later, when we're airborne. So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”

  Figgis wavered.

  “Do you really think anyone else in this room will carry you for free?” Skua held out his hand.

  “No,” said Figgis finally. He shook the star sailor's hand. “We have a deal.”

  “Good!” said Skua. “Meet you at the airfield at sunrise tomorrow. It's the Stormrunner you're lookin' for. She has red riggin'.”

  “Red rigging,” said Figgis. “I'll remember that.”

  And he nodded farewell, slipped out of the bar and disappeared into the drizzle.

  Chapter 42

  he Stormrunner was easily found. She was a striking machine, like a great sailing ship, with soft, curving wooden sides and a riot of red rigging. So many ropes and knots! Snowbone couldn't help wondering what they were all for.

  The body of the ship was mostly painted black, but there were carvings beneath the ship's rail—swirls and curls and ferocious faces spitting lightning. These were painted gold. There were small, round windows along both sides of the ship, and at the stern there was a propeller: smooth and polished, like four copper cactus leaves. But the most impressive part of the Stormrunner was high above the deck, set atop a sturdy wooden mast. This was the feather drive: four immense rotating blades, black as ravens' wings and made from thousands of real feathers. They lay there, still, heavy and waiting, the orange rays of the rising sun tipping every feather with fire.

  The tiddlins paused at the foot of the boarding ramp and waited for Skua to appear. But it wasn't Skua who came to greet them. It was a young man whose long blond braids and pale skin suggested t
hat he came from the Loki Islands.

  “I am Stellan,” he said with a broad smile. “Come on up.”

  The tiddlins reshouldered their bags and began to board. But Mouse hesitated … climbed halfway up the ramp … stopped … and went back down.

  “What's the matter?” said Blackeye, following her.

  “I can't go,” said Mouse. She began pacing up and down, wringing her hands over and over again.

  “I thought we'd sorted this,” said Blackeye.

  Mouse shook her head. She wouldn't even look at him.

  Blackeye took her hands into his own. “Mouse, I don't want to leave you.”

  “Then don't go!”

  “I must,” he said. “There are things we have to do.”

  “Let Snowbone do them,” said Mouse. “She enjoys killing.”

  “That's not fair,” said Blackeye. “Please, Mouse. Please.” He held her head gently in his hands and looked down into her sweet, anxious face. “Come with us. Come with me.”

  Mouse wavered.

  “I want you to be there. Please?”

  Mouse gazed long at him. Eventually she sighed and nodded, and Blackeye led her up the ramp.

  “Everyone on?” said Skua. He went to the rail. “Ramp away! Moorin' lines to go!”

  Down below, with a flash of his terrible teeth, the boy scrabbled to obey.

  Stellan had disappeared. He was elsewhere, firing the engines. Suddenly there was an almighty roar as they kicked in, and the whole machine shuddered.

  “Sit down, all of you!” hollered Skua above the din. He pointed at two narrow wooden benches set into the stern.

  Snowbone led the way as the massive feather blades began to rotate: voomf—voomf—voomf—voomf. She threw herself down, breathless with excitement. She could feel the machine beginning to lift. It was straining against the mooring lines. So many cracks and groans and roars and rushes! Bumps and grinds and moans and shushes!

  Snowbone glanced at the faces of her friends. They were openmouthed, wide-eyed, panting, laughing, loving it! Except Mouse. She looked as if she were going to be sick. She was rocking backwards and forwards. Wringing her hands again! Would she never stop?

  Voomf—voomf—voomf. Faster now, faster. Skua was at the wheel, checking things. “We're away!” he shouted.

  And they were. Snowbone felt the sudden surge upwards as the last mooring line was untied. “Y-E-E-E-E-AH!” she cried, unable to stop herself. “W-O-O-O-O!”

  She punched the air wildly.

  But Mouse … Mouse was on her feet. Mouse was running. Mouse was across the deck and climbing over the rail before anyone realized what was happening.

  “No!” shouted Blackeye, suddenly tearing after her. “Mouse!”

  “I can't go with you,” said Mouse. She was clinging to the outside of the flying machine. “It's wrong. I can't do it.” Tears were streaming down her face.

  Blackeye was nearly there. He was reaching out to her. Looking into her soft brown eyes. “Mouse—”

  “Good-bye, Blackeye,” she said. “I love you.” And, with the softest of smiles, she let go.

  “NO-O-O-O-O!”

  Blackeye threw himself against the rail and looked down.

  Mouse was falling. Down … down … down … Ah! She hit the ground.

  “Where is she?” said Snowbone, pushing the others out of the way. She looked over the rail and cursed her eyes as usual. “Where is she? Can you see her?”

  Blackeye could see her and, unbelievably, Mouse was staggering to her feet. And as the Stormrunner wheeled in the sky, splintering the sunlight, Blackeye saw her look up, searching for him.

  His tears fell down toward her like drops of summer rain.

  She was waving at him. Good-bye. Good-bye. Good-bye.

  Chapter 43

  he flying machine hurtled north, with the island unfolding beneath it like a fan. Wildwoods and forests … fields and farms … pebblestone villages … towns with towers … Snowbone studied it all, storing the images carefully away in her memory in case she shouldn't return.

  In the distance loomed Ashenpeake Mountain: a brooding mass of impenetrable rock, pine-clad and proud. The Storm-runner was heading right for it—a fact that didn't bother Snowbone until they were flying over its foothills and still they were heading right for it.

  The star sailors were arguing at the wheel. Stellan was urging Skua to do something. What it was, Snowbone couldn't hear, but she could see Stellan starting to panic. Suddenly he ran off in the direction of the engine room, and Skua, swearing, carried on without him.

  “What is it?” said Snowbone.

  “Nothin',” snapped Skua.

  “What is it?”

  She sounded so menacing, the star sailor told her. “It's a problem with the steerin'. I thought we'd fixed it.”

  Snowbone looked ahead. The mountain was coming closer. “You have to do something!” she urged.

  “I'm tryin', ain't I?” said Skua.

  But the mountain was coming closer. Suddenly there was a scraping sound and the machine lurched to one side as the keel razored the treetops.

  “Try harder!” cried Snowbone.

  The mountain was so close, it filled the horizon. She could see nothing but green and, above that, the winter-white summit.

  “Flamin' ferrets!” cursed Skua. The Stormrunner was rocking violently from side to side like a boy in a hammock. “What is he doin' down there? STELLAN/”

  And now the air was filled with fluttering as hundreds of birds were shaken from their roosts. Pine needles showered down onto the deck and still the mountain was coming closer.

  The tiddlins were rolling around the deck like marbles, desperately trying to grab hold of anything that was bolted down.

  “Whoa!” cried Snowbone, but it was too late. They were going to crash. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact.

  But it never came. With one final wrench on the wheel from Skua, and a metallic taaang from somewhere belowdecks, the Stormrunner banked at an impossibly steep angle and turned toward the sea. And when Snowbone stumbled over to the rail and dared to look down, all she could see was Kessel town: the terra-cotta rooftops, the serpentine streets, the smiling curve of the harbor and the beckoning bay beyond.

  “That was close,” said Figgis beside her. “I swear my heart is still somewhere on that mountain. I felt it go. It jumped out of my mouth just before we turned. I tell you, it's back there, running around screaming. And the people will say: what's that wet, lumpy thing that runs through the forest at night, wailing like a ghostie? And they'll say: it's a heart, bless it. Poor wee lost lamb.”

  “No,” said Snowbone. “You haven't lost it. I can still hear it thumping.”

  Figgis put his hand to his chest. “So you can. I thought that was yours I could hear.”

  “That Skua!” spat Snowbone. “When you made the deal, did he tell you his machine wasn't airworthy?”

  “Well, I did hear that he'd done some repairs, but Skua didn't say anything—no.”

  “He should have told you,” said Snowbone angrily.

  So angrily that Figgis decided it was no time to tell her what the deal really was. “It'll have to wait,” he said to himself as she stomped off. “We've plenty of time. And whatever we have to do, I'm sure it won't be much.”

  But Figgis was wrong. Skua would call in the favor much earlier than he expected, and it would prove more dangerous than any of them could imagine.

  Chapter 44

  he Stormrunner flew on through the afternoon, leaving Ashenpeake Island far behind. Now there was nothing but ocean, ocean, ocean. Eventually the sun slid from the sky and a slick of gold burnished the waves. Then came night and the tiddlins slept beneath a blanket of stars. Then came another morning and, looking down, Snowbone could see turtles and tuna, and dolphins that shaved the waves, jeweling the sky with salt-spun diamonds. She breathed in deeply, savoring the briny tang, feeling dizzy with freedom, drunk with happiness.

  Then
she noticed Blackeye standing forlornly in the bow of the flying machine. He was leaning over the rail, his eyes fixed on the horizon but seeing nothing.

  In that moment, Snowbone felt a new emotion—pity— prodding her heart, and somehow the day lost a little of its luster. She knew the world was dark and dangerous, filled with calculated cruelty. But she liked to feel that her world—the bit that she could see and touch and smell and hear—was as good as it gets, because she worked hard to make it so. Clearly, this corner of her world—Blackeye's corner—was cold and cloudy, even on a glorious day like this. That pained her.

  Blackeye stood up front all morning, never moving, never eating. But then, in the afternoon, he called for Manu.

  “Yes, my friend!” cried Manu, running over with Snow-bone and Tigermane close behind. “What is it?”

  “That machine that flew out of Spittel Point with the woman on board,” said Blackeye. “Do you remember what it looked like?”

  Manu thought for a moment. “It was blue. Bright blue, like a swallow's wing. Quite fancy. Gilded carvings, golden rigging. Why?”

  “I think it's up ahead.”

  “Where?” said Snowbone, squinting into the sun.

  “There,” said Blackeye, pointing. “But it's too distant for any of you to see.”

  “How can that be?” said Manu. “They left a full day ahead of us. We haven't been traveling that fast.”

  “But we have been passing islands,” said Tigermane. “They could have stopped for fuel or supplies or something. They left in a hurry, remember.”

  The tiddlins stared into the distance, eager to see.

  “This is fantastic news,” said Snowbone. “Fantastic!”

  Snowbone's excitement was so infectious, even Blackeye caught it. When the Esmerelda finally came into clear sight, the tiddlins howled like dogs, and grabbed one another, and jumped up and down, and laughed and pointed and marveled.

  “They must be going incredibly slowly for us to be gaining on them like this,” said Figgis. “Let's be honest, the Storm-runner is a creaky old bucket of a machine.”

  “Who cares?” said Snowbone. “We're catching them, and that's all that matters.”