Snowbone

by Cat Weatherill

  BOOM!

  The tower spat a monstrous fireball into the sky. It exploded over the tiddlins' heads like a rocket, showering them with sparks and debris. And when Blackeye reached the stairwell, he found the stairs had been blown out. There was nothing but a dragon's throat of flame.

  “Too late!” he said, spinning Snowbone round. “We'll have to jump.”

  “Jump?” wailed Snowbone. “Are you crazy?”

  “We've no choice. The stairs are gone.” He dragged her over to the balustrade and looked down. “It's no higher than the masts on the Mermaid. We'll be fine. I'll help you up, and we can jump together.”

  “No!” said Snowbone, pulling free. “I can't do it. Forget me—save yourself.”

  “No way,” said Blackeye. He seized her hand.

  “Leave me!” cried Snowbone, blindly lashing out at him. “Go back to the others. Be the new leader.”

  “No!” said Blackeye, grabbing her wrists. “If I leave you now, I'm not fit to be a leader. Now come on.” He pushed her on to the balustrade and climbed up behind.

  “Dear gods,” said Snowbone. “I'm going to die.”

  “No, you're not,” said Blackeye. “I'll cushion the fall.” He wrapped his arms round her. “Remember,” he whispered in her ear, “you've got the best dive-bomber in the world here, missy.” And he jumped.

  Whooooo! They fell so fast, they didn't have time to breathe. Yet somehow Blackeye turned in the air so he was beneath Snowbone as they landed: doom!

  “Are you all right?” he said.

  “Yes,” said Snowbone, wriggling free. “You?”

  “Not a mark!”

  BOOM!

  The watchtower exploded behind them, spewing ash and flames into the smoky sky. Blackeye seized hold of Snowbone's hand and started to run, dragging her along behind him. She didn't protest. She simply tried to run faster. She wasn't scared to be running blind. She was holding Blackeye's hand. T he world was spinning around her, but that point was fixed. Firm. He wouldn't let go, she knew it.

  Blackeye sped on. A band of gold had appeared in the east. There was no time to lose.

  Manu was waiting with the wagon. He opened the canvas flap and Blackeye helped Snowbone in. Then Manu climbed up front, clicked the reins and they were off, down the road, into the dawn. A little black keyhole against the shimmering sky.

  PART SIX

  Chapter 67

  anu drove the wagon north, with no destination in mind. His only concern was their safety. Were they being pursued? Probably not. The slave market had been so smoky and chaotic, no one would have noticed them leave. But still he would feel happier once Barrenta Bay was far, far behind.

  He drove till nightfall, when Figgis took the reins. In the morning, they swapped places again, and Manu pushed on until midday, when he unexpectedly found a perfect place to pitch camp. It was a lee on the side of a valley—a sheltered spot, out of the wind. The view was breathtaking: soft, slumbering hills, with a river meandering through and a balmy blue sky above. It was blissfully quiet. Just the drone of an early bee and the bleat of a passing goat … and the crash-bang clatter of pans as Figgis unpacked his kitchen. The friends couldn't believe one man could make such a row! But they didn't complain. Here in the wilderness, Figgis was making it feel like home.

  Snowbone sat on a hummock of grass, enjoying the scent of the spring flowers and the feel of the sun on her face.

  “From up here, the trees look like broccoli,” said Blackeye, sitting beside her. “Had you noticed? Oh! I'm sorry, Snowbone.”

  Snowbone smiled. “It's OK. You can't remember all the time.”

  Blackeye looked into Snowbone's milky eyes and wondered how she could stay so calm. She hadn't cried. She hadn't raged. She had simply accepted her loss. But it wasn't like Snowbone to give in without a fight. He was worried about her.

  Snowbone was worried too, but what could she do? Get angry? Scream and shout? Deep down, that's what she felt like doing, but she knew it wouldn't help. It would give her a headache and make everyone else feel uncomfortable. She didn't want that.

  She kept remembering Daisy, back at the quarry, telling her how the slaves coped with the terrible situation they found themselves in. We just hang on and try to help each other—that's what she had said. Well, that was what Snowbone was doing now. Hanging on, hoping things would get better. Hoping the blindness wouldn't last. Fearing it would.

  Sometimes, in her darkest moments, she thought about the blazing tower. Blackeye should have left me there, she told herself. It would have been better for everyone. But at other times— like now, sitting in the sunshine with a breeze ruffling her hair and a delicious scent of dinner tickling her nose—Snowbone felt glad to be alive. And although she hadn't told him so, she thanked Blackeye from the bottom of her heart.

  “Dinner's ready!” called Figgis. “And if I say so myself, it's well worth having.”

  Snowbone stood up, reached for Blackeye's arm and together they joined the others. Tigermane placed a steaming bowl of rabbit stew in Snowbone's hands.

  “Careful,” she said matter-of-factly. “It's full and very hot.”

  Snowbone nodded her thanks. Tigermane was great; she didn't fuss. Not like Figgis, who clucked around her like a mother hen. Still, he meant well.

  Snowbone placed the bowl on her lap to cool. “Filizar?” she said. “Now we've got the time, will you tell me exactly what happened to Tarn? When she disappeared, you said it was the Tongue of Torbijn, but I gave that to Skua.”

  Filizar grinned. “You didn't! The Tongue you stole was a replica. I had the real one in my pocket.”

  “You're kidding!” said Blackeye.

  “I'm not!” said Filizar. “One of my counselors gave it to me, as soon as I was old enough. It was such a precious thing, he didn't want it to be stolen. So he made a replica, and that was the one you took from the Crusty Cave. No one knew except him and me. Not even the guards.”

  “So you sent us along to the cave, knowing you had the real one all the time?” said Snowbone.

  “Yes,” said Filizar with a giggle. “I wanted to impress you! The real Tongue was nothing special, but the cave was great.”

  “It was fantastic!” agreed Blackeye. “With the guards and the candles and everything, the atmosphere was just incredible. So holy. So magical. I really believed it.”

  “So did I,” said Snowbone. “Oh, I wanted that Tongue! I had to have it. There seemed to be some kind of aura—some enchantment—that made me long to touch it.”

  “I felt that too!” said Blackeye.

  “But now you say it was a fake,” Snowbone went on. “It had no power at all. Why did we feel like that?”

  “Because you wanted to!” laughed Filizar. “Whether it was real or not, the Tongue promised the same thing: the power to make your wishes come true. That's a very seductive thing. You wanted the Tongue to be mysterious, powerful, desirable. So when you found it, in that fabulous cave, your imaginations did the rest.”

  “Would you believe it?” said Blackeye. “Filizar, you are a cunning little fox.”

  Filizar winked. “That's me!”

  “But what about the real Tongue?” said Tigermane.

  “Well, like I said, I had it with me,” said Filizar, “but I'd completely forgotten about it until Tarn took my coat. Then I remembered, and I couldn't believe my luck when she started rummaging in the pockets. I was so excited, I thought I'd pee my pants! And I thought: if only I can get her to wish twice— because you know you can only wish once, don't you?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “So that's why I started to goad her: ‘I wish I could do this. I wish I could do that.’ I wanted to put that word—that idea— into her head. And it worked!”

  “Brilliantly,” said Manu.

  Filizar looked at his big brother and glowed with pride.

  “I wonder where Tarn went when she disappeared?” said Blackeye. “Do you think she's dead?”

  “I don't know,” said F
ilizar. “I suppose so.”

  “There's still something I don't understand,” said Snow-bone. “If you had the Tongue with you all the time, why didn't you use it before? You could have brought us back from the quarry. Oh! You could have wished for—”

  “—a better body? That is what you were thinking, isn't it?”

  Snowbone almost blushed.

  “There were two reasons,” Filizar explained. “Like I said, I genuinely forgot I had it. But more important, I couldn't make another wish. I'd already used it once.”

  “When?” said Blackeye.

  “In the volcano, when we were trying to escape. I wished someone would rescue us.”

  “Skua,” said Snowbone. “That's why he came for us.”

  “That's why you let go of me!” said Manu.

  Filizar nodded. “I had to let go so I could hold the Tongue.”

  “And carry death within his hand,” said Tigermane.

  “What?” said Snowbone.

  “And carry death within his hand,” said Tigermane again. “The prophecy, remember?”

  “No,” said Snowbone.

  Filizar reminded her:

  “When winter waves throw the king from the sea

  The queen still dreams of ascendancy

  And the king upon the gilded throne

  Laments what never shall be known

  When the sea turns red and the rivers rise

  And the storm bird o'er the summit flies

  The King of the Sea shall leave this land

  And carry death within his hand.”

  “You see?” cried Tigermane. “It all makes sense now! When the sea turns red and the rivers rise—that's the volcano erupting and the lava flowing out. And the storm bird o'er the summit flies—that's the Stormrunner coming to the rescue. The King of the Sea shall leave this land—that's you, Filizar, leaving Finoa. And carry death within his hand—that's the Tongue. You'd used it once already, so you were carrying something that would kill you if you used it again.”

  “What about the rest?” said Filizar eagerly. “Does that make sense too?”

  Tigermane thought for a moment. “When winter waves throw the king from the sea—you were washed up on a beach. The queen still dreams of ascendancy … Hmm. Your mother, the queen, had hoped that you would be king one day. That wasn't going to happen, but she was dreaming of having another child. And the king upon the gilded throne—that's your father—Laments what never shall be known …” She took hold of Filizar's hand. “I think this means that you won't ever meet him,” she said gently. “But also, it suggests that he never saw you, and that made him desperately sad.”

  “So my father didn't get rid of me?”

  “No,” said Tigermane. “He didn't. I don't think he knew anything about it. It was your mother who got rid of you. She probably told him you died at birth.”

  Filizar's eyes were silver with tears. “I'm glad it wasn't him,” he said.

  “Our father was a good man,” said Manu fiercely. “One of the best. He would never do such a thing. It was always her.”

  “You know what else this means, don't you?” said Blackeye brightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Filizar, you really were the king from the sea!”

  “So I was!” said Filizar. “I thought the prophecy was just a lucky coincidence!”

  “There's one more thing I want to know,” said Snowbone, who had happily devoured her stew while Tigermane took over the proceedings. “If you had the real Tongue, Filizar, what exactly does Skua have in his pocket?”

  “The tongue of a dead goat!” said Filizar, and, to everyone's relief, he started giggling again.

  Chapter 68

  crack of lightning splintered the evening sky, disturbering the crows in the distant trees. A rich rumble of thunder followed, snapping at its heels like an eager sheepdog. In the wagon, the friends sat and waited for the inevitable rain.

  They had been camping in the lee for three days, eating, sleeping, relaxing. Trying to ignore the question that buzzed around them constantly, like a bothersome bee.

  Snowbone especially was troubled by the question. She knew why no one was asking it. They didn't want to hurt her feelings. But it had to be asked. And so, as the first drops of rain pattered down on the canvas, she said, “Where do we go from here?”

  Everyone breathed in at once. It wasn't dramatic, but Snowbone could feel it. She was sensitive to such things now.

  “We have to talk about it,” she said. “We can't sit here forever. There's a war to be won.”

  Still, no one spoke. Snowbone could hear them shifting in their seats.

  “Barrenta Bay was a great success,” said Filizar at last, starting them off. “The whole place was completely destroyed and, as far as we know, no one was hurt.”

  Figgis dug him in the ribs, but Snowbone hadn't flinched. Her blindness wasn't a war wound. It had been creeping up on her for weeks.

  “It was a great symbolic victory,” Snowbone agreed. “But we haven't beaten the slavers. They will rebuild the market, bigger than ever.”

  “Mouse was right,” said Blackeye. “We can't stop slavery. It's all over the country. All over the world! There are too many people involved.”

  “No,” said Snowbone, shaking her head angrily. “I don't accept that. We must be able to do something. We're just not thinking right.”

  She fell silent. The rain was heavier now, drumming on the canvas. The friends listened to it fall and tried to think of a way forward.

  “Perhaps we should look at it differently,” said Tigermane. “Instead of trying to stop slavery, we could think about setting the slaves free.”

  “Isn't that the same thing?” said Blackeye.

  “Not quite,” said Tigermane. “We've been attacking the system—property and machines. That's a battle we can't win. The slavers will just rebuild. But if we could find a way of releasing the slaves … I don't know. It's just a thought.”

  “It's a fantastic thought!” said Snowbone. “Do you remember that man, back at the quarry? When the boulder hit him, the slaves were overjoyed because he wasn't a slave anymore. He was free. He was moving on.”

  “So if we could get the slaves to Move On—all of them, all at once—they'd be free!” said Tigermane.

  “No more slavery!” cried Filizar.

  The friends went wild with excitement. They bounced up and down so hard, the wagon was shaking like a wet dog.

  “Ah now, hold on here,” said Figgis above the racket. “This is easier said than done! For one thing, Ashenpeakers can't Move On at will. Something has to trigger the process. And another thing, the slaves won't be allowed to live happily ever after. If they Move On, the slavers will kill them for their sap and ship in more eggs.”

  Everyone stared at him, utterly deflated.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. “But it's true.”

  Lightning illuminated the wagon and Figgis saw just how devastated his friends were. A deafening roll of thunder filled the sudden silence. “I think we should go home,” he said. “Snowbone, I want to take you to Butterbur. She's the only one who can possibly help.”

  “I don't want to go,” growled Snowbone. “I want to finish what I came here to do.”

  “You can't,” said Figgis. “You have to accept that.”

  “No,” said Snowbone sulkily. “I won't.”

  But in her heart, she knew Figgis was right. Perhaps one day the war against slavery would be won, and someone would be a hero. But it wouldn't be her. She had to accept the truth. It was over.

  Chapter 69

  lackeye lay in the back of the wagon, sandwiched between Figgis and Manu. He couldn't sleep. For hours he had been listening to the rain, thinking over what had been said. They had come so far, overcome so many obstacles … To give up the fight now seemed stupid. But Figgis was right. The slaves couldn't Move On, even if they wanted to. Until they could, nothing would change.

  What an unfair world it was! Ashenpeakers were the oldest race on e
arth. They were incredible people: strong, noble, brave. But they were vulnerable. As eggs, as children … even as ashen trees. What must the Ancients be feeling, he thought, when they look into this world and see what's happening? Do they wail and moan and throw themselves around in the Otherworld? Or do they just sit there and do nothing?

  Blackeye sat up. An unbelievable thought had just come into his head. Do they know?

  He stared into the darkness, holding his breath. It was suddenly starting to make sense. He had been puzzling over the Ancients for weeks. He couldn't understand why they did nothing to help when their people were clearly suffering. Now he knew why. The Ancients didn't know! They were getting on with their own lives, down in the Otherworld. They weren't even watching.

  If they knew what was happening, they would do something. They would bring an end to it all. Wouldn't they?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Blackeye leaned back against the wagon side and made himself as comfortable as possible. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. In, out. In, out. Soon he felt the familiar heavy-to-light sensation and he was off, out of his body, out of the wagon, out into the rain. But the raindrops passed right through him in a strange, tingly kind of way. Blackeye smiled, turned in the air and headed out to sea.

  Over the waves, under the moon, into the east he went. Over sailing ships that snailed across the ocean, leaving their trails behind them, silver as starlight. Over islands, secret-sleeping, scattered like cushions on the wakeful waves. Over sage whales, barnacle blue, singing sea songs older than time.

  On he went, till the Indigo Ocean became the Silverana Sea, and the water lapped clear. Here he saw a great graveyard of ships: keels sticking out of the seabed; masts reaching for the light, stark and bony like dead men's fingers; and an immense wall of seaweed surrounding them all, so thick no living man could pass.

  Finally, he saw the formidable bulk of Ashenpeake Mountain, with the island slumbering beneath it. And as soon as he had cleared the coast, he flipped onto his back and started to descend.