As the captain led them through the airship, Caraway concentrated on matching his surroundings to the plan he had memorised. Once he and Miles had been shown to one of the best rooms the Windsinger had to offer, a spacious two-bunker complete with armoire, washstand and even writing desk, he thanked the airship captain and listened as his footsteps receded. The ladder that led down to the lowest deck wasn’t far from here. All the same, he didn’t have much time.
‘Stay put,’ he told Miles. ‘Lock the door if you want to.’
Without another word, he left the room. Miles would have to take his chances when the airship reached Parovia. No doubt he’d end up being executed, but Caraway could find little sympathy to spare for that. It was likely, after all, that he himself would share a similar fate. When he’d come up with this plan, he’d focused on getting the children to safety, no matter what the cost.
He stole along the narrow passageway, descended the ladder, followed another passageway where it branched to the left – and finally there he was, at the room deep in the bowels of the airship that on the plans had been marked Cargo. Without hesitation, he knocked on the door.
‘Who is it?’ came a muffled voice from within.
‘Message from the captain,’ Caraway replied.
A moment’s pause, before the door swung open. It wasn’t as if the man on guard could be expecting any trouble. Presumably he was there to keep an eye on the children, not fight off angry Mirrorvalese. As far as the crew of the Windsinger were aware, anyone in Darkhaven who might have opposed them was dead.
Making full use of that element of surprise, Caraway pushed forward as soon as the door began to move. In his original guise as Miles’s aide, he hadn’t been able to wear his sword, but there had been space for a knife in his pocket. He had it pressed against the guard’s belly before the other man even thought to draw his own weapon.
‘Step back slowly,’ he murmured, and the guard obeyed, backing away with hands raised. Caraway followed, never letting the gap between them widen. As soon as he was through the door, he kicked it shut behind him and threw a quick glance around the room.
And saw the cages.
There were three of them, simple barred cubes, and each contained one of his children. Wyrenne, the baby, lay on her front with eyes glazed, whimpering and hiccupping with the aftermath of tears. Katya was curled in a tiny ball in the corner of her cage, face tucked against her knees as though she sought to block out the world. And Marlon stood upright, holding onto the bars, his face pale and tear-stained, his eyes blazing defiance. Yet as soon as Caraway’s horrified gaze caught his, that defiant look crumpled; one hand came up to scrub at his nose, and his voice cracked as he said, ‘Papa?’
Caraway stabbed the guard. Not once but three times, methodically, gripping the man’s shoulder to keep him upright as the blade drove into his guts, making sure he was totally incapacitated. They were crying for me. All night they were crying for me, and I wasn’t there. He let the guard’s body fall with the knife still in it, and ran to the cages.
‘Papa,’ Marlon said again, stronger than before. ‘Papa.’ And Katya was uncurling and turning to face him, trying to smile though her eyes were big and haunted; and Wyrenne blinked, her glazed expression vanishing as the tears welled up once more. They were all crying, now, all saying Papa, their pleading fingers reaching through the bars to him. Caraway touched their hands and hushed them, blinking away his own tears, comforting them as best he could – and all the while, a frantic corner of his mind kept telling him that if anyone heard the noise and came to investigate, their escape would be over before it began.
‘The key,’ he said, as soon as he thought at least Marlon and Katya were calm enough to pay attention. ‘My loves, I have to find the key –’
‘There’s a bolt at the top,’ Marlon said, sniffing. ‘I watched ’em close it up.’
Caraway scrambled to his feet and discovered the truth of that disclosure: there was no lock on each cage, just a bolt beyond the reach of little fingers. He opened Wyrenne’s cage first, because she was still distraught, and scooped her up. She clung to him like a small, frightened animal.
‘I tried, but I couldn’t reach,’ Marlon added with a scowl that didn’t quite hide his residual fear. ‘They wouldn’t even let me look after my sisters, Papa.’
‘I know.’ Caraway released Katya and Marlon in swift succession, before sinking down onto the floor and gathering them into his arms. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,’ he told them, kissing them fiercely. ‘I came as soon as I could.’
‘I knew you’d come,’ Marlon said stoutly, though with a quaver in it. And Katya added in a tiny voice, ‘I waited and waited, Papa.’
Caraway couldn’t help crying a little, then – both for what had been, and for what he knew would have to come. But though his throat ached with it, he didn’t let himself indulge in emotion for very long. They weren’t safe yet. Which was why now, almost as soon as they’d got him back, he was going to have to ask them to leave him again.
‘Listen, my loves,’ he said. ‘I need to get you out of here. And the door isn’t safe, so I need you to climb through the window. All right?’
Three pairs of eyes looked doubtfully at him. But the window was plenty big enough even for Marlon, though not for Caraway himself. And if he lifted them high enough, they’d be able to pull themselves through it.
‘Ree and Penn are waiting on the other side to catch you,’ he added. ‘You like Ree and Penn, don’t you?’
Marlon nodded. Katya sniffed. Wyrenne buried her face in his shoulder. Caraway hardened his heart against their distress. He had to get them out. That was all that mattered.
Beneath the window, he sent up a soft whistle and heard Penn whistle in response. Good. They were in position. He tried lifting Wyrenne first, but she screamed and clung to him with all her strength.
‘Wren, please –’
‘I’ll go first, Papa,’ Marlon said stoutly. Caraway deposited Wyrenne on the floor, where she howled even louder and clung to his legs, then hoisted Marlon up to the window. The little boy wriggled through without a moment’s hesitation, his legs vanishing suddenly as – presumably – Penn caught him under the arms and pulled him down on the other side of the wall. Seeing that, Katya followed without a whimper. But Wyrenne …
Caraway picked her up again, humming a soothing tune under his breath, but it was no use. Hard enough at the best of times to settle her once she was overtired, let alone in a situation like this. And no matter how he coaxed and soothed her, still she clung to him.
‘Penn!’ he called up softly. ‘If Ree stands on your shoulders –’ But already he could see it was impossible. Even if he lifted the sobbing baby as high as he could, and Ree could reach through the window towards her, there was a good gap in between. Wyrenne could have climbed through by herself – fire and blood! He’d seen her clamber up the vast stone staircases of Darkhaven without any fear or sense of self-preservation whatsoever – but she wouldn’t leave the safety of his arms.
Should have sent Penn in here, and waited on the other side myself. But Caraway knew he couldn’t have done it. As usual, he had suffered from an overabundance of believing that he was the only man for the job. You’re a damn fool, Tomas Caraway. And if Wyrenne has to pay for it –
‘Hush, Wren,’ he murmured, cradling the little girl’s head against his shoulder. ‘We’ll find a way out. Don’t you worry.’
As if to prove him wrong, the ship lurched around them, and Penn hissed, ‘Captain! They’re preparing for takeoff!’
Fuck. Caraway thought about it very briefly, but there was only one course of action that he could see.
‘Fall back,’ he ordered Penn. ‘Stay out of sight. Keep Marlon and Katya safe.’
‘I swear it,’ Penn said. ‘Sir … what are you going to do?’
Caraway sighed. ‘If I try and break out with Wyrenne now, they’ll realise the other two are missing and come after you on the ground. I can’t
take that risk. So she and I are going to take a little trip to Parovia.’
‘But, Captain –’
The ship lurched again, and Caraway gritted his teeth. ‘Just go, Penn.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He sat down on the floor, rocking the baby in his arms, and waited for the ship to take off.
Wyrenne was asleep by the time someone came to relieve the guard. Caraway had been expecting the change – even watching three children in cages wasn’t a task a man could perform indefinitely – so he was already waiting behind the door when it opened, the sword he’d taken from the dead man in his free hand. He ran the new guard through with it before the man even had the chance to turn around. It didn’t sit well with him, but the cages made it easier. The cages, and the murdered men back in Darkhaven. Even if he were to stand here killing people all day, it would pay only a fraction of what he owed Parovia in vengeance.
Once he’d closed the door behind the second dead man, he stooped to search his pockets and was relieved to find a key – something the first man had been unable to supply. Wyrenne stirred at the movement, but he murmured her back to sleep before easing the key into the lock. The two of them might still be trapped in a room with a pair of corpses, but at least Caraway now controlled the entrance. They’d be able to overcome him by weight of numbers, of course, but it was a marginally better position than the one he’d held before.
‘Stay asleep, Wren,’ he whispered. When she woke up, she’d be hungry. Thirsty. She’d need clean cloths and a change of clothing. And when he couldn’t provide what she wanted, her crying would summon the crew of the airship as surely as an alarm bell.
At that stage, if Ayla hadn’t arrived yet, Caraway would have to decide what to do next.
Ayla was his only hope of escape: he knew that all too well. Assuming that Zander had made it to the border, and assuming that Ayla had been able to leave a delicate and potentially lethal situation unfinished, she would come after the Windsinger. Caraway’s job was simply to keep Wyrenne safe until that happened. Yet he had nothing to bargain with; the Parovians would know that as well as he did. And once they discovered that Wyrenne was the only Nightshade child remaining to them, they would be anxious to get her back under their control. Alive, of course, which was one good thing – they had no desire to kill her – but given that Caraway had the self-same lack of desire, he couldn’t use that against them. Most likely, they would find a way to take the baby from him and bring him down. He didn’t see how he could hold them off, not if they threw enough men at him. Not if he wanted to keep his daughter from getting hurt.
Of course, if they succeeded in getting her back to Parovia – if he himself was killed, if Ayla didn’t arrive in time – she’d be hurt anyway. Miles had told him a little of what they intended. Experiments. Blood. Pain. Wyrenne would grow up in a cage just like the one he’d found her in, treated as no more than an animal. A rare and valuable animal, but an animal all the same. She’d cry herself to sleep every night, until one day she’d forget what she was crying for. And then finally, once she’d given the Parovian alchemists what they wanted, they’d dispose of her.
Either that, or they’d bring her up as one of them, then set her against her family as soon as she was old enough to Change …
Wyrenne whimpered in her sleep, and Caraway realised his arms had tightened around her. He’d have to choose. If it came to it, he’d have to decide whether it would be better for her to die than to live the life they’d give her.
I could never kill my own daughter, his heart said. Never.
But if the choice is between a clean death and a long, degrading, painful one? his head replied. What then?
I don’t think I have the courage.
Of course you do. You’re Tomas Caraway. You’re a hero, remember?
Shut up.
You’re going to die anyway. The only question is whether you’ll take Wren with you or abandon her here on her own.
I said shut up.
For a wonder, his turbulent thoughts obeyed. He rested his cheek on Wyrenne’s hair, hummed a lullaby, and prayed for Ayla to arrive.
TWENTY-NINE
A fight had broken out in the crowd on the opposite side of the Windsinger from the window that led to the cargo hold. One man had stepped on another man’s toes, or perhaps the second man had elbowed the first in the ribs; now they were hurling insults and trying to get each other in a headlock, drawing all eyes as they did so.
That much was according to plan. When they’d discussed it in the airship coming over, Caraway had given Lonnie and Riba the task of causing a distraction while he, Penn and Ree took the children to safety. Yet that part of it had always been impossible, Penn realised now – and Caraway must have known it. Even if all three children had been retrieved in secret, as soon as Caraway tried to escape the Windsinger he would have raised the alarm and the Parovians would have come after them. So right from the start, Caraway must have intended to stay on board, relying on his team to take his children home safely while he … what? Went to his death, most likely. Discovering the failure of their entire mission was unlikely to leave the Parovians feeling benevolent.
Penn wasn’t sure how Wyrenne’s presence would complicate that situation, but he thought he probably shouldn’t mention it to Ree. She might well argue that they couldn’t leave their captain behind – but Caraway himself had always told them that their loyalty was to Ayla and her children, not to him, and Penn intended to follow that directive.
‘You’re arguing with me in your head,’ Ree panted. ‘I can tell.’
‘How?’
‘You get this particular look on your face.’
She was carrying Marlon on her back, while Katya was nestled in Penn’s arms. He’d soon discovered that there was no good way to carry a small child. Her arms and legs were too short for her to cling on like Marlon was, and she had objected strongly to being put over Penn’s shoulder, so in the end he’d settled on an inefficient one-armed hold that made his muscles ache – and he wasn’t exactly unfit.
‘Parents must be made of steel,’ he muttered, and Ree grimaced at him.
‘Don’t change the subject. Tell me what you were thinking before.’
So he did. To his surprise, Ree only looked sad.
‘I’d figured that out for myself, you know,’ she said. ‘And I wouldn’t have argued. I mean, even if I was more loyal to Captain Caraway than to the Nightshade line – which I’m not – it comes out the same. Loyalty to the captain means putting Ayla and the children first. That’s the way he’s set it up. Isn’t that the point?’
Penn nodded.
‘Anyway, I wouldn’t bet against the captain, even hopelessly outnumbered,’ Ree said. ‘Really, it’s worse that we’ve left Wyrenne. Remember that training exercise we did, all the way back when they were first assessing us? We had to get a Nightshade baby to safety.’
‘And you said it didn’t matter how many of us were left behind, as long as the baby was safe,’ Penn agreed. It was the first time he could remember liking her.
‘Right. Yet here we are, running back to Darkhaven and leaving Wyrenne in danger.’
‘Only because we have Marlon and Katya to protect,’ Penn objected.
‘I know. But even so.’ Almost to herself, she added, ‘I can’t see how he’ll get her out. Not once they’ve taken off.’
‘He doesn’t have to,’ Penn said firmly. ‘He just has to keep her alive until Ayla gets there.’
Doubts chased each other across Ree’s face, but she only nodded. Over her shoulder, Marlon looked up at Penn with big, shadowed eyes and said in a small voice, ‘Is Mama coming?’
‘She has to fetch your sister first.’
‘And Papa?’
‘Yes. Of course.’ Briefly Penn met Ree’s gaze. ‘Don’t worry, Marlon. Everything will be all right.’
It was a useless platitude, but apparently it was enough for the little boy; he rested his head back down on Ree’s shoulder, th
ough his watchful eyes still scanned their surroundings. In Penn’s arms, a residual sob shook Katya’s slight frame, making her whimper even through her exhausted half-sleep.
‘Nearly there,’ he whispered to her. ‘The airship’s just up ahead.’
They would lie low in their own little airship until the Windsinger was out of sight, then take off themselves and set a course for Darkhaven. Lonnie and Riba would remain behind to make sure no-one had followed. Best not to think about Caraway or Wyrenne. Best not to think about anything other than getting Marlon and Katya to safety.
Everything will be all right, Penn repeated to himself, yet not even he believed it.
Ayla had never flown this fast before.
There had been times when she was anxious to get somewhere. Times when she’d been in a hurry and taken advantage of the speed her wings had to offer. But she’d never pushed herself. Fear and urgency had never driven her to find out exactly what her limits were.
As it turned out, her limits were high.
She outstripped the airships before they were even out of sight of the Kardise border. That was no surprise; even a leisurely Changer creature was faster than an airship. But then she continued to accelerate. Her lungs expanded. Her wings beat the air. The ground below became a blur. And still she felt no strain or tiredness, only a fierce and exhilarating joy. She was made for this. She would find the people who had dared to take her children, and she would kill them. The desire for retribution burned through her veins, driving her onward. She saw the traitors dying. She imagined the blood and heard the screams. And in response her senses expanded further, until she could hear every tiny animal movement on the surface of the earth beneath her, see every wisp of cloud in the sky. A corner of her brain caught and discarded each one of those myriad distractions, searching for anything that might be relevant to her goal – and all the while she kept pushing forward, faster and faster, steam rising from her body and rolling off her wings until she felt herself made of fire, not ice.
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