by Hana Tooke
“Light,” Milou whispered.
Sem struck a match and held it up.
They were in a big, long room. Two rows of hammocks hung suspended on either side. In the center of the room was a large, horizontal wheel, with five poles sticking out of it. It reminded Milou of the cogs that Lotta had shown her in the windmill mechanism room, but there was no other cog connected to it, so Milou assumed it was turned by hand. Empty crates were piled everywhere, secured with rope. There were mops and brooms, buckets and barrels. Having spent most of her life doing hard chores, Milou recognized this as a room in which elbows were greased and backs were bent.
Sem’s match fizzled out, so he struck another one as Milou found a candle for him to light. There was a knock on one of the porthole windows. Fenna’s face appeared by the glass, hanging over the side of the ship by one of the guide ropes. She was waving frantically at them. Milou hurried over and opened the window, taking in a deep lungful of the fresh air as it rushed in.
“Have you seen Egg?” she whispered.
Fenna gave a curt nod, her chest heaving. She reached in through the window and pointed to a door at the far end of the room.
“He’s in there?” Milou asked.
Fenna nodded again, smiling brightly.
“Did you see the guard? Dolly?”
Fenna shook her head, her smile stretching.
“So Egg is alone?”
Fenna nodded again.
Milou turned to Sem, who was frowning. “Rotman said Dolly was in there. I heard him.”
“Maybe she’s gone on a break?” Sem whispered, eyeing every shadow around them. “Or perhaps she’s gone to bed already. We should just count ourselves lucky. Come on.”
Milou turned back to Fenna. “Wait by the nearest window, okay?”
Fenna gave an eager nod and disappeared.
Milou left the window slightly ajar and turned back to the room. Sem was holding the candle high over his head, peering around with a look of concern.
“Dolly might come back at any moment,” he whispered, grabbing a broomstick with his free hand. “Be ready.”
Milou nodded and seized a mop. Not the most impressive of weapons, but they would have to do. As they crept forward, Milou’s pulse was so loud in her ears she could no longer hear the groaning of wood or the slapping of water on the hull.
The door Fenna had pointed at was firmly shut. Milou pressed her ear to it. Beyond the whooshing of her pulse, she was certain she could hear the rattling of chains. Sem raised the broom higher, ready to wield it, and Milou moved her shaking fingers to the door handle . . . and pushed it open. The door emitted a creaking groan, and Milou and Sem found themselves staring into another long room, filled with even more empty crates. It was almost pitch-dark, except for the thin columns of moonlight that spilled in through the porthole windows.
Two round, frightened, familiar eyes stared at them from the end of the room. Egg was huddled between two beams, ropes bound tightly around his wrists and waist, and his mouth stuffed with cloth. He blinked up at them, and his eyes grew wider and more panicked. He groaned, shaking his head vigorously.
He didn’t look happy to see them. He looked horrified.
Confused, Milou took a step into the room, the floorboards creaking beneath her. A low growl made her stop.
The noise had been so quiet she’d barely heard it. She peered into a gap between several crates but saw nothing at all. To her other side was a dark storeroom. Egg made a loud, muffled moan, shifting his eyes in the direction Milou had just looked. He shook his head again. Milou took another tentative step forward.
Another growl.
Both Sem and Milou stopped in their tracks. This time, as she squinted into the storeroom and Sem held the candle higher, Milou thought she saw two glowing eyes.
The eyes blinked.
Another growl.
Like the first roll of thunder in a storm, it started off quiet and got louder, deeper, more menacing. The tip of a snout appeared from the darkness. Its lips were pulled back as the monster growled once more, revealing two rows of deadly, toothy fangs.
TWENTY-EIGHT
MILOU STAGGERED BACKWARD, BUMPING into Sem, fear stabbing at her stomach. The monster stepped fully out from the shadows, snapping at the air. Its claws scraped across the hardwood floor, its pointed ears pinned back. A hand landed heavily on Milou’s shoulder and yanked her backward.
“Dolly,” Sem said, pushing Milou behind him.
The huge dog stalked toward them, looking for all the world as if it might tear Sem and Milou to pieces with just one bite of its snapping jaws.
Holding the broomstick in front of him with one hand, Sem wedged the candle atop a crate with the other.
“Free him,” Sem rasped, nodding toward Egg. “Quickly.”
He raised his broom and lowered his brow. Milou had never seen him look so determined.
“But—”
“Now!” Sem cried, just as Dolly launched forward.
Milou watched in horror as the dog’s jaws latched on to the broom handle, sending Sem crashing to the floor.
“Quick!” he groaned, twisting the broom every time Dolly tried to snap at him. “I won’t be able to hold her off for long!”
Milou staggered to the end of the room and sank to the floor beside Egg, yanking the cloth from his mouth.
“Are you crazy?” Egg cried, his voice quivering. “Why did you come here? It’s too dangerous.”
Milou reached for the rope that bound his wrists. Her hands were trembling.
“Why wouldn’t we have come?” She tugged at the knot, her fingers slipping, and growled in frustration. “Why aren’t my hands working properly?”
She didn’t dare look behind her, where she could hear Sem still wrestling with Dolly. The beast was growling and Sem was grunting in exertion, but there had been no cries of agony yet.
“Just take a deep breath,” Egg said softly. “Just take a deep breath. You can do it, Milou.”
She shook her hands and tried again, managing to wriggle one end of the rope out of the knot. Egg wriggled his wrists out of their binding and smiled gratefully at her.
As Milou reached for the rope around Egg’s waist, Sem yelped in pain. She scrambled to her feet, darting across the room to him. Dolly had snapped the broom in half and was gnawing on one piece as Sem stood, wobbling, clutching at a gash on his leg.
“Sem!” Milou skidded to a stop. Dolly blocked her way. “Are you all right?”
“Stay back!” Sem cried, his voice full of pain. “I’m okay, it’s just a scratch—”
“No, it’s not!” Milou cried, anger brimming. “Leave him alone!”
She picked up the nearest object, a scrubbing brush, and bashed it against the hold’s wall to get the dog’s attention. Dolly’s giant head turned toward her, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl. Huge claws scraped the floor as the dog stalked toward Milou, fangs so sharp they could likely tear through her skin as if it were paper.
“Hey!” Sem cried, banging the mop on the floor. Milou could see his leg was causing him pain, but he held the broken mop firm and his fierce expression even more so. “Leave her alone.”
Dolly ignored him entirely, snapping her teeth just inches from Milou’s stomach.
“Hey!” Sem called again.
Dolly turned to him, her growl trebling in volume. She barked, loud enough to wake the dead and certainly loud enough to be heard abovedeck. Milou watched in frozen terror as Dolly’s back legs braced to jump. Sem took a wobbly step forward, but his injured leg buckled beneath him. He fell, defenseless, as Dolly launched herself into the air. Milou could only watch in horror, a scream building in her throat.
Sem twisted on the ground, swinging his good leg around. As Dolly soared over him, straight through an open doorway, landing with a thud in the empty storero
om she had come out of, Sem moved more quickly than Milou had ever seen him. He scrambled to the door and slammed it shut. There was a muffled growl, then a loud bang as the dog threw herself against it. More barking. Another bang. But the door held firm.
Milou ran over and helped Sem slide a crate across the door to hold it closed. He grinned lopsidedly at her.
“Well, that was—”
His words died away as a strange whistling sounded just outside the porthole window. Sem hopped over to it, Milou holding on to his elbow. The sky exploded with color.
Lotta’s warning firework.
“Milou!” Egg called urgently. “Sem!”
Egg was still struggling to free himself, staring across the room with a look of pure panic on his face. Milou followed his gaze. A figure emerged from the darkness. Pieter stepped into the room, wielding a large wooden mallet above his head.
“What are you doing?” he yelled, eyes darting between the three of them.
Sem bristled beside her. He reached for a nearby cargo hook but fell, clutching his leg again. Milou stood over him and grabbed the broken broomstick.
“What does it look like?” she said, holding the sharp point out toward Pieter. “We’re taking Egg home.”
Pieter frowned, lowering his mallet slightly. “Where’s—”
Dolly chose that moment to bash against the storeroom door again, right next to Pieter. He shrieked in surprise and staggered across the room.
“She’s in there?” he shrieked, his face pale. “How did you—”
Milou watched his hands shake. She realized he was youn-ger than she had first thought. Young and terrified of the consequences he’d face if he let them leave. She lowered her weapon.
“Help us,” she said softly. “You don’t have to do his bidding, you know.”
Pieter shook his head.
“Please,” Milou said. “We don’t deserve this any more than you do.”
Pieter’s nostrils flared.
“Help us. Please.”
“He’ll kill me.”
“Then leave with us.”
Pieter shook his head again. “I can’t. You don’t know what he’s like. He’d find me. He’ll find you too, even if I did let you go.”
There was another whistle, another crackle, and a colorful glow flickered across the room. Lotta had set off another firework. Which could only mean that Rotman was now on the ship. Milou realized she couldn’t wait any longer for Pieter to change his mind. She needed a new tactic. A faster one.
In three quick steps she was next to the storeroom door. “I’ll open this, and let her out,” Milou said. “She’s not happy.”
Pieter paled. “Don’t.”
“Please,” Sem said. He was standing now, but only barely. Sweat glistened on his face. “You can come with us. We’ll be safe together, I promise.”
Pieter made one more indecisive noise. Then he dropped the mallet to the ground.
Milou’s heart leapt up to her throat in relief. She took a few steps toward Egg, but then stopped as her left ear tingled sharply. Pieter stared at her as she took slow, silent steps backward. There was the unmistakable creak of a floorboard under pressure, coming from the hallway. The smell of oil and smoke drifted in through the doorway, then the tips of two sealskin boots.
“Well, isn’t this a delightful surprise?”
Meneer Rotman emerged fully from the gloom, cruel-eyed and stormy-faced, aiming a pearl-handled pistol at Milou’s chest.
TWENTY-NINE
MILOU STARED AT THE pistol, hardly even daring to breathe. Her ear now tingled so much it felt like it was on fire.
“My darling little kindjes,” Rotman crooned, cocking the pistol’s hammer with his thumb. “I’ve been so worried. Papa is so pleased to see you.”
Milou couldn’t speak. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Sem slump to the floor and Fenna’s frightened face disappear from the other side of the porthole. Pieter was whimpering, pressing himself against the storeroom door, despite Dolly still scratching at it from the other side.
“And Pieter!” Rotman said. “I’m surprised. You saw what these brats did to that poor old matron of theirs. Do you think they care about anyone but themselves?”
Milou looked down. Her shadow pooled at her feet, thicker and darker than any shadow ought to be. Instinctively, she took a step backward, the floor groaning in protest beneath her boots.
“Do. Not. Move. Girl.”
Milou froze. The merchant’s cruel grin was replaced with a look of pure menace. His mustachio twitched. Dolly barked, slamming into the door. Rotman’s eyebrows rose.
“My, my. You lot really are full of surprises. Pieter, I’m of half a mind to put you in there with Dolly, to remind you of where your loyalties lie.”
“Please, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Rotman limped forward and elbowed his apprentice in the face, sending him staggering backward. Blood spurted from the boy’s nose, spraying across Milou’s cheek. He fell to the floor beside her, curled up and whimpering.
“We should have left this port over a week ago,” Rotman roared. “Do you have any idea how much money you’ve cost me! Not to mention the medical bills for my foot, you little—”
“That’s not our problem,” Milou seethed.
Rotman scoffed. “Oh, it very much is your problem, child.” He limped toward her. “And you are very much going to repay what you owe me.”
“Our father is waiting for us nearby,” Milou said. “He’ll come looking for us if we don’t return soon. He is not a man you wish to anger.”
“Father?” Rotman’s smile slipped, then he shook his head. “Never mind that, we can be on our way within minutes.”
“You don’t have the paperwork to take us.”
“I’ll risk sneaking you out of this harbor in these barrels if I have to—”
“Hey, cheese face!” cried a shrill voice from the porthole.
Lotta had half-crawled through the window, and in her hand was a long tube, sparks spewing out the end of it. Rotman swiveled his gun toward her, but Lotta was quicker. The firework shot from her hand, hitting the floor by his sealskin boots. The room exploded with light.
Milou threw herself to the ground, covering Pieter with one arm, as the firework ricocheted, whistling and screeching, from wall to wall. It knocked the candle over, then bounced from every surface, fiery sparks flying in its wake. Smoke plumed, filling the room. When Milou waved the smoke from her face, she saw flames erupting in patches all over the hold. Rotman was lying in the doorway, coughing and spluttering as flames licked at his boots.
As Milou pushed herself up, her hand connected with something cold and metal on the floor. The pearl-handled pistol. She locked eyes with the merchant. Rotman took one look at the pistol by Milou’s hand and staggered, hand over his mouth, out the hold door, slamming it shut behind him and leaving them trapped with the smoke and fire.
“Milou!” Lotta yelled. She and Fenna were holding Sem between them, trying to get him out through the window. “Hurry.”
“You’re going to help my friends get Sem to the dock,” she said, pulling Pieter to his feet and pushing him toward the porthole. “And then we’ll help you get far away from him, I promise.”
He nodded dumbly.
“We’re not going without you,” Sem said to Milou, then began to choke.
“I’m going to free Egg, and then we’ll be right behind you,” she said.
She didn’t wait for Sem to argue, merely gave him a gentle shove toward the window and turned away, coughing as smoke crawled up her nose and down her throat. She staggered across the hold to Egg, who was still trying desperately tugging at the knot behind him.
“I’m coming, hang on.”
There was a creeeak and crash behind her as a wooden beam broke from the ceiling,
blocking their route to the window through which Sem and the others had just left. Milou cursed, but her hands were surprisingly still as she untied the rope. The moment he was fully free he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing the last of the air from her lungs. She pushed him gently away. There wasn’t time.
They heard a crash and a long howl from the storeroom. Dolly was still trapped.
“Wait here a moment,” Milou said. “Put your shawl over your mouth.”
She skirted around a burning barrel. She opened the hold door, then, using the tip of the broom, pushed it through the flames and hooked it under the storeroom door handle. With a flick of her wrist, the door opened, and a dark shape shot out. Dolly yelped at the flames, then turned and bounded out the door. Milou made her way quickly back to Egg, who was staring at her in disbelief.
“I couldn’t let her perish,” Milou explained. “Fenna would never forgive me, even if that beast did try to eat Sem. Right, let’s get out of here.”
She pushed a porthole window open and peered out, sucking in a lungful of fresh air. They were much further down the ship than the window through which the others had escaped. The walkway was out of reach and there was no anchor line in sight. She couldn’t see past the smoke to tell if the others had made it to land. Looking the other way, all she could see was a long stretch of endless water.
“Come on,” she said, climbing out and pulling Egg with her.
They clung to the porthole ledge, nothing but black water beneath them and no anchor lines within reach.
“We’re trapped,” Egg gasped.
Milou’s grip on the ledge nearly slipped. She cast her gaze around in panic. There were shouts and barking from the dock. The wind was stoking the fire, and thick, black smoke was curling around the ship. The flames had reached the ship deck, spreading up to the folded sails at sickening speed.
“Our choices are up,” Milou choked, “or down.”
“We can’t swim,” Egg replied grimly. “And we’re not fireproof.”
