Snowbone (16 page)

“So, we are three,” said Snowbone.

“Four,” said Blackeye, behind her. “We can't let them get away with this.”

“Five,” said Tigermane. “I'm coming too.”

Snowbone smiled. If Mouse joined them, that would make a perfect six.

don't believe it!” cried Mo use. “After everything that's happened, you're still going on?”

The tiddlins were sitting in the barn, deciding what to do.

Mouse stared wildly at the group. “Have you forgotten what it was like?”

“No,” said Snowbone. “I will never forget.”

“Blackeye?” said Mouse. “They cut your legs from under you!”

“They've grown back,” said Blackeye. “I'm fine!” He slapped his thighs. “I'm the same as I was before.”

“Are you?” said Mouse quietly. She started to wring her hands, over and over again. “We lost twenty-two friends.”

“They lost more,” said Snowbone.

“And that makes you proud?” said Mouse. “Because it makes me sick. Sick to my stomach.
I killed a man.
I have his blood on my hands right now, and it will never,
ever
wash away.”

“If you hadn't killed him, he would have killed you,” said Snowbone.

“Only because I was there, attacking him,” said Mouse. “I was doing wrong.”

“Wrong?”
gasped Snowbone.
“You
were wrong? You forget who those people were! They were slave traders. The lowest of the low. They peddled misery. They stole freedom. They bargained with the lives of our people. And you say that
you
were wrong?”

“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.”

“
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.

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 that 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!