Take Back the Skies (10 page)

She had work to do.

Two hours and four bulging purses later, Cat was well and truly into the swing of things. Syvana was so different, and yet so very similar to Breningarth: the overcast sky, almost as dark as the stone buildings themselves, threatening snow at any moment; the upper-class people going about their daily business, walking past the lower class with their noses upturned. Their inattention was something Cat found useful as she walked through a crowd of well-dressed men with her eyes on a blue velvet purse hanging from one man's belt. She reached out with nimble fingers, slipping the purse off his belt and into the folds of her coat, and turned away, darting from the crowd before she could be caught. Her stomach rumbled, and she let her eyes drift to the clock tower. Plenty of time for a short lunch break.

Sneaking a couple of coppers from one of the pouches, she looked for the pasty shop Fox had recommended, her body freezing cold despite her many layers. Finding the shop by smell rather than attempting to translate the signs, she slipped inside, welcoming the warmth of the small room. The display case on the counter was full of cakes and pastries, and the oven at the other end had a sign above it
reading,
Pasty, 3c
. Pleased that the word for pasty was evidently the same in both Siberene and Anglyan, she walked up to the counter where a cheerful-looking elderly woman stood in a thick long-sleeved dress and dark blue knitted shawl. Setting three coppers on the counter, Cat bit her lip nervously and pointed to the oven.

‘Pasty?' she asked, praying she came across simply as a nervous young boy rather than a foreigner.

Luckily, the woman smiled, tottering out from behind the counter and pulling on a pair of thick oven mitts. Opening the oven door, she removed one of many pasties sitting on the rack over the glowing embers, wrapping one end in newspaper and handing it to Cat with a quiet ‘
Spa'asza
.'

Cat nodded with a shy smile, having no idea what the word meant.

Hurrying from the shop, she winced at the blast of cold, lifting the pasty to her lips. It was buttery and delicious, and she was smiling as she set off for a wander, staying close to the edges of the courtyard and looking at what the shops had to offer. As expected, there were a fair few jewellers', as well as shops selling clothes, rugs and blankets made or lined with furs. She had the brief thought that had she been with her father, she could have probably bought whatever she wanted from any of the shops, before reminding herself that had she been with her father, she wouldn't have been in Siberene in the first place.

She remembered what Matt had said about not believing everything in the newscasts, and resolved to demand answers from the others when she got back to the ship.

Passing a newspaper stand, she desperately wished she could read Siberene; so much information on those pages that she couldn't have, it was infuriating.

Cutting across the Eastern path back to the centre of the courtyard, she paused by a vendor selling sweets and eyed a small paper bag of toffee squares wistfully. They were her favourite. Finding the price tag on the shelf below the bag, she saw it was a silver. Maybe … surely Harry wouldn't know that there had been an extra silver in one of the purses when she'd stolen it? She could always replace it with money from her own purse once she got back to the ship.

Unable to resist, she dug a silver out of the purse. Approaching the vendor and pointing at the paper bag, she placed the shiny coin on the counter. With a smile, the man took a bag off the shelf, pressing it into her fingers. She beamed at him, taking her prize and running off towards the fountain, thickly gloved fingers fumbling with the string tying the neck of the bag. She managed to get it open, and popped a toffee square in her mouth with a quiet moan of pleasure as the sweetness hit her tongue. Sucking on the treat, she stuffed the bag in her coat and looked up at the pennant by the fountain, her eyes widening as she saw the wind was blowing North. Obviously other people had noticed too; they were tossing copper coins into the water and murmuring under their breath.

Hastily finding a copper in one of the purses, she squeezed through the crowd to the edge of the pool, pressing a kiss to the coin before throwing it into the water. It hit the surface with a small splash, sinking to join its fellows.
She closed her eyes tightly.
I want for Anglya to prosper again. I want to stay on the
Stormdancer
forever.
Concentrating hard on her deepest desire, she opened her eyes, wondering if anything magical was supposed to happen.

Only time would tell, she supposed.

Cat started to look for her next victim. She noticed a finely-dressed man standing outside a jewellery shop, and her eyes landed on the purse at his belt. That was far, far too easy. Feet light on the crisp white grass, she made her way over. Just as Cat approached, one hand outstretched to slip the purse from its strap, she froze. Two men were walking past, dressed in heavy black coats and thick boots, talking in low voices – in Anglyan.

‘We should just cut our losses and run,' the taller man said to his companion, accent marking him as government. ‘Empty the family accounts, leave Anglya and start over here, before someone catches the government in their own web of lies.' Cat was surprised she didn't recognise either of the men – she was usually good with faces – but continued to listen intently.

‘How, though? There's no way we'd be able to get our families out. We make one move to leave, and they'll take the girls for Collection before we can blink. I'm not leaving without my daughters,' the shorter man replied vehemently. ‘We're safe as long as we keep working, and junior enough that even if the truth does come out, we can claim innocence. It'll happen soon enough – they can't keep up this whole war charade much longer. When it does, we act like we've never seen any of the kids in the lower levels, never even
been
down there, and we get off scot-free.'

‘Oi!' Cat jolted as a meaty hand grabbed her outstretched wrist, hoisting her up to stare directly into the eyes of the man she'd been about to steal from. His face went red, and he let out an angry stream of Siberene.

‘No! Let me go!' she exclaimed, struggling in his grasp. ‘I didn't do anything, I didn't touch it, let me go!' Panic rose in her chest as the man lifted her clean off her feet, carrying her effortlessly towards the fountain, and the guards that surrounded it.

Cat struggled harder as she realised his intent, kicking him in the shins with little effect. She couldn't let him turn her into the guards! If she got arrested, Harry and the crew would leave without her, and she'd be stranded! But the man's grip was too tight, his hands as big as dinner plates, as he dragged her in front of a guard, barking out something in harsh tones. The guard's brow furrowed, and Cat wished more than anything that she could understand Siberene.

‘No!' she shouted again as the guard pulled some handcuffs from his belt, clipping them around her wrists as her captor held her still. ‘No! Stop! I'm innocent, I didn't do anything! Search me, I'm innocent!' The coat was full of hidden pockets, as Fox had shown her the night before, and the purses she'd already stolen were safely tucked away where the guard could never find them. Maybe if she got him to search her, he'd think she hadn't actually stolen anything and let her go. A glance at the clock tower showed it was already quarter to five; she had forty-five minutes to get back to the ship. It wasn't looking good.

Her captor muttered something to the guard, sounding disgruntled, and the guard replied in an assuring tone,
gripping the handcuffs tightly and yanking Cat forward. Her feet finally touched the ground as the man released her, but it was no use; she was cuffed, and there was no escaping from them on her own.

The guard left his post at the fountain, tugging Cat along with him as they headed for a narrow street – in the opposite direction to the shipyard. She could see people laughing and jeering at her, but had irritatingly lost sight of the two Anglyan men that had got her into this mess. What had they been talking about, anyway? What kids in the lower levels?

‘Where are you taking me?' she demanded. In all her years of sneaking around and getting into trouble, she'd never been arrested before.

‘Cells,' the guard spat out in thickly-accented Anglyan, sending a wave of cold fear through Cat. Struggling frantically, her shoulders ached as she tried to wrench her hands free of the metal cuffs, heels dragging on the paving stones as the guard continued to tow her along regardless. He was about as broad as she was tall; Cat didn't stand a chance. Still, she resolved not to give up; she had tasted freedom now, onboard the
Stormdancer
, and would do anything not to be parted from it.

The guard stopped in his tracks as there came a loud crashing noise, followed by a series of screams and exclamations. Cat could just about make out a crowd of jostling people further down the street. Turning to her, the guard pulled another pair of cuffs from his belt, looping one of them through both of her wrist cuffs and hooking the other end tightly around a railing.

‘Stay,' he instructed in his low, gruff voice, turning on his heel and jogging over towards the commotion. Cat immediately turned to her cuffed hands, wincing as she contorted her wrists painfully in an attempt to break free. It proved fruitless; the cuffs were strong and thick, and she had nothing with which to pick the lock.

‘Shut up and keep still.' The voice startled her so much she almost slipped on some ice, and her eyes widened at the familiar head of red hair that seemed to appear from nowhere.

‘Fox!' she hissed in astonishment, throwing a frantic glance in the direction of the commotion. The guard was nowhere in sight. ‘What are you doing here?' Fox crouched, pulling a thin wire from his pocket and immediately setting to picking the lock on her handcuffs.

‘Rescuing you – what does it look like? Idiot brat, I can't believe you let yourself get caught! You were just standing there like a statue, I'm not surprised he noticed!'

‘You were watching, in the courtyard?' she asked. Had he heard the two Anglyan men talking?

‘I was passing through,' he replied evasively, a look of concentration on his face. ‘Saw you causing a bit of a scene there. Foolish boy, what were you thinking?' There was a soft click, and Cat couldn't help but beam as the cuffs fell from her wrists and were left dangling from the railing.

‘We haven't got time – I'll explain when we're safe,' she assured him under her breath, rotating her wrists and grimacing at the pain. Fox grabbed her by the shoulder and urged her forward, faltering at a loud shout.

‘Hey!' Glancing behind her, Cat cursed as she saw her guard racing towards them, fury on his face.

‘Run,' Fox muttered, practically throwing her ahead of him as they both started to sprint.

‘What if he's got a gun?' Cat exclaimed.

‘He's not going to shoot a sprog. You only stole some purses.'

Cat panted with relief as they drew further and further away from her guard, getting closer to the courtyard with every frantic step. Suddenly, all she could see was stars as she ran head-first into something solid and fell backwards, the back of her head slamming into the stone ground so hard she thought she might vomit. She heard Fox cry out in alarm, but couldn't focus on anything but the blinding pain in her skull, the world spinning as she tried to sit up.

‘Cat, get up!' A hand grabbed her under the arm and hoisted her to her feet, sending her vision lurching again. She let out a moan of protest at the motion, which morphed into a shout as a larger hand gripped the collar of her coat, trying to wrestle her from Fox's grip.

The solid thing she had run into turned out to be another guard, and Cat's heart raced as the first guard caught up with them.

‘Fox!' she screamed, not caring that it was definitely not a masculine noise. Through her blurred vision she could make out Fox trying to tug her forward by her arm; the pain in her shoulder was excruciating. Fox's grip slipped, and she felt herself reeling backwards. Cat fumbled with the buckles on her coat and let it fall from her shoulders. Unfortunately, one of the guards dropped her coat as soon as he realised it was no longer on her, and grasped her jumper and shirt collar in one hand, pulling her away from Fox.

The teenager's hands wrapped around her wrists as he tugged, Cat's fingers feeling small and weak as she tried to grip him back. Her head pounded, willing her to just close her eyes and let the guards take her.

It all happened within a few seconds. The sound of ripping fabric was the only warning she had before her jumper and shirt split down the sides, leaving a handful of fabric with the guard as she fell into Fox's arms for a second time. Prepared, the older teen urged her aside and swung a fist into the closest guard's face before he could regain his balance, breaking the man's nose with a satisfying crunch.

‘Cat, go! Back to the ship, I'll catch up!' It took several seconds for her pain-fogged brain to process his words, and Cat stood there watching as he fought off the two guards single-handedly. Her coat, heavy with stolen purses, lay abandoned on the street in a pile of snow, and she bundled it in her arms.

‘I'm not leaving you!' she argued, merely for Fox to growl in frustration, dodging a well-aimed kick.

‘Run, you moron!'

Cat looked around for anything she could use to help, wondering why no one seemed to be coming towards them. They were certainly making enough noise. Fox cursed loudly as he got caught across the jaw with a huge fist, sending him stumbling back several steps. Cat took the chance, reaching out to get Fox's attention, jerking him towards her and the exit to the courtyard. He looked up wild-eyed, seeing the coat in her arms, and seemed to agree with her decision, grabbing her wrist and running away from the guards as fast as he could manage.