Raiders' Ransom (19 page)

He gives me a narrow-eyed look.

“No.”

After that, he doesn't say another word.

Luckily, Cat's here to help me out. And he's all happy and skittering today, like I haven't seen him for ages. He jumps all over the boat, sniffing the air, flicking his tail, miaowing and mewing. In fact, he's making such a flutter, I can only tell about half the time what he's actually getting at — but he keeps us clear of rocks lurking under the water and the white of breakers on a sandbank. Every now and then he turns to give me one of his shut-eye Cat smiles, and I reckon he's just happy to be back at sea.

Now we're in these northern waters, there are raider boats about. No raiding ships, which I'm glad of, but plenty
of slow, fat, booty boats, painted with the colors and standards of the different Families: purple lizards, blue wolves, orange dragons. I don't know which color and animal is for which, but every boat's got its gang of armed and scowling raiders. Glaring out, shields up. Seems like a lot of boats to me, but Zeph says, “There ain't many boats out. Must be something up.”

Zeph keeps one of the blankets wrapped around him, hiding his bright red leathers.

“Ain't you hot?” I ask him, and he gives me a cold look back.

“Any other Family is gonna be well suspicious if they see Angel Isling colors on an English fishing boat,” he says. “But without my colors on show, then we're just simple fishers. Like you, Lilo. And they'll leave us alone.”

I give up trying to work out why Zeph is so grumpy and get on with the business of sailing. Though now Cat's decided that means curling up on some nets and going to sleep.

We carry on — me sailing, Cat sleeping, Zeph staring — long enough for the sun to start rolling down the sky again. I'm starting to get really fed up with Zeph's mood. Starting to think about whether or not to creep up and push him overboard, when he suddenly shouts, “Here!”

He's pointing to where the shore's curving in, making a bay or maybe the mouth of an estuary.

“There! That's where we need to head!” shouts Zeph, and suddenly he's like another person, all helpful. He's pulling
on lines, using his weight to help us go about, doing everything I ask as quick as I want him to. Maybe he was just homesick?

We sail into the wide mouth of the river, which curves and splits into islands and creeks.

“Tide's still coming in!” shouts Zeph when we're in far enough to see the banks. “That's good!”

“What do you mean?”

He turns back to look at me, and laughs.

“These are the Black Waters. Angel Isling waters. Only we know how to sail them, coz at low tide they're so shallow. If you ain't Angel Isling, you'll get lost, or stuck in the mud. And then the sea'll come in and drown you!” He laughs again, like he's told a good joke. But it doesn't seem very funny to me, and I'm all on edge as we head upriver.

It's a strange world we're sailing into. A marsh world. The kind of place I've stayed away from since I first went out on the water.

“Marshes'll snag you, or ground you, or swell you up with fever.” That's what Granny said. “And if they don't get you themselves, there's plenty of folk living in them'll cut your throat for you.”

But here we are, heading into a great patchwork of swaying, rustling reeds and dark, sparkling water. There's a few low-lying islands poking their heads out, topped with twiggy stands of dead-looking trees or the broken walls of long-lost buildings, but mostly it's water and reeds and the
wind moaning. Miles and miles of wind and reeds, stretching gray-blue-green to the horizon. Miles and miles of wriggling channels, twisting and turning like the string of a net.

“Is this a drowned land?” I ask Zeph.

“Course it is. The sea ate it right up.”

Cat wakes up and sets up a strange mewling. “Mewrowl,” he cries, pacing from side to side, peering out at the banks.

“What is it?”

But it's Zeph who answers.

“Why do you always ask that mog? Do you think he can help you sail?”

“Course not,” I say quickly. “He's just a pet, that's all.”

“Well he should shut up, then,” says Zeph.

I don't say anything, just stare and stare for whatever is freaking Cat: the river; the channels sneaking away into the rushes; the islands with their hair of dead trees.

I stare at the dead trees.

I stare at one dead tree.

How it's moving, sliding behind the others. How a square red sail unfurls from one of its too straight branches. How the spiked prow of a raider dragonboat pokes out from behind the island.

And Zeph's whipping away the blanket, and his leathers are exactly the same shade of red as the raider sail. He stands up and starts waving and shouting, “Here! Over here!”

Cat moans and paces. Zeph shouts and waves. The red-sailed, lion-patterned dragonboat speeds toward us along
the narrow channel, bending the rushes as it passes. Swords glint and gleam as men in bright armor lean forward over the prow.

“What are you doing?” I shout at Zeph, but he doesn't answer, so I grab Cat, holding him tight as he struggles and miaows.

“It's me! Zephaniah, son of Medwin,” calls Zeph, and there's an answering shout from the raider ship. Oars dip and flash and the boat spins in the water, hard about, coming right alongside. A shadow falls over us — the shadow of its sail, of the warriors' shields and pointed swords.

Zeph turns around and smiles at me. A bitter, nasty smile.

He says, “These are the waters of my father, Medwin Untamed. He's the greatest Boss in all the Families. And now you're gonna find out how he deals with creeping little English spies.
Lilly
Melkun.”

Father slaps me on the back and says, “Well done, Zeph, you made me well proud today.” And there's a big grin all over my face.

I'm back in the wind gallery again, but I ain't hiding. This time I was led inside by Ims. All the windgates have been thrown open, and the wind spirits are fluttering about the flags, around our heads. Sparkles of sunlight bounce in from the water and flicker into my eyes.

Faz, Father's Windspeaker, squints at the light with his dark green eyes. “The spirits are throwing their glamor over us. They must be pleased.”

“And why not?” says Father. “Everything's going to plan, or better.” He walks over to the east gate, grips the frame with his strong hands, and leans out into the view of the marshes, the islands, and the sea beyond. He pulls back, throws his
arms out, and shouts, “Hear me, winds! Today the English plans to send a spy to ruin us have been spiked good and proper. Today the spy has fallen into my hands. And it's thanks to my son, Zephaniah. Who's made me well proud.”

I feel like I'm gonna burst, I'm that happy. Or like my heart's gonna leap right out of my chest. Today Father ain't telling the winds about his plans, or about Roba, or about some warrior: He's telling about me! Ims puts a hand on my shoulder, grins down at me.

“You did well, Zeph,” he says, and smiles.

The wind spirits breathe in our faces, then rush out the north gate, tinkling the chimes as they go. Out on the deckway, there's laughter and clapping. Everyone likes it when the spirits make their way out of the gallery and into the crowd.

And there's a proper crowd on the deckway today — seems like all the warriors of the Family is there. Watching, waiting. And behind them is pretty much everyone else — all the wives and concubines, old men and too young. But this time they ain't blocking me from seeing my father. This time they're checkin' me!

It was easy to get that English witch-girl to head straight for a trap. Where the Black Waters meet the eastern sea is always guarded, and any vessel not flying the red flag of Angel Isling is gonna get taken or destroyed. All I had to do was sit under a blanket and say nothing. The guard ship came straight
in for us, like a sharp-toothed pike striking at a minnow.

And after, when that stinking girl and her stinking mog was caught, and I told what was up, the master of the guard ship sailed us straight to the hall. Through the marsh channels, with the night birds crying all around. But I didn't sleep or nothing. I couldn't, I kept thinking about that girl, how she's so sly and lying. Even Ims was fooled by her, back in Lunden; he didn't see how everything she did was a stinking trick. But it still makes me feel boiling angry inside: I thought she was a boy called Lilo; thought we was friends; thought I was helping my friend get away from his nasty family. And all the time it was some nasty, lying spy-witch. Laughing at me.

Ims says it was the wind spirits who sorted her, out there on the island.

“Think about it, Zeph. The winds brought the fog and took away the air from the sails. They took you to that island so they could reveal the English was a spy and a witch.”

And I think he must be right, coz it was a breeze across my face woke me. And as I was opening my eyes into darkness, I heard not-really-Lilo leaving our camp. I didn't think much of it, but the breeze was cold, so I sat up and started trying to work some heat out of the damp little fire. It was just when I was cursing it for a useless smoldering lump that I heard voices.

And the first thing I thought? I was worried my friend might be in trouble!

So I crept through the bushes to the other side of the island, and there was so-called Lilo facing a ghost! Floating in the air right next to him. And I was about to go and help my friend, save him from the evil spirit, when they started talking again.

And that was when I realized what a fool I'd been. Coz he weren't in trouble, weren't in any danger at all from the ghost. He was in league with it, plotting with it. Telling it how he tricked me, how he was working to stop the war and get back a hostage. My father's war! My father's hostage!

Not Lilo, but Lilly. And no friend at all, just an English witch working to bring down Angel Isling.

I turned and ran. Quickly, quietly back to the camp. First thought I had was to get my knife. Slice her up. Show her what happens to spies. But even as I pulled the knife from the scabbard, I had another idea. A better one. I'd lead the witch home, catch her for my father.

So I lay back down in my blanket, closed my eyes like I was still kipping. And when she come back, I even made pretend snores.

Now she's got what she deserves. And I'm here with my father. When she next sees me, she'll be begging for mercy, not lying and laughing!

“Zeph is gonna stay,” says my father to the Windspeaker. “He can take the place of south, coz today he's the south wind, bringing us good gifts for the taking!”

Faz nods me to the bench before south. Ims is already sat on it, and he winks at me.

“Here, Zeph. You've earned your place.”

I walk over to take my seat, my seat in Father's council! I'm gonna sit here today while my father talks his war with Ims and his Windspeaker. And everyone else is sat outside on the deckway, straining their ears to catch what they can.

Two weeks ago it was me on the deckway, and no one letting me to the front. Now check me out!

I have to turn to look at Father, who's sitting before the west gate. West is the most powerful wind: the strong wind, the wind that brings in storms and destruction, tearing up the land and changing the coastline. And that's what a Boss has to do as well, bring storms down on the English and the Scots. Father don't sit on any old bench, neither. He's got the great chair, the one every Boss has sat in since the Collapse. Father's the fifteenth Boss since then, and I should be sixteenth. But that ain't what matters now, what matters is me being in with Father. Coz everyone dreams about being sat at council, even when they're just sword boys, too little to hold a shield. And now I'm here!

Faz is before the east gate, coz only Windspeakers is safe to sit there. And that just leaves north. Where stinking, stupid Aileen's sat. She's got no right! She's just a slave, not even Family! Father only bought her five years ago. And I remember what the Scottish slave-smuggler said about her, when he was selling:

“Prime stock. We bought her a good while back, so she's well broken.”

What a lie that was, he probably just wanted rid of her. And now she's here. My mother was High Family, out of Chell Sea. She was a proper Boss-Wife, not some doxy, so she had rights to sit at council. But the only rights Aileen's got is her sneaking hooks into Father.

Ims nudges me.

“It's been a good day for you.”

Faz nods, flapping the red spirit flags tied in his hair.

“The winds have taken a liking to him.”

Ims grins. “And it should be a laugh checkin' out this English spy-witch. The girl-boy. It tried to snag Zeph in Lunden, but he caught it for us!”

My father smiles his fighting smile.

“That's for sure! And Zeph's gonna get his part in the testing. He brought it in, he gets the honor.”