The Frost Child (22 page)

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the top of Owen's head. Owen staggered and fell to the deck, stunned.

When he woke, he was tied to the mast. His head pounded and he could feel half-dried blood caked in his hair. It was almost dawn. There was a soft light in the east. He saw reed beds to either side of the river and heard the sound of wild birds. Black was arguing with the crew.

"Twenty minutes and we'll be sailing in time again. A day or so will put us in contact with the Harsh--their ships are patrolling everywhere. Hand the boy over and you'll be richer than you ever dreamed possible."

Someone must have mentioned Yarsk's name, and this time Black spoke with contempt.

"Yarsk is finished. I'm fond of a bit of horandum myself, but some people are just too greedy. The stuff has eaten away his mind. Forget about Yarsk."

Owen shut his eyes and sagged back against the ropes that bound him. There was a constant low buzz of pain in his head. Then he realized that the sound was not entirely in his head. There was another sound, something low and growling, like a powerful engine ticking over. He opened his eyes again and looked over the side. A long, black needle-shaped bow edged into view. One of the sinister black boats they had seen in the harbor. The bow seemed to go on forever as it moved alongside the
Faltaine
, but finally he saw a cockpit, and behind the cockpit, two massive engines. But it wasn't the engines that caught his eye, it was the pilots in the cockpit. One

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of them was an elderly man, smallset, wearing a motorcycle helmet and goggles. He grasped the controls of the boat firmly and Owen could see muscles bulging in his forearms. The other pilot, features half concealed by another motorcycle helmet, was Silkie!

Owen made to cry out but stopped himself. Black didn't know they were there. Owen could see that the pilot was edging his boat closer to the
Faltaine
. Silkie was standing now, a knife in her hand. At a signal from the pilot, she put her knife in her teeth and leapt for the side of the
Faltaine
. Her hand wrapped around a stanchion and she pulled herself up.

Owen looked round. The crew's attention was on preparing to set sail, and Black was gazing eagerly forward. Silkie crept across the deck toward him. She winked and started to cut the ropes that held him. But they hadn't reckoned on Black. There was a sharp crack and a bullet thudded into the mast an inch from Silkie's side. She froze.

"I won't shoot you, Navigator," Black said, "but if your pal moves a muscle, I'll put a bullet between her eyes." He went to the side and looked down at the other boat.

"This is none of your business, Higgins."

"Everything that goes on in Port Merforian is my business. Particularly when someone tries to change a coin with my old friend's face on it." The man's voice was low and pleasant. Owen had the feeling that he was the type of man who never had to raise his voice to get what he wanted.

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"Where's Yarsk?" Higgins went on. "I want to talk to him."

"Yarsk is unavailable," Black sneered. "He has an appointment with a horandum bottle."

"Yarsk is a Shipman Islander by birth," Higgins said, his voice cold now. "They have no tolerance for the stuff. Did you give it to him, Black?"

"I didn't have to press it on him, if that's what you mean," Black said. "Now take your little smuggling boat back upriver. I have a deal to do."

"Can't let you do that, Black."

"You can't stop me," Black said, pressing the barrel of the revolver against Silkie's temple. Higgins' eyes narrowed.

"Three minutes to the gate," one of the sailors said. Black grinned. Higgins glanced from Black to Owen and Silkie. There was nothing he could do and he knew it.

"Who gave that order?" a voice rang out. The crew stopped what they were doing and looked around. Yarsk was standing on the deck, using the rail to support himself. He looked awful. His face was pale and bloodless and his eyes were sunk in dark sockets. He kept passing his hand across his face as though terrible visions flickered in front of him.

"I said, who gave that order?"

"Black gave it, Captain." It was the woman who had freed Owen. "Do you want us to drop anchor?"

"Hold it!" Black threw Silkie to the deck. "There'll be no anchor!"

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The first sailor spoke again. "Two minutes to the gate."

"This is my ship!" Yarsk's voice wavered.

"Not anymore," Black said, the revolver leveled at Yarsk. Yarsk straightened and stared Black in the face. Owen could see his hand grasp the rail. Moving faster than Owen would have thought possible, Yarsk grabbed a steel hook from the rail and flung it at Black.
He hasn't the strength
, Owen thought in despair as the hook hit the deck and slid along, dragging a rope behind it. It struck Black's foot and wrapped harmlessly around his ankle. Black smiled mirthlessly and squeezed the trigger.

The shot sounded louder than anything Owen had ever heard. A rose of blood bloomed on the front of Yarsk's shirt. The captain gasped and fell forward, but as he did, his left hand reached for a rope knotted around the rail. With one pull he loosened the knot. The rope streamed out. Owen looked up. One end of the rope was attached to a heavy block high up on the mast, and the block was now plummeting toward the deck. The other end was attached to the hook that was wrapped around Black's ankle. Black looked up at the plunging block, then down at his ankle. The rope snapped taut.

Almost faster than the eye could follow, Black was upended and flung high into the air by the rope around his ankle. He soared to the height of the mast, and then the rope parted. With a thin scream, Black flew through the air until he was far behind the
Faltaine
, then landed in the river with a loud splash. They watched the spot where he entered the water, but he did not resurface.

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Owen shrugged off the rest of the ropes and ran forward to Yarsk. He knelt down. Yarsk opened his eyes. They were clear.

"Drop the anchor," he said. His voice was weak, but the crew ran to obey. "Come closer," Yarsk said, barely audible.

"Your grandfather used to say ... time is ... time is longer for a child than for a grown-up." Yarsk smiled and closed his eyes. The woman who had freed Owen knelt down beside them and felt for the captain's pulse.

"He's gone," she said quietly. Owen sensed the whole crew gathered around them in a silence broken only by the gentle sound of the river against the hull.

Owen and Silkie stood on the deck of the
Wayfarer
watching the
Faltaine
sail back toward Port Merforian, bearing the body of their captain. Higgins sat on the rail beside them, smoking a cigar.

"That's some sensible girl you got there," Higgins said.

"What happened?" Owen asked. "How did you find me?"

"Nothing happens in Port Merforian without me knowing," Higgins said, "and when somebody changes a gold coin with the Navigator's head on it, news travels faster than usual."

"When you didn't come back," Silkie said, "I went looking for you. I found the street with the banks on it. There was a ... a row going on."

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"I'd caught up with the crook that had taken your coin--he only gave you a tenth of what it was worth." Higgins grinned. "I ... eh ... persuaded him to tell me where you had gone."

"Mr. Higgins knew about us and the
Wayfarer,"
Silkie said.

"She was seen the minute she came into the harbor," Higgins said. "Took me a while to realize that she really was the
Wayfarer
. That boat hasn't been seen here in many's a long year. Between one thing and another, we tracked you down pretty quick."

"I'm very glad you did," Owen said, his voice betraying his emotion. "All would have been lost without you and Silkie." He glanced at the Raggie girl. She had dressed the wound on his head, all the while scolding him for going off without telling her. But she was smiling now.

"You're the Navigator's grandson, and any enemy of the Harsh is a friend of mine." Higgins lifted up his trouser leg. The leg underneath was made of polished bone. "Frostbite. I was smuggling magno into Hadima, and the Harsh caught me. Took the magno and put me in prison. I tell you, it was cold in that prison, and many's the one froze to death in it."

"Smuggling?" Owen said.

"You get two types of people in Port Merforian, pirates and smugglers. I'm the latter. Retired now, of course, though lucky for you I kept the
Straight Flush."
He indicated the fast craft that had followed the

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Faltaine
downriver. "Would never have caught you without her."

"Wasn't such a lucky day for Yarsk," Silkie said.

"No," Higgins said quietly, "it wasn't."

In silence they watched the sails of the
Faltaine
go upriver until they could be seen no more.

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Chapter 23

Cati woke early. Owen and Silkie had left the previous day, and now Uel and Mervyn's trial was upon them. She got dressed and went searching for Contessa. She found her on the battlements. Contessa was looking out at the besieging forces, spread out in a great semicircle around the Workhouse, and beyond them the Harsh fleet. Smoke from campfires rose into the air, and men were getting out of tents. The urgency of the battlefield had settled into the long wait of a siege.

"I've never seen a trial among the Resisters before," Cati asked. "What happens?"

"Someone will be picked to be the accuser--probably Samual. Then the accused person can pick someone to defend him. The accuser puts his case and the defender puts his. Then the Resisters present--which won't be everyone, as the Workhouse has to be guarded--will vote on guilt or innocence."

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"What happens if they are found guilty?"

"For a crime as serious as taking the Yeati's ring, there can only be one sentence. After all, people could have died if the ring wasn't there to save them."

"What is the punishment?" Cati said, feeling that she really didn't want to know.

"The long sleep," Contessa said.

"What's that?"

"To be put to sleep in the Starry and never woken again until time itself ends."

Cati looked at her, appalled.

"But there aren't any sleepers like that in our Starry, are there?"

"No. People given the long sleep will live for many decades in some cases. But something in the substance of them gives up hope. They all die eventually."

"That can't happen to Uel and Mervyn!"

"I have a feeling, Cati," Contessa said gently, "that Samual will do his best to make sure that it does happen to them."

Cati walked away from the kitchen, her mind in turmoil. She heard running feet behind her. Wesley grabbed her shoulder.

"The trial's set for one o'clock," he said. "Samual's the accuser."

"Contessa said he would be. Have they picked a defender?"

"They have."

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"Who is it?"

"They picked you, Cati."

"Me!" She stared at the Raggie boy, shocked. "I don't know how to defend somebody!"

"Are you sure? People trust you, Cati. And they trust you to tell the truth, no matter what. You are the Watcher. And besides, they've picked you. You can't refuse. If it's any help, Dr. Diamond wants to see you."

Cati opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Wesley was right. She was the Watcher, and if being the Watcher meant anything, then it meant duty. Her heart raced.

"What time is it now?" she asked.

"About ten."

"There's no time! I have to think. Tell the boys I'll see them at the trial."

"All right." Wesley watched her hurry off, thinking that Uel and Mervyn could not have picked better, but that things still did not look good for them. Not with Samual in the mood he was in.

Cati ran up the steps of the Nab and into the Skyward without knocking. Dr. Diamond was waiting for her, his face grave. When she came out twenty minutes later, she walked slowly down the stairs, a strange, dazed look on her face. Several people greeted her, but she did not seem to hear them. When she got to the Convoke hall, she stopped and stared at the great empty space, then shook her head. There was very little time.

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She went down to the sleeping quarters and knocked on Rosie's door, but the room was empty. Then she went to see the prisoners. Samual's guards let her in without argument. Uel and Mervyn were playing a game of chess. The small cell was sparsely furnished with two bunk beds, a table, and two chairs. It must have felt like home to the Raggies, she thought.

She sat down on the bed. The two boys looked at her calmly.

"I know that the two of you didn't do it," she said, "so why don't you withdraw your confession now?"

"If we withdraw, they'll blame the child again," Uel said.

Cati sighed in exasperation. "Do you know what the punishment will be?"

"The long sleep," Mervyn said. "Mr. Samual. He told us."

"We won't have them giving a young child the long sleep," Uel said.

"They won't do that to a child," Cati cried.

"Can you promise that?" Mervyn said. Cati was silent. With Samual in the mood he was in at the moment, there was no way that she could
promise
.

"So we done it," Uel said, "and that's all there is to it."

"But how can I defend you if that's the way you act?" Cati said in despair.

"You'll find a way," Uel said confidently, capturing a