The Frost Child (26 page)

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was curled up on a cushion on the floor. Owen was standing in the doorway. There was a strange expression on his face.

"How long have I been gone?" he asked.

"Hours, I think," Silkie said.

"It only felt like minutes."

"Have you been ...," Silkie stopped. She could see that his eyes were red. "I mean, what did you see?"

Owen swallowed. "It's not so often you get to meet your dad and find that he's younger than you are."

"What?"

Owen told her about everything that had happened in the Memorator. Silkie's eyes were as round as saucers when he had finished. Then she frowned.

"But he didn't really tell you anything that you don't already know," she said.

"I think he did, or rather my dad did without meaning to. Where's the Long Woman? We need to get moving."

"Where are we going?"

"Behind enemy lines."

They found the Long Woman outside, at her dog compound, where she kept the dangerous but beautiful long-muzzled dogs that drew her sleigh. The leader, Arcana, gave a sharp bark when he saw Owen, and Owen acknowledged the greeting with a smile.

"Does that mean he's pleased to see you?" Silkie asked.

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"I think so. The Long Woman's dogs don't really go in for tail wagging and that sort of stuff."

The Long Woman turned from the dogs' feeding bowls. Her hair had been put up again, but Silkie could see glints of gold from under her tall hat.

"We need to go," Owen said, "but thank you for all your help."

"You find what you need?" The Long Woman raised an eyebrow.

"I think so."

"Then go quick. Fight Harsh. Maybe I fight Harsh too. Long Woman is too old to kill Harsh. Arcana go with you to boat. Too many dangerous things on island."

"Thank you for keeping my granddad's message," Owen said.

The Long Woman cackled. "Grandfather good man, better than grandson to notice what is straight in front of eyes!"

And with that the Long Woman turned her back to them.

"Goodbye, and, er ... thanks," Silkie said. But the Long Woman did not speak again. Arcana looked at them expectantly.

It took longer than they expected back to the
Wayfarer
, and without Arcana they would soon have been lost in the dark.

"What did she mean by that last bit about noticing things in front of your eyes?" Silkie asked.

"I don't know," Owen said, slipping on a slimy weed. "Is it always dark in this place?"

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The Long Woman ... her face was different in some way ...
Silkie thought hard but couldn't work it out.

At last they reached the
Wayfarer
. Owen thanked Arcana. The dog bared his teeth in what seemed like a smile and loped off into the night.

"Light a lamp," Owen said. "I can't see a thing."

Silkie lit a magno lamp and carried it onto the deck, where she hung it from a nail on the mast. Owen looked up. His expression changed.

"What is it?" Silkie asked.

"Touch your face," he said quietly. She put her hand to her cheek. The skin was smooth. The angry scar had gone!

"Now I know what was different about the Long Woman," Silkie said. "She had another scar on her face, a small one beside the big one she always had.

"It must have been when I was asleep," Silkie added, feeling her cheek in wonder. "I would not have asked her to carry that burden for me."

Silkie turned and bowed in the direction of the Long Woman's house, and though she did not know it, the Long Woman's fierce, unblinking stare watched them from under the eaves.

"Get ready to let out the sail," Owen said. "The Harsh are waiting."

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Chapter 26

Cati and Wesley were at their wits' end. Rosie's sentence was due to be carried out the following day, and they had made no progress either in finding her accomplice or in figuring out how they would get her out of prison. Movement around the Workhouse was getting increasingly more difficult, particularly with Moorhead after them, and they barely would have been able to move if not for the ventilation ducts. The atmosphere was tense. The Albions had started creeping close to the walls at night, and several guard posts had been attacked.

Wesley and Cati had taken to escaping to the Den, which they reckoned was safe from the redcoats. Wesley sat on the sofa while Cati paced, stopping every so often as if an idea had struck her; then she would shake her head and resume pacing.

"Sit yourself down," Wesley said. "You're getting on my nerves."

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"Never mind your nerves, I need to think," she snapped. Before Wesley could reply there was a noise in the doorway. Wesley leapt to his feet. It was only Martha.

"We don't have much chance of winning this war if friends keep falling out," she observed.

"It's Rosie," Cati blurted out. "We don't think it's fair, what's happening to her."

"We've been looking for a way to stop them putting her to sleep," Wesley said.

"If I can't work out a problem, I usually talk to the cleverest person I know," Martha said, sitting down. "Sometimes you only need to tell it, and then you start to see clearly."

"Who is the cleverest person we know?" Wesley turned to Cati. "Dr. Diamond. Got to be."

"Yes," Cati burst out, "but he voted for the sentence."

"Perhaps you should ask him why he did that, instead of judging him," Martha said gently. "We all owe our friends that, at least."

Rosie lay on the bunk in her cell, staring at the ceiling. The music in her head had become a lot more troubling, filling her mind so that she had difficulty thinking, and the stabbing pains were more frequent. She was often confused, drifting in and out of sleep, wondering where her friends were, and why she was in this tiny cell.

Twenty minutes later the two friends found themselves in a ventilation shaft, climbing upward toward the Nab.

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"Martha's right," Wesley said. "We need to talk to him."

"All I can say is that his story better be good," Cati exclaimed crossly. Then she put her head to one side.

"What is it?" Wesley asked. He knew that since her time with the Dogs in Hadima, her hearing was very sensitive.

"Follow me." She started to climb down one of the side shafts. As they got closer Wesley could hear a peculiar high-pitched, half-strangled noise.

They clambered down until they were positioned just above a wooden grille. Down below was what appeared to be a guard's room.

"One of Samual's," Wesley whispered. There was a red uniform folded on the bed. There were pink fluffy cushions and photographs of kittens on the wall. The air was full of steam. They heard the strange noise again, and then Moorhead came into the room. She was wearing a shower cap and had a towel wrapped around her head. She had a large pink sponge in her hand, and as they gazed in wonder, she opened her mouth and started to sing.

"My secret love, I soar like a dove ...," Moorhead warbled.

Cati and Wesley fought back the giggles. They wriggled back into the main shaft, where they rolled around holding their sides, all of the tensions of the siege falling away. Afterward they sat in the dim lit shaft.

"I feel weak," Cati said. "My sides are sore."

"I ain't had a laugh like that this long time."

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"Do you think we can beat them?" Cati said, now serious. "You know that time when the Harsh froze me? I couldn't bear that again, Wesley. I don't want to be a coward, but every time I even think about them I feel the cold in my bones. It's like death."

Wesley didn't say anything. Instead he reached out and took her hand. They sat like that for a long time, then without a word they started to climb again.

The shaft opened onto an old rusty grille on the roof. Wesley worked at the rotten screws with his knife until they were free. He put his head out cautiously and ducked back again.

"What is it?" Cati hissed.

"Take a look."

She peered out over the rim of the shaft. Ten yards away a group of Samual's soldiers stood around the base of the Nab, the brass tower that supported Dr. Diamond's Skyward. There was an immense tangle of barbed wire around the base of the tower. Dr. Diamond came out of the Skyward high above and stood on the staircase.

"Matt!" he shouted down. One of the soldiers looked up.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Matt, for the final time, will you take a message to Samual?"

"I can't, Doctor. Orders."

"Orders, orders," the doctor muttered. "What happened to free will?"

"What's that, Doc?"

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"Never mind," the doctor said irritably, and walked back into the Skyward.

"They're keeping him prisoner!" Cati said, slipping back into the shaft.

"Samual's getting rid of anybody might stand against him," Wesley said.

"I don't know." Cati looked uncertain. "In the end Samual is a soldier. And Dr. Diamond respects him."

"Don't matter anyhow. He's still a prisoner. Even if we get rid of the guards, we'll never get past the barbed wire."

"I have an idea," Cati said. "Follow me."

Cati plunged back into the shaft with Wesley behind her. They reached the spot where they had entered the shaft, but Cati kept on going. Down and down they went, deep into the bowels of the Workhouse, the shaft becoming darker, coated with the filth of ages. At last they emerged into what looked like the interior of a machine--there were giant brass cogs and pistons and pulleys, all covered in ancient grease.

"What is this place?" Wesley looked up at a brass cog that towered above him.

"Machine room for the Nab," Cati explained. "This machine puts it up and lowers it."

A grin spread across Wesley's face.

"I think I get you," he said.

Five minutes later, Samual's soldiers were standing around the brass shaft of the Nab when they felt a rumbling

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beneath their feet. The rumbling grew to a roar. They looked around in alarm as the shaft of the Nab began to vibrate. There was an earsplitting grate of metal against metal, then, with alarming creaks and groans, the huge brass towers started to shoot down into the earth, the sections telescoping into each other. The soldiers ran for cover as the shaft swayed this way and that and rolls of barbed wire were flung high into the air. With unbelievable speed, the Nab was swallowed by the Workhouse. As the Skyward drew level with the roof of the Workhouse, the soldiers saw Dr. Diamond. He was leaning on the rail of the Skyward, looking as relaxed as if he was out for a stroll and had stopped to lean on a bridge. With a smile he waved at them and then, with a tremendous clatter, the Nab disappeared.

Cati had covered her ears against the din made by the machine and the telescoping sections of the Nab. Looking up, she saw the Skyward speeding toward them. It seemed that it must smash into the ground, but just as it drew level with them it slowed and stopped. Dr. Diamond stepped off, brushing dust from his overalls.

"That was very clever, you two," he said.

"Why were they keeping you locked up like that?" Wesley asked.

"And why did you vote to sentence Rosie?" Cati demanded.

Dr. Diamond sat down on a large metal gear housing and sighed.

"I had no choice," he said. "Rosie has been working

280

for Johnston. I don't know how or why, but I had to get her out of circulation."

"You're talking about
Rosie
!" Cati was outraged.

"Take it easy." Wesley put his hand on Cati's shoulder. "Let the man speak."

"I know that, Cati, but her actions were putting the whole Workhouse in danger. I had to get her out of harm's way until I figure out what is going on."

"You don't have much time, Doc," Wesley said.

"I know that," the doctor replied. Cati and Wesley watched in puzzlement as Dr. Diamond gazed around the space they were in, then spotted what he was looking for: a ventilation shaft. He moved until he was standing right beside it.

"And there is something else," he said loudly. "She was talking to someone through the ventilation shaft. I am afraid she has an accomplice, and I think I know who that accomplice is."

In the still center of the Workhouse, Dr. Diamond's words drifted through dozens of ventilation shafts into empty rooms and stores and attics. And in one of those rooms an ear was pressed to the shaft, and a heart began to beat a little faster.

Rosie paced the earthen floor of her prison cell. She found it hard to believe that she was in prison, condemned as a traitor. She was confused. The immediate past was vague and far away. Her home in Hadima felt