Icebreaker (13 page)

“No, of course he couldn't! He didn't
do
it. He swore he didn't—” Petrel clapped her hand across her mouth. But it was too late.

“Aha,” said Squid.

“You tricked me!”

“No, I didn't.
I
don't think he killed Orca. I think he's taking the blame for someone else's nastiness. Don't know whose, mind. But that's not the question, right now. The question is, are you going to trust me?”

Petrel chewed her knuckles. Of course she wasn't going to trust Squid! Years of bitter experience had taught her that
no one
could be trusted. No one except herself.

But if she didn't do something soon, Fin would die.

I could pretend to trust her. And keep my eyes open, so I see when she's about to turn on me. That's when I run, and if Fin's better, he can run with me. And if he's not better—

“He's sick,” she said. “I think it's his arm, gone bad.”

“Might be,” said Squid. “Will you take me to him?”

Once again, Petrel didn't answer straightaway.
It's like one of those dreams,
she thought,
where I'm climbing nets. Every time I get to the top, and I think the hard bit's over, another one pops up in front of me, even steeper than the one before.

Then she thought, as she did in the dreams,
But I've gone this far. Not much use turning back now.

“He's in Grease Alley,” she whispered, hoping desperately that she was doing the right thing. “But you can't see him. Border guards'll never let you past.”

Squid nodded slowly. “You're right, but … What if Head Cook Krill sent a gift to Albie, as a symbol of the Truce? Maybe a couple of extra-large toothies, cooked in Krill's special sauce that no one outside Dufftown has ever had the pleasure of tasting? Would that be enough to get me past the border?”

“Might be.”

“Then let's give it a try. And if it works, young Petrel, then it's up to you to take me to the boy.”

 

CHAPTER 13

HIS TREACHEROUS MEMORY

Hot. Cold.
Hot.
Coooooold. The boy shivered and burned and shivered again. He had never felt so ill, not in all his life.

He groaned, and someone knelt beside him. He wasn't sure who it was. A girl, maybe. She rolled his sleeve up and said, “See, that's where I sewed him. He wouldn't let me near it earlier.”

Someone else touched him with cool fingers. “Doesn't look as if it's gone bad. No red streaks. You did a good job with those stitches.”

The boy drifted off for a bit, though he knew he shouldn't. Brother Thrawn did not like it when the Initiates daydreamed. Besides, the boy had a mission to carry out.

“I am trying, Brother,” he muttered. “I am getting close. Please be patient. Do not go away and leave me here…”

“What's he talking about?” said a voice nearby.

“Don't know. He's been mumbling all night. None of it makes sense. Squid, if it's not his arm, what is it?”

“Not sure. Let's see his chest.”

“Do not go away and leave me here,” whispered the boy again, and the words cracked open a door in the hidden tracts of his memory. His treacherous memory.

He tried to fight it, but he was too weak. Under the heat of the fever, the door swung wider. The girl bending over him became a woman with tears pouring down her far-too-thin face.

“It's for the best, my love,” she whispered, though her arms, wrapped tight around him, said something else entirely. “There's no food, not for us poor folk. At least in the Citadel you'll eat.”

The boy could not bear it. “No,” he cried out loud.
“No!”
And he tried to sit up.

“Shhhh, lie down,” said a voice. “It's all right, you're sick, that's all. Don't be scared, Squid'll fix you.”

“Look at this rash,” said a second voice. “You know what I think? He's got boat fever.”

“But no one gets this sick with boat fever. Squid, are you
sure
it's not his arm?”

“I'm positive.”

“Will he get better?”

“Who knows? Where does he come from? Has he told you?”

“No,” whispered the boy, as the illness gripped him tighter. “Do not tell. Must not warn the demon … it will blow us out of the water if it suspects … cannot send a man … send a boy … it will never suspect a boy…”

And then the woman with the thin face was bending over him again, only she had a different voice, and she said, “What are you talking about, Fin?”

“That is not my name,” whispered the boy. “I do not have a name, Mama, not yet … they took away the one you gave me … but I am going to earn a new one … soon … when the demon is destroyed … when the ship is—”

A fit of shivering overtook him, and he broke off. Someone said, “We need to bring his temperature down. We need to find out what he's talking about too. I don't like the sound of it, Petrel. I think I'm going to have to tell Da.”

“What? No, you can't!”

“You heard what he said. It's something to do with the ship. Maybe something that affects the crew. Don't you want to know what it is?”

“I don't
care
what it is. I don't care about the crew!”

There was a long silence. Then one of the voices said, “You know, not everyone agrees with what was done to your mam and da.”

“Bit late for that now,” said the other voice bitterly.

“Aye, I spose it is.”

Another long silence.

Then, “Petrel, Da
has
to be told.”

“He'll throw Fin overboard!”

“No, he won't. I'll talk to him first, make sure he sees the sense of it. Da's no fool, and he can tell good meat from bad. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already realized that the boy couldn't have killed Orca.”

“What if he doesn't see the sense of it?”

“Listen, everyone's searching for the boy. If he stays here, Albie's going to find him sooner or later—”

“I'll move him.”

“How? Where? Look at him. He's really sick, he needs proper care. He'll be warm in Dufftown and he'll have plenty to eat. Don't worry, you can come with him. I know he's your friend.”

Deep in the boy's memory, the once-loved voice murmured, “You'll be warm in the Citadel. You'll have plenty to eat. You'll make friends.”

The boy's face convulsed. With the small part of his mind that was still aware, he told himself that this was not a memory at all, but the fever playing tricks on him. Or perhaps it was the demon, crawling into his mind.

“Go away,” he whispered. “Go away, demon.” And he closed his poor frozen heart off from the past, as he had learned to do so long ago, and forced himself to dream of nothing but duty and hard work and the virtue of destruction.

*   *   *

It was the most difficult decision Petrel had ever faced. “How would we get Fin up to Dufftown?” she said. Then she quickly added, “I'm not agreeing, mind, I'm just wondering. Can't carry him; Engineers'd grab him before we got to the ladders.”

“Mm. And Da can't come down and get him. Border guards'd never let
him
past, no matter what he gave 'em.”

They both fell silent. Fin tossed and moaned, but did not speak.

“Maybe—” said Petrel slowly, wondering why in the name of blizzards she was even
thinking
about the idea. “Maybe there
is
a way. Not sure yet. You go and talk to your da. Make sure he promises not to hurt Fin, and promises not to tell anyone about him either. And when you've got those promises, all proper and solemn, send me a rattle through the pipes in Cook code.”

“You know Cook code?” Squid looked surprised.

“Course I do,” said Petrel.

“I should've guessed. All right, let's see. I'll say something like …
The soup is safe for eating.
” Squid shuffled away from the boy. “The whole of Dufftown'll think I've gone mad.”

“Fin will get better, won't he?” asked Petrel.

“Hope so,” said Squid. “Hope we can fillet out whatever he's talking about too.” She frowned, then her face cleared. “As for me, it's back past the border guards. They'd better've liked that extra bit of sauced toothy I gave 'em, eh?”

“Can you find your way?”

“I think so. If I get lost I'll shout for help.” And with a wave she was gone.

Petrel bent over the feverish boy. “Am I doing the right thing, Fin?” she whispered. “Am I? I don't know. These are strange days, and I can't see where they're going.”

*   *   *

“No,” said Mister Smoke. “No no no no no. Understand me, shipmate? I say no. No no no—”

“And so do I,” interrupted Missus Slink. “No no no—”

“I heard you the first time,” said Petrel. “But listen to me—”

“No no no—”

Petrel put her hands over her ears. The only way to get Fin up to Dufftown unnoticed was to carry him through the bulkhead tunnels. If the rats had agreed straightaway, she might have had second thoughts. But their refusal to even consider the matter brought out all her stubbornness.

“He won't know where he is,” she said. “He's too feverish. And I won't tell Squid or Krill. They'll think I sneaked him past the border guards somehow.”

“No no no—”

Petrel hadn't told Mister Smoke and Missus Slink about Fin's ravings. They already distrusted the boy, and she didn't want to make things worse. But now she had no choice.

“He's— He's been saying things,” she said. “Something about a demon, and about the ship. Squid says we have to take him to Krill.”

The relentless chorus broke off, and beady eyes peered up at Petrel. “Demon?” said Missus Slink.

Petrel nodded.

“Ship?” said Mister Smoke.

“Aye. He said something like, he doesn't have a name 'cos someone took it, but he's going to earn a new one soon when the demon is destroyed and the ship is—”

“‘The ship is' what?” said Missus Slink sharply.

“Don't know. Fever took him before he finished. Why's he talking about a demon?”

The rats looked at each other. “How's your memory, Slink?” said Mister Smoke. “You got records of a demon in there?”

“My memory is all rust and fish oil,” replied Missus Slink, “and getting worse every day. I've got suspicions, but nothing solid.”

“Me too,” said Mister Smoke.

“So maybe the girl's got a point.”

“Maybe she 'as.”

“I could blindfold him,” said Petrel quickly. “Just to be sure.”

The beady eyes inspected her once more. “And not tell a soul?” said Missus Slink. “Not even if they hang you by your heels over the side—”

“Not even then,” interrupted Petrel, who was fairly sure that Squid at least would not hang her over the side of the ship.

“Then you 'ave our permission,” said Mister Smoke.

*   *   *

It was some time before the message came through. Petrel sat beside Fin, wiping the sweat from his face and whispering reassurances that he didn't seem to hear. She wondered if he would say something that made sense of his previous mutterings about the ship. But although the boy groaned and moaned, and his eyelids flickered as if he were trapped in a nightmare, he did not speak again.

The longer Petrel sat there, the more worried she became.
What if Albie finds us before Squid's message comes through? What if Squid can't persuade her da that Fin didn't kill Orca? Or what if Krill only PRETENDS to be persuaded, so he can get his hands on the stranger?

Petrel had never feared the Head Cook the way she feared Albie and Orca, but still Squid's da was a huge and powerful man. Once he had his hands on Fin, there would be little Petrel could do to protect the boy …

It was almost evening when the pipes rattled out their seemingly innocent message about soup. “That's it,” said Petrel, and Missus Slink immediately hobbled away.

Petrel unwound the scrap of sealskin that she had been using as a scarf, and tied it over Fin's eyes. “It won't be for long,” she whispered. “And it's prob'ly best that you can't see what's happening.”

If Fin
had
been able to see, he would have been horrified. Because Missus Slink was back already, and with her she brought a horde of rats, black and lean and clever. They scrambled over the broken machinery, then stood on their hind legs and inspected Petrel and Fin with quivering noses.

Petrel had never seen so many rats gathered in one place. She didn't mind them, not like Fin did, so she stayed where she was while they sniffed her.

“You're going to help us, ain't you,” she whispered, though she knew they couldn't understand her, not the way
her
rats did.

They understood Missus Slink though. At a signal Petrel did not hear, they swarmed around Fin and began to wriggle underneath him. There were so many of them, and they pushed so stubbornly, that they raised the boy right off the rusty floor, until he looked as if he were floating on a sea of tiny legs.

“Be careful with him,” said Petrel. “Don't drop him.”

“You mind
your
business, shipmate, and we'll mind ours,” said Mister Smoke, as he limped past Fin's head, nudging and poking the rats into place. When he came to the spanner, which was dragging on the floor, he said, “You'd best take that orf 'im, it'll make too much of a racket.”

Petrel eased the spanner out of Fin's grasp. Then she grabbed her outdoor clothes, and tucked the spanner in her own trouser pocket.

“We'll go that way,” said Mister Smoke, nodding towards the back exit, which was not as cluttered with machinery parts as the front. “Is it clear? Don't want Engineers trippin' over the cargo. Snap to it, shipmate.”