Icebreaker (18 page)

Squid hushed her and shouted, “She wasn't lying about the strange ship though. It's out there somewhere.”

Dolph wouldn't listen. She followed them the length of the deck, and all Squid's protests did not move her. She couldn't get close enough to hurt them, but neither could they escape her for long enough to get back inside the ship.

All of them except Fin were far too cold for safety. Petrel's fingers and nose were numb, and she was beginning to regret taunting her old enemy. “We're all gunna d-die if you don't let us back inside,” she shouted. “You and Squid too.”

“Don't c-care,” replied Dolph, and she advanced on them again, her knife turning wickedly in her fingers.

“Come on, Dolph,” cried Squid, through chattering teeth. “This is m-madness.”

“Don't c-care.”

Petrel stamped her feet and jumped up and down, trying to summon some warmth. But the icy air was creeping into her lungs and into her flesh and bones, and she knew that time was running out.

“Fin won't die,” she shouted. “Him and m-me are the ones you really want, but he's as warm as p-penguin stew in those clothes. You should've changed with him when I told you. Soon as your hands get too c-cold to hold a knife, he's going to run inside and you'll be f-frozen on the spot.”

It was not entirely true that Fin was warm. Frost was forming on his eyebrows, and without gloves, his fingers were as cold as Petrel's. But the rest of it was true, and Dolph knew it.

With a furious cry she rushed at them, skidding on the ice but staying upright. Petrel and Squid backed away, dragging Fin between them. He wasn't used to the ice, not like they were, and he slipped and spun and stumbled, so that they barely avoided the knife.

Dolph sobbed with rage, and yelled, “Make him t-take the jacket off. Make him!” But she could not reach them.

It was then that Squid shouted in a cracked voice, “Look! W-what's that?” And she pointed nor'east, where the cloud of seabirds had risen above the water.

Petrel assumed it was another trick, but she looked all the same, and saw a patch of white. She blinked. It was some distance away, but it was clearly far too neat and square to be a berg.

And if it wasn't a berg, there was only one other thing it could be.

 

CHAPTER 18

FIN'S SHIP

“It's Fin's ship,” cried Petrel, her breath hanging on the air in a dense fog. “Look, Fin, it's your ship. See, Dolph? There's folk out there who want to d-do us harm.”

Dolph scowled. “It's a b-berg.” But she was clearly shaken.

“There's n-never been a berg so sharp-edged and neat,” said Petrel. “That's a ship. Ain't it a ship, Fin?”

Fin stared nor'east for a long moment, his face blank. “No,” he said at last. “Dolph is right. It is an iceberg.”

Petrel grabbed his arm. “What's the m-matter with you? It
must
be your ship. All full of c-cruel men, you said.”

But Fin pulled away from her, with that old distance in his eyes that made Petrel feel so small and ugly.

“It
is
a ship, I swear it,” said Squid. “We've got to t-tell Crab. Truce, Dolph, I cry Truce. This is more important than your p-private vengeance.”

The cry of Truce was a powerful one on the
Oyster.
Dolph peered unwillingly at the square of white again, then at Fin, as if trying to see inside his head. “
He
should know if it's a ship.”

“He does,” said Petrel. “He's l-lying.”

“Why?”

Petrel tried to shrug, but she was too cold. “Don't know. Maybe he's scared.”

A flush appeared on Fin's cheek, but he did not speak.

“Dolph,” said Squid, “we must tell folk. If your mam was alive—”

Dolph's eyes narrowed, but she did not move towards them. Petrel felt that tickle of memory again—something she had seen …

But her mind was full of the strange ship, and the memory slipped away before she could grab hold of it.

“—if your m-mam was alive,” said Squid, “she'd want to know about this. She was a h-hard woman and I can't say I l-liked her, but her first thought was always for the ship.”

“Crab won't know what to do,” mumbled Dolph. “He's not g-got half Mam's brains.”

“Put him together with Albie and Krill and they'll f-figure something out,” said Petrel.

Dolph glared at her. “Still going to k-kill you. Soon as this business is finished. You and him.” She pointed the tip of her knife at Fin. “Now g-get inside.”

Petrel was so cold by then that she could hardly walk. Dolph and Squid were in the same condition, and they ended up, in spite of everything, holding each other upright, while Fin stumbled along beside them.

But Dolph did not let go of her knife, and as soon as they were inside the ship, and the hatch closed, she held the blade to Petrel's neck and said, “Should've grabbed you in the first place, shouldn't I? Well, I've learned my lesson. You won't get away from me this time.”

Petrel hardly cared, it was such a relief to be back in the warmth. Besides, the other ship scared her far more than Dolph did. She rubbed her hands together and said, “Bet they haven't got heating like ours. Bet those cruel men are all huddled together like penguins, trying not to perish of the cold, eh, Fin?”

Fin didn't answer.

“I wish the pipes'd shut up,” said Squid, and Petrel grimaced agreement, though the lack of lights meant no one could see her. The fastest way to warn folk about the other ship would be to send a rattle. But the meaningless banging continued, and any message would be drowned out before it started.

“We have to find Crab,” said Squid. “Where was he, Dolph, last time you saw him?”

“Not sure we should start with Crab,” said Petrel. “Despite him being First Officer.” The knife at her neck twitched. It might be a Truce, but it was a fragile one, and she quickly added, “Me, I still think of him as Second. He's not a First sort of person, not like Orca.”

Dolph relaxed a little at that. But her rage was still there, stored up for later, so hard and painful that Petrel almost felt sorry for her.

“Well then, maybe we should try and get to Da,” said Squid. “And
he
can talk to Crab—”

Dolph snorted. “Crab's not going to listen to Krill, not in the middle of battle. He's trying to prove himself, and he won't stop for anything.”

“Albie then,” said Petrel, and after a moment's thought all except Fin murmured agreement.

Petrel wished she could see the boy's face. She had thought he was growing more human, but the sight of the strange ship had made him shrink back inside himself, as cold and emotionless as the ice itself. She hated to think what the cruel men must be like, to do that to him.

As they descended towards Dufftown, the sounds of fighting rose up to meet them—the howls of rage, the clangor of the pipes, the clash of weapons in and out of the passages. Petrel had no idea how they were going to find Albie. A madness had overtaken the tribes of the
Oyster,
just when they needed to be clear-headed and strong.

They'll keep fighting forever,
she thought.
And that ship'll creep up on us bit by bit, and the cruel men will kill us all.

But even as she thought it, the noise stopped.

Petrel peered downwards, but it was too dark to see anything.

“Squid?” she whispered. “What's happening?”

“Don't know,” came the reply from below. “Maybe—”

Her voice was drowned out by the renewed clangor of the pipes. But this time it was no mad banging. Petrel's blood ran cold as she heard the message the pipes carried. It was a warning, an alarm that everyone on the ship, from youngest to oldest, knew and dreaded.

“Fire! Fire on board! Fire!”

 

CHAPTER 19

FIRE ON BOARD!

Fin was shocked at the speed with which everything changed. From the moment he had arrived on the ship, all he had seen between the
Oyster
's tribes was hostility.

But now, as the alarm rang on and on, the girls above and below him slipped into what was clearly a well-practiced discipline. Dolph shouted, “Fire stations! I'm for the aft hoses,” and squeezed past Fin, as quick as a cat.

“I'm for the pumps,” cried Squid, as she jumped off the bottom of the ladderway.

The alarm stopped. A whiff of smoke drifted towards Fin, and he said, into the darkness, “Are you going with them?”

“Nope,” said Petrel. “Haven't got a place on the fire crews. They don't count me, they never have.”

There was silence, as if she was thinking. Then she climbed down until her feet were a couple of steps above Fin's, and their faces were on a level. “Thing is,” she said, her voice soft and close, “that ship of yours is still out there.”

Fin tried to reply, but the words caught in his throat. The coldness of the afterdeck had been nothing compared to the coldness he had felt when he saw the sail of the
Retribution
. It had crawled inside him, so that he felt as if he were back in the Citadel, and every part of him frozen.

He did not understand where this feeling had come from. The Citadel was a place of coolness and discipline, that was all. He had not felt frozen when he lived there. Surely. Not like this.

I LOVE my life with the Circle,
he told himself.
I cannot wait to return to it and get away from this chaos!

But the frozen feeling persisted, and it was so familiar and so unpleasant that he almost wanted to climb down the ladderway and throw himself at the fire, to be rid of it.

He forced himself to say, “I do not think they will approach. Not yet.” He did not tell Petrel that the Devouts were afraid of the demon and its terrible powers, that they would not attack until they saw his signal, or until the ship was clearly in such distress that the demon must be dead.

“All the same,” said Petrel, “we can't just forget about 'em. We
could
try to find Albie, but he wouldn't be able to do anything, not while there's a fire to be fought. Besides—”

She put her hand on Fin's shoulder. Even through the jacket it seemed to warm him, and it suddenly struck him that this scrawny, outcast girl was the very opposite of frozen. She was filled with life and warmth. She had cared for him when he was ill and had saved his life on the afterdeck. Maybe he could save
her
life when the Devouts came—

This is wrong,
he told himself.
I should not have such thoughts.

“Besides,” said Petrel, her breath tickling his cheek, “there's someone better than Albie.
Much
better.”

“Who?”

“The sleeping captain, of course!”

Every hair on the back of Fin's neck rose. She was talking about the demon! She
must
be!

“I don't know where he is,” added Petrel. “Might be they've got him tucked away in Braid, in a cabin I've never found. But I don't reckon that's the case. I don't reckon
anyone
knows where he is. Which means he must be somewhere so secret that you can't stumble across him by accident.
I
reckon he's in the tunn—”

She broke off, as if she had said too much.

“The what?” asked Fin mildly, though his heart was pounding.

“Can't tell you. You'll have to stay here.”

“I would rather come with you.”

“Nope. It's a secret where I'm going, and I promised I wouldn't show anyone.”

“To whom did you make this promise?”

“Can't tell you that either. But they're my friends.”

She means the imps,
realized Fin, and he hardened himself against her. “What can the sleeping captain do?” he asked, though he already knew.
It can kill with a glance. It can destroy whole cities. It can boil the blood in a man's veins …

“Don't know,” said Petrel. “Folk reckon he'll wake up when the ship's in great danger. This is great danger, ain't it, with a fire, and cruel men on the horizon?”

Greater than she knows,
thought Fin.

“But how'll the sleeping captain know about it unless someone tells him?” Petrel's voice sank to a reverent murmur. “Imagine, Fin! I'll whisper in his ear, and he'll wake up and come storming out and fix everything! Your cruel men won't know what hit 'em!”

Fin breathed in and out, trying to calm his agitated mind. His fingers flexed around the heavy spanner. This was his best chance yet. He knew where the demon was hidden, but he did not know how to get there, not from here. Not with the lights gone and the long dark passages filling with smoke. Not without getting hopelessly lost.

What he needed was a guide, someone who knew the ship from top to bottom. Someone who might be able to open that secret hatch …

“Are you sure you know where to find him?” he asked.

“No, but I don't see where else he could be.”

Fin swallowed. “Do you know a hatch deep in the hold, with no handle? Somewhere near where you found me, when I was lost?”

“Near the propeller shaft? Aye, I know it. It's broken, that's all.”

“What if it is not broken? What if there is no handle for a reason?”

Silence. Fin could almost hear Petrel's mind sorting through the possibilities. He found himself wondering how she would react when he smashed her precious sleeping captain to pieces in front of her eyes.
It must be done,
he reminded himself.
I am making the world a better place.

At last Petrel said, “He might be there, I spose.”

“We should go and see,” said Fin. “We should go together and—”