Phoenix Burning (25 page)

“Compared to climbing the masts or standing watch in a high wind, this is nothing,” Ayla whispered.

Toby relaxed. She was right. He stopped a small step away from the wall and planted his feet.

“Put your hands on your hips,” Ayla said.

“You don’t want me to hold your feet?”

“No, I need your shoulders wide and stable.”

Ayla got her left foot on his shoulder and then her right.
He held his breath as her injured leg trembled. Then she got her balance and began to stand.

Behind them, Arthur groaned and Toby caught his breath. “Hurry,” he muttered.

“All right.” Ayla extended one arm; her fingers brushed the splintered hole. “I can’t quite reach…”

Toby slid one foot nearer to the spikes. His heart thudded as Ayla rocked but held her position. Then her fingers slid inside the hole. The burned wood left charcoal smears on her wrist as she pulled her hand out and held the pendant high.

The crowd roared.

“Do you think we get to keep this?” she said, admiring the glitter of sunlight from the diamond.

“The bell’s not rung.” Toby turned to see Arthur trying to get to his feet. “They’re waiting for him to take it from us.”

“I don’t think so!” Ayla leaped from Toby’s shoulders, wrapped her fist around the pendant and punched Arthur in the jaw. He thumped back down and lay still.

The bell began to ring and the crowd shouted for them. “Sun and Moon … Sun and Moon.”

Once more Toby touched the inverters hidden under his shirt. They had done it.

He didn’t watch as the others were removed from the arena.

Ayla hunched at his side, her fist clenched around the pendant as though daring someone to take it from her.

Mother Hesper and Father Dahon appeared at the arena’s exit and the attendant crowd hushed. Mother Hesper’s lips were pursed and her eyes tracked Summer as she was dragged away. Then she turned back to Toby and Ayla.

“Our Sun and Moon,” she said.

The air rippled with the crowd’s ecstatic cries.

Then Father Dahon spoke. “The favoured pair – your Sun and Moon – will now be prepared for the festival.”

Toby’s new room could not have been more different to the cell he had woken in that morning. He was now in an area of the sanctuary he had not seen before, away from both the cathedral and the rear courtyard, in a villa raised off the ground by stilts. Its sides were open to the sun, light curtains drifted in the sea breeze and the large bed was covered in pillows. In the centre of the room a bath set into the floor was filled with steaming water that scented the air with rosemary and bergamot.

Clean yellow robes hung on the back wall. They were simple, dress-like and floor length, with a wide hood and gold link belt. He would look like Father Dahon.

“Ayla?”

“I hear you.” Ayla’s apartment was so close to his that their billowing curtains occasionally tangled. He heard a splash and then a sigh as she lowered herself into her bath. “Relax, Toby, we’ve got a week before the others arrive to
meet us at the festival. Enjoy it.”

“How can you, after what we’ve done?” Toby looked at his hands. His knuckles were scraped and his nails encrusted with dirt and blood. His throat and ears were blistered from the sun.

Slowly he removed his shirt and dropped it on the floor. His chest was still an angry red from the salt and around his stomach the stained bandages were still tightly wrapped.

He looked around him. He seemed to be alone, but in this place, who knew? He undid the bandages and caught the inverter as it fell. Where could he hide it now? There was no burying it here.

Toby still had the fork tine stuck in the hem of his sleeve. He wriggled it out, used it to slit the side of a pillow, slid the inverter inside and pushed it under the pile at the back of the bed. It was the best he could do.

Then he pulled his trousers over his protesting legs and dropped them on the floor. Bruised and aching, he stepped into the water.

Toby laid his head back on the edge of the bath and allowed his muscles to loosen. The water leached the dirt from his skin and grew dark.

Toby closed his eyes. Exhaustion wrapped around him and pressed him against the porcelain. He slept.

Toby’s aches and pains had all but gone. He was dressed in yet another new yellow robe, his feet were bare and his hair had been oiled until it shone. The challenges that had led up to the day of the festival almost seemed a distant dream. But that morning, when he had carefully removed the inverter from his pillow and strapped it to his shoulder with the old bandages, he was well aware that the haze of the last few days had been nothing more than a brief escape from reality.

When they were not being ordered to pray, lectured on their future duties, or being offered fine meals and drinks, Toby and Ayla conversed in soft voices. They were unable to talk openly, due to their endlessly rotating entourage, but managed to speak in code about life on board their ships.

Toby learned that Ayla had collected the beads in her hair in every port she visited and realized that they formed a map of her life, right back to the very first time she stepped on board the
Banshee
. He learned that, sometimes, the
Banshee
was so silent that Ayla felt as if she was disappearing, so she would shake her head to hear the clattering and feel real again. He already knew that she loved to fight but he discovered that she saw each kick or
strike as a step in a dance and that when she fought she heard a beat.

Toby wasn’t stupid: he knew his feelings for her had grown too big for him to handle. Each time he thought of the day of the festival when they would return to their ships, his heart ached.

And now the day of the festival had arrived.

Toby stood outside his room, refusing to be herded by his entourage of brothers until Ayla emerged. Finally she came out. Her hair had been braided into a complex style and her precious beads shone.

Her long grey robe had silver threads that sparkled as she moved. Toby looked down at his own robe. His had gold woven through the yellow.

Ayla looked at him. “Very … shiny.”

“Back at you.” Toby stared at her boots poking out from under the robe. “You’re wearing those?”

“We tried to tell her,” a sister whispered. He received a knife-sharp glare in return.

Toby picked at a loose thread on his sleeve and heard a small gasp from a sister behind him. He dropped his hand.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked and Ayla nodded. When Hideaki had visited to tend her wounds, she had
retrieved her inverter. Toby assumed it was now tucked into one of her incongruous steel-capped boots.

“We must go.” A young sister stepped in front of Toby and gestured towards the corridor. “The festival gifts await your inspection.”

“Praise the Sun,” Toby murmured dutifully.

Ayla reached across and took his hand, squeezing his fingers before pulling away. Toby’s breath caught at the unexpected gesture, then he realized that she had left something in his palm. He closed his hand around it and, as soon as the attendants had turned away from him, he opened his hand and looked at the tiny bluish pill.

This was how Toby would die.

Under the pretext of adjusting his robe, he managed to tuck it into the hole in his sleeve left by the loose thread.

They were guided away from their villas and into the rear courtyard. Toby raised his eyes as the shadow of the cathedral fell over his face. There in the centre was a wagon piled high with pale yellow cloth. Each piece had a small embroidered sun in the centre. Standing beside the wagon was Mother Hesper.

“I thought the sanctuary collected all depictions of the Sun,” he muttered. “Now we’re giving these away?”

“These have been purified,” Mother Hesper said. “That’s why they’re so special. Each pilgrim will be permitted a single depiction of the Sun to help focus their worship over the coming year.”

“So we’re to hand these out, one to each pilgrim?” Toby thought of the inverter. It wouldn’t be too difficult to fold it into a piece of cloth.

“Toby.” Ayla nudged him. Loading a final pile of cloth squares on to the wagon was a familiar figure.

Without thinking, Toby started towards her. “Leila!”

The girl looked up. She had lost weight and her brown eyes had sunk into her sockets.

Leila signalled for Toby to give her his hand.

At first he thought she wanted some kind of blessing, but instead, Leila took his hand and turned it palm up.

Then she started to form letters with her fingernail.

I … a-m … g-l-a-d … i-t … w-a-s … y-o-u
.

Suddenly Toby found it difficult to swallow. He nodded to show that he understood and Leila dropped his hand.

“Are you all right?” he whispered. “Are they feeding you?”

Leila gave him a tremulous smile, before the other attendants, at Mother Hesper’s signal, hustled her off.

Ayla stared after her. “They’ll be fine,” she said eventually. “They’re warm, fed, clothed… Some of them came from places where that wasn’t the case.”

Toby sighed. “It doesn’t look like Leila’s eating.”

Mother Hesper loomed at his shoulder. “Many of the most holy choose not to eat. To live on sunlight is the purest form of worship.” She was so close that he could smell her sour breath. “Regardless of her choice, my dear Sun, it does take some time to learn to eat without a tongue.” She rolled back on her heels, pleased with the expression of horror on Toby’s face. Then she pointed towards the steps. “Time to greet your pilgrims. You have until the sun reaches the apex of the sanctuary dome to give out all the gifts.”

“Then what?” Toby didn’t mean to whisper, but he did.

“Then it will be time for you to give a final gift to the Sun – your vision.” Mother Hesper showed her teeth. “Make the most of the sights of today, they will be your last.”

The sanctuary doors opened and Toby was momentarily blinded by the glare. He had been instructed what to do in this moment and he raised his arms and face upwards. Beside him Ayla bowed her head and wrapped her arms around her chest. They were Sun and Moon.

He was hit by a barrage of sound. Mother Hesper caught his raised elbow and steadied him, sympathetic for the first time. “It takes some getting used to,” she murmured.

There was no way to make out individual voices or words. Toby turned to Ayla – her hands were twitching with the urge to cover her ears.

“I’ve never … it’s never…” Toby couldn’t form a coherent thought. He blinked the light from his eyes and stared. The arena was gone – the whole front of the fortification had been turned into a giant open gate. In his whole life Toby had never seen so many people.

“Are there even this many people left living?” Ayla murmured. “Are they ghosts?”

Father Dahon, who had moved to stand behind them, spoke. “They’re real… I can’t see them any more, but…” His blind eyes moved restlessly.

“You were the Moon once.” Toby had considered Father Dahon old – his air of authority, his blindness and his way of moving had contributed to a sense of great age. But now that he looked closely, Toby saw that Father Dahon was probably no more than twenty-five. This was what would happen to Toby if Ayla’s pill didn’t work.

Father Dahon nodded. “I was the first. I know what you are feeling right now.” He pressed his hand on Toby’s shoulder. “It’s overwhelming, but you have the strength of the Sun. Don’t let them see your fear.”

He and Mother Hesper stepped back into the shadows of the sanctuary, leaving Toby and Ayla alone.

“Toby…” Ayla’s voice shook.

“Can you see any of the crew?” Toby squinted over the waving crowd.

Ayla shook her head. “It’s impossible. What if they don’t make it to us before we run out of time?”

Toby shook his head. “They will.”

Crowd was not the right word for the mass of people in front of them. The wharf where Marcus had been hanged
had been crowded. Tarifa had been crowded. But there were spaces in a crowd, gaps between people so that they could move and jostle, shift and ebb. This was a solid press. No space for breath, let alone room for a band of pirates to elbow their way to the front.

“How did they all get here?” Toby breathed. “The sea must be packed with ships.”

“Which means the
Phoenix
can’t flee if we need to move fast.” Ayla fell silent as the wagon full of pilgrim gifts arrived. “Where do we go?”

Toby pointed. From a side door, two seats were being carried. Thrones. Toby’s was gold with sun rays emerging from the top. Ayla’s was identical, but silver.

“Oh my gods.” Ayla’s eyes widened. “The value.”

Toby took a deep breath and started down the steps. “Let’s get going”

Attendants placed the thrones at the cathedral steps and added padded cushions. He sat down and the ornate arms curled around him, hemming him in.

If he wanted to see Ayla, he had to lean to look for her, buried in the metallic wings of her seat.

As soon as Toby leaned back and set his elbows on the arm rests, the crowd fell silent.

But this didn’t give Toby much relief, instead it intensified the worry worming through his brain.

Robed attendants began to pick out members of the crowd and funnel them towards Toby and Ayla.

Something was pressed into his hand. Toby glanced up and found an attendant at his shoulder. In his hand was a folded piece of material.

He knew what to do.

The first pilgrim fell to his bony knees in front of Toby, his bristled face suffused with joy. Toby shook the material out so that he could see the embroidery, then he shoved it towards the man, already looking for the next.

Then Toby realized that the kneeling man was not rising. His mind raced – what had he forgotten?

Beside him Ayla was handing her own square of material to her own pilgrim. “Bless you,” she said.

Toby swallowed: of course! “Bless you,” he whispered.

The man sighed and closed his eyes; then an attendant hustled him off. Toby didn’t see where he went; a second man, twitching with anticipation, was already kneeling in front of him.

The words Toby had to say seemed more and more divorced from meaning each time he repeated them, until they could have meant anything at all, or nothing.

A woman was kneeling in front of him now, but instead
of lowering her stare, her slate-grey eyes bored into Toby’s. He shivered, feeling a strange familiarity in the gaze. The woman’s hair was blond, beginning to grey. Years ago, Toby mused, she would have been a good Sun candidate herself. She was tall and her muscles were like Ayla’s, honed by hunger, sharp-edged under her clothes. Toby swallowed. Why had this woman caught his attention?

He took a piece of cloth from the attendant at his side and thrust it towards her. “Bless you,” he muttered.

The woman didn’t move and Toby thought for a second that she was not going to take his offering. Then she snatched the cloth and tucked it into the collar of her shirt.

“Thank you, Toby.” She stood and walked away.

Only when she had gone did Toby realize that she had called him by name.

After what seemed like another hundred offerings, Toby had all but forgotten the stranger. He shifted on the cushion uncomfortably until a square-faced sister rested light fingers on his shoulder.

“These people have come to see the living embodiment of the Sun,” the woman whispered. “Have dignity, it will be over soon.”

Toby paled and looked at the sky. She was right – the
sun had moved towards the dome. He glanced at Ayla, handing out cloth and blessing, over and over, seemingly unaffected by the heat, the stench of unwashed bodies and the ticking of time.

Toby barely saw the next person to kneel in front of him. He reached for the material and held it out.

Then the supplicant lurched forwards as if falling and the attendant beside him gasped. Toby focused his attention.

As his gaze fell on the man, his fingers began to tremble. Toby took the cloth and, while the sister behind him glowered, he pulled both arms inside his sleeves and under cover of his voluminous robes, he wriggled the inverter from the bandage.

Inside his sleeve, he carefully wrapped the cloth around the precious cargo, then he returned his hands to view. To his left, Ayla was bending to her boot.

Simeon was kneeling in front of her. He looked tired and threads of sweat raced down his bare chest. Toby returned his attention to the pilgrim kneeling in front of him.

“It’s all right,” he said to the sister, as she shifted impatiently. “That’s my father.”

She nodded and allowed the captain to reach out a hand for his blessing gift.

Toby watched Barnaby and Simeon as they were hustled away from the thrones. It seemed to him that a fishing line stretched between them, more and more painful the further away they moved.

Ayla reached across to touch his hand. “Ready?”

Toby nodded, keeping his father in sight.

The brother behind Ayla nudged her and she had to turn her gaze back to the front where a woman in a tattered gown kneeled. Where had all these people come from?

“Bless you,” Ayla murmured. Then she pretended to cough and put her hand to her mouth before giving over the cloth.

Ayla was already slumping in her chair by the time Toby managed to free his pill from his hem.

There was a moment of horror, then the brother forced the shocked pilgrim to move on and Toby’s sister slid in front of Ayla, sheltering her from the crowd.

Ayla was lying completely still. As he watched, the rise and fall of her chest slowed. The colour drained from her face and her lips turned a bluish purple.

He couldn’t stop his own gasp: “Ayla!”

Panicked attendants now formed a wall between them and the crowd shifted.

Quickly Toby slid the pill on to his tongue. It tasted
bitter and Toby wasn’t sure if he was meant to swallow or chew it. He crunched it quickly, grimacing as the flavour flooded his mouth. He imagined that this was what death tasted like.

What if the pill turned out to be real poison? What if something went wrong with the plan after he was asleep? What if he never woke up? The gritty shards stuck in his throat as Toby shifted his gaze towards Ayla. As he did so, he spotted another familiar figure in the crowd.

“Nell’s here?” he whispered.

She snaked in and out of the crowd, accompanied by a tattoo-headed
Banshee
pirate on either side. She was headed for his father.

Toby tried to surge to his feet but his limbs were heavy and he fell to his knees.

There was no one to lift him to his feet – half of the attendants surrounded Ayla and others were running into the sanctuary or trying to control the panicking crowd.

From the floor, Toby couldn’t see his father, Simeon or Nell. He tried to get up, but his brain seemed to have no connection to his body.

He heard the sanctuary door crash open.

He fought to keep his eyes open as Ayla was lifted by four uncles and rushed up the steps with a furious Mother Hesper at her side. Why was he still awake?

Toby tried to call out again, but his lips were glued together, his throat unable to form sounds.

“The Sun, the Sun is on the ground.” Someone from the crowd saw him and pointed.

A horrified sister ran to him, but it was too late – the crowd had turned to a mob, surging forwards.

“Get the stand-ins,” Mother Hesper shrieked. She abandoned Ayla, ran to Toby’s side and began to shake him.

He groaned, the only sound he could make.

“
Get up!
”

Toby tried to obey, but he was unable to move.

“Toby!” His father’s roar cut through the noise. Toby spotted Simeon, Nell right behind him. They were coming to protect him from the mob. His head lolled slowly to the left and his eyes began to close.

“Don’t you
dare
!” Mother Hesper slapped him, her bony hands stinging his cheek. He stirred.

“Get him to the infirmary – he’ll be all right,”

Two brothers lifted him to his feet.

Toby wanted to scream. They were meant to think he was dead. Why hadn’t his pill worked?

A line of uncles had appeared. They now lined up in front of the thrones, blocking the crowd from reaching them.

At Mother Hesper’s shout, the captain’s eyes had
narrowed. If Toby’s pill hadn’t worked, their plan was ruined. He threw himself at the guardian uncles, Simeon at his side.

“Let me past. I have to get to my son!”

The captain drove a punch into the face of the nearest uncle but the others held him back.

Toby saw Arthur and Summer, as if in a dream, robed like he and Ayla, rushing down the cathedral steps towards the thrones.

“The new Sun and Moon,” Mother Hesper yelled at the terrified pilgrims. “The
true
Sun and Moon. There is no problem here.” She gestured to Toby. “These were struck down because of their unworthiness. You cannot fool the Sun.
Praise the Sun!
”

Gradually the crowd stopped fighting. Only Barnaby and Simeon continued to wrestle, still desperately trying to get to Toby.