Raiders' Ransom (22 page)

“Well done, Zeph,” he says. “A bit of truth out of the English girl-boy. We've got ourselves a seacat, and some more trialing will sort the rest out!”

“But she told the truth!”

Father looks surprised, then frowns at me, his eyes hard and cold.

“Are you going soft, Zeph? This English still came into Angel Isling waters under a lie. You said she was talking to ghosts. She's up to something, even if Randall didn't send her, and the trial ain't gonna stop until I know what's going on. Truth or blood, ain't it?”

He glares at me, and I go hot and shamed inside. Everyone's staring at me.

“I can be thrower if the runt's too scared to do it,” says Roba, smiling his nastiest, sneakiest smile. Father looks at Roba, then back at me.

“Is that what you want? Your brother to do it? I've been well proud of you today. You gonna let me down?”

And I'm so shamed I can't even speak, just shake my head. If Roba gets the knife, he'll aim straight for a kill.

My mouth goes dry as sand. This ain't gonna end now. Ain't gonna end until Lilly's dead. Until I've killed her.

I'm spinning, circling. I'm down by the wooden floor. I'm up by the red ceiling flags. Outside, the green marshes blur into circles of blue sky. My ankles ache as they take my weight and my head feels like it's going to burst. Then I'm turning and the ropes tighten round my wrists, my neck, and I think I'll choke to death. Each time, I think I'm going to throw up. But I don't, I ain't giving 'em that.

The priest bows to Medwin, his red robe rustling. “The spirits smile on you, Boss, bringing you a seacat just before a battle.”

Medwin gets up, gets down, from his big carved seat, and takes a couple of steps over to Cat's basket. He pokes a finger in, and there's a hiss from inside.

“Well, seacat,” he says, “looks like you got yourself a new home. Angel Isling needs you more than any fishers do!”
He picks up the basket. “Geir? Where are you?” he shouts. “You're finally gonna be a cat's mate!”

There's shouts and laughter from outside, where the crowd of raiders is waiting. I shut my eyes to try and stop from being sick, but it only makes the spinning worse. I open my eyes again, and see a gnarly warrior walking in. His leathers are old and battered, with slash marks all over them, and he's got a big smile on his bashed-up face, showing three yellow teeth sitting in an empty mouth.

“Thank you, Boss. Thank you,” he grovels. “You don't know how happy I am. And don't worry — after all them hours of studying cats, I'll know straight off what he's saying. I promise you.”

“He's mine, he chose me!” I shout. But no one 'cept Zeph's even looking at me, and Medwin just hands poor Cat to the toothless raider.

“Geir, this seacat's gonna be happy to be with you. What's he been used for up to now? Catching fish? Now he's gonna have a proper life. He'll be the first seacat in the Family.”

“He'll be a hero,” says the old raider. “He'll have the best life a cat can.”

He takes the basket from Medwin and peers in through the wicker.

“Come on, my little man,” he coos, lifting the lid. “Come and see what a life you're gonna lead.”

Cat pops his head out: hissing, ears back, eyes white-rimmed. He sees me on the wheel and he opens his mouth, “Mreowl! Mreowl!”

“Cat!” I call, but that's all I can do.

The old raider sneers, pushes Cat's head back in the basket, and shuts it. He puts an ear to the wicker.

“He's purring!” he crows, looking at me.

But he ain't! I know Cat; he doesn't look scared and call for help and then settle down to purring.

“Bring him back,” I shout. But the gray old raider's already carrying Cat outside, out into the spinning, whirling crowd. The wind blows through the room, ruffling the red flags above me. Below me. Light sparkles up, down, from the water. When it touches the wooden pillars, they glow into chestnut. When it bounces off the woman's red hair, she's lit up like a fire. It's like a dream. A nightmare.

“This trial's going pretty good,” says Medwin. “So let's get on with it.”

“Please, Medwin, no more,” says the woman. “You've got a seacat, and I'm sure the girl will tell you what you want without more torture.”

“It ain't torture, Aileen, it's a trial! You ain't in Scotland now.” Medwin grins at Zeph. “And Zeph's still got plenty of go left in him, ain't you?”

Zeph looks at Medwin, opens his mouth like he ain't sure what to say.

“If the runt ain't up to the task, I'm happy to step in and do it properly,” says the red-haired raider. Zeph's brother. Roba.

Zeph jumps, shakes his head.

“I can do it,” he says quickly.

The priest comes over, pulls the knife out of the wheel. My hand hurts where the knife cut into it, and I can't even see how bad it is, cos I can't move my head enough. It hurts, that's all I know, tracking a circle of pain where it's pinned to this wheel.

“More questions,” says Medwin, sounding happy. “Let's find out about the ghost. And about this ransom you say you've got.”

In front of me, Zeph swallows and shuts his eyes. I swallow and keep my eyes open.

The priest says, “I ask the question. Has the one on the wheel got a ransom for the English Prime Minister's daughter?”

And this time I don't say anything, cos it doesn't make any difference, anyway. I shut my mouth and listen to my heart pounding as I spin, as I stare at Zeph's hand. But he doesn't lift it up. After a moment he opens his eyes and looks at the priest.

“She ain't said anything. So I can't throw, can I?”

The priest looks angry at me.

“Give an answer, English!” says Medwin. “Unless you want Ims here to beat one out of you. The knife don't care if you already got a broken arm.”

Zeph mouths “Say something” at me, his face white and sweating.

“I brought a ransom to pay for Alexandra,” I croak. “I … got it from her aunt.”

“Randall's family sent a child to deal with me?” roars Medwin. “Were they wanting to insult me, provoke me into killing the hostage?”

“No! Don't kill Alexandra! Her aunt … she didn't even send me. I took the ransom without telling her. Stole the letter, stole the ransom. I just wanted to sort things out. Mrs. Denton doesn't even know I'm here …”

“Enough!” snaps the priest. He nods at Zeph, who's staring at me out of his bright blue eyes. Zeph jumps again. Like he's frightened. Like he doesn't know what's going on. He shuts his eyes and raises his arm. All I can do is look at him. At his hand with the knife, at his face, at his clamped-shut eyes. His arm pulls back, the knife glitters red and silver in his hand, and … his eyelids flicker! Just a flash of blue as he lets go of the blade.

The knife whines through the air. The wooden room and all these crazy raiders whirl around that single point of steel. My hands, my arms, my legs, my belly: Every part of me flinches.

Bang!

The knife hits!

Hits the wood about an inch from my left leg.

My hands, my arms, my legs, my belly: Every part of me is trembling now. Another throw, another miss. Maybe my luck will hold?

“Truth,” says the priest, sounding surprised.

I look out at Zeph, at his sweaty face, and the bobbing swallowing in his throat. Maybe it ain't luck? Is Zeph aiming to miss?

“Well then, little English,” says Medwin, “where's the loot?”

“If I give it to you, will you let Alexandra go?” I say, suddenly feeling a bit bolder.

“If you give the loot to Father, I won't slice you up to see if it's hidden inside your belly,” says Roba, smiling at me.

Any boldness is frozen out of me. What made me ever think I could just sail in here, give the raiders a ransom, and sail out again with Alexandra? Now Cat's gone, I'll be back in shackles if I don't die right now, and there's not a thing I can do to help Alexandra, or Andy, or anyone. Roba pulls a knife out of a scabbard on his thigh, turns the blade in the light, watching the steel glitter. His eyes flick up from the blade and stare straight at me. He smiles.

“It's in her belt,” says Zeph suddenly. “There's a big pocket …”

The priest nods, and one of the two big raiders stops the wheel. I'm left hanging, looking at the world on its side, ropes pulling at my wrist, my ankle.

My head's still spinning and dizzy, but I ain't turning anymore, and for now I don't care about anything else. The big-nosed raider opens the pocket and pulls out the jewel in its cloth. He unwraps it, and the jewel sparkles in the sunlight. Even the raiders gasp.

“Well,” says Ims. “That's a ransom fit for a Prime Minister's daughter! Look at the beauty.”

Medwin starts a slow laugh.

“I am,” he says. “And now we don't even have to worry about the Scottish contract. Coz if that ain't the jewel they wanted so much, I don't know what is. No wonder they paid us such a price. And seeing it, I ain't sure they paid us enough.”

“That thing'd buy a dozen Prussian rockets, or bribe a dozen English ministers,” says Ims.

The woman's half off her bench, and she's staring at the jewel like she wants to eat it.

“Can I hold it?” she pleads, hands stretched out eagerly.

And I get a panic, cos what happens if the head pops out now? They'll slit my throat for sure. But nothing happens when she gets hold of it: no glowing, no flashes, no head. Just like when Mr. Saravanan held it. 'Cept there's a difference, cos the woman stares hard at the jewel, and turns it in her hands like she's looking for something.

Medwin laughs. “Look at my lady. She's a one for the trinkets.”

She looks up quickly, and for a moment it almost looks like she's mad. But then her face goes back to normal and she smiles.

“May I keep it for a while, my lord?” she says, in a little girl kind of voice. “I promise I'll be careful.”

“For a while, but don't think you're keeping it forever. We're gonna have a think about how to make best use of it.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she says, smiling.

Medwin nods toward the priest.

“Faz, you've shown your worth again. Loot and a seacat in only three questions.”

The priest looks smug. “It's the spirits who do it, not me.”

Medwin nods. “Well, the spirits have found a couple of very fine gifts. Now, let's find out about the ghost and the witchery Zeph saw.”

The big-nosed raider says, “Shall I start the wheel up again?”

My belly twists at the thought of it, my hand throbs with cold pain, and I have to swallow hard to keep from being sick down myself. Zeph's face goes glistening white, like he wants to be sick as well.

The woman places a hand on Medwin's arm.

“Love. Let us have a break from this. It's worked well, but a spell back in the slave house may help the girl to think on her fate. It may loosen her tongue.” I get a bit of hope, but Medwin doesn't look like he thinks much of her idea. Then
she says, “And I'm so very grateful for the chance to hold this beautiful jewel. So very grateful. Perhaps I could show you how much?”

She simpers up at him, but Medwin only shakes his head.

“Tempting, but show me your gratitude later.”

“Let me do the throwing, Father!” cries Roba. “I can get this English to tell what Randall's up to, I know I can.”

“Father gave the knife to me,” says Zeph, going angry red.

“But I feel the will of the spirits,” says the priest, throwing a nasty look at Zeph, “and they want Roba.”

Medwin thinks for a minute. “Perhaps Roba should take his turn at being thrower …”

My guts turn inside out. Fear dribbles up my throat, into my mouth. Roba wants to kill me, that's all he's here for. He wants to finish me off, like he finished Granny.

The big-nosed raider takes his hand off the wheel, and it starts to turn. Just slow at first, but I know it'll get faster. Roba walks smirking over to Zeph and snatches the knife out of his hand.

“What's the question, Father?” he asks Medwin, not taking his eyes off me.

Suddenly there's shouting and shoving in the crowd outside. A raider warrior pushes his way into the wooden chamber. He's tired and sweaty-looking, and caked in mud to his knees.

“Boss!” he cries. “I've got news from Moham Shortarm, on the guard ship of the inland waters. The English fleet. It's arrived!”

And suddenly I'm forgotten. Cos Medwin and Ims are shouting about getting mustered for battle. The priest starts loud prayers, the woman goes quietly back to her place on the bench. Zeph goes white, then pink, then white, and sits down hard on one of the benches.

The only notice I get is from Roba, who grins at me out of his pimply horrid face. He comes right up to the wheel and stops it with a hand, so my face is level with his. There's a hard gleam to his eyes, like the inside of an oyster shell.