North! Or Be Eaten (44 page)

Maraly said little and ate as noisily as Podo for the duration of the meal. When she finished off her cider, she belched and patted her stomach. Podo would have laughed had Nia not fixed him with a hot glare. Janner could tell she was trying very hard not to let her disapproval show.

“So tell us the story, lad,” said Podo. “What happened?”

All eyes turned to Janner.

He knew this was coming. He had always loved Podo’s stories and dreamed of the day he would have his own, but now that he had a story to tell, he found the telling was difficult. So much had happened. How could he tell it all? He was afraid to relive parts of it and was ashamed of others. Podo nodded at him.

“I know it’s hard, lad, but it’s yours. Ye’ll find healing in it, like it or not. Start at the beginning—at Ronchy’s place. What happened after I broke down the door?”

Janner took a deep breath and began.

He told them all of it. He told them about his anger at Tink. About the horrors of Tilling Court, about the awful darkness of the Overseer’s box and the peace he found there. He told them about Sara Cobbler and Nurgabog and Maraly.

They listened with wide eyes. They asked him questions now and then, and more than once Nia’s eyes brimmed with tears. But what Podo had said was true—telling the story hurt and helped all at once. Already he could see ways the story had changed him and would go on changing him.

“I fell asleep on the boggan,” he continued, “and when I woke up, here I was.”

Oskar leaned back in his chair and dabbed his brow with a napkin.

“Now
that’s
a tale,” Podo said.

Nia put an arm around Janner and squeezed.

“But we need to do something about Tink,” said Leeli. “If Janner saw him in the song, that means he’s alive, doesn’t it? And if he’s alive, then we have to find him.”

“How?” Janner asked. “All I could see was that he was in a box. That could mean he’s in the Black Carriage or a dungeon or—or a ship, even. It would be no easier to find him than it would have been for you to find me when I was in Dugtown.”

“Ain’t no hope for Kalmar,” said Maraly. It was the first she’d spoken since Janner’s tale began.

“Don’t say that,” Nia snapped.

Maraly narrowed her eyes at Nia, and the Strander returned. “It’s true. Nobody who gets taken by the Carriage ever comes back. Me pa sent I don’t know how many kids—some of ‘em were from our own clan!—to the cages, and they never come back. Friends of mine too. Boys who could fight a lot better than Kalmar ever could and who knew the forest better than me. They promised they’d find a way back, and they never have. Not
once
. What makes ye think Kalmar’s any different?”

Many of the Kimerans seated nearby looked up from their chowder when Maraly’s voice rose. Gammon excused himself from his table on the opposite side of the room and strode over to them.

“Easy, lass,” he said to Maraly, who smiled at him. He spread his hands and looked at the Igibys. “For years we’ve eaten our meals in peace, and no sooner do you good people arrive than we have a scuffle.”

Maraly’s smile vanished, and she scowled at Nia. “
She’s
scufflin’.”

“Me apologies, Gammon,” said Podo. “You know how womenfolk can be”—Nia’s jaw dropped at this—“always bickerin’ amongst themselves. We’ll keep it down. Won’t we, daughter?” Podo looked sternly at Nia, who returned a smoldering gaze.

“Good,” Gammon said. “What was the source of the spat? Perhaps I can help.”

“We were discussing how we should go about finding Kalmar,” Oskar said.

“Oh? I thought he had been taken by the Black Carriage.”

“He has,” Janner said.

“Then I’m afraid there’s no getting him back,” Gammon said gravely.

“That’s what I told ‘em,” said Maraly without looking up.

Nia threw her napkin on the table and left the room.

“Listen, sir,” Podo said. “We’re guests here. I know we owe you much for gettin’ Janner here safely. But ye have to understand somethin’.”

“What’s that?” Gammon asked.

“Kalmar is her boy. We have reason to think he might yet be breathin’, and as long as that’s true, we don’t aim to forget him or to give up. We’ll keep the candle burnin’, just as we did with Janner here.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Podo, but there’s something
you
need to understand too. Nobody gets out of the Carriage. There’s too many Fangs.”

Podo scoffed. “We both know the Fangs ain’t as much trouble as a snake in the grass if you know how to use a blade. Dust and bones is all they are.”

“Not anymore,” Gammon said.

“What do ye mean?”

“I mean they’re stronger. Faster. More dangerous than they used to be, and now that they come from the Phoobs they can get here quicker—”

“The Phoob Islands? What about ‘em?”

“Nothing.”

Podo glared at him and waited for an answer.

Gammon sighed and glanced around to be sure none of the Kimerans were listening, then leaned in close. He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head. “I can’t tell you. Too many ears.”

Podo rolled his eyes. “What, ye can’t trust your own?”

“No. I can’t. Remember Migg Landers?” Gammon asked. Podo growled. “He was one of my own, and I couldn’t trust him, could I? I have a plan, but I don’t mean to tell it to a soul until the time is right. In the meantime, you and your family just stay put. Kimera welcomes you. Enjoy the rest.” He rose from the table. “One more thing. I know you loved your grandson, and I know he was important in Anniera. But if he’s been taken by the Carriage, it’s best you put your hopes to rest. Even if he’s still alive, the Kalmar you knew is gone by now. I’m truly sorry.”

Janner didn’t understand what he meant, but Gammon’s eyes were sincere and sad. Podo studied the other man’s face for a moment, then nodded stiffly, and Gammon left.

The company sat at the table in silence. The roar of the great fire, the laughter and conversation from the nearby tables, the clatter of spoon on bowl—all mocked the terrible thing Gammon had said. Tink was gone. Janner felt foolish for allowing himself to hope that his brother might be saved. He hung his head.

“I know somethin’ about the Phoobs,” Maraly said.

“What might that be, dear?” said Oskar.

“What do you know?” Leeli asked, sounding like her mother.

“I heard me pa say the Black Carriage sometimes went there instead of Lamendron. Said the Fangs had some new plan. Might be that Kalmar is there. I still say nobody could ever escape the Carriage, but—” She paused and cocked her head sideways.

“But what?” Leeli said.

“Nobody’s ever escaped before, but then, nobody’s ever had help.” She shrugged. “Maybe we could go get ‘im. Wouldn’t mind finishin’ that tackleball game we started at the East Bend.”

Podo smiled. And like a cloud slipping aside to allow sunlight through, the shadow of Gammon’s words drifted away, and hope returned.

“Let’s find Nia,” Podo said. “I don’t know what we’ll do or how we’ll do it, but we’re gonna get me boy back, with or without Gammon’s help.”

T
he first time she tried it, they were in Podo’s room. Maraly, Oskar, and the Igibys sat in a circle on a rug in the center of the floor. Leeli raised her whistleharp to her lips and played a reel called “Shovel the Hay, It’s Donkey Food.” Janner clamped his eyes shut and thought about Tink. In the darkness of his vision, he saw geometric shapes drift and blossom, but nothing special happened. When Leeli had played the song through a third time, he gave up.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Maybe I’m not playing well enough,” Leeli said.

“No, you’re playing it just fine,” Nia said. “Perfectly.”

“Maybe it has to be a certain song,” Oskar suggested. “What about the one from the First Book?”

“Or the one you played for Nugget. Do you remember that one?” Janner asked.

“I remember it exactly,” Leeli said.

“Try it, dear,” Nia said.

Once again she played, and though it brought back to Janner’s mind all the memories of that day on the cliffs when he had first heard the sea dragons in his head, he saw nothing.

He opened his eyes to find them all looking at him. “Sorry,” he said, and they bowed their heads with disappointment.

“Maybe we should leave you two alone,” Nia said.

They filed out of the room, leaving Leeli and Janner facing each other on the rug. Leeli played song after song, and Janner thought so hard that his head hurt. But nothing happened. They found the others in Oskar’s room, and they leapt to their feet when Janner and Leeli entered.

“It’s not working,” Janner said. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ve been talkin’, lad,” said Podo, “and it makes no difference either way. We’re gonna go get ‘im. All of us.”

“All of us?”

“Aye. Seems to me that every time this family splits up, bad things happen. We’ll head south again, then figure out what to do next. Maybe we’ll head to the Phoob Islands.” Podo cleared his throat and glanced away. “I remember there’s a fort there. That must be where, the Fang outpost is—though it doesn’t make much sense. Last time I was there, it was white with snow and sea foam. Not a likely place where the lizard men would be able to survive, but Gammon said these were different, that Gnag’s enlisted another breed of Fang that can kick the cold. Point is, we can’t sit here and do nothin’. Let’s go get yer brother.”

“Yes sir,” Janner said, then he ran to Podo and hugged him tight.

“When do we leave?” Leeli asked.

“First thing in the morning,” Nia said. “We need to arrange with Gammon for the use of a few boggans and a team of chorkneys.”

“Chorkneys?” Janner said.

Leeli’s eyes glowed. “I have to show you! They’re beautiful, with the softest feathers. The keepers let me feed them sometimes.”

“There’ll be time for that in the morning,” Nia said. “You children should go to bed. I’ll stock the packs and make ready so we can get an early start in the morning.”

Janner told Maraly and Leeli good night and went to his room, where he lay under his covers and stared at the icy ceiling. The frustration about the song was gone. The regret that he would be so soon in leaving the comforts of Kimera was gone. His heart sang with the hope that there was even the faintest chance he would see his little brother again.

At last, he slept.

A knock at the door woke him. Janner sat up and rubbed his eyes, remembering at once that the journey awaited. He threw on his clothes, grabbed the fur coat from the hook, and flung open the door. His smile vanished.

A Kimeran stood before him, his long beard caked with ice. He was out of breath, and he wore a burly gray fur coat that hung to the floor.

“What is it?” Janner asked.

“Sorry,” the man said, and he lunged forward and tied Janner’s arms behind his back before the boy knew what was happening.

He pushed Janner ahead of him, past Leeli’s empty room, then Nia’s room, then Podo’s. They were all empty. Podo’s door hung crooked, and his bed had been toppled in a struggle.

“What’s happening? Where’s my family? Where’s Gammon?” Janner asked, but the man said nothing.

They passed the big doors to the dining hall and snaked through the iceways of Kimera, past storefronts cut into the ice, past kitchens and dwellings where children played. Whenever they met Kimerans, they looked confused and backed against the wall so Janner and his captor could pass. Finally, they rounded a corner, and Janner saw him, flanked by a small company of armed Kimerans.

“Gammon!” he cried. “What’s happening? Where is my family?”

“It’s all right, lad. It’ll be fine. I just can’t let you leave.” He turned to the man behind Janner. “Thank you, Errol. It’s safe to go inside.”

“Yes sir,” said Errol, and there was worry in his voice.

He led Janner into a small chamber. Oskar, Podo, Nia, Leeli, and Maraly sat gagged and lashed to a long bench in the center of the room. Janner noticed Maraly no longer wore a dress but breeches and a coat, just like Janner. The walls were made of stone instead of ice, and a torch sputtered on the wall. When Podo saw Janner, the old man grunted and struggled at his bonds, and Errol tensed.

“It took four of us to bind him, lad,” said the Kimeran.

“Nearly killed one of us, even with the bad shoulder,” said another warrior just outside the door. “He’s a strong one, your grandfather.”

“Why are you—” Janner began, but the man tied a rag around his mouth, and in moments he found himself strapped to the bench beside the others.

“That will be all, Errol,” said Gammon. “Be sure Elmer and Olsin are well tended to. They took quite a beating.” He lowered his voice. “Then make ready, as we planned.”

“You’re certain?” asked Errol quietly.

“Yes. More than ever. Thank you, friend. Be ready.”

“Yes sir,” said Errol, and the men clasped hands.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Gammon said to the Igibys. “I told you to stay and rest. I told you to make yourselves at home. I told you to give up on Kalmar. But you wouldn’t listen, and there you sit. My men have learned that it’s good to listen to me. Haven’t you, men?”

“Aye sir,” they said from the hallway.

“You must understand that I would do anything to protect Skree. I can’t just let you go, not when the Fangs are expecting me to deliver you. If I thought there was any other way but to hand you over, I’d set you free. But it’s you Gnag wants, not Skree. All I have to do is give you to him and he’s agreed to leave these lands. Call me
evil if you like, but the greater evil is the suffering you brought to my country. Do you need me to convince you?” Gammon placed a foot on the bench where they sat. “Olfin, Urland, come here!”

Two of the big men from the hallway stepped inside the chamber.

“Olfin lost his parents to the Fang invasion. Burned his home, killed all his livestock. Urland has a similar story. Don’t you, Urland?”

“Aye sir. My whole village was razed. I’ll be right glad when you turn this lot over to the Fangs, sir.”

Gammon spread his hands and smiled. Sent word by crow as soon as we arrived that the Jewels of Anniera were caught at last.”

Podo, Janner, and Maraly all growled and struggled. Janner was tired of betrayal. He was beginning to believe that no one in all of Aerwiar was trustworthy. The older he got, the more the world proved itself a crooked place.