Snowbone (17 page)

Snowbone glanced at the faces of her friends. They were openmouthed, wide-eyed, panting, laughing,
loving
it! Except Mouse. She looked as if she were going to be sick. She was rocking backwards and forwards. Wringing her hands again! Would she never stop?

Voomf—voomf—voomf.
Faster now, faster. Skua was at the wheel, checking things. “We're away!” he shouted.

And they were. Snowbone felt the sudden surge upwards as the last mooring line was untied. “
Y-E-E-E-E-AH
!” she cried, unable to stop herself. “
W-O-O-O-O
!”

She punched the air wildly.

But Mouse … Mouse was on her feet. Mouse was running. Mouse was across the deck and climbing over the rail before anyone realized what was happening.

“No!” shouted Blackeye, suddenly tearing after her. “Mouse!”

“I can't go with you,” said Mouse. She was clinging to the outside of the flying machine. “It's wrong. I can't do it.” Tears were streaming down her face.

Blackeye was nearly there. He was reaching out to her. Looking into her soft brown eyes. “Mouse—”

“Good-bye, Blackeye,” she said. “I love you.” And, with the softest of smiles, she let go.

“NO-O-O-O-O!”

Blackeye threw himself against the rail and looked down.

Mouse was falling. Down … down … down …
Ah!
She hit the ground.

“Where is she?” said Snowbone, pushing the others out of the way. She looked over the rail and cursed her eyes as usual. “Where is she? Can you see her?”

Blackeye
could
see her and, unbelievably, Mouse was staggering to her feet. And as the
Stormrunner
wheeled in the sky, splintering the sunlight, Blackeye saw her look up, searching for him.

His tears fell down toward her like drops of summer rain.

She was waving at him. Good-bye. Good-bye. Good-bye.

he flying machine hurtled north, with the island unfolding beneath it like a fan. Wildwoods and forests … fields and farms … pebblestone villages … towns with towers … Snowbone studied it all, storing the images carefully away in her memory in case she shouldn't return.

In the distance loomed Ashenpeake Mountain: a brooding mass of impenetrable rock, pine-clad and proud. The
Storm-runner
was heading right for it—a fact that didn't bother Snowbone until they were flying over its foothills and
still
they were heading right for it.

The star sailors were arguing at the wheel. Stellan was urging Skua to do something. What it was, Snowbone couldn't hear, but she could see Stellan starting to panic. Suddenly he ran off in the direction of the engine room, and Skua, swearing, carried on without him.

“What is it?” said Snowbone.

“Nothin',” snapped Skua.

“What is it?”

She sounded so menacing, the star sailor told her. “It's a problem with the steerin'. I thought we'd fixed it.”

Snowbone looked ahead. The mountain was coming closer. “You have to do something!” she urged.

“I'm tryin', ain't I?” said Skua.

But the mountain was coming closer. Suddenly there was a scraping sound and the machine lurched to one side as the keel razored the treetops.

“Try harder!” cried Snowbone.

The mountain was so close, it filled the horizon. She could see nothing but green and, above that, the winter-white summit.

“Flamin' ferrets!” cursed Skua. The
Stormrunner
was rocking violently from side to side like a boy in a hammock. “What is he doin' down there?
STELLAN
/”

And now the air was filled with fluttering as hundreds of birds were shaken from their roosts. Pine needles showered down onto the deck and still the mountain was coming closer.

The tiddlins were rolling around the deck like marbles, desperately trying to grab hold of anything that was bolted down.

“Whoa!”
cried Snowbone, but it was too late. They were going to crash. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact.

But it never came. With one final wrench on the wheel from Skua, and a metallic
taaang
from somewhere belowdecks, the
Stormrunner
banked at an impossibly steep angle and turned toward the sea. And when Snowbone stumbled over to the rail and dared to look down, all she could see was Kessel town: the terra-cotta rooftops, the serpentine streets, the smiling curve of the harbor and the beckoning bay beyond.

“That was close,” said Figgis beside her. “I swear my heart is still somewhere on that mountain. I felt it go. It jumped out of my mouth just before we turned. I tell you, it's back there, running around screaming. And the people will say: what's that wet, lumpy thing that runs through the forest at night, wailing like a ghostie? And they'll say: it's a heart, bless it. Poor wee lost lamb.”

“No,” said Snowbone. “You haven't lost it. I can still hear it thumping.”

Figgis put his hand to his chest. “So you can. I thought that was yours I could hear.”

“That Skua!” spat Snowbone. “When you made the deal, did he tell you his machine wasn't airworthy?”

“Well, I did hear that he'd done some repairs, but Skua didn't say anything—no.”

“He should have told you,” said Snowbone angrily.

So angrily that Figgis decided it was no time to tell her what the deal really was. “It'll have to wait,” he said to himself as she stomped off. “We've plenty of time. And whatever we have to do, I'm sure it won't be much.”

But Figgis was wrong. Skua would call in the favor much earlier than he expected, and it would prove more dangerous than any of them could imagine.

he
Stormrunner
flew on through the afternoon, leaving Ashenpeake Island far behind. Now there was nothing but ocean, ocean, ocean. Eventually the sun slid from the sky and a slick of gold burnished the waves. Then came night and the tiddlins slept beneath a blanket of stars. Then came another morning and, looking down, Snowbone could see turtles and tuna, and dolphins that shaved the waves, jeweling the sky with salt-spun diamonds. She breathed in deeply, savoring the briny tang, feeling dizzy with freedom, drunk with happiness.

Then she noticed Blackeye standing forlornly in the bow of the flying machine. He was leaning over the rail, his eyes fixed on the horizon but seeing nothing.

In that moment, Snowbone felt a new emotion—pity— prodding her heart, and somehow the day lost a little of its luster. She knew the world was dark and dangerous, filled with calculated cruelty. But she liked to feel that her world—the bit that she could see and touch and smell and hear—was as good as it gets, because she worked hard to make it so. Clearly, this
corner of her world—Blackeye's corner—was cold and cloudy, even on a glorious day like this. That pained her.

Blackeye stood up front all morning, never moving, never eating. But then, in the afternoon, he called for Manu.

“Yes, my friend!” cried Manu, running over with Snow-bone and Tigermane close behind. “What is it?”

“That machine that flew out of Spittel Point with the woman on board,” said Blackeye. “Do you remember what it looked like?”

Manu thought for a moment. “It was blue. Bright blue, like a swallow's wing. Quite fancy. Gilded carvings, golden rigging. Why?”

“I think it's up ahead.”

“Where?” said Snowbone, squinting into the sun.

“There,” said Blackeye, pointing. “But it's too distant for any of you to see.”

“How can that be?” said Manu. “They left a full day ahead of us. We haven't been traveling that fast.”

“But we
have
been passing islands,” said Tigermane. “They could have stopped for fuel or supplies or something. They left in a hurry, remember.”

The tiddlins stared into the distance, eager to see.

“This is fantastic news,” said Snowbone.
“Fantastic!”

Snowbone's excitement was so infectious, even Blackeye caught it. When the
Esmerelda
finally came into clear sight, the tiddlins howled like dogs, and grabbed one another, and jumped up and down, and laughed and pointed and marveled.

“They must be going incredibly slowly for us to be gaining on them like this,” said Figgis. “Let's be honest, the
Storm-runner
is a creaky old bucket of a machine.”

“Who cares?” said Snowbone. “We're catching them, and that's all that matters.”

∗  ∗  ∗

By late afternoon, even Snowbone could see the
Esmerelda
clearly. Blackeye was convinced he could see the slaver woman, pacing anxiously up and down the deck. But clouds were gathering. Low, wispy clouds that trailed beneath the
Stormrunner
like mermaids' hair. And suddenly the
Esmerelda
started to accelerate.

“They've seen us!” cried Tigermane.

“They would have seen us hours ago,” said Snowbone. “No, someone's starting to panic.”

“Yes,” said Figgis. “It's me. We can't afford to lose them.”

“Why?” said Tigermane. “We know where they are going: Farrago.”

“That Woman could change her mind,” said Figgis. “Go elsewhere. Even if she does land in Farrago, it's a big place. She could disappear, easy. If we're there when she lands, we can follow her.”

“We must go faster,” said Snowbone. “As fast as we can.”

But no sooner had she said those words than the
Storm-runner
gave a groan that was almost human and everyone felt her braking.

“No!” wailed Snowbone.
“Not now!”
She ran to Stellan at the wheel. “What's happened?”

“Nothing,” said Stellan. “I braked.”

“Why?”

“We're beginning the descent.”

“What? You mean—we're going down? Why?”

“Ain't Figgis told you?” said Skua, coming up behind. “The deal we made? I would take you to Farrago for free if you would do somethin' for me in return. Well, that time has come! See that island down there? That, sweetheart, is Finoa,
and that's where we're goin'.” He grinned. “Take 'er down, Stel.”

Stellan turned the wheel. The
Stormrunner
banked like an albatross and began her descent. Down through the ragged clouds to an immense tropical island, with palm trees, golden sand, rampant jungle and, towering above it all, a volcano, black as beetle wings.

And as the clouds closed over her head, Snowbone cursed Skua and Figgis and the whole rotten world. The
Esmerelda
and her solitary passenger were gone, gone, gone. Flying to Farrago, to freedom and beyond.

nd so the island of Finoa appeared, lying on the ocean like a treasure map. Wild, exotic, enticing.