Snowbone (27 page)

Five minutes later, Figgis slipped out of the warehouse. He left the black-haired man behind him, lying on the dirt floor, beaten and broken. He wouldn't rise again. Figgis had made sure of that.

lackeye sprinted back to the agreed meeting point, wild with excitement. He turned the corner and there they all were: grinning at him, hugging him, slapping him on the back. Except—

“Where's Snowbone?”

“Is she not with you?” said Figgis.

“No,” said Blackeye. “I thought she'd be here.”

Figgis went to the corner and peered into the night. “She's not coming.”

The friends looked at each other in alarm.

“I'll have to go back,” said Blackeye. “Manu, run to the wagon. Get the mule hitched. Rest of you, follow him. Figgis, take Filizar.”

“You can't go back!” said Tigermane. “You're wooden! Manu can go.”

“No,” said Blackeye. “Manu has to drive. And it's so bad in there, I'm the only one who stands a chance of seeing her.” He started back.

“Blackeye!” called Tigermane after him. “Be careful.” But Blackeye had already disappeared into the inferno.

The market was unrecognizable: a heaving, seething skeleton of fallen timbers and twisted metal. Workers with blackened faces made human chains, swinging endless buckets of water from pump to pyre, but it was too little, too late. The fire would not be quenched. It had devoured the warehouses and the factory sheds. Now it was starting on the log cabins.

Blackeye scanned the crowd for Snowbone. It wasn't easy. The workers were grown men; she was half their height.

He moved forward and fell over something. It was a baby, crawling on all fours.
Where had that come from?
Suddenly he remembered the warehouse. The baby smiled at him, and a long stringy bit of drool bubbled out and dangled down. Black-eye bit his lip and tried not to smile. He was searching for Snowbone. Things were getting serious. But the baby looked so funny.

“Get away from here,” he whispered. He patted the baby on her head and pushed his way into the crowd. The men ignored him, cursed at him, shoved him out of the way. No one seemed to care he was an Ashenpeaker. They were far more interested in the fire and how it was being handled. Every man believed he could do better and was loudly saying so, over and over again, though no one was listening. The clamor was deafening. Blackeye could hardly hear himself think.

Eventually he fought his way free of the crowd. Took a deep breath. Calmed down. Wondered where Snowbone could be.

Then he felt it.

A strange, quickening sensation in his heart … a frown and a blink … and his shadow-sight told him what he wanted to know.

The tower.

Blackeye turned round. The feeling had gone, as swiftly as it had come. But there in front of him stood the tower. It was starting to burn. Gray tendrils of smoke were creeping up the walls.

Could she really be up there?
Blackeye scanned the top, but there was no sign of Snowbone.

He moved round to the other side. No, she wasn't there. But there was
something
there. A bump on the balustrade. A bump that suddenly unfurled, thrust out an arm and hauled itself upright.

“Snowbone!” he shouted. “Snowbone!”

Snowbone heard him. Blackeye saw her turning her head from side to side, trying to find him.

“I'm down here!” he cried. He waved at her, but she didn't wave back.

“Is the tower on fire?” she shouted.

“Yes. You must come down now.”

Snowbone shook her head. “Go without me,” she cried.

Blackeye looked up at her, totally bewildered. “Come down!” he yelled. “You can still get through!”

But no sooner had he said that than the door at the bottom of the tower collapsed, and the inrush of wind sucked the flames up the stairs.

“I can't!” cried Snowbone. “Go! Save yourself!”

“What is wrong with you?” cried Blackeye desperately. “Come down! Now!”

“I can't! Blackeye, you must leave me.
I'm blind!”

Blackeye stared at her. That was why she'd turned her head trying to find him. That was why she hadn't waved.

“I'm coming to get you!” he yelled.

“NO!”
she cried, but it was too late. Blackeye was already at the bottom of the stairs, facing a chimney of flame.

He took a deep breath, put his foot on the bottom step— and froze. For the second time in his life, Blackeye felt fear. Mouth-drying, leg-numbing, giddy-sick fear. “I can't do it,” he stammered.
“I can't do it!”
His heart was hammering in his chest. His lungs were fighting for air. He couldn't move.

The wooden walls of the tower were ablaze now. He could hear the planks buckling around him. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Snowbone. She was alone on the tower. She was blind. She would burn to death.

His leg lifted. His foot found the next step. He gasped and opened his eyes.
I can do this. I can do this.
He began to climb: eyes open, eyes closed, stumbling, fumbling, fighting on. And when he reached the top, he leaped for Snowbone with a sob of relief, hugged her close and took her hand.

“Come on,” he said, leading her to the stairs. “We'll have to be quick.”

BOOM!

The tower spat a monstrous fireball into the sky. It exploded over the tiddlins' heads like a rocket, showering them with sparks and debris. And when Blackeye reached the stairwell, he found the stairs had been blown out. There was nothing but a dragon's throat of flame.

“Too late!” he said, spinning Snowbone round. “We'll have to jump.”

“Jump?”
wailed Snowbone. “Are you crazy?”

“We've no choice. The stairs are gone.” He dragged her over to the balustrade and looked down. “It's no higher than the masts on the
Mermaid.
We'll be fine. I'll help you up, and we can jump together.”

“No!” said Snowbone, pulling free. “I can't do it. Forget me—save yourself.”

“No way,” said Blackeye. He seized her hand.

“Leave me!”
cried Snowbone, blindly lashing out at him. “Go back to the others. Be the new leader.”

“No!”
said Blackeye, grabbing her wrists. “If I leave you now, I'm not
fit
to be a leader. Now come on.” He pushed her on to the balustrade and climbed up behind.

“Dear gods,” said Snowbone. “I'm going to die.”

“No, you're not,” said Blackeye. “I'll cushion the fall.” He wrapped his arms round her. “Remember,” he whispered in her ear, “you've got the best dive-bomber in the world here, missy.” And he jumped.

Whooooo!
They fell so fast, they didn't have time to breathe. Yet somehow Blackeye turned in the air so he was beneath Snowbone as they landed:
doom!

“Are you all right?” he said.

“Yes,” said Snowbone, wriggling free. “You?”

“Not a mark!”

BOOM!

The watchtower exploded behind them, spewing ash and flames into the smoky sky. Blackeye seized hold of Snowbone's hand and started to run, dragging her along behind him. She didn't protest. She simply tried to run faster. She wasn't scared to be running blind. She was holding Blackeye's hand. T he
world was spinning around her, but that point was fixed. Firm. He wouldn't let go, she knew it.

Blackeye sped on. A band of gold had appeared in the east. There was no time to lose.

Manu was waiting with the wagon. He opened the canvas flap and Blackeye helped Snowbone in. Then Manu climbed up front, clicked the reins and they were off, down the road, into the dawn. A little black keyhole against the shimmering sky.

anu drove the wagon north, with no destination in mind. His only concern was their safety. Were they being pursued? Probably not. The slave market had been so smoky and chaotic, no one would have noticed them leave. But still he would feel happier once Barrenta Bay was far, far behind.

He drove till nightfall, when Figgis took the reins. In the morning, they swapped places again, and Manu pushed on until midday, when he unexpectedly found a perfect place to pitch camp. It was a lee on the side of a valley—a sheltered spot, out of the wind. The view was breathtaking: soft, slumbering hills, with a river meandering through and a balmy blue sky above. It was blissfully quiet. Just the drone of an early bee and the bleat of a passing goat … and the crash-bang clatter of pans as Figgis unpacked his kitchen. The friends couldn't believe one man could make such a row! But they didn't complain. Here in the wilderness, Figgis was making it feel like home.

Snowbone sat on a hummock of grass, enjoying the scent of the spring flowers and the feel of the sun on her face.

“From up here, the trees look like broccoli,” said Blackeye, sitting beside her. “Had you noticed? Oh! I'm sorry, Snowbone.”

Snowbone smiled. “It's OK. You can't remember all the time.”

Blackeye looked into Snowbone's milky eyes and wondered how she could stay so calm. She hadn't cried. She hadn't raged. She had simply accepted her loss. But it wasn't like Snowbone to give in without a fight. He was worried about her.

Snowbone was worried too, but what could she do? Get angry? Scream and shout? Deep down, that's what she felt like doing, but she knew it wouldn't help. It would give her a headache and make everyone else feel uncomfortable. She didn't want that.

She kept remembering Daisy, back at the quarry, telling her how the slaves coped with the terrible situation they found themselves in.
We just hang on and try to help each other
—that's what she had said. Well, that was what Snowbone was doing now. Hanging on, hoping things would get better. Hoping the blindness wouldn't last. Fearing it would.

Sometimes, in her darkest moments, she thought about the blazing tower.
Blackeye should have left me there
, she told herself.
It would have been better for everyone.
But at other times— like now, sitting in the sunshine with a breeze ruffling her hair and a delicious scent of dinner tickling her nose—Snowbone felt glad to be alive. And although she hadn't told him so, she thanked Blackeye from the bottom of her heart.

“Dinner's ready!” called Figgis. “And if I say so myself, it's well worth having.”

Snowbone stood up, reached for Blackeye's arm and together they joined the others. Tigermane placed a steaming bowl of rabbit stew in Snowbone's hands.

“Careful,” she said matter-of-factly. “It's full and very hot.”

Snowbone nodded her thanks. Tigermane was great; she didn't fuss. Not like Figgis, who clucked around her like a mother hen. Still, he meant well.

Snowbone placed the bowl on her lap to cool. “Filizar?” she said. “Now we've got the time, will you tell me exactly what happened to Tarn? When she disappeared, you said it was the Tongue of Torbijn, but I gave that to Skua.”

Filizar grinned. “You didn't! The Tongue you stole was a replica. I had the real one in my pocket.”

“You're kidding!” said Blackeye.

“I'm not!” said Filizar. “One of my counselors gave it to me, as soon as I was old enough. It was such a precious thing, he didn't want it to be stolen. So he made a replica, and that was the one you took from the Crusty Cave. No one knew except him and me. Not even the guards.”