Skrimsli, page 29
‘Look!’ Lazit cried. ‘Not a witness but the Murderer of East Cove! Let us deliver justice now!’ He turned to the Automators standing with their weapons at the ready and ordered them to shoot.
But they did not. Around them, the crowd had become loud and violent. Horses and Herrings jeered at the Automator forces, throwing whatever came to hand. A clod of mud struck Lazit on the cheek and he had to wipe away the mess. Lazit’s forces would not spend bullets on Kal and Luja when the shooting would further enrage the crowd, and they might soon need the bullets to defend their own lives!
Kal took the microphone that Daunt had brought hurriedly to the aft deck and shouted over the crowd. The Palatine saw no uncertainty or fear in her friend now, just an inner flame.
‘I am no murderer. I am the child of both Herring and Horse,’ Kal cried. The crowd grew quiet to listen. ‘I saw assassins kill my old friends at Talo Numikalo, then put weapons in the hands of two dead Herring men. The people murdered at East Cove were my kin. Killed by the same assassins. My horse and I fled Erem in fear of our lives because the Automators branded me guilty to keep me silent. I was a coward to run. But I swear to you the truth of what I saw.’
Kal stood up on Luja’s back and pointed out at the Automators and their commander. ‘These black uniforms are not your protectors. They are here to steal our power and our wealth, to blow apart our sacred mountain for the sake of gold.’
The words landed like a missile and the crowd erupted once again. Lazit began to panic. He stood on a chair and screamed at the jeering crowd, wild eyed.
‘Do you believe this freak on horseback? I ask you, where is your proof?’
The Palatine smiled at his words. ‘Proof is about to drop from the sky, Commander Lazit!’ she whispered to herself. The Palatine had seen it coming in Sayka’s mind as he flew back across the bay from that ragged little fishing boat. He had seized a gold bar from the hoard of them stacked beneath greasy canvas on the deck. The boat was heading out to sea now, under Lazit’s orders, but the Maiden and her crew would soon catch up with it.
Erem gold won’t pay for the Sand Sea railway now! the Palatine thought.
But now it was time to meet Lazit’s request.
Drop it! the Palatine told Sayka, then shouted her warning to the crowd.
‘Look out!’
All eyes saw the gleaming object fall from the eagle’s claws and hit the ground with a dull ring. They watched the bird fly back up to the imposing figure at the top of the mast. Daunt, with great presence of mind, shone a spotlight on to the mainmast so she appeared like a goddess high above them.
‘There is your proof,’ the Palatine shouted. ‘Gold, taken from that little fishing boat chugging from your harbour. Carrying a load of gold taken from your sacred mountains. Horse people, Herring people, you have been deceived. Chase away your real enemy. What more proof do you need?’
As if taking a cue, a figure crawled onto the deck and staggered to a stand. It was Spion, alive as Kal’s nightmares had predicted. She must have followed them on to the ship and stowed away in some dark corner on the night they left Otok. She was filthy, ragged, thin as bone, armed and very dangerous. She seemed unaware of anything or anyone but Kal.
‘You Erem terrorist,’ she screamed, her voice full of venom. ‘You have caused me pain and trouble. My sister would be living still if not for you!’
Then she pointed her gun to take some last revenge. She was shaky and might well miss, but it was a risk the Palatine was not prepared to take. She gave silent thanks for the rope clipped to the mast and jumped. She hit Spion from behind, knocking her off her feet. The Palatine grabbed her skinny arms and, like the pendulum of a clock, they swung together beyond the Maiden’s decks towards the quay. At the farthest extent of the swing the Palatine let go.
The last of the twin assassins dropped at the feet of her employer.
‘You want more proof?’ cried Kal. ‘There it is! One of the assassins that began your war!’
33
Ekar, Kal, Owl
Partings: Ekar
Mr Nalyk, the new harbour master, had delivered the paint in person.
‘The very smallest of thank-yous,’ he said, ‘for all the good you and your ship have done for our country, dear Captain Ekar.’
Ekar was very glad to see the patchwork of colours vanish beneath the neat, dark blue. Not least because it would stop people coming and asking when the circus was doing another show. She had allowed the new name, Ice Maiden, to be painted in yellow because it made Bollovar smile.
In the days after ‘the show’ as the Maiden crew called it, Turgu was a dangerous place to be. As the news of the treachery of the Automators and Nordskys spread, armed bands of Horse and Herring fighters united to push them out of Erem and send them back across the Swan Strait. The fighting had been horrible, but peace was slowly returning. The hurts that the Herring folk and the Horse folk had caused each other in their months of fighting could start to heal. Erem people were finding their old unity again. The language of Erem, that people had spoken only at home with their families, was now to be heard in the street and seen on the signs in the shops.
That was the idea of the new chief of the Turgu Council, Kal Numiko. It was generally agreed that there was a wise head sitting on those skinny young shoulders. Councillor Numiko had also come up with a plan for the gold Lazit had tried to make off with which had been recovered by the Maiden from the old fishing boat. It would pay for the rebuilding of towns and villages destroyed in the war. It had also been Kal’s idea to rebuild Talo Numikalo, but in a new place with a new purpose. New Talo would be a centre for the sharing of Horse and Herring culture, and for the young to learn the old traditions and to invent new ones of their own.
Kal had argued eloquently that the gold mines should be closed over. It had been a close vote, Kal had told the Maiden’s crew, but Kal’s supporters had won.
‘We in Erem have learned that mountains and the spirit that lives in them matter more than gold,’ Kal had said.
‘You are more like a politician every day!’ Ekar had teased.
‘I don’t win every argument!’ Kal said. ‘I wanted Spion to go on trial here, but she’s wanted for crimes in Danet. So now she’s their problem.’
Things were on the mend in Erem, and Ekar was pleased with the part the Ice Maiden and her crew had played. But one thing chafed at her. Lazit had escaped without having to answer for anything, not least being behind her mother’s murder.
‘I want him fed to the crabs, piece by piece!’ Ekar had told the Palatine.
‘There are many roads to justice, Ekar,’ the Palatine had counselled. ‘Such as helping the rebels fight the Automators in the White Sea!’
Ekar had smiled then. The four gold ingots that hadn’t quite made it back to Turgu and were now in the secret compartment in Ekar’s cabin would help pay for those activities.
They had left Kal and the Palatine behind when they sailed. Kal had a country to rebuild, and the Palatine had one to reclaim. She had found a ship to take her all the way to Bisque City. They both had new paths to follow and Ekar did, too. It was time to set a new course. The hold was full, and she had her crew. Karu, Beart, Mathan and Bollovar were her solid rowers. Silverback and Leaf could handle most things in the rigging now and the new human hands recruited from among the shipwrecked merchant seafarers were shaping up well. Ray was invaluable. The Maiden had certainly never had a cook like her before.
But soon Ekar would lose Owl. He couldn’t hold an oar or set a sail, but he was vital in so many other ways. He was the glue that had made the Maiden crew into a team.
The question that had kept Ekar awake at night was would Skrimsli stay aboard? He was so useful! He could think in three dimensions and actually purred over the puzzle of fitting as many boxes, barrels and crates as possible into the Maiden’s awkwardly shaped hold. He was good at climbing the rigging and his claws were fine tools for grabbing flapping sails. He was of course an extremely handy fighter. But his greatest talent was his ability to communicate directly with any member of the crew. His big, stripy presence seemed to be welcomed by minds of every sort.
She watched him now, balanced on the bowsprit, his face to the breeze, his eyes full of green fire – a flame of curiosity that matched Ekar’s own. He was a creature shaped by generations of forest life, and yet he loved the ocean. Inside him there was fierce wildness, huge and strange and terrifying, but there were also words, through which he spoke with intelligence and humour. In short Skrimsli fascinated her and the thought that quite soon he would be leaving the ship to return to the forest with Owl was hard to bear.
Partings: Kal
It was late. The sun was dissolving into a bank of orange cloud over the sea and a good, sail-filling breeze blew from the south. The harbour buzzed with the restless energy of departure. Many ships would sail on the tide tonight. Kal, the young chief councillor, walked down the quayside beside the tall, imposing figure of the woman everyone knew as the deposed Yuderan queen. People smiled and greeted them as they passed, a little in awe of these two beings whose presence among them still seemed rather like the visitation of deities.
‘We will get some privacy when we reach the ship,’ the Palatine said. Kal said nothing. Words could not be trusted in this moment of impending separation and pain. The business of boarding the ship took forever. The captain and all the crew wanted to greet their illustrious passenger and her famous companion. By the time they were behind the closed door of the Palatine’s cabin, the ship was almost ready to sail.
‘I will have to leave soon,’ Kal said, without meeting the Palatine’s eyes.
‘Unless,’ the Palatine said with a smile, ‘you want to come with me?’
Never in all the days since their separate paths had become clear had the Palatine invited Kal to accompany her. It had hurt Kal deeply. This obviously flippant remark was a new, sharp cut. Kal’s eyes flashed up to meet the Palatine’s at last.
‘Don’t you know how it wounds me that you have never asked?’
‘Yes, I do,’ she replied. ‘But don’t you know how much it hurts me that I didn’t?’
The Palatine took Kal’s face in both her hands and lifted it towards her own.
She looked at Kal in wonder: grace born of inner turmoil; courage born of fear; and identity born of confusion. Kal had been forged in the fire of adversity into someone extraordinary.
‘I go to reclaim a kingdom,’ she said. ‘You have a kingdom to repair. You are so much more than the companion of the Palatine. We have more to do than attend to our own happiness. Purpose, Kal. Purpose is the thread of life.’
Kal could feel the tears gathering.
‘Not love? Can’t love be a thread?’
The Palatine nodded. ‘Love is a thread, one that will be unbroken by the distance between us.’
There was no more time. Outside the steward called for all ‘non-passengers to leave the ship at once’.
Kal did not stand on the quay waving. The ship’s parting from the mooring felt like the wrenching apart of Kal’s own body.
Out on deck, the Palatine watched the slight, dear figure stalk away along the quay. With a great effort, she opened the deepest doors of her heart and let Kal out, like an eagle thrown from the fist.
Partings: Owl
Ekar was a fighter and a stern sea captain, but she was also very kind. In spite of all that she had to think about on board the Maiden, she had found time to ask Owl about his ‘green place’, the forest where he was born, and about the rafts and rafts of logs Owl had seen on the Shamanow river. When Owl told her the name of his bit of the Great Northern Forest, Bayuk Lazil, her eyes shone.
‘Ah!’ she said. ‘I think I have seen that name on a map.’
The next day she had called him to her cabin and handed him a magnifying glass.
‘There,’ she said. ‘There is a river with that name. It flows into the Belugi, ten day’s sail from Turgu. I’m sure that river will take you to your home place!’
Owl squinted through the glass until he saw the tiny letters. He had never seen the words Bayuk Lazil written down, so it took him a moment to find them. He traced its letters with his finger and made the sounds.
‘Bay-ook laaa-zil!’ he whispered. There it was, printed in words on a map!
‘We’ll sail the Maiden to the river mouth,’ Ekar said. ‘The map shows that there is an island just offshore. I’m sure we’ll find an anchorage. We can sail north from there and pick up a berg before the season turns against us.’
The forest was real, real at last, and with every hour at sea it was closer. Owl spent all the time he could on deck, unable to rest in peace, willing the Maiden to cover the distance swiftly. Skrimsli too was on deck, often in the place that had become his favourite, standing on the bowsprit. Ekar stood close behind him in the prow with her telescope and sextant.
They talked in their heads for hours.
Owl knew his own connection with the forest was deeper, wider, truer than ever. It called to him day and night and he was hungry to be there. But was the forest really the best place for the cub now? Or should he stay with Ekar on the Maiden? Karu had already decided not to come. He and Bollovar had made a deep connection. Owl suspected that Bollovar’s benign presence in the old bear’s mind drove out the dreadful shadow of Kobret. Karu had told Skrimsli, This my place now. With Bollovar. I’ll be a bear with Beart. Sea bears together!
Yet Skrimsli still said that the forest was where he wanted to go. He would leave the ship behind and come with Owl on his journey. Although he spent almost all the days with Ekar, he sometimes flopped into Owl’s swinging wooden cot (whose ropes Owl had reinforced) at night to hear again about the keepers of the forest. Owl conjured up the deep green of the trees, the ancient fish, and all the moments from his own long-lost early life. Skrimsli purred to hear it all again.
Your kin are there, Owl? At this Bayuk Lazil? Skrimsli asked.
Yes, I think so. Though I was so young when I was taken, I don’t remember.
And my kin are there? Skrimsli asked.
There are tigers in that forest, yes. Tigers are one of the forest keepers, like the story says.
I want to see my kin, said Skrimsli, other tigers like me. Very much.
Owl could feel Skrimsli’s longing. He hoped there would be tigers but even if there were, would any wild tigers be like Skrimsli? Owl wasn’t sure.
The day came for their departure. The Maiden anchored by a small island covered in small, sea-blown trees and seabirds. Ekar rowed Owl ashore in the little boat. Skrimsli sat in the bow, very straight, his green eyes facing forward like lanterns. They towed another small boat behind them, Ekar’s gift to them.
‘I’ve named her Lidaya, after a seabird and a great traveller!’ she said.
In the days it had taken the Ice Maiden to deliver them to this coast, Ekar had made sure both Owl and Skrimsli could row and sail Lidaya well enough to navigate up the river to their destination. Ekar had made modifications that allowed Skrimsli to hold the oars with his front paws and row.
They ran into the shingle shore. Skrimsli jumped into the water, hooked a paw over the boat’s prow and pulled her out of the reach of the waves. Then Owl did the same for Lidaya. They stood looking at each other and the waves washed around their feet and pearly light danced between the clouds. Ekar broke the silence by stepping forward to lift Owl in her strong arms and hug him close enough to flatten him.
‘You know that if you don’t like the forest, Owl, if there are simply too many trees, you can come back. There will always be a place for you on my ship.’ She put him down.
Owl smiled and he suddenly felt the hole in the bottom of his heart that Ekar was going to leave.
‘And if you get tired of the sea,’ he said, ‘all that boring blue all the time, come and find me!’
In the long, warm look that passed between them, both knew that they would never see each other again.
Owl turned to Skrimsli, expecting him to change his mind at this last moment. Owl braced himself for the awful goodbye that would mean. But instead, Ekar dropped to her knees on the shingle to be head to head with Skrimsli, who rubbed his forehead and his cheeks into hers. They stayed motionless like that for a long moment. Then Ekar rose and stood straight, Captain Ekar once again.
‘I have told him, Owl,’ she said, ‘that I will be back here in the spring. We will anchor here, in the first full moon after the Equinox. I will wait for two nights before and two nights after the full moon. If he finds the forest is not his place, I’ll be waiting.’
They helped her push the little boat from the shore and Ekar rowed away. She did not turn round. Without another word between them, Owl and Skrimsli took an oar each and rowed the Lidaya into the broad mouth of the river. Wind played in the sparse bushes on either bank and shore birds whirled around, landed and whirled again as they began to move upstream, away from the sea.
Skrimsli was silent for a long time. At last he came into their shared mind space.
Owl, he said, we are going home. I am going to be a tiger at last.
Owl didn’t answer but reached out his hand to stroke the fur between the big round ears.
You are already a tiger, Skrimsli. A very, very fine tiger.
34
Skrimsli
Tiger
The sun was up, slanting fingers of light through the trees. Skrimsli lay along the branch and listened. He played the old game that he had played long ago in the circus, tuning in to the sounds around him one by one. High in the layers of green above him was a small voice crying wee-wee-wee. Its little mind was too far and faint to pick up more than a spark of agitation.
