The navigator (9 page)

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"Where do you come from?" Owen asked.

"Me?"

"No, I mean the Raggies. Where are all the adults?"

"The story we tell is this. That there was a man called Smith who was put in charge of all these children. And each child was given a gold coin for their future. But Smith was a bad man. He wanted the money for himself. He abandoned the children and took their money, leaving us on this shore forever."

She spoke in a singsong voice, so Owen thought that this was the explanation that was given to the younger children by the older ones. He felt sorry for them, losing their parents, being all alone in the world. Then he remembered that he too was alone.

They sat on the roof until it started to rain. The rain was icy, blown in by the north wind. Looking down on the causeway, Owen saw that the waves were now pounding against it. Peering through the spray, he saw a small figure darting across the causeway. It was Cati. They went down and found her in the kitchen, dripping wet.

"You shouldn't be here," said Owen. "You're supposed to be sleeping, Contessa said--"

"Contessa's great," Cati interrupted, "but she's a bit of a mother hen. I was bored to the back teeth."

"She said you were frozen," Owen said slowly.

For the first time the hint of a shadow crossed his friend's face.

"I was ... I think," she said slowly, then more

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brightly, "But I'm going to freeze now for definite if you keep me standing here!" Owen jumped out of the way as she darted across the big room and went to the fire. She stood warming her hands, steam beginning to rise from her clothes.

"They're looking everywhere for you, by the way," she said. "Far as I can see, you're in big trouble." She seemed to relish this idea.

"Why?" he said. "It was Contessa who told me to come here."

"That explains it," she said. "Samual's the one who is stirring up all the trouble. Keeps saying you're one of the Harsh. Got some people believing him too."

"Why do people keep saying that?" Owen said. "You don't think I'm one of the Harsh, do you?"

"Me? No. You've got a face, for a start--a fairly ugly one, it has to be said, but a face all the same. I never saw one of the Harsh with a face before."

"That's a relief at least," Owen said sarcastically.

"You see," Cati continued, ignoring him, "Contessa hates Samual, so she's not going to tell him where you are."

"How did you know where I was?"

"I heard Contessa telling my father. They thought I was still asleep. Besides, I more or less knew you'd find a bunch of scruffs like yourself."

"What am I going to do?"

"Not to worry. You've got Contessa on your side, and

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my father. And Pieta likes you for some strange reason. Pieta doesn't like many people. It doesn't help that there hasn't been any sign of the Harsh all day. They're up to something. We'll have a talk with my father when we get back tonight."

"You'll be going nowhere tonight," Wesley said, coming in. He seemed completely unaware that he was soaked through and that his hands and feet were blue with cold. "Look."

They went to the door. The causeway was now almost completely underwater, wave upon wave crashing in great foaming bursts over the rock.

"High tide and the storm," Wesley said. "You'd best stay here tonight."

"Contessa ...," Cati began, alarmed, then stopped and shrugged. "I've only known you for two days," she said to Owen, "and you've already got me into more trouble than in the whole of the rest of my life." She turned to Wesley. "What time's dinner? I'm starving."

Dinner consisted of lobster and the same kind of potatoes Owen had eaten that afternoon. Once again, the children waited for Wesley to begin. After the meal was over, they gathered round the fireplace, the little children playing games, the older ones talking together. It was cozy in the big room with strong wooden shutters closed against the howling wind, the firelight casting flickering shadows on the walls. Wesley started to

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tell Cati about the attack on Boat. Owen left them and slipped over beside Silkie, who was braiding a piece of rope with strands of what looked like dried seaweed.

"Tell me more about ... what did you call it? Magno?"

"Why do you ask me?" Silkie said. "There are others who can tell you more."

"Who?"

"Dr. Diamond could tell you."

"Who is he?"

"Dr. Diamond works the Skyward. He knows about things."

"What things?"

"Just things. The proper places for things and what happens to things and where magno comes from and where time goes to." It sounded as if Silkie was reciting something she had been taught.

"So he makes magno?"

"Nobody makes magno," Silkie said slowly and patiently, as if she had taken an idiot in hand out of the kindness of her heart. Owen thought that when he got back to the Workhouse he would keep his eyes peeled for this Dr. Diamond.

After an hour or so, Wesley stood up and clapped his hands. The younger children formed into groups, with an older child at their head.

"He puts everyone to bed," Cati whispered. "We'd better follow."

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Wesley said goodnight to each of the Raggies by name, ruffling the hair of the youngest. As they moved off, Owen could hear the low murmur of the oldest child's voice as she began to tell a story.

The whole process took more than an hour, by which time some of the younger children seemed to be asleep on their feet, and Owen was beginning to feel his own eyelids grow heavy. He had started to wonder whether his encounter with the Harsh had drained more energy out of him than he had thought. At last they reached an empty room and Wesley ushered them in.

"Sleep well," he said solemnly. "May old Ma Time bear thee gently till morning."

"Night," Cati said, stifling a yawn.

"Goodnight," Owen said. Wesley grinned at him and patted his arm.

A tiny piece of magno in a glass case on the wall cast a dim light over the room. There were two beds in it. Cati jumped straight into one.

"I can hardly see, I'm so tired," she said, yawning again. Owen climbed into the other bed and slipped his clothes off under the blankets. The mattress was a little hard and the bedding a little scratchy, but he was too tired to care. Besides, the room was warm and the thick walls and shutters closed out the howl of the wind and the noise of the raging sea. He lay still for a moment. Cati's breathing was slow and even.

"Cati?"

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"What?" she said sleepily.

"Time is going backward, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"Well ... how do we make it go again?"

"The Puissance," she replied.

"The what?"

"The Puissance. The Great Machine in the north makes the Puissance, and the Puissance makes time go back. It has to be stopped."

Owen waited for a moment, listening to the distant howl of the wind.

"How do we do that?" he asked eventually, but Cati's only answer was a gentle snore. Owen put his head down on the rough pillow. Images from his old life came into his head. His school. His old bedroom. The guitar that he had been so fond of. But everything seemed such a long time ago and, strangely, seemed almost dusty in his mind. He remembered the old photograph his mother had carried around. He'd been a member of a family then, a happy, smiling family. If only things could be like that again, just once. But the photograph was lost. Things could never be the same. A wave of tiredness rushed over him and soon he too was asleep.

The wind could not be heard in the Starry far above their heads. The breasts of the children rose and fell imperceptibly, lost in the sleep of centuries. It was warm, for the temperature in the Starry did not change. It was

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quiet, because the sounds of the outside world did not penetrate the thick stone walls. And still they slept, dreaming who knew what dreams. They slept, except for one child. The little girl whose head had been touched by Owen. Her eyes were open, gleaming gently in the darkness.

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Owen was woken by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him insistently. It was Wesley.

"Message from the Sub-Commandant," Wesley said urgendy. "Owen's got to go to Dr. Diamond. Samual's asking you be arrested."

"What will Dr. Diamond do?" Owen said, sitting up and trying to put his trousers on under the sheet, aware that Cati was watching him with an amused expression.

"The people trust Dr. Diamond," she said. "If he says you are who you say you are, then Samual won't dare go against him. Hurry up!"

When they got downstairs, Owen noticed a small figure standing stock-still by the fireplace, half obscured by Wesley. He moved to the side to see better.

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"Is that... ?" he said.

"The girl from the Starry," Wesley said. "She must have wakened sometime last night. She was standing there when we came down this morning. Haven't been able to get a word out of her. I'm not sure, but I have a notion that this is the first waking she's had for many a year."

The little girl stood perfectly still. Her feet were bare and the dress she wore was threadbare. Her pinched little features were solemn and unmoving.

"She looks like she needs somebody to pick her up and hug her," Cati whispered. Owen knew what she meant, yet neither of them made a move toward her.

"There is a fierce need there," said Wesley, frowning, "but I cannot work out what it is." He did notice, however, that as they moved about getting ready to leave, the little girl's eyes followed Owen everywhere. And when they crossed the causeway, Owen turned to see her standing at the window, her large eyes, so dark they seemed almost bruised, still following him.

When they got to the Workhouse there was tension in the air, groups of men hurrying toward the river looking grim. Pieta was walking up from the river with the magno whip coiled at her waist. When she saw them she gave Cati a sardonic wink and blew a kiss in Owen's direction. He felt his face turning red and Pieta laughed as she strode past him.

"I don't know why she has to be so unkind," Cati muttered.

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"I think she's just sad inside about something," Owen said.

"Since when did you become the big expert on women?" Cati said, a little crossly. "Come on. I have to see Contessa."

Before Owen could answer, she was off racing through the big doors. He ran after her. They crashed through the kitchen door together, then tumbled onto the floor, laughing. When they looked up they saw Contessa standing over them, watching with a calm, measured look that made both feel mildly embarrassed. They picked themselves up from the floor, brushing off their clothes.

"I'm glad to see that you're both alive and obviously none the worse for your experiences the other night." She took Cati's face in her hands and looked long and hard into the girl's eyes. Then she took a small metal rod from her pocket. "Open your mouth."

Contessa slipped the rod under Cati's tongue and waited for a moment before taking it out and looking at it. Owen could see fine markings on it and realized that it was a thermometer. Contessa seemed to look at it for a long time.

"Your temperature is now a little lower than other people's, Cati. It will stay that way for the rest of your life. You can't be assailed by the Harsh like that without consequences."