Page 31 of The Neverfear

‘Why are you doing this? What have I done?’ said Irian.

‘Nothing. You have done nothing. Don’t be so arrogant. You’re just part of a much bigger plan.’

‘The children – are they here? In another cage?’

‘The girl – the little princess? And the Outerlander?’

‘Yes! What have you done to them?’

‘Nothing. They are going freely about their business. They too are part of Astor Morax’s plan.’

‘What plan? Who is Astor Morax?’

‘That isn’t something you need to know.’ Carla moved away from the cage. ‘The tide changes every day here: you’re a scientist of the ocean, I believe, so you’ll have expected that. And you have nereid blood, they say. Tell me, can you breathe underwater?’

Irian kept her face impassive. ‘No. I think you know that.’

Carla laughed. ‘As a matter of fact I do. Today, when the tide comes in, it will reach your ankles. Tomorrow, your knees. It will come slowly, day by day. But eventually it will reach your neck, and then your mouth. And then it will cover the cage completely and you will drown, and the fishes will eat your body.’

‘When Fidens Nighthand hears,’ said Irian, ‘he will come for me.’

But the words did something strange to Carla. Her usually controlled face shifted and stiffened – it took a moment for her to regain her perfect composure. ‘Fidens Nighthand will not hear until we say he shall hear, and he will not come until it is too late for him to do anything but die.’

‘He will come. He loves me.’

‘He is not capable of love. He told me so himself.’

Irian stared. ‘You know Nighthand?’

‘Know him?’ Carla moved to mount the stymphalian bird, but she kept her eyes fixed on Irian’s. ‘Oh, I know Fidens Nighthand. I know him better than you ever will.’

The Glamorous Accessories Of A Pirate King

Under Ratwin’s command, they hauled anchor and sailed the Neverfear out of sight of Great Caruta in the dark: ‘Just in cases: best nots to be too nears any paddling giants.’ They slept fitfully before waking at dawn. They washed, and then sat on the deck, the whiskers glowing between them.

‘What do we do with them?’ said Anya. ‘Do we go back to Lithia with them?’

‘Do we posts thems?’ said Ratwin.

But the question of the whiskers was answered an hour later when, as the sun rose higher, a stymphalian bird flew over the horizon towards them. The bronze glint of its beak made the bile rise in Christopher’s throat.

‘Avast!’ cried Jacques. ‘Look up! Incoming enemy! Take arms!’

Christopher drew his sword. Anya stood next to him, her elbow touching his.

‘How do they know where we are?’ she said, her neck craned upwards. ‘I don’t understand how they found us!’

‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘But we’re searching the whole boat, after this.’

The stymphalian bird swooped down to land on the deck. It had in its beak a piece of folded parchment. Before they could move towards it, it had dropped the parchment, snatched the whiskers and was gone.

Christopher held the note in his hands for a moment, staring out after the bird.

‘Open it!’ said Anya. ‘Quickly!’

Christopher turned the sheet over. He read aloud:

The dog was easy: it was just the beginning.