spinning in Highson’s mind was one of the most elegant she had ever seen.
All that remained was to tap into the ship’s stored reserves, which Highson did by leaning forward and placing his forehead against the bone deck. The Change thrilled through him, pure and unalloyed. Shilly’s mind lit up like the sun in response, and she cried out for the joy of it.
She barely heard the explosion outside as two stony forms erupted from the surface of the water, limbs waving and tumbling through the air. They landed heavily on the shore with a distant clatter, like the echo of a stone tossed down a dry well. The bellowing they made as they shook off water and walked again struck her as little more than a murmur.
‘There’s something out there,’ whispered Schuet, who had inched forward to peer through the entranceway.
Yes, Shilly wanted to say, seeing through the Change the ferocious confusion of horns and claws that she and Highson had raised from the deep.
A stooped, vaguely humanoid figure loomed out of the mist and stood framed in the doorway. Schuet backed away, blade upraised.
‘Yield, human.’
Shilly returned to reality with a jolt at the sound of the voice. It wasn’t a man’kin’s voice. A crisp tenor, it reminded her of wood splitting. The face it belonged to was no less remarkable.
Small eyes peered from beneath low brows and around a broad nose with nostrils flared wide. Thick, freckled lips barely concealed the sharp teeth within. The creature’s protruding chin was tufted with white hair that had been plaited and beaded with gold. It wore a leather uniform decorated with brown-and-black ribbed straps down its sides. The arms it held in readiness at its sides were prodigiously long and wiry, but muscled, perfect for a warrior. It smelt musky, of exertion and exhaustion, of flesh, not stone.
In its right hand it held a wicked, curved hook pointed directly at Schuet.
‘Did you hear me?’
‘I heard you,’ said Schuet. Over his shoulder, he asked Shilly, ‘What happened to the man’kin we raised?’
‘I don’t know.’ She was as surprised as he was. The charm had evaporated in her shock at seeing the creature before her.
‘They ran away.’ The creature’s eyes shifted to her. ‘Why would they do that, if you summoned them?’
‘I don’t know that either,’ she admitted, cursing the failure of their one and only chance. The boneship’s reserves were now drained. She had no more surprises up her sleeves. ‘They’re fickle.’
‘They are indeed.’
‘What do you want with us?’ asked Schuet.
‘We hunt the winged old one. We assumed it came at your bidding, until we saw it take one of your own.’
‘We thought it yours.’ Schuet stood poised for a moment, then lowered his blade. ‘If we are not to be harmed, I will yield to you.’
‘Seneschal!’ the other soldier exclaimed.
‘Quiet, Mikia. I have little choice.’
‘Indeed. We outnumber you three to one.’ The creature took Schuet’s blade from him. ‘Your safety is assured, if you do as you’re told.’
‘Wait.’ Shilly was confused. Did that mean Schuet had surrendered? Where did that leave her and the others? ‘Who are you? What are you? Where did you come from?’
‘I am Griel,’ said the creature, frowning. ‘Do you not know my kind?’
She shook her head.
He — given a lack of obvious breasts and hips, Shilly settled on that pronoun — looked around the chamber at the wardens, then back to her. ‘His kind —’ Griel pointed a long index finger at Schuet ‘— the foresters, call my kind “the Panic”. We call ourselves kingsfolk. We live in the forest.’
‘I thought they lived in the forest,’ she said, pointing at Schuet.
‘We both do,’ said Schuet. ‘Therein lies the problem.’
She understood, and so did the wardens captured with her. Highson raised his eyes to the ceiling. Tom sat heavily on a bale of supplies. Rosevear stayed carefully between
All that remained was to tap into the ship’s stored reserves, which Highson did by leaning forward and placing his forehead against the bone deck. The Change thrilled through him, pure and unalloyed. Shilly’s mind lit up like the sun in response, and she cried out for the joy of it.
She barely heard the explosion outside as two stony forms erupted from the surface of the water, limbs waving and tumbling through the air. They landed heavily on the shore with a distant clatter, like the echo of a stone tossed down a dry well. The bellowing they made as they shook off water and walked again struck her as little more than a murmur.
‘There’s something out there,’ whispered Schuet, who had inched forward to peer through the entranceway.
Yes, Shilly wanted to say, seeing through the Change the ferocious confusion of horns and claws that she and Highson had raised from the deep.
A stooped, vaguely humanoid figure loomed out of the mist and stood framed in the doorway. Schuet backed away, blade upraised.
‘Yield, human.’
Shilly returned to reality with a jolt at the sound of the voice. It wasn’t a man’kin’s voice. A crisp tenor, it reminded her of wood splitting. The face it belonged to was no less remarkable.
Small eyes peered from beneath low brows and around a broad nose with nostrils flared wide. Thick, freckled lips barely concealed the sharp teeth within. The creature’s protruding chin was tufted with white hair that had been plaited and beaded with gold. It wore a leather uniform decorated with brown-and-black ribbed straps down its sides. The arms it held in readiness at its sides were prodigiously long and wiry, but muscled, perfect for a warrior. It smelt musky, of exertion and exhaustion, of flesh, not stone.
In its right hand it held a wicked, curved hook pointed directly at Schuet.
‘Did you hear me?’
‘I heard you,’ said Schuet. Over his shoulder, he asked Shilly, ‘What happened to the man’kin we raised?’
‘I don’t know.’ She was as surprised as he was. The charm had evaporated in her shock at seeing the creature before her.
‘They ran away.’ The creature’s eyes shifted to her. ‘Why would they do that, if you summoned them?’
‘I don’t know that either,’ she admitted, cursing the failure of their one and only chance. The boneship’s reserves were now drained. She had no more surprises up her sleeves. ‘They’re fickle.’
‘They are indeed.’
‘What do you want with us?’ asked Schuet.
‘We hunt the winged old one. We assumed it came at your bidding, until we saw it take one of your own.’
‘We thought it yours.’ Schuet stood poised for a moment, then lowered his blade. ‘If we are not to be harmed, I will yield to you.’
‘Seneschal!’ the other soldier exclaimed.
‘Quiet, Mikia. I have little choice.’
‘Indeed. We outnumber you three to one.’ The creature took Schuet’s blade from him. ‘Your safety is assured, if you do as you’re told.’
‘Wait.’ Shilly was confused. Did that mean Schuet had surrendered? Where did that leave her and the others? ‘Who are you? What are you? Where did you come from?’
‘I am Griel,’ said the creature, frowning. ‘Do you not know my kind?’
She shook her head.
He — given a lack of obvious breasts and hips, Shilly settled on that pronoun — looked around the chamber at the wardens, then back to her. ‘His kind —’ Griel pointed a long index finger at Schuet ‘— the foresters, call my kind “the Panic”. We call ourselves kingsfolk. We live in the forest.’
‘I thought they lived in the forest,’ she said, pointing at Schuet.
‘We both do,’ said Schuet. ‘Therein lies the problem.’
She understood, and so did the wardens captured with her. Highson raised his eyes to the ceiling. Tom sat heavily on a bale of supplies. Rosevear stayed carefully between
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