The ship cut through the wide, flat sea, peeling a long wake that broke up into braids of white foam behind them.
Days slipped by, each one becoming a little hotter, each one taking them further and further from home.
Tilbury and Nimble-Quick often sat in the shade and shelter of a lifeboat and watched the unchanging ocean. Once, Tilbury spotted dolphins rising up from the depths, and he wondered what worlds lay below the waves that could hold such astounding creatures of speed and beauty. But most of the time, the ocean concealed its secrets and lay flat and featureless, reflecting a cloudless sky. Tilbury lost count of the days. The relentless heat made everyone sleepy, even the ship rats. They were often to be found curled up under ropes or snoozing in their hammocks.
Then, one evening, just as Tilbury began to feel that this would be their life forever, a sweet earth scent drifted on a fresh breeze. The horizon seemed a little hazy and covered in cloud.
‘Land!’ squeaked Nimble-Quick. ‘Oh, Tilbury. I can see land.’
As the ship drew nearer, they could see palm-lined beaches and jumbles of small towns at the shoreline. Humans in small fishing boats cast nets out to the water. There were other ships too, blasting their horns as they passed. Birds from the land flew overhead. Some bright scarlet with huge bills, others iridescent green. Tilbury and Nimble-Quick watched as the ship passed along the coastline all night. As dawn approached, they neared a city, its neon lights bright across the water. Tilbury could hear the hum of traffic and the mechanical sounds of a city waking up. It was like a living beast, Tilbury thought, pulsing with life; mysterious, unpredictable, while at the same time hypnotic and enthralling. They were entering a place of thieves and assassins, where two-headed monsters roamed the streets. Somehow, life on the ship with the sea-shanty-singing rats seemed remarkably tame. The ship turned and edged into the port, where huge cranes were unpacking containers from other ships.
‘Come on,’ said Tilbury. ‘Let’s tell Marfaire.’
But Marfaire was already out of her hammock and packing her bag. ‘We cannot take your pa’s sea chest. We must put what we need in our travelling packs.’
Nimble-Quick grumbled as Marfaire made her take thick winter clothes for the mountains, and she carefully folded and included her sky-blue bird-suit too.
Tilbury packed his clothes, his short knife and a few ship’s biscuits and the remains of the cheese, carefully arranging them around the Cursed Night.
Marfaire instructed them all to wear a cool cotton smock beneath their travelling capes, as she said the port would be hot, but they would need their travelling capes to remain out of sight. Tilbury pulled on his rucksack, then his cape, and tucked the metal tube safely in the inside pocket.
Nimble-Quick looked into the chest. Only Ma’s finest clothes remained.
‘Ma would want us to look respectable if we were asked to dinner,’ said Tilbury, running his paws along the lace and ribbons.
‘Well, Ma’s not here and the chances of us being asked to dinner are zero,’ said Nimble-Quick. ‘We’re most likely to end up as dinner inside one of the felinrats.’
Tilbury buried his nose in one of the frilly shirts. He hadn’t allowed himself to think too much of Ma and Pa, but suddenly it was as if Ma was beside him, fussing with the frills and telling Tilbury to sit still. His little heart ached, because it dawned on him just how far he was from home, and he wondered if he would ever return.
‘Come,’ said Obsidian, when their bags were packed. ‘Let’s go.’
They scrambled up the decks to where they could see the gangplank had been lowered. Tilbury looked up to see the captain and the ship rats in a line watching them go. A shanty rose up into the thick, humid air, and one verse filled Tilbury with a deep foreboding that weighed on the diamond in his bag.
Ye cannae trust a ship rat
We’ll trick ye in the end.
Assassins, cheats and fibbers
No ship rat is your friend.
‘Hoods up,’ said Marfaire. ‘Let’s go.’
Marfaire led the way down the gangplank, and when they could, they slipped into the shadows and hurried along an alleyway deep in shade.
This port smelled different from London. The warm humid air held the scent of nutmeg and pepper. The buildings were different too. They were ornate and painted in reds and ochres. But the port was strangely quiet and, unusually for a port, there were no rats to be seen. The only signs Tilbury could see were scuttling feet and flicks of tails beneath doorways and in the cracks between broken fences.
When they came to the shelter of some rubbish bins, Marfaire stopped. ‘We need to find our way to Snake Street and the Traveller’s Rest,’ she said.
But before any of them could move, a small, skinny rat dashed past them, its feet skittering on the cobblestones. When it saw them, it spun on its tail and dived into the shadow of the bins next to them. Its chest heaved up and down and a gash in its ear oozed thick red blood. It stared at Tilbury, its eyes wide in fear. ‘Felinrat,’ it mouthed.
Tilbury clutched Nimble-Quick’s tail.
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
The monster of nightmares was here, right now.
And they had nowhere to run to, and nowhere to hide.
On the opposite wall, a huge shadow reared up. It was the shadow of a beast with two heads and a cat’s body. One head was that of a rat and one was of a cat.
The cat’s head opened its massive jaws and hissed.
