It was subtle at first. Brother Poosk still bent to listen to his leader. Still mopped the helpless man’s face and bobbed and ducked around him, attending to this and that.
“Brother Thrawn wants to know,” he said, as the door closed, “how you escaped from the underwater machine. He was sure his men had destroyed it.”
Sharkey didn’t answer. Something had changed, and he was trying to work out what it was.
He looked at Rain, but she was staring at the floor. He looked at Brother Thrawn, at the mad glint in his eyes, at the rage and the viciousness and the nastiness. From this close, Sharkey could see that it was directed at—
—at Brother Poosk.
Sharkey blinked. Hang on, that wasn’t right. What had Poosk done except run around being helpful and passing on messages? Look at him—even now he was moving Brother Thrawn’s left arm so it didn’t rub against the edge of the chair, then trotting around to the other side.
In the end, it was the spring in Poosk’s step that gave him away. Everyone else probably thought it was eagerness to serve. But to Sharkey, with his history of deception, it looked like something else.
A subtle glee.
Sharkey’s eyes widened involuntarily. Everyone seemed to think of Brother Poosk as nothing more than an irritating servant. They despised him. They laughed behind his back.
But what if he was the one laughing? What if he was in charge?
Sharkey looked again, and listened, and knew he was right. It wasn’t instructions coming out of Brother Thrawn’s mouth. It was meaningless mumbles. He hadn’t condemned sixty villagers to hanging. It was Poosk!
Which meant it was Poosk who had sent Sharkey’s captors out of the room. It was probably Poosk who had caused the Rampart to be bombarded, and the Claw too. The handover trap, the catapults, the balloons—they were all Brother Poosk.
And Rain knew it.
Sharkey didn’t look at the girl. He didn’t look at Poosk either. He kept his face blank and his eyes fixed on Brother Thrawn, as if he still believed the masquerade. Because if Rain’s uncle was clever enough to snatch this sort of power, to keep this sort of secret, then he was far more dangerous than he appeared to be. And if Sharkey wanted to save his own skin, and Poddy’s too, he’d better keep quiet about it.
“Well?” said Brother Poosk in his humble, I’m-just-passing-on-the-question voice. “You must not keep Brother Thrawn waiting, savage. How did you escape?”
Sharkey had no intention of answering any questions. But it made no difference. Rain answered for him.
With lowered eyes, she told her uncle how Sharkey had tricked their pursuers. She told him about the oil and the broken-up berth and the expelled air. She even told him about the little claw and how it had been used to stir the sand.
The only thing she didn’t mention was the part she had played. In her story, she’d been a helpless prisoner the whole time, unable to do anything except watch in terror.
If Sharkey hadn’t hated her so much, he would’ve admired her. This was a side of Rain he’d never seen before. But he should’ve guessed it was there. After all, just about everything she’d ever said to him was a lie.
At the end of Rain’s story, Poosk put his ear to Brother Thrawn’s mouth and nodded several times. Then he said, in a surprised voice, “Really? You want me to question the savage boy? I am not at all sure, dear leader. I do not have your intellect—”
He really was astonishingly clever, thought Sharkey. His words, his voice, the look on his face—it was so convincing.
And all the time, Brother Thrawn’s eyes burned with hatred.
“Very well,” said Brother Poosk. “I will do my best.” He turned his nondescript expression to Sharkey. “What is your name, boy?”
Rain murmured, “It is Sharkey.”
“A savage name for a savage boy,” said Poosk. “Dear me, how I hate to think of my niece in his company.” Those mild eyes inspected Rain. “I hope none of the savagery rubbed off on her. Her little brother would be so upset.”
“No, Uncle,” said Rain, staring at her hands. “It did not rub off.”
“Good,” said Brother Poosk. “Now”—he turned back to Sharkey—“Brother Thrawn would like to know what you and the demon were doing above the quarry. You might as well tell him. If you do not, my niece will. Family is so important, is it not, Sharkey? Hmm?”
He stepped closer, his head tilted to one side. “Where is your family, by the way? Were they in the quarry? Did you see them cutting rocks, I wonder? It looks like hard work, I know, but really it builds character, and no one can argue with that. Mind you, Admiral Deeps does not need any character building. Such a fine leader. It must have been hard to lose her. Dear me, yes. And harder still to carry on without her. Such a responsibility…”
Sharkey wasn’t sure how it happened, but there was something about that quiet voice that sidled past his defenses. He found himself nodding. After all, Admiral Deeps was a fine leader. And it had been hard to lose her. Where was the harm in admitting such a thing?
But once he had agreed with that, it was difficult to stop. And when Brother Poosk said kindly, “I suppose you came to the quarry with some thought of rescuing your fellows, did you not?” Sharkey croaked, “Aye.”
“Of course you did,” cried Poosk. “Any loyal person would have done the same. But loyalty is not enough, is it? It takes courage to walk into the lion’s den.”
Sharkey didn’t know what a lion’s den was, but he agreed with the rest of it. “Aye,” he said again.
“I expect you had a plan,” said Poosk. He looked over his shoulder to where Brother Thrawn seethed in his chair. “A brave, clever boy like this would have had a plan, dear leader.”
Sharkey saw the trap and knew without a doubt that he mustn’t say another word, no matter how harmless it seemed. But there was that quiet voice again, sneaking into the cracks, crawling into the spaces between who Sharkey was and who he wanted to be.
“Or perhaps there was no plan when you got here,” murmured Poosk. “But then something came to you. Some little weakness you saw? Something you could exploit? Why, all those people are relying on you, Sharkey. Waiting for you to save them. And you are not going to let them down. That is not the sort of boy you are; I can see it in your face. The determination. The courage. The cleverness—”
It’s true, thought Sharkey. I’m NOT going to let them down. I’m going to get out of here, and then—
“Then what?” asked Poosk.
To his horror, Sharkey realized he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “And then—and then—” he stuttered.
“There is a plan, is there not?” asked Poosk. “Or perhaps just the beginnings of one? A loose end that we have not caught? A hole in the careful fabric that Brother Thrawn has woven? I wonder what it is, hmm?”
Sharkey clamped his lips together, determined not to give anything away. But the nondescript little man kept talking at him, and talking and talking, and before long he found himself nodding again.
He felt like a fish on the end of a line, being dragged along with a hook in its mouth, and no way of saving itself. He was sure he’d eventually let something slip. Something important. Or else Rain would do it. She’d told her uncle pretty much everything else. It was only a matter of time before she remembered Poddy’s message about the tunnel.
I have to stop this, thought Sharkey. I have to stop it in its tracks. Now!
Except he could think of only one way to stop that mild voice, and he didn’t want to do it. He opened his mouth—and shut it again. Say it, he told himself. But he couldn’t. His whole life had been about self-preservation, and the habit was too strong to break.
But then Rain said, “Uncle—” and Sharkey was sure she was going to say something about the tunnel. In desperation, he thought, What would Petrel do?
The answer was obvious. Sharkey dragged in a ragged breath and, before he could change his mind, said, “And then I’m going to kill you.”
He saw the shock in Rain’s eyes as he stammered, “I—I didn’t realize at first. I thought Brother Thrawn was running things. But he’s not. It’s you. So it’s you I have to kill. Then everything will fall apart, and my people’ll be able to escape.”
Brother Poosk folded his hands on his chest and twiddled his thumbs. All pretense was gone now, and his hard little eyes bored into Sharkey’s. “My, my,” he said. “What a clever little savage it is. Or did you tell him, Rain?”
The girl’s face grew white with horror. “No, Uncle! I said nothing, I promise. He is just—clever.”
“I see. And do you admire this clever boy, niece? Have you developed a fondness for him?”
“No, Uncle.”
“Good, good. Because we cannot keep him, can we? Not when he goes around saying this sort of thing.” He smiled. “What do you suggest we do with him?”
Rain ducked her head and whispered, “I am sure you will think of something, Uncle.”
“I am sure I will,” said Poosk. “Now, let me see—”
He bustled across the room, mumbling to himself. Sharkey wondered if the little man was going to kill him now or later. He hoped it was later. He hoped that Poosk wouldn’t question Rain any further, wouldn’t find out about the tunnel. If it remained a secret, the Sunkers might eventually find their own way of distracting the guards and the dogs. They might escape without Sharkey’s help.
They’d better be able to, he thought. I haven’t been much use so far. I haven’t saved Poddy. I haven’t saved anyone, not even myself.
But he hadn’t betrayed anyone either, and that was something to cling to.
He took a deep breath, wishing he could say good-bye to Poddy. I’m scared, he thought.
Behind him, Poosk said, “Ah, here we are. A nice bit of silk left over from Brother Thrawn’s undershirt. Just the thing.”
And before Sharkey knew it, a piece of cloth had been thrust into his mouth, and another piece tied tight around it.
“Now, how is he going to die, I wonder?” Poosk scratched his chin and turned to Brother Thrawn. “Dear leader, I await your advice.”
Thrawn glared. But Poosk nodded vigorously, as if his leader had replied, and said, “An excellent idea. Killed while attempting to escape! What could be more appropriate? The boy gets one pathetic chance at freedom and dies in the attempt.”
He swung around. “What do you think, niece? You helped capture him, after all. You should have a say in his exit. Killed while escaping, yes?”
“Yes, Uncle,” whispered Rain.
Sharkey thought he heard a quiet hmmm, and Poosk’s eyes narrowed. “You are not singing, are you?”
“N-no, Uncle.”
“You know Brother Thrawn cannot abide singing.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“Now, where were we? Ah, the escape attempt—”
“Uncle,” whispered Rain.
Sharkey’s heart jolted. Had his sacrifice been for nothing? Had Rain remembered the tunnel at last?
But if she had, she wasn’t saying so. “Uncle. I was wondering about Br— about my brother.”
“What about him? He is to be whipped tomorrow morning, after the demon and its fellows are executed.”
“Yes, I—I know. But since I helped capture the savage boy”—Rain didn’t so much as look at Sharkey—“I thought maybe Brother Thrawn might let my brother off. Just this once.”
Poosk sniffed. “A dangerous precedent. What do you think, Brother Thrawn? Are we feeling merciful? Are we feeling kind?”
A low growl escaped from Thrawn’s lips. Poosk smiled delightedly. “We are? Well then, Rain, your request is granted. Consider yourself and your brother exceptionally lucky.”
“I do, Uncle. And thank you.”
“Well, don’t just stand there simpering, girl. Go and tell those guards to come back. Brother Thrawn wants a word with them.”
As Rain hurried to the door, Sharkey braced himself. Behind the gag, his breath came in short, painful gasps. Now? Will they kill me now?
But when the guards shuffled back into the room, Poosk merely said, “Brother Thrawn wants the savage thrown into the punishment hole. And you are to release the young Initiate while you are there. Our dear leader has forgiven him because of the heroism of his sister.”
Sharkey trembled with relief. But as the men untied him from the chair and marched him out of the room, he knew that the relief would not last. Sooner or later they would come for him. And then they would kill him.