Toby was sitting next to Arthur at the dining table, but this time they weren’t talking. Toby’s gaze was fixed on the door as he waited for Ayla.
With every unappetizing mouthful he felt the pressure of eyes lingering on him from across the room. He refused to acknowledge them: Uzuri, Lenka, Moira, Bianca, Summer.
“Is she all right?”
“Leave it, Cezar.” Toby jabbed at a piece of chicken – it tasted like ash in his mouth.
Mother Hesper sat at the head of the girls’ table. Once more she pushed the food around her plate without eating, her thin arms protruding from her robes like sticks. Father Dahon sat at the head of the boys’ table. Each piece of meat reached his lips unerringly, yet he chewed messily, making loud slurping noises.
His thick black brows came together when the door slammed open.
Toby’s attention snapped across the room to Ayla striding forwards, not a hint of discomfort on her face.
She sat in the chair that had been left empty for her between Uzuri and Lenka. Then she deliberately used her left arm to pull her plate towards her.
Arthur raised his head. “She’s all right then.” He seemed relieved. “I couldn’t help … you understand?”
Toby nodded. “I get it.”
“I couldn’t leave Summer.”
“Summer’s not a baby.” Zahir spoke up, his red-rimmed eyes blinking in the lamplight. “She’s as determined to win as the rest of us.”
“And she will – I’ll make sure of it.” Arthur speared his meat so viciously that his plate jumped on the table.
Father Dahon pushed his empty plate to one side, rose to his feet, nodded to the group and walked out of the dining hall.
There was a brief silence then, gradually, conversation restarted.
Toby looked at Arthur. “If you lose, you forfeit your tongue; if you win, you lose your sight. You’re OK with that?”
“Of course.” Arthur frowned. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“Isn’t it…?” Arthur stared at Toby, his gaze sharpening.
Toby tensed. “Yes, of course. It’s just that now it’s happening … it’s scarier than I expected.”
“As long as Summer keeps her tongue.” Arthur looked across the room. “She can’t play the flute without it.”
“We all want to keep our tongues,” Matus snapped.
“You think it’ll hurt – going blind?” Cezar whispered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“It doesn’t take long.” Arthur smiled at him. “Less than a minute if the Sun’s out.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“Then it can take all afternoon,” Matus sneered. “But we’re in Gozo – the Sun’s always out. Praise the Sun.”
“Praise the Sun,” Toby echoed. He stared at Cezar again. The boy was rubbing his eyes.
“Your family needs the money badly, huh?”
“We all do, don’t we?” Brody had already cleaned his bowl and was peering hungrily at Toby’s.
“To the elders, the money will be welcome,” Zahir said.
“Sure,” Matus muttered.
Toby sighed and, remembering his own words about getting on with people, pushed his bowl to Brody. “Here.”
Brody looked stunned. “Th-thanks.” He grabbed the food as if he was worried Toby would change his mind.
Toby turned back to Ayla, tuning the other boys out. She was eating slowly, taking her time, still using her left hand, determined to show that there was no issue. None of the girls were speaking.
“I’m not sure I can manage another trial,” Cezar whispered. “I wish this was over.”
Despite his memory of the darkness challenge, Toby welcomed the lightlessness of his cell.
He lay with his eyes on the ceiling, waiting for the familiar click of his door locking. As soon as the sister had completed her rounds, Toby reached under his thin mattress for the fork tine he had hidden there. He closed his fingers around the comforting sharpness of it. The fact that the tine was still there suggested to Toby that this might be a good enough hiding place for the inverter. Of course if the relic was discovered missing, the guards might well search the cells and, if they did, the first place they would look would be under the mattress.
Toby rolled to his knees and crawled under his bed. The dirt floor was hard, but he used the tine to scrape away at the floor nearest Ayla’s wall.
The whole time he worked he listened for a telltale sound of the hatch in his wall being opened. His shoulders tensed at every noise and sweat beaded his forehead.
After maybe an hour, Toby had managed to dig a small hole, but it wasn’t nearly deep enough. With a sigh he got back to his feet. The ground was too hard. There was only one thing for it – he had to wet the hard-packed earth.
Pulling his bed as quietly as he could, Toby created a space between the wall and the bedframe. He quickly checked the hatch, worried that the noise might have called someone to check up on him, but it remained closed. Wishing he had drunk more at dinnertime, he wet the ground as swiftly as he could, then shoved the bed back into place. He paced for a few moments, waiting for the moisture to soak in, hoping he had hit the right place, then he crawled back underneath to dig once more.
Eventually Toby was able to plant the inverter in the ground and pat mud back over it. It wouldn’t hold up to a thorough search, but it was better than the alternatives.
He hopped back on to his bed, feeling jumpy, as if he felt the presence of someone behind his wall, but there was no movement. Toby closed his eyes, wiped his hands on his trousers and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t settle.
Unless there was something that needed doing with the boiler, Toby usually slept in a room with almost fifty other pirates: those who weren’t on watch or working night crew. He was used to sleeping in a crowd, but not to being watched while he did so. Now his shoulder blades itched and his whole body was tense. He couldn’t fall asleep knowing that at any time someone could be peering in at him through the hatch in his wall, watching, listening.
He turned the fork tine over and over in his fingers, worrying at the metal like a comforter.
“Ayla, are you awake?” he called eventually.
There was a pause before she replied, but there was no hint of sleep in her voice. “Yes – but we can’t talk here.”
“I know.” Toby fell silent.
Making up his mind, he rose and felt for the hatch. He found it despite the gloom and his fingers patted the splintered wood, feeling for the edge. He jammed the tine, so no one would be able to slide it open from the other side. Finally he would be able to fall asleep.
It still took what felt like hours.
“Is it morning already?” Matus staggered out of his cell, rubbing his eyes.
Toby slipped the fork tine into a hole he had created in the hem of his sleeve and joined the others gathering in the corridor. If anyone went to check his hatch they’d find nothing wrong.
Ayla smoothed her lopsided hair with her right hand. Toby noticed that she winced when she had to move her left.
“Did Hideaki give you anything for the pain?” he whispered.
Ayla shook her head. “Nothing to take away. It gives me an excuse to go and see him again later.”
“Do you have your…?”
“Shut up!” Ayla glanced at Mother Hesper, who had stopped trying to rouse Cezar and was watching them with narrowed eyes. She lowered her voice to almost nothing. “Hideaki has it.”
Toby nodded as Cezar joined them. He looked tearful and his eyes were redder than Zahir’s, as though he had been crying all night. Toby’s heart clenched at the sight: Cezar was totally unprepared for the day ahead. Would he be next to go to the altar?
Bianca saw the same thing Toby had and grabbed Cezar’s arm. “Didn’t you get any rest?”
“I’ll be fine.” Cezar shook her off, but when Mother Hesper herded them towards the courtyard once more, Cezar’s limp was more pronounced than ever.
As Ayla was in the cell nearest the door, she was first on to the sanctuary steps. Toby could not see past her, but as soon as the light hit her, Ayla froze and then back-pedalled.
“What is it?” Alarmed, Toby caught her elbows before anyone else could see her retreat.
Ayla was shaking. “Do you think they had this planned already, or is it specially for me?”
“Get a move on,” Bianca snapped. “We all want to see.”
Ayla turned to Toby. “I-I don’t think I can do this.” Her usual composure had been shattered. Toby clutched her tighter as the others crowded into the doorway behind them.
“Get outta the way.” Moira shoved and Toby stumbled.
“Walk with me.” He pushed Ayla gently. She resisted and Toby had to wrestle her on to the top step and into the light.
At first he was blinded by the morning glare, but finally saw what had terrified his partner. “Ashes,” he muttered.
He and Ayla stood motionless on the top step as the others shoved past and lined up in the dust. He jumped as Mother Hesper’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“Is there a problem?”
“Of course not.” Toby shook his head, but Ayla spun around in sudden fury.
“You did this on purpose, you skeletal witch.”
Toby leaped between them and opened his arm. “Ayla, no!”
Mother Hesper merely raised her eyebrows. “If you don’t want to take part in the challenge, I understand. Your decision will be honoured.”
Ayla’s head snapped up, momentary relief clearing the cloud from her face. “You mean I don’t have to do it?”
“Wait, what? How is that fair?” Lenka started back up the stairs.
“Of course it will be an instant forfeit, and you and your partner will go to the altar,” Mother Hesper continued.
Ayla clamped her jaw tightly closed.
“Well?” Mother Hesper tilted her head. “What’s your decision?”
Ayla remained silent, trembling against Toby’s chest. He stiffened.
“Fine.” Ayla stepped away from them both. “I’ll do it. If you think you can break me with this, you don’t know me.” Her face was pale, but she marched down the stairs, past the waiting teens and right up to the mountain of dry kindling that was piled in the centre of the courtyard.
Part of Toby was impressed. “Where did you get so much combustible?” he murmured.
Mother Hesper smirked. “Pilgrimages … offerings from the sea … our own plantations on Gozo. We have riches you’ve never dreamed of.”
Toby began to follow her down the steps. “So this was already planned, you didn’t put this on because you saw Ayla’s injuries?”
Mother Hesper said nothing, simply swept past him and raised her arms. “A circle has been drawn around the bonfire.”
Toby squinted at the ground. Sure enough, a line had been etched in the sand.
“Sit on the line,” she continued. “The first one to move further away will lose the challenge.”
Toby jogged to Ayla’s side. She stood by the line, trembling slightly. “Sit on my right. I’ll shield your left side as much as I can.”
Ayla curled her lip. “I’ll be fine.” Her spine was straight and the long half of her hair lay against her back. Toby looked at it with a sinking heart. She couldn’t even pull her hair in front of her burns to protect the sensitive skin from the heat.
“Here.” Toby pulled off his shirt. “Wrap that round your left shoulder on top of your own shirt, it’ll give you added protection.”
“What about you?” Ayla glanced at his exposed chest and handed it back.
“You know what the boiler room’s like.” Toby pressed the shirt back into her hand. “This kind of heat doesn’t bother me.” She hesitated, wavering. “Honestly, it’s a hundred degrees in there. Take the shirt.”
She sucked her bottom lip. “You’ll be fine?”
“I’ll get sunburn, but I can take it.”
Ayla reached out a finger and touched Toby’s nut-brown forearm, running her hand up to where the skin became pale on his shoulder.
“It’ll hurt.”
Toby caught her hand. “Not as much as having my tongue removed. The others are already sitting. Come on.”
He held out his hand. Ayla blinked and then took it. He helped her sit and then sat himself, angling his right shoulder so that it provided some shade for Ayla’s left. Neither of them looked at the others, but Toby sensed their relief. They were certain Ayla was going to hand them the victory.
Once they were ready Father Dahon exited the sanctuary with a flaming torch. Ayla swallowed as Mother Hesper took it from him then, in one smooth movement, launched it over their heads and into the bonfire. It wedged in the side nearest Toby and Ayla.
Ayla had closed her eyes when the torch cartwheeled above her, but now she opened them, pinning her gaze on the licking flame.
“It’s gone out,” she whispered.
Toby’s heart sank at the hope in her voice. “Just wait,” he said, and he held her hand.
Ayla didn’t pull away – instead she leaned closer, holding her breath. A glow grew brighter inside the pile of kindling as it began to smoulder, a red bud that blossomed all of a sudden into a bright orange flower. Ayla’s breath flew out of her as the flame went, in seconds, from a glow to a crackling blaze. Tendrils of flame wound between logs and slid from one combustible to the next, hissing as they grew between the cracks like vines. The colour of the bonfire’s heart deepened and darkened and the flames twisted higher into the sky, yellowing as they rose until they met the sun’s rays in one single blaze.
Ayla covered her face as a gust of wind blasted smoke in her direction. Ash blew over Toby and settled into the hair on his chest.
He could feel his face reddening.
“There is water behind each of you. Use it only to drink.” Father Dahon’s sibilant rasp caused Toby to turn, carefully. He was terrified of accidentally moving from the line. Sure enough, a clay tankard of water now sat behind each of them.
“They’re giving us water?” Ayla’s surprise matched his own.
“The heat is going to be severe.” Toby squeezed her hand again. “They don’t want anyone passing out and winning by default.”
“Makes sense,” Ayla muttered. She took one more glance at the water, as if to reassure herself that it was real, then turned back to the fire.
Toby looked round. To his left, Zahir was already flinching and had covered his eyes with his hands. Tears were running between his fingers. Toby nudged Ayla. “The brightness bothers him,” he whispered.
Lenka and Matus were coughing; the breeze had turned and was gusting thick smoke in their direction.
Ticklish sweat ran down Toby’s neck and chest, drying before it reached his trousers.
Uzuri was glaring at Ayla, silently willing her to break before Zahir. As the heat built, Ayla clutched Toby’s hand more tightly. Her palm was wet in his and her hair was already sticking to her forehead. Her breath came in short rasps and her spine was ramrod straight. When she started to rub her broken wrist with her free hand, Toby knew she was thinking of the explosion.
The boiler fire was nothing like this. Toby rubbed sweat out of his eyes and ducked his head, no longer able to watch the flames. The bonfire had become an inferno. With a crack, a large log snapped in two and fell into the centre of the blaze, forcing the smaller kindling to spread out, getting closer to Ayla’s feet. She gasped and pulled in her toes. Toby held her to him.
“Don’t run.”
“I’m not going to,” she growled, but she let him keep holding her.
The sound of the fire had developed into a roar. Summer had clapped her hands over her ears and Arthur was holding on to her long tresses, which were blowing in the direction of the flying sparks.
“I need my drink,” Ayla moaned.
Toby could barely hear her. He nodded to show that he understood and she reached behind her for the tankard.
Before he could tell her not to, she had knocked the whole thing back. Rivulets of cool water dripped down her throat and soaked into her collar and Toby swallowed, suddenly desperate for his own water. He didn’t dare drink. Ayla would need more.
All around them the teens were reaching for their cups. Toby hung his head and tried to absorb the heat into his body, picturing the boiler room at its hottest.
He imagined that he could hear the sounds of the Phoenix around him, that the fire’s snarl was the thunder of the engine running at full speed, that the hiss of the flames was the muffled sound of her paddles and the crack and crackle of disintegrating logs was the crunch and crash of junk being smashed by her ice-breaker hull.
He pictured the captain’s face when he handed him the inverter and leaned closer to Ayla, trying to shade her sensitive skin.
She was shaking now – her whole body a tense string that could break at any moment.
“It’s OK to lean on me,” Toby shouted.
“It’s not OK! I don’t lean on anyone.” Ayla turned a glare on him, but her eyes were haunted. “I thought this would get easier the longer I sat here, but the heat is just…” She swallowed. “All I can think about is that explosion. I keep seeing it … feeling it slam into me … the smell of my own skin burning.”
Toby put his lips close to her ear. He could feel the heat radiating from her face and the dampness of her sweat.
“Picture the sea,” he murmured. He stroked her palm with his thumb. “Pretend you’re on board the Phoenix. It’s night, so it’s cool, even below deck.” He felt the slight easing of her shoulders. “You and I aren’t sleepy, so we sneak past the others, snoring in their cots, we climb the ladder to the hatch and we go outside.” Ayla closed her eyes. “There’s a cool breeze in the air and the salt is calm, junk is bobbing in the waves and the paddles are churning easily, moving us onwards, towards the island. That’s the noise you can hear, the roar of the Phoenix breaking the junk as she ploughs the salt.” Ayla nodded. “We decide to climb to the crow’s nest. As we get higher, the wind gets stronger and it soothes your skin.” Her shoulders dropped a little more. “At the top we sit in front of the rail and look out. We could be the only people in the world. The salt is lifting us up and down and all you can hear is the creaking of the sails, the crunching of the junk and the muted roar of the paddles…” Toby stopped.
“We look up,” Ayla rasped, “the stars are out.”
“Yes,” Toby smiled. “Cassiopeia is right above us, the plough is brushing the horizon, and Orion is low in the sky, his belt shining like diamonds.”
“The seven sisters…” Ayla trailed off and Toby knew she had just thought of her own sisters, dead in the fire that had scarred her mother.
“The North Star,” he said quickly. “We’re sailing directly towards it: northwards, and growing cooler with every turn of the paddles.”
“Then you put your arm around me…” Ayla whispered and she relaxed into his side.
“Yes,” Toby cleared his throat. “I pull you close.” He exhaled. “And I kiss you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I put my lips to yours and all the lights go out, so we really are the only people left under the stars.”
The wind turned and Toby coughed as a cloud of smoke engulfed him and dragged him back to reality.
He blinked stinging ash from his eyes and checked on Ayla. She had flinched but seemed steadier. To his left, Zahir was shaking uncontrollably. His thick embroidered tunic was protecting him from the flames, but his throat was flushed scarlet from the heat. Toby knew the sun had burned his own shoulders and back, he could feel the prickle of tightening skin, but Zahir’s neck and ears, where his high collar did not cover him, was already blistered and painful to look at. Zahir no longer tried to cover his eyes from the blaze – he simply sat with his chin on his chest, swaying. Beside him Uzuri had taken off her linen robe and sat glistening in the firelight, her legs folded under her. The heat barely seemed to bother her at all.
Toby looked around more carefully. Lenka and Matus had suffered from the smoke – their mugs were empty and their faces were pasted with sweat-soaked grime. They looked soot-grained like Toby did after a long stint in the boiler room.
Through the haze, he could just about make out Bianca and Cezar. Bianca was rubbing Cezar’s leg for him, but neither looked like breaking any time soon.
How long could Ayla hold out?
As if the thought of her drew her attention, she clamped her fingers harder on his.
“Here, drink.” Although his own throat was aching, Toby pushed his mug towards Ayla.
She frowned at him. “That’s yours.”
“Drink.” Toby coughed again. “I don’t need it.”
“You’re coughing.” Ayla glowered.
“Fine.” Toby sipped, twice. As the warmed water slid down his throat, soothing, it was all he could do to take the mug from his lips. “I’m done. You have the rest.” He handed it across and Ayla’s free hand clutched the mug so tightly that Toby knew she had been desperate for it.
He watched her drink. She gulped at the water as though putting out a fire inside her own body. He glanced up to see Arthur frowning at him.
Now the heat was unbearable. The leaping flames had turned the centre of the bonfire into a white-hot furnace. Toby knew it would melt metal.
“I don’t know how much longer I can face this,” Ayla whispered.
Toby lowered his voice. “For as long as you need to. We daren’t lose. Apart from anything else, we won’t be able to get the thing out of my cell if we get taken to the altar – we’ve never seen a loser return.”
Ayla swallowed and Toby forced a grin. “You’re not going to show weakness are you? What would Nell say if I beat you at this?”
Ayla pulled her hand from Toby’s. “You’re right, I’m her bloody second. She’d kill me. This is just a damned bonfire. It can’t hurt me.” She tossed her head. “And so what if it does. I’ve taken worse.”
“That’s right.” Toby opened and closed his stiff fingers, half regretting what he had said to Ayla. But it had worked. She no longer looked as if she was in any danger of moving from the line.
Uzuri levelled a glare at him, she had been relying on Ayla to break before Zahir. Toby swallowed his guilt. This time Zahir would lose.