Chapter Twenty-Eight

The rubble was cleared away. The dead were buried. Those areas of the palace which were not destroyed had been re-purposed for the benefit of the community and meetings were organized to debate how best the new, emerging society should be run.

Harriet sat just outside the city gates, on a rocky outcrop that gave her a view over the island, and beyond the island, above the blue atmosphere to the Dark Sea.

She gazed at the alien sky. None of the star patterns were ones she knew. She longed to see a glimpse of the Moon or the greenish blue orb of the Earth as she remembered seeing it when had set out into the Dark Sea on this extraordinary quest.

Her mind wandered back over the adventures of the last few years to her tower home in Lundoon. “I was ready to leave,” she thought. “I had to go. But I never thought I’d be stuck this far away. I always thought the starship would be the only home I’d need, but… I dunno. What kind o’ life can I make here? It’s beautiful, but…”

She closed her eyes. I wish… Someone was standing next to her. She looked up into Annabel’s eyes.

“Hello,” Annabel said. Harriet smiled, shifting to make room for her. Their knees touched as Annabel sat down next to her. She didn’t move away. They sat in silence. Harriet felt the breeze in her hair. It was growing longer again. Annabel spoke.

“Everything has changed,” she said. “For both of us.”

“Yes,” said Harriet. She looked into the former princess’s eyes. They’re beautiful, she thought. “For you more than me, most likely.”

“Yes,” Annabel said. “Perhaps. I mean, yes. I was a princess and now I’m… I don’t know what I am.”

“I know what you mean,” said Harriet. “Being the captain of me own ship, me crew; being an adventurer. The starship was me home, see? Those boys and Sibelius, they’re me family.”

“You still have them,” Annabel said. Harriet looked back at her. Annabel was crying. Harriet enfolded her in her arms. The girl sobbed and sobbed as Harriet hugged her fiercely and stroked her hair.

“What will you do?” Harriet said at last.

Her head nestled in Harriet’s arms, she shook it and snuffled. “I don’t know.” Then she said, “You?”

“Here?” Harriet said. “I dunno, either. There’s a lot to do to get the island back on its feet. But I ain’t never thought I’d be stuck here without me ship. And I promised to help them kids get back home, didn’t I?”

Annabel straightened. She took Harriet’s face in her hands, gently, between her palms. “Listen,” she said. “My laboratory is intact. The books survived the fire. We have all kinds of parts the children salvaged. We have the steam engines from the factories.”

Harriet didn’t get what Annabel was aiming at.

“We can use the parts, the engines, and the technology. We can build a new ship.”

Harriet shook her head. “You reckon we can build a starship?”

“Yes,” Annabel said, smiling. “I’m sure of it. My father and Dr. Ravensberg had already drawn up plans for such a thing. It will take time. Years, perhaps. And I can’t leave until I am sure that the people of the island will be well.”

“What?” Harriet said. “You want to leave?”

Annabel smiled. “Couldn’t you use a practical scientosphist on your crew, Cap’n?”

“But your island, your people, your kingdom…”

“There’s no more kingdom,” she said. “We are a republic now.” She sighed. “I don’t think I ever wanted to be a ruler, not really. I wanted freedom. Belonging. Being a princess is not a thing you choose. You’re born to it. From the day you’re born you’re taught, disciplined, guided, molded into the role demanded of you. But what I said on the balcony is true: a country without slaves must be a country without slave masters; a country in which people are free must be a country in which no one is considered to be good enough to be another’s master; we will no longer be governed, we will have no need of it. We will cooperate. If we have any ruler at all it will be goodwill and goodwill alone.”

“Then why do you want to leave?” said Harriet. “That’s what I don’t get. Your people maybe ain’t your subjects no more, but they still need you, just like a crew needs a captain, don’t they?”

“These people don’t need me. They need each other.”

“Are you running away?”

“No. Listen. When a cage is left open and the bird escapes, is it flying away from the cage or toward the sky?”

“When I left Lundoon I was running away and chasing my dreams.”

Annabel nodded. “Then perhaps both. But it’s what I want. I don’t belong here anymore. I long for adventure, for freedom; and to be known only as Annabel. Not Your Highness, not Princess, loved or hated. Just known and accepted for who I am. Look.” Annabel reached into the bag Harriet had only just noticed she was carrying and lifted out the clockwork sparrow. “I kept it,” she said. “I held on to it as I held on to my father – or his memory – to the hope of being crowned and, I think, to my childhood. But real freedom demands making decisions; taking risks, leaping into the unknown.”

As she was speaking, Annabel wound the clockwork sparrow up and held it high. When she had finished, she let it go. Harriet watched the little mechanical bird fly away, over the rocks and toward the forest, until it was a tiny speck and then vanished from sight.

Harriet looked into Annabel’s eyes. She smiled. “Well, I reckon Sibelius would say how roses grow out o’ dirt. Besides, if you help us build this ship, you’ll be welcome aboard. Couldn’t tell you not to board a ship you blooming built, could we?”

Annabel’s arms slipped around her and she returned the embrace, pulling her tight, her eyes closed, beyond tears. “We must call the ship The Raven after Dr. Ravensberg. He gave his life for me.”

When, reluctantly, Harriet let Annabel go, they sat together, forehead to forehead, their fingers entwined.

Harriet knew it was Sibelius standing next to them. She knew him so well that even with her eyes closed she could sense his loping approach.

She and Annabel looked up together. “We’re going to get this lot on their feet,” Harriet said, nodding toward the city. “And then Annabel reckons we can make another ship, a bigger one, to get us home. She’s coming too. She’ll be our scientosophist-in-residence.”

Sibelius lit his pipe, but said nothing.

“Be well handy, having a scientosophist on board,” Harriet said. “What do you reckon?”

“I believe you are right,” Sibelius said, puffing rings of blue smoke into the air. “And,” he said, resting one hairy hand on Harriet’s shoulder and smiling at Annabel before turning his gaze back across the island to the city. “I believe the legend will now come true. The Island of Birds will become a land of peace and plenty, where wealth belongs to all.”

Harriet and Annabel stood together. They each linked arms with Sibelius and walked back to the city; and a new world.

Not ready yet to leave the world of the Dark Sea? Read on for a sneak preview of the first chapter of the third book in the trilogy.