Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [166]
Frey took off his mask for a moment and yelled, “How we doing back there, Doc?”
“They’re still on our tail!” Malvery bellowed back from the cupola, where he had a view of what was going on behind the Ketty Jay. Only he could see the huge shapes in the darkness that drifted after them like malevolent phantoms.
“Bet you never thought you’d see the day when you’d be leading a flotilla of Navy craft.” Jez grinned, looking over at the captain.
“I never did,” he agreed with a wry twitch of the lips, then put his gas filter back on.
There was a dull explosion as a mine was detonated by one of the Navy minesweepers, clearing a path for the fleet behind them. It had been slow progress over many hours, gradually creeping closer and closer to Retribution Falls, removing all threats along the way. Since the other craft didn’t have compasses of their own, it was just too risky to try to bring the whole strike force through the mines in single file.
Jez wondered how far the sound carried through the choking mist and deep, sharp canyons. She wondered if they might find the denizens of Retribution Falls waiting for them when they arrived. But despite the danger all around them and the certain knowledge of the conflict to come, she felt content.
The sounds of the Ketty Jay soothed her. She’d come to know its tics and groans, and they were reassuring. The navigator’s seat had found her shape, as if it had somehow molded itself to her buttocks and back, and its form seemed natural now. The muggy heat of the cockpit had become cozy, a warm sanctuary from the hostile world that waited outside.
It was a strange experience. So much time had passed since the Manes had attacked that small village in Yortland that she’d forgotten what contentment felt like. Three years she’d been wandering, hiding, always afraid of discovery. She’d never put down roots or allowed herself to care for those around her.
But here, at last, she felt like she was home. She’d found her place. She was here to stay.
Her reunion with the crew had been unexpectedly touching. Malvery had almost crushed her ribs with a hug, before planting a big, whiskery kiss on her cheek. Frey was similarly effusive. Pinn slapped her on the arm; Harkins babbled, jubilant. Silo nodded respectfully, which was as close as he ever came to a joyous outburst. Even Crake seemed happy to see her, though there was a wariness in his eyes, as if he expected her to reject his handshake.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
“I brought Bess,” she said, thumbing behind her at the open maw of the cargo hold. “She’s in there.”
Crake’s eyes filled with tears, and his face split into an uncontrollable grin that was half a sob; then he hugged her, clutching her tightly to him. She was surprised enough to hug him back. Of all people, Crake had been the one who should have been most enthusiastic in his loathing. He was smart and knowledgeable in the hidden ways. He’d have guessed her nature by now.
And yet he embraced her, as the others did.
She’d hoped that at best they’d let her go on her way. She’d hoped that they’d be grateful enough for their rescue that they’d keep her secret from the Century Knights, no matter how dangerous they knew her to be. The idea of taking her back was ridiculous. They might tolerate an openly practicing daemonist on board, but how could you get on with a woman whose heart didn’t beat, who didn’t need to breathe or sleep or eat? How could you ever trust someone like that? Robbed of the common vulnerabilities of humanity, how could you ever know what they might do next?
She’d accepted that they might turn her in. Gratitude didn’t apply to monsters. They might try to destroy her. She’d been ready for that. It was an acceptable risk.
But they greeted her like an old friend.
She hardly dared believe what was happening. Surely they were just relieved at escaping