City of Time (25 page)

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disappeared from view. Dr. Diamond produced a powerful magno torch. "Watch out!" he said as pieces of cut rock flew out of the tunnel ahead of them.

"We need to be ready when we get into the jail," Dr. Diamond added.

"Old Andromeda is going like a steam train," Cati said admiringly. And Andromeda had indeed picked up his pace, hammering through the rock as though it was cardboard.

"With two good hands," Rosie said, "he'd be deadly!"

The Yeati slowed. He tapped the rock again and this time they could all hear that there was a hollow space behind it. Andromeda turned to look at them. Dr. Diamond nodded.

Behind Cati the Dogs tensed. "Stay here," she said to them. "Guard the tunnel."

Rosie tapped Dr. Diamond on the arm. "You don't need me here," she said, and turned and slipped away. They looked after her, puzzled.

Andromeda lifted his hand and struck the rock in front of him a massive blow. The rock did not as much crack as dissolve into dust. Coughing, they stepped forward. They had made it. They were in the Terminus.

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Chapter 30

The Yeati had broken through the wall into the chamber off the Terminus guardroom. Within seconds Dr. Diamond and the others found themselves faced by a group of startled Specials who were armed and ready to go out on patrol.

"Oh no!" Cati said. A frowning Andromeda was picking shards of stone and dust from his fur. "Andromeda, please, can you comb your fur some other time?"

The Yeati looked up from his grooming and the Specials seemed to see him for the first time.

"What's that thing?" one exclaimed.

"A Yeati, by the look of it," a Special with a heavy beard and a glass eye said. "We used to hunt them. There's one thing they're afraid of. ..."

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270

He took a wooden baton from his side. It had cotton wrapped around the top and Cati could smell paraffin. The Special struck a match and the torch flared up. "Get back, old bear," he shouted, advancing on the Yeati.

Andromeda retreated, fear in his eyes.

"Leave him alone!" Cati shouted. One of the Specials turned toward her. Baring her teeth in an impressively doglike snarl, Cati darted forward and bit him behind the knee. The Special went down. Cati launched herself at the man with the torch, who looked at her uncertainly. He waved the flame, but she snatched it from his grasp. The Yeati moved toward the man, making a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. The Special looked from one to the other.

Cati bared her teeth and darted forward. "Woof!" she shouted. The Special jumped back and collided with another group.

"We need to find Owen quickly," Dr. Diamond cried. "We can't fight every Special in the place."

"Wait," Cati said. Her nose twitched. Owen wasn't far away. But his body smelled ...
cold
. "This way!" she shouted. She charged at the Specials in front of her and the others followed. Caught by surprise, the Specials fell back.

They raced along a narrow corridor. Cati saw a staircase leading upward and recoiled from the cold that came from it. "The Harsh!" But Owen's scent didn't

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come from there. It came from behind the ironbound door in front of them.

"There!" she shouted. She could hear the Specials cursing and blowing their whistles as they charged along the corridor behind. With one sweep of his paw, the Yeati ripped the hinges of the door from the stone work around it and it fell inward. They ran through the doorway.

It was very quiet all of a sudden. Cati looked around. They were in a prison. She could smell Owen clearly now, a cold, weak scent from nearby. They followed the narrow corridor and she saw a body lying on the ground with a figure bent over it.

"Owen!" Cati ran forward.

The man leaning over Owen looked up, his face sad and weary. "For him too late almost."

"Monsieur Gobillard?" Dr. Diamond said.

"Yes, I am Gobillard. The Harsh attacked this boy. He is very weak."

Cati knelt beside Owen. His face was white and cold as porcelain. His chest barely rose, and there was frost around his nostrils and his mouth.

"Owen ...," she whispered.

There was a commotion at the door. The Yeati had closed it and was now leaning against it. The door bulged and crackled with ice, as though a great cold weight was pressing on it from the other side.

"Quickly," Dr. Diamond said, gathering Owen in his

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arms. "The Harsh are here!" As he spoke, the Yeati was forced backward and fell to the ground, the metal door flying out of his grasp. The doorway filled with a white mist and they felt malice like an icy blast.

Cati shrank away, but courage stirred within her. She pressed close to Dr. Diamond and Owen, holding Owen's arm in the hope that she could transfer heat to him.

Gobillard stared with a look of wonder on his face. "A Yeati!" he breathed. "I never dreamed to see a Yeati!"

The mist parted momentarily to allow Headley to step into the room. He stood with his booted feet apart, thumbs hooked into his belt. "A touching scene," he said. "It reminds me of a painting. I think I'll call it
Death of Another Navigator."

Cati's fists balled, but Dr. Diamond's hand held her back. "Wait," he said.

"The Harsh aren't best pleased," Headley said. "Their king is dead and they are blaming your Navigator. Seems he made the Puissance blow up in the king's hand."

The Yeati had picked itself up off the ground. Its fur was badly ruffled and there was a tuft of hair torn from its leg. It started to advance on Headley.

"My lords," Headley said nervously, "your servant is being threatened." Cati felt the attention of the Harsh shift from Owen to the Yeati.

"No!" Gobillard cried. "Such a noble beast!"

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"My lords, the creature helped the Resisters." Headley backed away.

"Foolish man!" Gobillard said.

"Yes, my lords!" Headley said, sensing their spite was now trained on the Yeati.

"Please, Andromeda ...," Cati whispered, but the Yeati reached for Headley. A blast of frozen Harsh breath shot toward the creature as a despairing Gobillard dived forward. He struck Headley between the shoulder blades and, with a cry, Headley pitched forward into the path of the Harsh breath. He fell to the floor, frozen solid, as if he had lain there for a thousand years.

"Now!" Dr. Diamond shouted, holding Owen in his arms. "Follow me!" Blue flame shot from the frame of his rucksack and he rose into the air. With a roar he jetted toward the doorway with Owen. Cati grabbed the dazed Gobillard and the Yeati by the hand and followed. As they ran past the Harsh she felt their terrible dead energy tugging at her, but then she was free and running toward the tunnel.

The Dogs were in among the Specials and this time they were winning the fight. Dr. Diamond roared over their heads and into the tunnel. The Yeati scattered Specials like bowling pins. Cati realized that Gobillard was not holding her hand anymore. He had slipped in the corridor, and behind him the Harsh were advancing. Cati turned to go back, but the Yeati pulled her on. The Dogs were running alongside them.

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"Close it!" Gobillard yelled. "Close the tunnel!"

"No!" Cati shouted.

"Close it!" Gobillard shouted again.

Andromeda slashed at the roof. There was a rumble of stone as it started to fall. Cati saw Gobillard, pinned to the rock by an icy blast, a frozen mannequin, his face contorted, his eyes glassy and still.

Numb with shock, Cati ran, tears streaming down her face.
What's wrong with me?
she thought.
I didn't even know Gobillard
. She tried to push the image of his frozen face out of her mind.

It was then they heard a roaring noise in the tunnel. They stopped running. "What now?" Cati said wearily. The Harsh cold had left her bones feeling like jelly. The noise grew louder and with it came a great light that cast their shadows against the wall of the tunnel.

Around the corner came Rosie, at the wheel of the truck. She tooted the horn, stopped right in front of them, and jumped down from the cab. A relieved Cati didn't know whether to hug her or strangle her. But it didn't matter.

They leapt into the truck and Rosie threw caution to the winds. The truck lurched and jolted as it sped down the uneven tunnels, spotlights blazing, the Dogs behind it howling as they ran.

In the back, Dr. Diamond bent over Owen. "He is very low," he said. "Barely breathing."

The Yeati reached into the cab and touched Rosie's shoulder.

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"What is it?" she snapped. "Can't you see when a girl's driving?" He pointed to her finger. "What? The ring?" He pointed again, more insistently this time. "OK, OK," she said, letting go of the wheel to take the ring off. The truck veered alarmingly off course before she corrected it.

The Yeati grabbed the ring and ducked into the back of the truck. Dr. Diamond's face was gray with anxiety.

"We're losing him, Cati," he said quietly.

She took Owen's hand. A tear ran down her face and fell onto his. "Owen," she called softly. "Owen?"

Then she felt herself being lifted carefully and set to one side. The Yeati knelt down beside Owen. He took the hand that Cati had been holding and slipped the ring onto the middle finger. For what seemed like ages they looked at Owen's cold white face.

"I think he's gone, my dear," Dr. Diamond said with infinite gentleness. He ran his hand through Owen's hair.

"No ...," Cati said. "No, look!" The faintest shade of pink was creeping across Owen's cheeks. She looked up at the Yeati. It was hard to tell in the dim, lurching truck, but it seemed that the beast was smiling.

Owen took a long deep breath. His eyes opened. He seemed to say something, but so faintly that they couldn't hear.

"What is it, Owen?" Cati said.

"Mr. Gobillard got the translation wrong," he said, his voice barely audible.

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"Translation?"

"From the Yeati's piece of glass?" Dr. Diamond asked.

"It didn't say,
'It has Black,'
" Owen whispered. "It said
'Black has it.'
Black has a tempod at the museum. I'm sure that's what it means."

As if to confirm what Owen was saying, the Yeati made a low sound deep in his throat.

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Chapter 31

The attack had come without warning. Before dawn Johnston's crew had crept up along the river. It didn't matter if they made any noise. The earth had started to creak and groan and shudder. If people had been able to watch television or listen to the radio they would have heard news of tsunamis and volcanic eruptions and earthquakes. All around the world each town and each village thought itself on its own. Armed bands roamed everywhere.

Martha had been on watch at the Workhouse and the first wave of hard-faced men and women had nearly caught her off guard. But she saw them in time and grabbed one of the dozens of magno guns that Pieta had loaded and left on the ramparts of the Workhouse. Her first shots were good, and the group scattered for

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cover. The second wave was met by Pieta's magno whip attacking from the flank.

Wesley joined Martha. He was the better shot and she spent her time loading magno guns and handing them to him. The ground in front of the Workhouse was burning now, and the lurching earth threw him to the side often enough that many of his shots missed. The attackers were using the smoke as cover and swarmed across the river on ladders.

Pieta joined them on the ramparts. Below, a group of men with torches appeared. They set fire to the trees and scrub around the bottom of the Workhouse, then threw a thick, black, oily substance into it. Pieta's whip lashed out from the battlements, but it was too late. Flames and oily smoke licked at the walls of the Workhouse. The defenders were blinded. And then a huge boulder crashed against the ramparts, followed by another.

"We're in trouble here," Martha said.

"I know." Pieta was grim-faced.

Martha looked toward the sea. Where was Owen?

The sea was choppy and dangerous, and out in the rowboat Silkie found the oars hard to handle, but still she worked hard. She could see the tents on the cliff top before her, the warehouse behind her, and, far to her left, black smoke rising from the Workhouse. It took twenty minutes, but finally she beached Wesley's

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little boat and started to climb the cliff. She needed to help the Resisters at the Workhouse and yet, she had headed here on an instinct.
And if I'm wrong, I'm in trouble
.

She climbed the cliff as fast as she could. The camp at the top was deserted and damaged. Silkie made her way toward the main tent. The kiosk at the front had been knocked over and the canvas entrance sagged sideways. Inside was even more chaotic: banks of toppled seats, ripped bunting, bags and jackets abandoned in haste. And in the middle, on the edge of the dais, sat the Harsh child. Silkie walked slowly toward him. She could feel a faint chill and for the first time noticed the icy mist that hung in the air around him.

He watched her as she approached. She stopped when she was two meters away. She knew that he could lift a hand and freeze her forever in a second.

"Who are you?" she said, her voice faint and scared. He didn't reply. "Who are you? You crossed the water. A true Harsh can't cross water. Who
are
you?"

Silkie held her breath. The Harsh child's eyes narrowed. She shivered as if the cold around him had enveloped her. "Who are you?" she whispered again. "Who are you?" She found herself moving forward. The beads of sweat on her brow turned to ice, but still she walked forward and still his eyes fixed her. When she reached him she took first one hand and then the other. It felt as if she had touched a glacier and