Snowbone (24 page)

Snowbone nodded her thanks.
Barrenta Bay.
She would remember that.

She took a deep breath, stretched and looked around. To her left, a man was trying to free an immense piece of stone. He was pulling the bar savagely, angrily, shouting encouragement to himself. Eventually, with a great cry, he set the mighty stone loose.

The boulder bounced down the quarryside like an enormous football. As it descended, it seemed to take on a life of its own. Every new bump sent it spinning: joyous, wild, free. And then, halfway down, it hit a sharp outcrop of rock. It spiraled crazily through the air and Snowbone, watching from above, saw instantly that it was going to crush one of the slaves below.

Oh!
It hit him before she could call out. A cloud of dust rose, obscuring her view. She began to run, bounding over the rocks like a rabbit, down to the fallen man. When she reached
him, she found he hadn't been crushed. The boulder had caught him sideways and thrown him into the air. But he was in a shocking state. Snowbone was glad he was unconscious.

But as Snowbone stood there, feeling sick to her stomach, an incredible thing happened. Two slaves picked up the broken body of the man and, as they carried him down the quarryside, the other slaves started cheering.
Cheering!
They were clapping, whistling, stamping their feet, laughing out loud, hugging each other, dancing in dust circles.

Snowbone couldn't believe it. She grabbed the arm of a woman beside her. “What's going on?”

“We're celebrating!” cried the woman. “He's escaped!”

“What?”

“He's free!” said the woman. “He isn't a slave anymore.”

Suddenly Snowbone understood. “Where are they taking him?”

“To The Forest,” said the woman. “The master's men will take him there on a wagon. He'll Move On in peace and live there for evermore. They say it's a beautiful place—a green valley covered with ashen trees. We all hope to go there someday.”

Snowbone looked at the woman's face. It was so radiant with hope, Snowbone couldn't bear it. If there was such a place—and she strongly doubted there was—it wouldn't be there for long. Not now, when slavers had learned the value of ashen sap. That slave they were carrying had no real future. A couple of years, perhaps, before they cut him down.

Snowbone stumbled back up the quarry, blinded by angry tears. “Tonight,” she said to herself. “Tonight we go. And we keep on going until Barrenta Bay is burned. Every timber of every wall—burned!”

t was the darkest of nights. No moon. No stars. Manu smiled. Just what he wanted.

With Blackeye keeping lookout below, he shinned up the drainpipe and swung onto the barrack-house roof. Then he padded across the timbers, counting the skylight windows as he went. He stopped at the fourth, knelt and peered through. There were the girls, waiting for him! He grinned and tapped lightly on the glass. They looked up and waved.

Manu studied the skylight window. Perfect! It opened outwards. He undid the catch and eased it open. Then he took a rope from round his waist—but there was no chimney pot to tie it to.

“Oh, bugs and bones!”
He had to think fast. He ran back across the roof and whispered down to Blackeye, “Come round to the window.”

Once Blackeye was there, Manu threw him one end of the rope. Blackeye tied it to the window bars and Manu lowered the other end down into the girls' room.

Tigermane climbed it first, with Snowbone behind her.
They followed Manu across the roof, down the drainpipe and into the darkness behind the barracks.

“We have to be fast,” said Manu. “The work lights don't cover all the quarry, but where they do, they're dazzling. Follow me. Keep to the shadows.”

He set off. Snowbone followed, her mind a whirl of emotion. She was overjoyed to be free. Dizzy with excitement. But she couldn't forget the slaves she was leaving behind. It pained her to think they would waken to a day exactly the same as the one before. Bleak and brutal, with only the hope of a serious accident to brighten it.

“Where are we going?” whispered Tigermane.

“We have a wagon,” said Manu. “It's not far.”

They ran on. It was so dark, the girls didn't see the wagon until they were upon it. Figgis jumped down and opened the canvas.

“I am mighty glad to see you,” he said, beaming. “Climb aboard!”

“Where are you planning to go?” said Snowbone. “I want to go to Barrenta Bay.”

“We can talk later,” said Figgis. “Right now we just need to go.”

Snowbone heard the wisdom of his words. She clambered into the wagon and settled herself between Filizar and Black-eye. Figgis clicked the reins and the wagon began to move. The gentle, rhythmic rocking calmed her … the drama of the day faded away … and she slept.

t dawn, Figgis sighted a wood and turned the wagon toward it. They could rest there for the day, concealed by the trees.

Over lunch, Snowbone told them about Barrenta Bay.

“Do you think That Woman will be there?” said Blackeye.

“I don't know,” said Snowbone. “She could be anywhere. I hate to say this, but I think it's time to forget her. The slave trade isn't one woman; it's a massive operation, and we need to tackle it. Barrenta Bay is the heart of the system. If we hit it— hard—we can really do some damage.”

“If I'm driving, we can travel during the day,” said Manu. “I won't get stopped; I'm human. And if anyone does question me, I'll say you're my slaves.”

“Better get packed up, then,” said Figgis. “Let's find these no-good Barrenta slave dogs and give them what for!”

In a flurry of activity, the pots and plates were washed and stacked. The fire was dampened. The mule was retrieved from the watering hole. The Ashenpeakers clambered into the back of the wagon. The Balaans took the privileged place up
front and they were off again, bumping down the road to Bar-renta Bay.

Manu followed the coastal road for one, two, three days, with the traffic growing steadily heavier. Eventually the road reached Barrenta Bay: a great fat belly of water, with a yellow belt of sand and a fine, bright buckle of a town.

Snowbone heard Manu's whistle of surprise and poked her head through the canvas flap behind him. “What is it?”

Manu pointed ahead. “Barrenta Bay. I wasn't expecting anything as grand as that,” he said. “I thought there'd be a bit of harbor and the market. That's all.”

“There's money in misery,” said Snowbone.

“Can you pull over?” said Filizar. “I want to get in the back.”

“Why?” said Manu.

“I don't want people looking at me,” said Filizar.

“They shouldn't be looking!” said Manu angrily. “You have a perfect right to be there. If anyone says anything, they'll have me to deal with.”

“You see?” said Filizar. “This is why I want to go in the back. I don't want trouble. We need to slip into town unnoticed. People will look; they can't help it. I can deal with that, but now is not the time.”

Manu grunted, but he did what his brother asked and they entered the town.

What a fabulous place!
Manu drove down the main street, staring at the buildings. To him, slavery was a sordid business, and he'd assumed most people felt the same. That was why the dealing was done in Barrenta Bay, away from Farrago and anyone who might object. How na've he'd been.

Snowbone was right. There was money here. Every day someone made a fortune, and the town made sure it was spent. Every whim, every desire could be satisfied. There were saloon bars, ripe with smoke and clattering with dice. Gun shops with racks of rifles and bright bags of bullets. Dress shops, frilly with lace and feathers and finery. General stores, barbershops, bathhouses. Liveries to care for your horses; undertakers to care for your dead. It was charming and civilized— but it was a facçade. Behind the elegant town lay its real, dirty business.

Manu turned left at the end of the street, following the signs, and there it was—the slave market. It lay at the end of a wide, dusty track, squatting on the landscape like a great brown toad: a mass of storehouses, sheds and pens. In an adjoining field, a dozen or more wagons had pitched camp. Manu joined them, unhitched the mule, fed and watered her—all the while nodding greetings to the traders around him—then climbed into the back of the wagon.

“Right,” he said. “What do we do now?” He slumped back against the canvas and wiped his brow with his sleeve. He felt drained by it all.

“Make plans,” said Snowbone. “When you're ready, I need you to scout around. See the lay of the land. I need to know everything.”

Manu understood. She was really saying,
I don't want this attack to be like the last one.
He nodded. He couldn't bear to lose anyone either. They all meant too much to him now.

“There's a watchtower, right in the middle of the compound,” he said. “I saw it on the way in. If I can get up there, I'll have a perfect view.”

∗  ∗  ∗

Manu was right. When he climbed it, half an hour later, he could see everything. To the west of the tower stood a huge warehouse, much bigger than all the other buildings on the site. It was full of eggs; he could see the crates being loaded onto wagons. To the east was the marketplace, with a semicircular bidding arena, dozens of outdoor pens and a solid brick building—presumably for holding slaves on market days. To the north was some sort of factory building, with chimneys that poured a steady stream of smoke into the afternoon sky. To the south were log cabins, where the workers lived. Nothing exciting. Manu was just about to turn his attention back to the marketplace when one of the cabin doors opened and someone came out.

Manu gasped. Even at this distance, he could see who it was.

It was a woman. That Woman. Tarn.

anu sprinted back to the wagon. “I've found her!” he gasped. “That Woman! She's here!”

Snowbone grabbed his arm. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. There are cabins round the back of the marketplace. I saw her come out of one.”

“Can you remember which?”

He nodded.

“Oh, Manu,” said Snowbone. “This is more than I'd hoped for!” She considered the options. “We'll get her tonight.
Oooh!”
She shook her frustrated fists in the air. “I want to get her now! But it's too risky. We'll have to wait until dark.”

“In the meantime,” said Figgis, “let's get the kettle on. A nice cup of tea will calm us all down. And after that, Manu, perhaps you could do a bit more snooping?”

“Gladly,” said Manu. “There's something I want to investigate further.”

∗  ∗  ∗

Manu headed straight for the factory building. The smoke was still pouring out, thicker than ever. And there was a strange sound … like a sick sheep, wheezing and coughing, but much, much louder. The building was an immense wooden shed, with sliding doors at the gable end. One was partly open; Manu looked inside.

Oh!
He stepped back in surprise. Here, in this hateful place, he hadn't expected to find anything as delightful as this. The shed was packed with machinery, but it wasn't cold and gray and mechanical. It was enchanting. Gleaming copper pipes ran from floor to ceiling, full of knobbly joints that hissed with escaping steam. Connected to the pipes were bulbous brass tanks that jiggled like boiling kettles, and they were so highly polished that the sunlight, peeping in through windows in the roof, was bounced around the room, shimmering and dancing like a host of bright butterflies.