buccaneers. Silkie beamed at him, then blushed.
“Tell me about the buccaneers,” Dr. Diamond called from the Nab, and it seemed that he would have discussed the pirates all day, but Contessa cut him short.
“The attack is coming! Get everyone behind the defenses and close all gates! Owen, you look exhausted.”
“I didn’t get much sleep,” he said, “and the
Wayfarer
didn’t get much rest either.”
Behind him, Silkie had approached the boat where it lay on its side.
“It’s hurt,” she said, touching the scarred planks where the Harsh missile had struck. She gave Owen a look of reproach.
“They attacked … I couldn’t …,” he stammered, unaccountably embarrassed. But she ignored him and knelt to examine the timber more closely, then spoke quietly to one of the other Raggies, who went off immediately.
“I think I can make her better.”
Owen looked at her, surprised, and then remembered how, when the Raggies had owned a craft that they referred to simply as Boat, it was Silkie who had maintained it.
“Please,” he said, and she smiled at him.
In the Convoke, Owen told his story to Cati, Contessa, Rutgar, Samual, and Pieta.
“They are almost here,” Rutgar said, and rushed off to prepare his forces.
“Someone has to speak to the Resisters before the enemy is upon us, to remind them of what they are fighting for and what is at stake,” Contessa said. But Pieta and Samual had raced off to supervise the defenses. Owen swayed, and Cati took his arm.
“I think the Navigator needs some sleep,” she said, and he did not protest.
Rosie didn’t know what to do with herself. The corridors of the Workhouse were full of men and women in armor. The walls rang with urgent shouts and hammering and banging as last-minute defenses were erected. A crane had appeared on the battlements on the instructions of Dr. Diamond and large flat objects covered in canvas were being lowered into position on the front of the Workhouse. Everywhere she looked there were tense faces and few friendly words. War was upon them, and everyone seemed to have a task except her. She looked up to see Cati, whose face was white.
She’s scared
, Rosie thought.
“Come with me, please,” Cati said. Rosie followed her up the long stairway to the battlements. Cati’s hand found her way into Rosie’s. Men and women waited on other parts of the wall, but there was no one here, at the highest point.
“What are you going to do?” Rosie said. In reply, Cati let go of her hand and started to climb up to where theResisters’ black flag hung. The footing was slippery with ice, and Rosie watched nervously.
At the very top Cati straightened. She looked down. Rosie thought that she looked very small and alone, but when she spoke, her voice was strong and sure.
“Men and women of the Resisters!” she called. The defenders of the Workhouse looked up in surprise, and gradually all noise ceased.
“This is the darkest part of our history,” she said. “We have fought the Harsh many times and each time defeated them. But now a mighty fleet is thrown against us, and we all know in our hearts what that means.”
Cati held one hand out in front of her.
“We hold the fate of the world in the palm of our hands. We dare not contemplate defeat, though defeat stares us in the face. We must fight with courage. And if courage fails us, then duty must sustain us. We must fight and if need be die for the world, without anyone knowing what we have done. That is the duty of the Resisters. We stand alone.”
“Not alone,” a clear voice said. Rosie had climbed onto the battlements. “Not while Rosie is here. Hadima stands with the Workhouse!”
There was a great roar from the Resisters, a wave of cheering that rose from the trenches and redoubts along the river and spread to every window and rooftop of the old building. Far below, Contessa turned to Rutgar.
“With courage like that, perhaps we can hold out.”
“I’m afraid it might
“Tell me about the buccaneers,” Dr. Diamond called from the Nab, and it seemed that he would have discussed the pirates all day, but Contessa cut him short.
“The attack is coming! Get everyone behind the defenses and close all gates! Owen, you look exhausted.”
“I didn’t get much sleep,” he said, “and the
Wayfarer
didn’t get much rest either.”
Behind him, Silkie had approached the boat where it lay on its side.
“It’s hurt,” she said, touching the scarred planks where the Harsh missile had struck. She gave Owen a look of reproach.
“They attacked … I couldn’t …,” he stammered, unaccountably embarrassed. But she ignored him and knelt to examine the timber more closely, then spoke quietly to one of the other Raggies, who went off immediately.
“I think I can make her better.”
Owen looked at her, surprised, and then remembered how, when the Raggies had owned a craft that they referred to simply as Boat, it was Silkie who had maintained it.
“Please,” he said, and she smiled at him.
In the Convoke, Owen told his story to Cati, Contessa, Rutgar, Samual, and Pieta.
“They are almost here,” Rutgar said, and rushed off to prepare his forces.
“Someone has to speak to the Resisters before the enemy is upon us, to remind them of what they are fighting for and what is at stake,” Contessa said. But Pieta and Samual had raced off to supervise the defenses. Owen swayed, and Cati took his arm.
“I think the Navigator needs some sleep,” she said, and he did not protest.
Rosie didn’t know what to do with herself. The corridors of the Workhouse were full of men and women in armor. The walls rang with urgent shouts and hammering and banging as last-minute defenses were erected. A crane had appeared on the battlements on the instructions of Dr. Diamond and large flat objects covered in canvas were being lowered into position on the front of the Workhouse. Everywhere she looked there were tense faces and few friendly words. War was upon them, and everyone seemed to have a task except her. She looked up to see Cati, whose face was white.
She’s scared
, Rosie thought.
“Come with me, please,” Cati said. Rosie followed her up the long stairway to the battlements. Cati’s hand found her way into Rosie’s. Men and women waited on other parts of the wall, but there was no one here, at the highest point.
“What are you going to do?” Rosie said. In reply, Cati let go of her hand and started to climb up to where theResisters’ black flag hung. The footing was slippery with ice, and Rosie watched nervously.
At the very top Cati straightened. She looked down. Rosie thought that she looked very small and alone, but when she spoke, her voice was strong and sure.
“Men and women of the Resisters!” she called. The defenders of the Workhouse looked up in surprise, and gradually all noise ceased.
“This is the darkest part of our history,” she said. “We have fought the Harsh many times and each time defeated them. But now a mighty fleet is thrown against us, and we all know in our hearts what that means.”
Cati held one hand out in front of her.
“We hold the fate of the world in the palm of our hands. We dare not contemplate defeat, though defeat stares us in the face. We must fight with courage. And if courage fails us, then duty must sustain us. We must fight and if need be die for the world, without anyone knowing what we have done. That is the duty of the Resisters. We stand alone.”
“Not alone,” a clear voice said. Rosie had climbed onto the battlements. “Not while Rosie is here. Hadima stands with the Workhouse!”
There was a great roar from the Resisters, a wave of cheering that rose from the trenches and redoubts along the river and spread to every window and rooftop of the old building. Far below, Contessa turned to Rutgar.
“With courage like that, perhaps we can hold out.”
“I’m afraid it might
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