closer. Who is that?’
‘Arth,’ said Sunscorch. ‘A mortal boy. We picked him up with Feverfew’s treasure.’
‘He holds an object of great power,’ said Doctor Scamandros, excitement in his voice. He rummaged inside his coat and pulled out a pair of glasses with gold wire rims and thick smoked-quartz lenses, which he slipped onto his forehead, not over his eyes. ‘Bring him here.’
Arthur stepped forward of his own accord and staggered across the deck. Sunscorch caught him and held him, loosely enough for the grip to be either a friend helping out or a guard about to secure a prisoner.
‘What is in your pocket, boy?’ asked Doctor Scamandros. ‘It is interfering with my augury and, thus, my navigation of this ship.’
‘It’s . . . it’s a book,’ said Arthur. ‘It won’t be of any use to you.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that!’ Scamandros exclaimed. He reached forward to Arthur’s pocket, and Sunscorch tightened his grip on the boy’s arms. ‘What have we —’ As he touched the top of the Atlas, there was a loud report, like a pistol shot. Scamandros’s hand came back so quickly Arthur didn’t even see it, and then the navigator was hopping around the deck with his fingers thrust into his armpit, screeching, ‘Ow! Ow! Ow! Throw him overboard!’
Sunscorch hesitated, then picked up Arthur in a bear hug and tottered to the starboard rail, crashing into it with considerable force.
‘Sorry, lad,’ he said as he lifted Arthur up and prepared to heave him into the waiting sea. ‘We need the Doctor.’
Six
‘NO! ’ SCREAMED ARTHUR. Then, as Sunscorch continued to lift him up, ‘I’m a friend of the Mariner! Captain Tom Shelvocke!’
Sunscorch lowered Arthur to the deck.
‘Prove it,’ he said coldly. ‘If you’re lying, I’ll carve you a set of gills before I throw you over.’
Arthur reached with a shivering hand into his pyjama top and pulled out his makeshift floss-chain. For a dreadful moment he thought the disc was gone, then it slid free and hung on his chest.
‘What are you waiting for, Sunscorch?’ yelled Doctor Scamandros angrily. ‘Throw him overboard!’
Sunscorch looked closely at the disc, flipped it with his finger, and looked at the other side. Then he sighed and let go of Arthur. Just then, the ship rolled to port and back again, almost sending Arthur over the side anyway.
‘Do as the Doctor says, Mister Sunscorch!’ called Catapillow. ‘We must have a course to get away!’
‘I can’t, Captain!’ shouted Sunscorch. ‘The boy has the mark of the Mariner. If he asks for aid, as sailors we must give it.’
‘I am asking,’ said Arthur hastily. ‘I don’t want to be thrown overboard. I only want to send a message to the Lower House. Or the Far Reaches.’
‘He has the what? The who?’ asked Catapillow.
Sunscorch sighed again and helped Arthur along the sloping deck to the group gathered around the wheel. Doctor Scamandros still had his hand under his arm. He scowled at Arthur.
‘No seaman will go against the Mariner,’ said Sunscorch. ‘The boy has the Mariner’s medal, so you’ll have to figure something else out, Doc. He ain’t going over the side.’
‘The Mariner,’ said Scamandros. ‘A figure of reverence for the nautically inclined. One of the Old One’s sons, I believe?’
‘Yes,’ said Arthur, though the question hadn’t been asked of him. ‘And the Architect’s.’
‘Perhaps I was a little hasty,’ Scamandros continued. ‘I thought perhaps you had something in your pocket we wouldn’t want aboard. But any friend of the Mariner . . . please do accept my apology.’
‘Sure,’ said Arthur. ‘No problem.’
‘Well, ah, welcome aboard,’ said the Captain. ‘We’re delighted to have you here. Though I fear that our voyage is, um, about to be cut short.’
Everyone looked back over the stern. The Shiver had closed in, and was now less than a mile away.
‘She’ll be firing her bowchasers soon,’ said
‘Arth,’ said Sunscorch. ‘A mortal boy. We picked him up with Feverfew’s treasure.’
‘He holds an object of great power,’ said Doctor Scamandros, excitement in his voice. He rummaged inside his coat and pulled out a pair of glasses with gold wire rims and thick smoked-quartz lenses, which he slipped onto his forehead, not over his eyes. ‘Bring him here.’
Arthur stepped forward of his own accord and staggered across the deck. Sunscorch caught him and held him, loosely enough for the grip to be either a friend helping out or a guard about to secure a prisoner.
‘What is in your pocket, boy?’ asked Doctor Scamandros. ‘It is interfering with my augury and, thus, my navigation of this ship.’
‘It’s . . . it’s a book,’ said Arthur. ‘It won’t be of any use to you.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that!’ Scamandros exclaimed. He reached forward to Arthur’s pocket, and Sunscorch tightened his grip on the boy’s arms. ‘What have we —’ As he touched the top of the Atlas, there was a loud report, like a pistol shot. Scamandros’s hand came back so quickly Arthur didn’t even see it, and then the navigator was hopping around the deck with his fingers thrust into his armpit, screeching, ‘Ow! Ow! Ow! Throw him overboard!’
Sunscorch hesitated, then picked up Arthur in a bear hug and tottered to the starboard rail, crashing into it with considerable force.
‘Sorry, lad,’ he said as he lifted Arthur up and prepared to heave him into the waiting sea. ‘We need the Doctor.’
Six
‘NO! ’ SCREAMED ARTHUR. Then, as Sunscorch continued to lift him up, ‘I’m a friend of the Mariner! Captain Tom Shelvocke!’
Sunscorch lowered Arthur to the deck.
‘Prove it,’ he said coldly. ‘If you’re lying, I’ll carve you a set of gills before I throw you over.’
Arthur reached with a shivering hand into his pyjama top and pulled out his makeshift floss-chain. For a dreadful moment he thought the disc was gone, then it slid free and hung on his chest.
‘What are you waiting for, Sunscorch?’ yelled Doctor Scamandros angrily. ‘Throw him overboard!’
Sunscorch looked closely at the disc, flipped it with his finger, and looked at the other side. Then he sighed and let go of Arthur. Just then, the ship rolled to port and back again, almost sending Arthur over the side anyway.
‘Do as the Doctor says, Mister Sunscorch!’ called Catapillow. ‘We must have a course to get away!’
‘I can’t, Captain!’ shouted Sunscorch. ‘The boy has the mark of the Mariner. If he asks for aid, as sailors we must give it.’
‘I am asking,’ said Arthur hastily. ‘I don’t want to be thrown overboard. I only want to send a message to the Lower House. Or the Far Reaches.’
‘He has the what? The who?’ asked Catapillow.
Sunscorch sighed again and helped Arthur along the sloping deck to the group gathered around the wheel. Doctor Scamandros still had his hand under his arm. He scowled at Arthur.
‘No seaman will go against the Mariner,’ said Sunscorch. ‘The boy has the Mariner’s medal, so you’ll have to figure something else out, Doc. He ain’t going over the side.’
‘The Mariner,’ said Scamandros. ‘A figure of reverence for the nautically inclined. One of the Old One’s sons, I believe?’
‘Yes,’ said Arthur, though the question hadn’t been asked of him. ‘And the Architect’s.’
‘Perhaps I was a little hasty,’ Scamandros continued. ‘I thought perhaps you had something in your pocket we wouldn’t want aboard. But any friend of the Mariner . . . please do accept my apology.’
‘Sure,’ said Arthur. ‘No problem.’
‘Well, ah, welcome aboard,’ said the Captain. ‘We’re delighted to have you here. Though I fear that our voyage is, um, about to be cut short.’
Everyone looked back over the stern. The Shiver had closed in, and was now less than a mile away.
‘She’ll be firing her bowchasers soon,’ said
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