The navigator by Eoin McNamee Page B

gray-eyed stare that revealed nothing.
    Cati stirred. Her eyes seemed dulled and milky, and when she spoke her voice was weak and her breath hung in the air in frozen clouds, the way warm breath does in cold air.
    "I... I... could not move. I was so scared. I followed
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    him ... I followed him to his mother's house. He carried me. He saved me."
    Her head slumped back again. Contessa looked grimly satisfied, as if any question about Owen had been decisively answered. The Sub-Commandant swept Cati up into his arms and walked away swiftly. He did not look back.
    "I must make up my mind about this," Chancellor said heavily. "I will sleep on it."
    Samual looked as if he would say something more, but instead turned on his heel and stalked off into the darkness.
    "Owen needs rest," Contessa said. "This has been the longest day of his young existence, Chancellor. He has been bereft and thrown into another world. His life has hung by a thread this past hour."
    "All I did was look for my mother," Owen said, trying to keep his voice steady. "There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"
    "No, Owen," Chancellor said, "but do you understand that we are all in great danger? None of us can do what we want, even if your mission is as important as looking for your mother. Do you understand?"
    Owen nodded slowly. The cold breath of the Harsh was still fresh in his head. He knew that this wasn't a dream. He shivered. No one had ever wanted to kill him before.
    "He will want to go back to his Den," Contessa said,
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    "but I don't think he should be on his own. He has enemies that he does not yet know about."
    "I'll go with him," the bearded man said. "On my way back I can deal with the sentries that allowed the boy and the girl to walk right through the lines." He grasped Owen's hand. "My name is Rutgar. I am the sergeant here, head of the military, such as it is. Come with me."
    Owen felt Chancellor's eyes on him as Rutgar steered him toward the path away from the river. The journey back to the Den seemed endless, but each time he stumbled Rutgar caught his elbow. He was too tired to talk, but Rutgar seemed to understand this, although he muttered to himself under his breath as he walked, about the sentries who had allowed Owen and Cati to slip through their lines.
    Rutgar knew exactly where the Den was. "There's not one stone of this riverbank I don't know," he said. "Do you think that this is the first time I've had to defend it? Go on and sleep. You'll be looked after tonight."
    "I don't want to be watched," Owen said faintly. Rutgar studied him for a minute.
    "All right, then," he said. "My men will watch the paths around your Den--and they'd better watch them properly this time, to make sure nothing gets in and you don't get out again." He sounded angry, but as he spoke he clapped Owen on the back. "Go in and get to sleep. You'll need your energy." Owen nodded quickly and ducked into the Den. Rutgar looked after him thoughtfully, then turned away.
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    In the Den, Owen collapsed on the old sofa. He pulled the sleeping bag over him and kept his clothes on. There was a cold feeling lurking in his bones, but before he could think about the Harsh and their icy terror, tiredness overcame him and he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
    Down at the river all was quiet. A sentry called out and another answered in the dark. They did not want to be caught out again. One of the sentries appeared at the end of the fallen log, examined it, and walked on. All was still. Then a shape detached itself from the shadows underneath the trees on the Workhouse side of the river. Keeping low to the ground, the shape moved toward the trunk, looking at first like an animal and then like a human figure hunched under a cloak. It clambered onto the end of the log and then, moving in a fluid and seamless way, crossed the river, slipped off the end of the log, and disappeared into the field beyond. As it did so, a fine lace of ice formed along the edge of the river