He felt a jolt, and jumped back with a sharp cry. This time, with the touch of his fingers, the whole painting had changed.
An entirely different scene was now within the frame. It was the deck of The Lady Luck—and it was not a painting. It was real.
Lief felt Barda’s hand close on his wrist. Perhaps Barda was speaking, but he could not hear him. His ears were filled with other voices, the calls of birds, and the creaking of ship’s timbers.
Figures were moving beneath the smooth surface of the glass—the rat-faced man in the knitted cap, the man with the black eye-patch, and all the rest of the ship’s motley crew.
A loop of rope drooped from the rat-faced man’s hand. The brute with the black eye-patch was holding a sword. Both were sweating, wild-eyed and spattered with blood. The rest of the crew were sullen, shuffling, their eyes fixed on the silent figure tied to the pole at the ship’s prow.
Verity had plainly been suffering for many days. Her hair hung over her shoulders in a limp, tangled mat. Her cloak and nightgown were stiff with salt. Birds were flying about her head in a swirling cloud.
… the hungry birds will come. You will scream loud enough when they begin to feast on you, girl…
Lief wanted to turn away, but he could not. The moving image held him fast. And a voice, whispering in his mind.
Look! See! This is the truth of it! The truth…
Beyond the cloud of birds, far over the smooth blue water, the Bone Point Light burned defiantly Red Han had not given in.
The flock of birds parted slightly. Lief’s heart thudded as he saw Verity’s face clearly for the first time. To his astonishment, it was smooth and unmarked. And as he watched, a bird carrying a tiny branch of water berries moved very close to the girl’s mouth and hovered.
Verity opened her lips. The bird pressed the berries into her mouth and held the branch steady as she ate.
They are feeding her! Lief thought dazedly. Instead of attacking her they are—
His heart gave a lurch as a harsh voice cried out angrily. He watched, transfixed, as the crew stumbled aside and Laughing Jack strode onto the deck, his teeth bared in fury.
‘Did I not tell you to drive the birds away from her, Scrawn?’ Laughing Jack snarled to the rat-faced man with the rope.
The man called Scrawn cowered. ‘I have been trying, Captain, on my honour,’ he whined. ‘My arms fair ache with trying.’
He jerked his head at the man in the eye-patch. ‘Beef tried too, with me, and a dozen others in turn. But those birds are crafty, Captain. While we fight off one lot, more are sneaking in to her beneath their wings.’
‘It’s not natural,’ grunted Beef. ‘The creatures are bewitched.’
‘And the sea is cursed,’ called someone from the back of the crowd. ‘There’s been not a wave or a breath of wind since the girl came on board.’
‘It is true!’ The man with the crooked yellow teeth was gnawing his thumb nervously. ‘Seven long days, and still the witch lives, watered and fed by her creatures. Still the Light burns. And here we rot, with the sails hanging limp as rags, and no slaves below to row us—’
‘Silence!’ thundered Laughing Jack. His hollow eyes blazed as he stared at Verity, the fluttering birds, and, beyond them, the Bone Point Light.
9 – Mutiny
Abruptly the moving picture vanished and Lief and Barda found themselves staring once more at Verity’s painting. The pastel image drifted slowly below the surface of the glass, mysterious and full of secrets.
But it will give up its secrets to those seeking the truth, Lief thought. That is why it is here. We must correct the lies. Reveal what is hidden…
Slowly he became aware of a rising chorus of groans and mutterings mingling with the creaking of the oars beneath his feet. He glanced around him and saw that the light in the great room had dimmed. The candles were burning low.
‘How much time has passed since we entered this room?’ he whispered. ‘It does not seem so long…’
Barda moved uneasily beside him. ‘Come away, Lief,’ he said. ‘Whatever this painting is, or how it was created, we should delve into it no further. Through it, the past lives again. The wretched beings below feel it. And they do not like it.’
‘If that is so, it is because the truth will set us free,’ Lief murmured.
‘No!’ hissed Barda. ‘What is past cannot be undone and is best forgotten. We would be fools to rouse the rowers further, Lief. Soon the candles will go out, and who knows what will happen then?’
Impatiently he shook Lief’s arm. ‘Come away and help me search for the way out,’ he said. ‘We have paid our debt, and according to the rhyme at the entrance, we are free to leave. We have only to find the door.’
But Lief did not move. ‘I would rather trust Verity than Laughing Jack,’ he said quietly.
His eyes were still fixed on the painting. The Light was brighter than it had been before. The little bay and the viewing platform of the lighthouse still glowed in their places. The painting was now more correct than it had been. But there was more to be done.
A fish was flying among the birds in the air. Lief touched it. It disappeared, reappearing, glowing, under the water where it belonged. He saw that one of the birds was missing a wing, and that there was a second sun in the sky. He touched both errors, and instantly both were corrected.
Eagerly he turned and scanned the great room. But no new door or gap had magically appeared among the mirrors.
What was more, the room had grown even dimmer. The stink of decay was stronger. And the muffled howls of pain and rage from below, the angry clanking and stamping, were louder.
‘Lief!’ Barda urged, tugging at his arm.
Lief gritted his teeth. ‘I must finish this,’ he said. ‘I must!’
Barda groaned in a fever of impatience. ‘The rocks at the foot of the lighthouse are smooth, instead of jagged, as they should be,’ he said rapidly.
Lief touched the rocks. The change was made. Six corrected errors now glowed on the painting. The Light was shining so brightly that it dazzled his eyes.
But when he looked around, nothing had changed.
‘There must be another error to find,’ he muttered.
Desperately he searched the painting. But he could see nothing more that was wrong. Nothing…
Then his eye fell on the bird flying alone, high in the sky, at the far right of the image.
The bird was too large—far too large to be real. He stretched out his hand, and touched it.
And at once the painting was replaced by another moving scene—the noisy, crowded deck of The Lady Luck, lit by weird red light. The whole crew seemed to be assembled there. Scrawn, the rat-faced man in the striped cap, was among them. So was Beef, with the black eye patch, and the man with the crooked teeth.
Verity was still tied to the prow, and the exhaustion on her face made it plain that more days had passed. Across the flat sea, the Bone Point Light was still burning. But the men were not looking at Verity or the Light. Instead, they were all looking up, pointing at the vast bird hovering high above the sea to the south.
The giant bird was not an error, then, Lief thought dazedly. It was not a painted lie, but truth. Like the flat, calm sea, and the birds with the water berries. But what—?
His stomach knotted as he realised what the hovering bird was.
‘Ak-Baba!’ cried Scrawn. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a snarl of terror. ‘And here we lie, like chickens waiting to be swooped on by a hawk!’
‘What is it doing?’ another man wailed. ‘Why does it circle over the western sea? What business did it have at the Maze of the Beast?’
Lief’s heart thudded. He heard Barda grunt with shock.
‘For that matter, why is the sky scarlet, so long after dawn?’ grunted Beef. ‘And those clouds to the east—I will knock down the first man who tells me they are natural.’