They let the Ivets out, Lori said.
Geoffrey Tunnard gave her a respectful look. Thats right. Stole back in here right under our noses. Dogs never even noticed them. Slit old Jamie Austins throat, him that was standing guard on the pen. Our supervisor Neil Barlow went right off after them that morning. Took a bunch of fifty men with him, armed men they were, too. And we havent heard a damn thing since. That aint like Neil, its been six days. He should have sent word. Them men have families. Weve got wives and kiddies left here that are worried sick. He glanced from Darcy to Lori. Can you tell us anything? His tone was laboured; Geoffrey Tunnard was a man under a great deal of strain.
Sorry, I dont know anything, Darcy said. Not yet. Thats why were here, to find out. But whatever you do, dont go after them. The larger your numbers, the safer you are.
Geoffrey Tunnard pursed his lips and looked away, eyes raking the jungle with bitter enmity. Thought youd say something like that. Course, theres those that have gone looking. Some of the women. We couldnt stop them.
Darcy put his hand on Geoffrey Tunnards shoulder, gripping firmly. If any more want to go, stop them. Have a log fall on their foot if thats what it takes, but you must stop them.
Ill do my best. Geoffrey Tunnard dipped his head in defeat. Id leave if I could, take the family downriver on a boat. But I built this place with my own hands, and no damn Govcentral interference. It was a good life, it was. It can be again. Bloody Ivets never were any use for anything, waster kids in dungarees, thats all.
Well do what we can, Lori said.
Sure you will. Youre doing what you tell me not to: go out in the jungle. Just the two of you. Thats madness.
Lori thought Geoffrey Tunnard had been about to say suicide. Can you tell us where Quentin Montrose lives? she asked.
Geoffrey Tunnard pointed out one of the cabins, no different to any of the others; solar panels on the roof, a sagging overhang above the verandah. Wont do you no good, he was in Neils group.
Lori stood at the side of the wheel-house as the Coogan cast off; Darcy was aft, heaving more of the interminable logs into the furnace hopper. Len Buchannan whistled tunelessly as he steered his boat into the middle of the river. Oconto gradually shrank away to stern until it was nothing but a deeper than usual gash in the emerald cliff. Smoke from the cooking fires drifted apathetically across the choppy water.
We could send one of the eagles looking for them,lori suggested.
You dont really mean that.
No. Im sorry, I was just trying to save my own conscience.
Fifty armed men, and no trace. I dont know about your conscience, but my courage has almost deserted me.
We could go back, or even wait for Solankis marines.
Yes, we could.
Youre right. Well go on.
We should have told Geoffrey Tunnard to leave,darcy said. I should have told him; take his family and flee back to Durringham. At least it would have been honest. None of this false hope we left him with.
Thats all right, I think he already knows.
Karl Lambourne woke without knowing why. It wasnt noon yet, and he hadnt got to go back on watch until two oclock. The blinds on his cabins port were still shut, reducing the light inside to a mysterious and enticing dusk. Booted feet thudded along the deck outside the door. Conversation was a persistent background hum, children calling out in their whiny voices.
Everything normal. So why was he awake with a vague feeling of unease?
The colonist girlwhat was her name?stirred beside him. She was a few months younger than him, with dark hair teased into ringlets around a dainty face. Despite his initial dismay with the Swithland carrying all those extra sheriffs and deputies it was turning out to be a good trip. The girls appreciated the space and privacy his cabin gave them; the boat was very crowded, with sleeping-bags clogging every metre of deck space.
The girls eyelids fluttered, then opened slowly. SheAnne, no Alison; that was it, Alison! remember thatgrinned at him.
Hi, she said.
He glanced along her body. The sheet was tangled up round her waist, affording him a splendid view of breasts, lean belly muscles, and sharply curving hips. Hi yourself. He brushed some of the ringlets from her face.
Shouts and a barking laugh sounded from outside. Alison gave a timid giggle. God, theyre only a metre away.
You should have thought of that before you made all that noise earlier.
Her tongue was caught between her teeth. Didnt make any noise.
Did.
Didnt.
His arms circled her, and he pulled her closer. You did, and I can prove it.
Oh yeah?
Yeah. He kissed her softly, and she started to respond. His hand stole downwards, pushing the sheet off her legs.
Alison turned over when he told her to, shivering in anticipation as his arm slid under her waist, lifting her buttocks up. Her mouth parted in expectation.
What the hell was that?
Karl? She bent her head round to see him kneeling behind her, frowning up at the ceiling. Karl!
Shush. Listen, can you hear it?
She couldnt believe this was happening. People were still clumping up and down the deck outside. There wasnt any other sound! And shed never ever been so turned on before. Right now she hated Karl with the same intensity shed adored him a second before.
Karl twitched his head round, trying to catch the noise again. Except it wasnt so much a noise, more a vibration, a grumble. He knew every sound, every tremble the Swithland made, and that wasnt in its repertoire.
He heard it again, and identified it. A hull timber quaking somewhere aft. The creak of wood under pressure, almost as if they had touched a snag. But his mother would never steer anywhere near a snag, that was crazy.
Alison was looking up at him, all anger and hurt. The magic had gone. He felt his penis softening.
The noise came again. A grinding sound that lasted for about three seconds. It was muted by the bilges, but this time it was loud enough even for Alison to hear.
She blinked in confusion. What ...
Karl jumped off the bed, snatching up his shorts. He jammed his legs into them, and was still struggling with the button when he yanked the door lock back and rushed out onto the deck.
Alison squealed behind him, trying to cover herself with her arms as vibrant midmorning sunlight flooded into the cabin. She grabbed the thin sheet to wrap herself in, and started hunting round for her clothes.
After the seductive shadows of his cabin the sunlight on deck sent glaring purple after-images chasing down Karls optic nerves. Tear ducts released their stored liquid, which he had to wipe away annoyingly. A couple of colonists and three deputies, barely older than him, were staring at him. He leaned out over the rail and peered down at the river. There was some sediment carried by the water, and shimmering sunlight reflections skittering across the surface, but he could see a good three or four metres down. But there was nothing solid, no silt bank, no submerged tree trunk.
Up on the bridge Rosemary Lambourne hadnt been sure about the first scrape, but like her eldest son she was perfectly in tune with the Swithland . Something had left her with heightened senses, a suddenly hollow stomach. She automatically checked the forward-sweep mass-detector. This section of the Zamjan was twelve metres deep, giving her a good ten metres of clearance below the flat keel, even overloaded like this. There was nothing in front, nothing below, and nothing to the side.