Bloodtide

'I can save your brothers from the Pig, of course.'

Signy scowled. Now the dream was turning unpleasant 'They're dead,' she said, and turned her face away.

'No, no, not dead. You must never believe Conor. Even he knows that. I think he doesn't know how to believe in things. I went down, I listened. I heard the men talking. I told Conor off for not knowing his heart. They've been left chained up, your brothers. I saw it. Chained and welded to a piece of iron and left out in the halfman lands for the Pig. Poor boys! But maybe I can save them, Signy, Queen. I'll do it for you.'

Suddenly Signy felt terribly awake. Thinking about her brothers had stung her out of her trance. She turned her head to examine this strange, vivid dream. She wanted to see the holes in it, the faults, the tell-tale signs of dreaming. But the harder she concentrated, the more awake she felt and the more real the vision became. The girl smiled to see her face. She reached out to stroke her cheek.

'Poor Signy!' she said. 'I'll be your feet now.'

Signy sat up. She was becoming scared. Why wasn't this going away? 'Who are you?' she whispered.

The girl frowned. 'Don't you know me?' she whispered. A flush of white and orange-brown and black fur rustled briefly like a breeze stirring on her skin. It spread over her brow and under her clothes. Then it was gone again.

Signy edged back in the bed in real fear. She remembered words she had all but forgotten: 'She has more than one shape…'

'Cherry?'

The girl smiled; the fur rippled briefly again. 'Girl isn't nice,' she said. 'But handy when you need hands and talk!' She laughed and clapped her hands together.

Signy reached out and touched her face. It was real. She felt the tears. She felt fur grow like a breeze and disappear again.

This was no dream.

'You…'

The girl leaned forward and hissed in a kind of ecstasy, 'I'm yours! I'm yours!'

Signy edged forward slightly on the bed. 'You can save them?'

'I can try!' boasted the girl. 'There's no one like me.' She purred.

Then, before Signy's eyes, she shrank. The fur moved over her, her form moved and shifted. Signy thought, shape-changer! And suddenly there was the little cat standing by the door, mewing.

'Cherry? Cherry?' At once Signy began to doubt everything she had seen. She pulled higher in the bed, wincing at the terrible pain in her legs. The cat glanced at her and blinked. She turned back to the door and began mewing again. There was a curse from the other side of the door. A key turned, the door opened a fraction, and the little cat dashed out. The door slammed at once. Signy heard the guard shouting, 'Oi!' But Cherry was fast. Someone took a couple of steps after her.

'How did that get in there?'

'Leave it. It's just a bloody cat.'

Signy lay back in her bed. She stared at the ceiling for a long, long time, not really believing. She must be hallucinating. But her fingers were still wet with Cherry's tears where she had touched her face. After a while, she caught sight of the tray of cold food by her bed. She couldn't stomach food but, reaching carefully down, Signy took up a cup of water and drank. Maybe it would be best to stay alive after all, for the time being.

34

Siggy

When it finished with Hadrian it belched like a man, turned around three times like a dog and lay down by the girder to sleep among the bloody bones of our brother. It sighed a long, happy sigh. It raised its head to look at us and it grinned.

' 'Night,' it grunted. And it went to sleep in about two seconds.

' 'Night,' I replied. 'Sweet dreams.' No, I wasn't being brave. And don't think I didn't care about what had happened to Had either. But while you're alive you're still yourself, against all the odds.

It was the longest night, the kind of night Conor had dreamed up for us. We couldn't sleep – well, could you? It was fear, exhaustion, hunger, misery, God knows what. It wasn't always the really terrible things like our dead brother, like our fate. It was something stupid like just going to the toilet. That's something they never tell you about in the stories. You know that princess they tied up for the dragon to come and eat? How many times do you think she shat herself? The prince in that story must've been a bit of a perve if you ask me.

Howlong was it going to take? I was remembering those stories of how big animals sometimes only eat once every two or three days and I thought, this could go on for ever. That really did my head in. That's when I had the first decent idea I'd had since we got into this mess. Get it over with. I nudged Ben and I started shouting and yelling at the Pig, 'OI! COME ON THEN, YOU FAT BASTARD… GET OFF YOUR HAMS… COME ON… COME ON…'

'What are you doing?' hissed Ben.

'Waking him up. Let's get this over with,' I said.

Ben had a think about it. He didn't need to think long.

'OI! FATSO! OFF YOUR ARSE AND COP THIS! COME ON, GET ON WITH IT!'

We were screaming our lungs out. The Pig grunted and stirred slightly in his sleep.

'Try again…'

'OI! DUSTBIN BREATH! GET OFF YOUR FAT ARSE!' I yelled. Ben started laughing. We both sat there in our chains giggling.

'IT'S SNACK TIME!' screamed Ben.

'COME ON, THEN! SO YOU WANT TO MIX IT, DO YOU? RIGHT, YOU ASKED FOR IT!'

Pause.

'He doesn't seem to be responding,' whispered Ben.

'Try again.'

'YOUR MOTHER WAS A PIG!'

'NO, YOUR MOTHER WAS A PERSON!'

'OI! OI! HAMBURGER FACE!'

'SAUSAGE FINGERS!'

'BUMFACE!'

We nearly ruptured ourselves laughing. We were hysterical! But would you believe it, he wouldn't wake up? He just grunted, turned over and carried right on dreaming.

Ben said, 'Something else might come and get us and he'd never even wake up.'

And you know what? That thought was terrifying. Don't ask me why. I mean, you couldn't get worse than the Pig, he was just horrible, but the thought of some other half-thing coming along and eating us out of our chains while he slept there was worse than anything. Maybe it was just something else to worry about It meant we weren't safe. It meant we didn't know what was going to happen next after all.

When you have the fear in you, you see it everywhere around you. We started peering out through the moonlight at imaginary things moving in the shadows. Every crunch and rustle in the undergrowth set us off almost weeping with fear. I ask you – scared of the shadows when you're sleeping with the Pig! I could have begged him just to wake up and eat us.

But we needn't have worried. When finally there really was a soft rustle and the brambles nearby really did part, and the striped face of a greedy woman-thing did look out, the Pig was awake in an instant. When it came to looking after his dinner, he suddenly became a light sleeper. We'd hardly started screaming when he came rushing up, bellowing like a bull. I caught a glimpse of the jaw of this other thing dropping – it was funny, it reminded me of a puppy you'd just shouted at – before it turned and fled. I caught sight of a furry, black and white back, a set of long white teeth and a pair of corduroy trousers disappearing in the moonlight.

The Pig came back, looking most put out. He patted me and Ben all over to make sure we were all OK. Then he