Frozen

The next morning she awoke to hear Shakes yelling. She ran up to the deck and found him kicking at the rail. Wes was holding his hands to his own head in frustration.

“What happened?”

“Zedric. Farouk,” said Wes, his cheeks red with anger.

“What did they do?” Nat asked, feeling a stab of fear.

“They’re gone,” Shakes said.

“Gone?”

“They abandoned us last night. Took one of the lifeboats and left. Farouk must have busted Zedric out,” Wes explained. He was disappointed in Farouk; he understood Zedric’s anger, but he thought the skinny kid was on his side, he’d thought he was loyal. It was difficult not being able to count on his crew, he thought. It wasn’t always like that, especially not during the war. He and Shakes were the only survivors of Delph company, but there had been others: Ragdoll, Huntin’ John, Sanjiv. All good men, all gone now.

“We’re lucky they didn’t kill us in our sleep,” Nat said.

Shakes pounded the nearest wall. “They took the rest of the supplies, left us with nothing. Not even a twig to chew on.”

“But why? They won’t survive for long out there; why would they take that risk?” asked Nat.

“Snipers took out the crew of the other ship. Somehow, one of them must have noticed, and figured that they’d rather take their chances with the RSA than with us,” said Wes.

“They’re probably eating navy rations now, while we’re going to starve,” Shakes said moodily, lifting each bin and finding it empty.

The rest of the group was gathered around the galley hopefully, but there was nothing to be found. Brendon removed a few crumbly wafers that Wes had given him from his pocket and shared them with the group.

“Thanks,” Nat said, smiling. Brendon was the same age as she, but with a wise man’s face, and Roark a little older. They weren’t brothers, but from the same tribe, it turned out. Distant cousins, maybe. The genealogy of the smallkind was too complicated for Nat to understand, although Brendon had tried to explain earlier. She bit into the cracker. “I haven’t had these since I was a kid.”

“I have never had one before,” Brendon said. “It is a very interesting flavor.”

“We’re surrounded by water, and there’s nothing to eat. Where we’re from, we cut through the ice and fish,” Roark said.

“Truly?” Shakes asked, curious. “All the fish I’ve ever had was some kind of replacement substitute. I thought the oceans were dry.”

“Not our part of it,” Roark said.

Nat shook her head. Why hadn’t she realized it before? Fish . . . the flash of the redback’s tail beneath the water . . .

Of course!

34

“I DON’T KNOW WHY I DIDN’T THINK of it before!” Nat said, her face lighting up. “We can find food.”

“Where?” Shakes asked. Even Liannan looked intrigued, although the sylph had explained that her kind did not require very much sustenance, which is why they were long-lived.

“Out there!” Nat said, pointing to the gray sea through the porthole.

Shakes shook his head. “Aw, man, I thought you had a real idea. There’s nothing out there but trash.”

“No, no,” Nat insisted. “I was there—the day that—the day that we hit the trashbergs. With Daran and Zedric. We were looking out to the sea and we saw them . . . redbacks. There are fish out there.”

Wes sighed. “There haven’t been fish in the ocean since—”

“I’m telling you, we saw them. And Daran said he’d seen them before.” It dawned on her now what the Slaine brothers had been doing that week before Daran had drowned, when they were sneaking off by themselves. They were fishing! They were eating and hiding it from the rest of the crew.

“If you’re right, then I can do it,” Roark said. “Donnie can help.”

“Yes.” Brendon beamed, glad to be useful.

“Too bad we don’t have any poles,” Wes said. “Or bait, for that matter.”

Roark was undeterred. “Poles are not necessary for this endeavor. The essence of fishing is a good line. Something strong enough to hold the redback’s weight, but light enough to allow the sinker to pull the line down. Any ideas?”

Wes smiled. Nat could tell he liked the way Roark thought. “I saw a spool of wires in the bilge, not the heavy stuff—it might be light enough to work.” He nodded to Shakes, who headed down to look for the wires.

“Next to the starboard . . . ,” Wes called.

Shakes put up a hand. “I know where it is, boss.”

“But is it safe to eat?” Nat asked. “With all the toxins in the black water?”

Wes shrugged. “It’s not ideal, but we can take the risk. We need to eat.”

Nat agreed.

An hour later the group had crafted two fishing poles, using metal tubing from the deck rails and the spool of wire Shakes found in the bilge. “There, that’ll do.” Roark nodded.

Wes made hooks from bent nails and handed them to Nat, who finished the poles by threading the spinners and hooks onto the long delicate wire.

Roark and Brendon grabbed the poles and got to work. Nat watched as they each cut a swatch of cloth from Brendon’s shirt and tied it around the wire. The cloth would act as a marker just above the waterline. If a fish tugged at the line, the little red swatch would disappear below the water. Cool.

Nat turned to Roark. “What about bait?”

Wes sighed. “We’ve got nothing to spare. I might be able to pull a worm from somewhere under the decks, but that’s about it.”

“Again, that is not a problem,” Roark continued. “Only the bottom-feeders like worms. We don’t want to eat those anyway; they’re full of lead and who knows what else. We’ll be fishing near the surface where the water is a little cleaner. As for bait, we don’t need food. Watch.” Roark and Brendon whispered a few words, took a chunk of metal, and placed it on the hook.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Small magic,” Brendon said, grinning.

“A little something to attract the fish,” Roark said. “Once it’s in the water, it will spin and dance just like a little minnow. When the fish start biting, there will be more.”

Nat had been doubtful at first, but Roark’s idea suddenly seemed real. Her hopes soared: Perhaps they would eat today after all.

“It’s true, then, what they say about you guys,” Shakes said excitedly.

“What do they say?” Roark asked, his eyes narrowed, obviously knowing the deadly rumors about the smallfolk among mortal kind.

“Only that you are cleverer than most,” Nat said gently. “Isn’t that right, Shakes?”

“I can help, too,” Liannan said, as she leapt from the boat and onto the icy sea, her slender form light enough that she could walk on water. The group watched in delight, and Shakes looked downright worshipful.

The smallmen cast their lines and the sylph gasped. “They’re coming!” she said. “I see them down below.”

Liannan tiptoed back onto the boat and joined Nat in watching the little red dot bounce along the surface. Roark gave the line a little jerk, trying to set the hook. They didn’t have reels, so they had to wind the wire around the pole as they raised the line. Halfway up he stopped. “He got away,” Roark mumbled. He looked up from the ice at the disappointed faces of the crew. “Patience—we’ll get him next time.”