Elspa Latterby sat with her head bowed, almost curled around her baby sister. Kneeling beside her on the soaking grass, Ravna looked at the little girl. Geri Latterby had been such a happy kid, but ever since Ravna had heard her frightened voice coming out of Tycoon, Ravna’s fears for the girl had grown.
Geri was not crying. Her expression was distant. She scarcely reacted to her sister’s touch. But even though Geri didn’t speak, Ravna could see. Two fingers were missing from Geri’s right hand. Her left arm lay at a strange angle. She was dressed in a clean, warm robe … that didn’t quite cover the scars on her neck.
“She’s been tortured,” said Magda. She looked like she was chewing on glass. “Tycoon must pay for this.”
“No!” said Timor. “The big guy only helped her—” but the Children didn’t seem to be listening, and he shut up.
Nevil Storherte was circulating, mainly among the Deniers. His camera gang was split between tracking him and watching the airship entrance. Giske was nowhere in sight, but Ravna noticed that Jefri and Øvin were closing in on the Chief Denier. If this was the end of the releases, there was going to be trouble.
“S’cuse me, s’cuse me,” she said, working her way through the crowd around Nevil. Meantime, she muttered to her remote link: “Is this all the people we’re getting?” The airship’s hatch was still open, but Zek had disappeared from his post on the stairs.
Woodcarver’s voice came back: “That could be … but hold off for now. The smart thing is to see how Nevil tries to explain the missing prisoners, then decide on the proper action.”
“I don’t think that’s an option. Both Jefri and Øvin are going to start pounding on Nevil.”
In any case, Nevil had noticed her approach. He waved in her direction. “Hei, folks, please let Ravna Bergsndot through.”
Okay, for sure she was being set up. So be it. She nodded as casually as she could, and stepped into the open space in front of Nevil.
Nevil’s smile was as gracious as the day when he ambushed her at the New Meeting Place—but this time Ravna was attacking: “Nevil, I’ve been talking to Elspa Latterby. That’s her sister Geri who came down the ramp first and—”
Storherte blinked, but she’d given him enough warning that he actually managed to interrupt her: “Yes, I asked Tycoon to have Geri brought down the very first.” His smile had morphed into sympathy and serious concern. “I’m afraid some Tines are insanely hostile toward humans. Some of them got to Geri before Tycoon could make a rescue.”
There was muttered gobbling among the Best Friends and Benky’s troops. Woodcarver’s voice sounded privately in Ravna’s ear: “I had to put up with a lot of this ‘insane hater’ talk while you were gone.” But the Deniers were nodding sympathetically. Even some loyalist Children seemed to accept Nevil’s point. And in fact, something like Nevil’s claim was true, though apparently Nevil had decided never to mention Vendacious.
“Okay,” said Ravna, “but we’re still missing at least three packs and five humans. What about Pilgrim? What about Johanna? Remember her? The woman who loved you enough to propose marriage. Are we going to see any of these people today?”
Nevil’s head rocked back a fraction and a certain “honest” indignation showed. “Whatever you may believe, I don’t control Tycoon. He’s my ally, and at least as honorable as your Woodcarver. You all know what that means.” He let the words hang, creating lies out of pregnant silence. Just an instant before Ravna recovered from her own stunned indignation, Nevil continued, “I think we were all at the meeting on the Meadows. That did not turn out well. Sometimes a past wrong is so terrible that a person can’t think straight. I think that’s what happened to Tycoon that day. We’re not going to get Johanna back today. Tycoon claims she’s alive, but I’m not sure we’ll ever get her back.” He looked around imploringly. “And if we do get Jo back, then it would be up to us to judge her. I—I don’t think I could do that.”
Mr. Radio—the Zek end of him—was back at the top of the stairs, no doubt transmitting every syllable back to the Tropics. Zek’s gaze flickered back and forth between Ravna and Nevil.
Ravna gave the singleton a glare, but her main attention stayed on Neviclass="underline" “Your lies are piled so deep, I don’t know where to start shovelling. Woodcarver is not like Tycoon. Understand this, both you and Tycoon: Having peace with us means getting Johanna back. In the meantime, what about the others? Or do you claim they’re criminals, too?”
“Yeah! What about Edvi?” That from Øvin Verring.
Magda Norasndot shouted, “And what about my sister’s family?”
Nevil raised his hands. “Look, we didn’t receive a good accounting till just after today’s landing. Tycoon understands your point as well as anyone. He wants justice, too—but not all our missing friends were ever held by him. He knows nothing of Pilgrim. He has searched the wilderness and the Tropics, used all his contacts. Tycoon found Øvin’s cousin, but too late to rescue him. Edvi’s remains are aboard the airship. As for Jana and Basl Norasndot and their baby Kim—no sign of them was found anywhere. I’m so sorry, Magda.” There were no glib condolences for Øvin. Maybe Nevil realized that any such might cause an explosion.
Magda had turned away as Nevil spoke. She was staring into the distance, maybe believing. The Norasndots had been missing well before the kidnappings. The two young parents had chosen to travel with a small trading group all the way to Woodcarver’s old capital, through wilderness that was known to contain weasel nests. Their party had never arrived. Rescuers had found the remains of a weasel ambush, but no human bodies.
“So then, what about the packs that we know Tycoon is holding?” That was Jefri! Somehow he had slipped past the Deniers to stand next to Nevil. Jef had his left arm draped across Nevil’s shoulders. It might have been a gesture of bonhomie—Jef was smiling—but Ravna could see that his hand was dug into Nevil’s shoulder, and Jefri’s other hand was holding something under his jacket.
Merto Yngva and his friends started forward, their hands slipping into the sling bags they carried. Every faction here was armed, but so far no one had been waving around their guns. Nevil gave Merto and company a strangled grin. “It’s okay, guys.” His smile stabilized as he looked at Jefri. “Hei, Jef. I think you’ve had firsthand experience with Tycoon. He can be obsessive, true?”
Jefri must have tightened his grip, because Nevil gave a little gasp. Now that was the properly eloquent way to respond to Nevil! Storherte continued, his voice strained. “Tycoon has been releasing folks in approximately the reverse order of captivity, the most needy first. Okay?”
Jefri shrugged. “I’m still waiting for results,” he said.
“Well, this chitchat is just delaying the final releases.” Nevil turned his head toward Zek. “Bring us the two remaining packs.”
Zek disappeared from sight. A moment later, a pack member poked its snout into view. It came bouncing down the stairs, followed by three of its fellows. The pack’s cloaks covered most its body, but she recognized Remnant Screwfloss—even down to the bodypaint disguise.
Certainly Flenser-Tyrathect did too. From his place behind the crowd, he bellowed something painfully loud. “COMING THROUGH!” was what the sound meant, and even a naive human would get out of the way. With two of him pulling White Tips’ wheelbarrow, the pack really couldn’t run. It didn’t matter. Screwfloss came bouncing across the boggy grass, meeting his creator more than halfway. The two packs stopped a couple of meters apart, so close that coherent thought might be a problem. One of the remnant snuffled closer. It twisted its cape to lie down on the grass. Flenser came partway around it, almost reaching the others—and grooming the one it could touch.