Page 17 of The Neverfear

‘My teeth,’ said Anya, and she grinned.

The name Neverfear had a certain amount of history. Christopher had laughed when he first saw it.

‘Nighthand! Wasn’t your last boat called the Neverfear – the one that was destroyed by a kraken?’

‘You know it was. I built a new boat. The nereids found some of the old boat washed ashore, and the rest is new timber.’

‘And you called it the Neverfear, again?’

Nighthand looked surprised. ‘Of course. I always do. Ratwin and I must be on number five or six by now.’

‘But—’

‘And when this boat is wrecked, or torn apart – as I fully expect it to be, some day – I’ll build a new one, and call that one the Neverfear too. Saves me learning a new name. If I ever had children, I’d do much the same thing: call them all Small Unsanitary Human Creature, irrespective of gender, and then they’d all come if I called.’

‘The thing to remember about Nighthand,’ Irian had said, for Anya had looked a little put out, ‘is that he thinks of “unsanitary” as a compliment.’

The City of Scholars is the second capital of Lithia. Criss-crossed with canals, it has been a meeting point for intellectuals and lawmakers for hundreds of years. The waterways and bridges, spires and towers are famous across Glimouria for their ancient beauty.

Up in one of those towers, a telescope was trained on the Neverfear. Its lens glinted in the sun as it followed the boat across the blue of the water and into the west port. Carla Venasque spun her knife in her fingers like a baton. The thing she had longed for, for so long, was about to begin.

Christopher paced the deck of the boat, still thrumming with the feeling of the flash. He was too excited to sit down or concentrate. He longed to try again. He looked at Ratwin, who was perched next to the tiller, cleaning her green horn until it shone. He tried to summon the golden flood of light.

Ratwin only raised both of her squirrel eyebrows. ‘Nice try, sparky boy. I is not letting anybodies come tip-tapping into my subconsciousnesses.’

It was the same with Jacques, whom he found in the galley. The dragon huffed and the whole world disappeared in a fog of hot smoke. When it cleared, he was glaring at Christopher.

‘You would not disturb a lady in her bath! You do not intrude upon my mind!’ He bit Christopher, and it was not a playful bite. ‘If you try that again, I’ll eat your face while you sleep. Now look lively. We are about to arrive.’

It took a long time to dock. Anya, with Gallia on one shoulder and Koo on the other, leaned out to look at the cause of the delay.

‘There’s soldiers on the quayside!’ she said. They were checking licences and papers, and there was a prickle of tension among them.

‘Increased security,’ said a soldier to Irian, when they finally found a mooring. ‘There’s been masked bandits in Atidina. They burned a dozen houses and slaughtered a herd of Erymanthian boar.’

‘Barbaric.’ Irian shook her head. She turned to Christopher and Anya. ‘We need to walk fast. We’re late.’

They headed for Heletha Square. The spirit of Midsummer was still in the air; they passed a set of triplets riding a boar-like twrch tryth, and laughing students in a punt being pulled by hippocamps down the Grand Canal.

‘I love this city,’ said Anya. She wore her favourite yellow silk, and she swished the skirts in pleasure as she walked. ‘We never had anything like this on Dousha.’

‘Nowhere has anything like the City of Scholars.’ Irian smiled. ‘It’s where I took my first degree.’

‘How many degrees do you have?’

‘Six, I think. Possibly seven.’

They walked fast, through crowded sunlit squares and over stone bridges arching across canals. Scholars bustled past in gossiping, gesturing, eager groups, their long black gowns flapping. One professor appeared to be having a furious argument with herself, until Christopher realised she was talking to a gagana perched on her satchel.

‘Hurry, Koo,’ said Anya.

Koo was being difficult – he refused to sit on Anya’s shoulder and tried to fly overhead, but his wings were not yet strong enough to keep up. ‘My fly,’ he croaked.

Irian laughed and tucked him into her jacket pocket. He protested, then nestled down to sleep. She glanced at the clock on a church tower above their heads. ‘At this rate we won’t make the opening and there’ll be no places on the speakers’ bench. There’s a short cut this way; I’ve taken it often. It’s not very delightful, but it will get us there.’

She led them down a dark, narrow passageway, hurrying along a succession of canal side streets, the buildings sweeping up above their heads, rising straight out of the water. The streets grew steadily more deserted.

‘It doesn’t smell great, does it?’ said Anya. There were flies everywhere, and some buildings were crumbling into the canal, or just barely held up with wooden scaffolding.