Page 30 of Carousel

“Dezeeves!” I cry, grabbing his shoulders from behind and shaking him. “Dezeeves, please get up!”

Why won’t he wake up?

The ship is shuddering in a way it wasn’t a minute ago.

Cosmer loosens his grip, just slightly. Looks at Drake sideways. With –

Recognition.

“Wait. I know you! You were on the Dragoness, weren’t you?” A dangerous smile creeps across his face. “I saw you. You were the one running with those other soldiers, while the rest of your crew were fighting for their lives. For their country! You…” He’s gleeful. “You’re a deserter. A coward!”

It's like I blink and miss it – the moment Drake gets up, out of his seat and leaps at Cosmer, throwing repeated blows at him. He avoids or blocks every one and gets in a swing of his own. His fist collides with Drake’s nose, drawing blood, before they crash into the control table.

Drake pins Cosmer there – and Cosmer stops fighting back. Stops moving. From shock?

I’m suddenly very aware Drake is, at surface level at least, much stronger than him.

He could kill him.

I give up on Dezeeves.

“Let go of him!” I yell, hoarse. I fly out of my seat to try to pull Drake off him – but something stops me, and my hands drop to my sides. I can’t seem to get any closer. Has my fear got the better of me?

“Drake, stop!” It’s like the sound is being ripped out of me. Like it’s my heart that’s there, on that table.

But Drake is immoveable. I’m reminded of when I resuscitated him. The effort it took to pound his chest.

He raises his fist.

Cosmer watches it coming, his big brown eyes wide. He’s so still. Motionless.

But then he rolls to the left, and the blow Drake would have aimed at Cosmer’s head smacks hard into the table. The whole ship lurches. Cosmer takes the opportunity to duck under Drake’s arm and grab him around the neck from behind. Drake thrashes. I don’t think he can breathe.

The whole time, the ship shakes more, and faster.

And then I feel it. My stomach dropping. My head reeling. The sensation that we’re falling, falling, falling.

I recoil away from them. Curl myself into a ball on the floor between the seats, my hands over my ringing ears as I scream.

I wait for death.

CHAPTER 7

The Floating Carousel

The world is swaying gently. There are hands on my shoulders. Someone is speaking to me. I smell sour breath, and realise the plummeting sensation in my body has stopped.

I open my eyes. Dezeeves is crouching in front of me.

“That’s it,” he says, reassuringly. “You’re quite safe.”

I look around. Cosmer and Drake are unconscious, their bodies on opposite sides of the ship. Their arms and legs are at odd angles, and there’s a bluish quality to their skin.

“They will be just fine,” Dezeeves states. “I just gave them a shot of Rhavnan sleeping draught.”

Of course.

I recognise the effects now. Old Mother often made it for herself back in Rhavna.