The Knot Impossible by Barbara Else

Author:Barbara Else
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781776570485
Publisher: Gecko Press

Captain Thunderhead mopped sweat off his forehead. “Sammo, rush the tiddlers to the cabin lounge. If Madam Butterly’s not ready, feed ’em some hard-tack.” He gave a short chuckle.

By now Rufkin didn’t really trust the captain and the doctor. Vosco had a very tight grip on his hand again—the kid wasn’t happy about them either. Maybe Rufkin wouldn’t tell these two that the Queen was still slumped in the rowboat under the sack. Madam Butterly was on board—he could tell her first.

The same crewman—Sammo, was it?—who’d led them to Madam Butterly on the Princess of Dogjaw carted Vosco up the outside steps. Rufkin sped after. The lounge had padded benches more like sofas. The windows and glass sliders to the bow deck looked as silky as lozenges.

“Keep out of trouble,” said Sammo. “When Madam Butterly does appear, she’ll have a headache. Watch your manners for all you’re worth.” He hurried out through another door and didn’t come back, not with hard-tack or anything else that might be more comfortable chewing.

They sat on a padded bench. There was nothing to do: a pile of society magazines on a side-table, a wall of mirrors. Rufkin didn’t want to look at fancy people nor at himself. There was a large book with a shiny blue cover. It might be a business notebook. No—it was one of those folders for picturegraphs or mementos. It could still be private. He left it alone.

A clock had one face with the time of day and another that said the date including the year. He supposed business folk needed full details.

What was keeping Madam Butterly? The Sea Honey had finished the turn and was heading downriver. Through the lounge window the channel looked deeper, coppery red between sandy banks edged with red rocks.

Rufkin wanted to get home as fast as possible. But when the yacht reached Old Ocean, she should take Queen Sibilla on to the Eastern Isle. The dragon-eagles were there, and they would—if he and everyone else was lucky—help the Queen return Fontania to peace and stability. Only then might he go back home.

Vosco had fallen asleep, purple beanie askew. For a few minutes, instead of watching the riverbanks through the windows, Rufkin watched the reflections in the wall of mirrors. There was a big circular frame too, draped in silk so he couldn’t see the picture. Maybe it was Madam Butterly’s parents, or some famous person she admired.

Somewhere the cat started to purr. It wriggled out on its back from under an easy chair, hopped on the bench, and sniffed Vosco’s skinny wrist.

“Don’t be a pest,” said Rufkin. “Let him sleep.”

The cat settled down on the cushion, paws tucked to its chest, and just watched.

Rufkin watched again too—the riverbanks, for signs of life. High in the sky floated white clouds. He watched them in case of waterspouts. From here he couldn’t see the Sea Honey’s stern or down into the rowboat. But he kept listening to hear if the Queen had wakened or anyone had discovered her.

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