Wind on Fire trilogy [01] The Wind Singer by William Nicholson

Author:William Nicholson [Nicholson, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

16

The wind battle

Kemba’s plan evidently met with the approval of the Raka of Baraka, because when Salimba next came into the prison cell he told the children that the people of Ombaraka could talk of nothing else.

‘We’ve never had a battle with a real killing before,’ said Salimba, his eyes glowing. ‘At least, not that anyone can remember. Oh, I’ll be out there to see, you can count on that.’

‘How can you be so sure we’ll be killed?’ said Kestrel. ‘The corvette may be blown off across the plains without hitting anything.’

‘Oh, no, they’ll make sure of that,’ said Salimba. ‘They’ll wait until the whole Chaka battle fleet is out, and they’ll send you right into the middle. Those Chaka cruisers are mounted with the old heavy slashers. They’ll rip you into pieces, all right.’

‘Don’t you care?’ said Bowman, his eyes glistening.

Salimba looked at him, and then looked away, a little awkwardly.

‘Well, it won’t be good for you,’ he said. ‘I do see that. But,’ – he looked back, brightening – ‘it’ll be grand for us!’

Once he was gone, the twins puzzled over what to do.

‘It’s a strange thing,’ said Bowman, ‘but in spite of all this talk of hanging and killing, I have the feeling that they’re quite gentle people really.’

‘Whee-eee!’ said Mumpo.

‘Mumpo?’

‘Yes, Kess?’

‘Do you realise what’s happening?’

‘You’re my friend, and I love you.’

His eyes looked a little odd, but she pressed on.

‘We’re going to be put in one of those land-sailers tomorrow morning, and attacked by a lot of other ones like it.’

‘That’s good, Kess.’

‘No, it’s not good. They have swinging knives that will chop us into pieces.’

‘Big pieces or little pieces?’ He started to giggle. ‘Or very teeny-weeny pieces?’

Kestrel looked at him more closely.

‘Mumpo! Show me your teeth!’

Mumpo bared his teeth. They were yellow.

‘You’re chewing tixa, aren’t you?’

‘I’m so happy, Kess.’

‘Where is it? Show me.’

He reached into his pocket and showed her a bunch of tixa leaves.

‘You are useless, Mumpo.’

‘Yes, Kess, I know. But I do love you.’

‘Oh, shut up.’

Bowman was staring at the grey-green tixa leaves.

‘Maybe we can do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘When we were sheltering in the crashed wind-sailer, I worked out how its parts all went together. I think I understand it. If Mumpo was up on the mast, like when he was mud-diving, I think we could do it.’

The next morning, as the dawn light began to spread across the eastern sky, the lookouts high up in the watchtowers of Ombaraka sent the signal the navigators had been waiting for: Omchaka in sight! A second great craft, a mirror image of Ombaraka itself, was lumbering towards them over the plain, its sails and masts, its decks and towers, bristling against the pink and golden sky. A strong wind was blowing from the south-west, and the two rolling cities were each tacking at an angle to the wind, to come within range of each other by the time the sun was up.

Raka himself now took up his position on the command deck. Down below, the winches

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