Read Online The navigator by Eoin McNamee - Free Book Online
Authors: Eoin McNamee
Tags: Fiction, General, Children's Books, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Action & Adventure - General, Fantasy & Magic, Ages 9-12 Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Time
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where the water met the bank. And as the figure disappeared with no more than a rustie into the darkness, there was a whispering noise as the ice melted and dissolved back into the black water.
66
Owen woke early the next morning and ran straight to the Workhouse without even a drink of water. He ran up the stairs and into the main hallway. Even though people were busy, moving with purpose, he saw more than one curious glance cast in his direction. He found the stairway that led to the kitchen, and he plunged downward. When the stair opened out into the kitchen he found it calmer than the previous day. The great ovens were glowing and many huge pots were simmering on them. He saw Contessa and he half walked, half ran over to her. She turned to him. Her face was grave but she spoke before he did.
"Cati will recover, Owen. I think you saved her. But only just. I had to put her back to sleep in the Starry. She
67
was frozen to the very core of her being. I am surprised that you were not. Perhaps you have a special resistance."
"I was cold," he said. "Freezing."
"The cold they emit is not just physical, Owen. It freezes the very quick of you. Your soul. You're very strong."
"Strong," said a voice. "You'd be good and strong, maybe. But maybe they had fair cause not to freeze you. Them ones could have had cause to spare you."
Owen turned to see a tall, thin youth with a solemn face. His trousers were torn and on top he wore something that might have been a shirt at some time but now was so ripped and dirty that it could have been anything, and was certainly no protection against the cold morning air. When Owen looked down he saw that the boy's feet were bare.
"Wesley," Contessa said sharply, "I won't have malicious gossip repeated in my kitchen."
"It's what people do say," Wesley said, but he grinned in a mischievous way and stuck out his hand. Owen took it and Wesley shook his hand vigorously.
"Wesley," he said. "I do be one of the Raggies. I brung fish for the lady Contessa."
Owen looked down for the first time. There were perhaps twenty boxes of fish on the ground around them, bringing with them a smell of the sea.
"I have an idea," Contessa said. "There are those who wish to ask you about last night, and their thoughts are not kindly for the moment. You would be better out of
68
the way. Would you take him to the Hollow with you, Wesley?"
"I will, lady."
"I want to see Cati," Owen said.
"She is asleep," Contessa said, suddenly seeming taller, her eyes glittering with a dangerous light. "Are you not listening?"
"Come on," Wesley said cheerfully, pulling at Owen's sleeve, "before the lady do devour the two of us." Contessa didn't say anything and her eyes were like stone, but as they walked away with a chirpy "Cheerio, lady!" from Wesley, Owen thought he saw the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Wesley walked quickly, even in his bare feet, and Owen had trouble keeping up. They left the Workhouse and Wesley started on a path that followed the river down to the sea, curving toward the town and the harbor. At first Owen fired questions at Wesley, but the boy only turned and grinned at him and pressed on even harder. They came to the place where a new concrete bridge had crossed the road between the town and his house, but there was no bridge and no road. Owen climbed up the riverbank. Despite everything he had been told, he still expected to see the familiar streets of the town.
The town was there, but with a sinking feeling Owen saw that it looked as if it had been abandoned for a hundred years. The houses and shops were roofless and windows gaped blank and sightless. The main street was a strip of matted grass and small trees, and ivy and other creepers
69
wrapped themselves round broken telegraph poles. Where new buildings had once stood there was bare ground or the protruding foundations of older buildings. The rusty skeleton of what had once been a bus sat at right angles in the middle
66
Owen woke early the next morning and ran straight to the Workhouse without even a drink of water. He ran up the stairs and into the main hallway. Even though people were busy, moving with purpose, he saw more than one curious glance cast in his direction. He found the stairway that led to the kitchen, and he plunged downward. When the stair opened out into the kitchen he found it calmer than the previous day. The great ovens were glowing and many huge pots were simmering on them. He saw Contessa and he half walked, half ran over to her. She turned to him. Her face was grave but she spoke before he did.
"Cati will recover, Owen. I think you saved her. But only just. I had to put her back to sleep in the Starry. She
67
was frozen to the very core of her being. I am surprised that you were not. Perhaps you have a special resistance."
"I was cold," he said. "Freezing."
"The cold they emit is not just physical, Owen. It freezes the very quick of you. Your soul. You're very strong."
"Strong," said a voice. "You'd be good and strong, maybe. But maybe they had fair cause not to freeze you. Them ones could have had cause to spare you."
Owen turned to see a tall, thin youth with a solemn face. His trousers were torn and on top he wore something that might have been a shirt at some time but now was so ripped and dirty that it could have been anything, and was certainly no protection against the cold morning air. When Owen looked down he saw that the boy's feet were bare.
"Wesley," Contessa said sharply, "I won't have malicious gossip repeated in my kitchen."
"It's what people do say," Wesley said, but he grinned in a mischievous way and stuck out his hand. Owen took it and Wesley shook his hand vigorously.
"Wesley," he said. "I do be one of the Raggies. I brung fish for the lady Contessa."
Owen looked down for the first time. There were perhaps twenty boxes of fish on the ground around them, bringing with them a smell of the sea.
"I have an idea," Contessa said. "There are those who wish to ask you about last night, and their thoughts are not kindly for the moment. You would be better out of
68
the way. Would you take him to the Hollow with you, Wesley?"
"I will, lady."
"I want to see Cati," Owen said.
"She is asleep," Contessa said, suddenly seeming taller, her eyes glittering with a dangerous light. "Are you not listening?"
"Come on," Wesley said cheerfully, pulling at Owen's sleeve, "before the lady do devour the two of us." Contessa didn't say anything and her eyes were like stone, but as they walked away with a chirpy "Cheerio, lady!" from Wesley, Owen thought he saw the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Wesley walked quickly, even in his bare feet, and Owen had trouble keeping up. They left the Workhouse and Wesley started on a path that followed the river down to the sea, curving toward the town and the harbor. At first Owen fired questions at Wesley, but the boy only turned and grinned at him and pressed on even harder. They came to the place where a new concrete bridge had crossed the road between the town and his house, but there was no bridge and no road. Owen climbed up the riverbank. Despite everything he had been told, he still expected to see the familiar streets of the town.
The town was there, but with a sinking feeling Owen saw that it looked as if it had been abandoned for a hundred years. The houses and shops were roofless and windows gaped blank and sightless. The main street was a strip of matted grass and small trees, and ivy and other creepers
69
wrapped themselves round broken telegraph poles. Where new buildings had once stood there was bare ground or the protruding foundations of older buildings. The rusty skeleton of what had once been a bus sat at right angles in the middle
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