Part 10 (1/2)

'Evensraumers don't think so,' she replied. 'Inny told me about your argument with Creedy.'

'She's been spying on me?'

Hana raised her eyebrows. 'Don't blame her for that, Tom. What would you do in her position?'

Granger glanced at his daughter. Of course her mother was right. He was Ianthe's jailer before he was her father. Still, he didn't like her prying into his affairs. 'Then you'll know I didn't get to the market today,' he said, 'and there's not much left in the cupboard. Supper is porridge.'

'I hate porridge,' Ianthe said.

'Eat it or go hungry,' Granger replied. 'Decide which one of those two you hate the most.'

'There are fish in the ca.n.a.l,' she said. 'You could catch us some supper.'

'Forget it.'

'Please,' she wailed. 'Just for an hour. It's so dark and smelly in here. I can tell you where to cast.'

Granger found himself considering this, despite himself. He hadn't gone fis.h.i.+ng for months, and it was a nice night. His prisoners weren't likely to go anywhere. 'It's too risky,' he said. 'If someone sees us . . .'

'They won't,' Ianthe insisted. 'I'll be able to sense them long before they can see us. Please, please, please.'

'No,' he said. 'That's final.'

An hour later he was standing on his jetty with his fis.h.i.+ng rod, casting a line out across the ca.n.a.l waters.

'Not there,' Ianthe said. 'There!' She pointed in the direction of Cuttle's jail. 'There's a shoal of angel fish around that pontoon.'

'That's where I cast,' Granger insisted.

'No you didn't.'

Granger reeled in the line again, grumbling. He'd been at this for half an hour already.

Hana was lying on her back, stretched out on the jetty planks, breathing deeply of the fresh night air as she gazed up at the stars.

Ianthe let out a moan of frustration. 'Mother! I need you to watch me.'

Hana's gaze flicked to her daughter. 'I'm sorry, Inny.'

Granger flicked out the line again. This time, his bait plopped into the water a yard beyond Cuttle's pontoon. Ianthe scrunched her eyes up and seemed to be concentrating. After a moment she said, 'You scared them away.'

'You told me to cast there.' told me to cast there.'

'Not right on top of-' She paused. 'Wait, there's something else coming. Something . . . it's swimming straight for the bait.'

Granger stared into the ca.n.a.l, but could see nothing in the black depths. 'A fish?'

'I don't know what it is!' Ianthe exclaimed. 'It isn't looking at itself, is it? It's going for the bait . . . now.'

A splash disturbed the waters out by the pontoon. Granger saw something large and silvery flash in the gloom, and then his line gave a sudden jerk, bending the fis.h.i.+ng rod near double. This was a good-sized fish.

Hana sat up. 'You got one?'

'Of course he got one,' Ianthe snapped.

Granger grunted and pulled back on the fis.h.i.+ng rod. He began to wind in the slack. Out in the ca.n.a.l, the fish exploded out of the water and then thrashed across the surface. The creature was about three feet of solid muscle, with a blunt, fist-like head crammed with teeth.

'A grappler,' Granger growled. 'Get back, both of you it's likely to splash brine everywhere.'

The woman and her daughter retreated away from him along the jetty.

Granger fought hard against the line, his rod bending under the strain. He lowered the rod, reeling in as he did so, then heaved it back again. The fish burst out of the water a second time, flas.h.i.+ng white and silver in the starlight, spraying foam everywhere. Again Granger lowered the rod, working the reel. Again he pulled back. His pulse was racing. With weary arms he dragged his catch inch by inch closer to the jetty.

The fish stopped suddenly. It felt like a dead weight. Cautiously, Granger pulled back on the rod and reeled in another yard of line. The waters settled. Granger could feel his palms sweating inside his gloves. He reclaimed another yard. Still no reaction from the ca.n.a.l. The line vanished into the black water twelve feet beyond the edge of the jetty. Granger paused, breathing heavily, and eased his goggles down over his eyes. He nudged the landing net closer with his foot. This was the dangerous part.

The fish bolted again, but Granger was ready to take the strain. He leaned back. When he felt the line slacken, he dipped the rod and reeled in once more. Twelve feet became eight, then six, then he could see the creature's fat silvery form under the inky surface. He lowered his landing net into the water, eased it around the exhausted fish and hauled it in.

Hana gave him a girlish clap. 'Are they good to eat?' Granger sat down on the jetty beside the netted fish. He turned to her and grinned. 'I don't know about good,' he said.

Some Ethugrans only bothered to boil brinelife twice, claiming it was safe to eat thereafter, but it was common to see mutations in those families. Granger played it safe. He wore gloves for gutting, and then boiled his catch three times, emptying the pan of ochre sc.u.m and refilling it with purified water each time. The fish turned from grey to white. It was after midnight by the time he'd dished it out into bowls and sat down with Hana and Ianthe.

This small, strange family sat on old munitions crates in Granger's attic, eating by the light of an oil lamp. He'd opened his best bottle of wine, sweetened it with sugar to make it drinkable and dug out some blankets for Hana and Ianthe to use as cus.h.i.+ons. The women were silent for once. Granger couldn't stop himself from glancing over at them. Their clothes were ragged and filthy. He would have to see about getting them some new ones now that he had a bit of money. Mrs Pursewearer might sell him some. She'd know the sort of things they'd need. He'd have to buy planking for their cell, too, to raise the floor properly. Maybe he could stretch to a washbasin, run a hose down from the purifier. Watching Hana eat reminded him of the first night he'd met her at the farm in Evensraum. She been more curious about him than afraid. He suddenly realized he was staring, and she was looking at him.

'How did you end up here?' she said.

'Long story.'

'I never imagined you'd become a jailer.'

'It's only temporary, until I can get my boat fixed.'

She took a sip of wine, and grimaced. 'Where will you go?'

He shrugged.

'There's no one up there, you know?' Ianthe said suddenly.

Granger turned to face her. 'Where?'

'Ortho's Chariot. There's no life aboard.'

Granger grunted. 'You can see that far away?'

She nodded.

He thought about that. 'What's the emperor doing now?' he asked.