Lucy and Wolf Boy flashed each other worried glances - evidence of what?
"Is he comin'?" asked Fat Crowe, pointing to Wolf Boy, who was longing to put his coil of rope down.
"Don't be stupid," said the skipper. "Wouldn't trust these two with me last moldy mackerel. Take 'is rope and get going."
"So what's they 'ere fer, then?" asked Fat Crowe.
"Nothing. Yer two can sort 'em out later," said Skipper Fry. Fat Crowe grinned. "Be our pleasure, boss," he said.
Lucy flashed Wolf Boy a glance of panic. Wolf Boy felt sick. He'd been right. The lighthouse was a prison.
The Crowe twins and Jakey Fry set off up the steps.
"Wait!" Skipper Fry yelled. Jakey and the Crowes stopped. "Yer'll forget yer heads next," growled the skipper. "Take these." From his pocket he took a tangle of black ribbon and dark blue glass ovals. "Crowes - one each," he grunted. "Put 'em on yer know when. Don't want yer going blind on me just when we've got a job to do."
Thin Crowe stuck out a bony arm and took what in fact were two pairs of eye shields.
Jakey Fry looked worried. "Don't I have one, Pa?" he asked.
"No, that's man's work. Yer to carry the rope and do as yer told, got that?"
"Yes, Pa. But what are they for?"
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell yer no lies. Get up them steps, boy. Now!"
Jakey staggered off under his pile of rope, leaving Skipper Fry in the well of the lighthouse guarding Wolf Boy and Lucy.
After a few minutes of strained silence, listening to the dripping water and the echoing clang s of the receding footsteps, an unpleasant thought occurred to Skipper Fry - he was outnumbered. Normally Theodophilus Fortitude Fry would not have even considered a girl when counting the opposition, but this time he felt it was wise to count Lucy Gringe. And there was something odd about the boy too, something feral. A line of goose bumps ran up the back of the skipper's neck and made his tattooed parrot twitch. Suddenly he didn't want to spend another second alone with Wolf Boy and Lucy Gringe.
"Right, yer two, yer can get up them steps an' all," he growled, and gave Wolf Boy a shove in the back.
Wolf Boy made sure that Lucy went first and then followed. Theodophilus Fortitude Fry came close behind, the sound of his labored breath soon cutting out the clang ing steps circling far above. It was a long, long way up, and the climb took its toll on the wheezing Fry. Lucy and Wolf Boy kept on going and drew steadily ahead. The seemingly endless steps were punctuated by landings every seven spirals. Each landing had a door leading off. Lucy and Wolf Boy had stopped briefly on the fourth landing to catch their breath when a shaft of blinding light shot down from the very top of the lighthouse, followed a few seconds later by a terrifying - or was it terrified? - yowl. In the brilliant blue-white light, Lucy and Wolf Boy exchange horrified glances.
"What was that?" mouthed Wolf Boy.
"Cat scream," mouthed Lucy.
"Human scream," whispered Wolf Boy.
"Or both?" whispered Lucy.
Chapter 28 Pincer-Splat
I t was both. Miarr, human but CatConnected many generations from the past, was fighting for his life.
Miarr was a small, slight man who weighed little - five Miarrs equaled the weight of Fat Crowe, and two Miarrs equaled the weight of Thin Crowe. Which meant that against the Crowe twins, Miarr was effectively outnumbered seven to one.
Miarr had been on the Watching platform when the Crowes and Jakey Fry had staggered in with their ropes and thrown them to the floor. Miarr had asked what the ropes were for and was told, "Nothin' fer yer to bother about - not where yer going."
One look at Jakey Fry's terrified face told Miarr all he needed to know. He had scuttled up the foot-pole (a pole with footrests placed on either side), thrown open a trapdoor and taken refuge in a place that normally no one would have dared to follow - the Arena of the Light.
The Arena of the Light was the circular space at the very top of the lighthouse. In the center of the circle burned the Sphere of Light - a large, round sphere of brilliant white light. The Light was encircled by a narrow white marble walkway. Behind the Light, on the island side of the lighthouse, was a huge, curved plate of gleaming silver, which Miarr polished every day. On the seaward side were two enormous glass lenses, which Miarr also polished every day. The lenses were set a few feet back from the two almond-shaped openings - the eyes - through which the Light was focused. The eyes were four times the height of Miarr and six times as long. They were open to the sky and, as Miarr slammed the trapdoor shut and fastened it down, a fresh summer breeze scented with sea blew in and made the cat-man feel sad. He wondered if this would be the very last morning he would ever smell the sea air.
The only hope that Miarr had was that the Crowes would be too scared to come up to the Arena of the Light. After many generations Miarr's family had adapted to the Light by growing secondary dark eyelids - LightLids - through which they could see without being blinded by the Light. But anyone without that protection who looked straight at the Light would find that its brilliance seared the eyes and left scars in the center of vision so that, forevermore, they would see the shape of the Sphere of Light in a black absence of vision.
But when a battering began on the underside of the trapdoor, Miarr knew his hope was in vain. He crouched beside the Light and listened to the thud s of Thin Crowe's fists on the flimsy metal of the trapdoor, which was made only to be Light-tight, not Crowe-proof. He knew it would not last long.
Suddenly the trapdoor flew off its hinges, and Miarr saw Thin Crowe's shaven head sticking through the hole in the walkway, wearing two dark blue ovals of glass over his eyes, looking like one of the giant insects that invaded his worst nightmares. Miarr was terrified - he realized that whatever it was the Crowes were about to do had been carefully planned. Thin Crowe pulled himself onto the walkway, and Miarr waited, determined that whichever way Thin Crowe came at him, he would go the other. They could go on a long time like that, he thought. But Miarr's hopes were suddenly dashed. Fat Crowe's head, complete with insect eyes, appeared through the trapdoor. With utter horror - and amazement - Miarr watched Thin Crowe heave his brother through the tiny hole and pull him out onto the walkway where he lay, winded, like a blubbery fish on a slab.