Alex, had shaken their hands. Not many humans would have done that.
They left then, probably in pursuit of the Organist. Would he get the same punishment: banishment from the attic? Or did they indeed imprison criminals in sea chests or changing room lockers? He couldn’t think they did. But then again, this was not Alex’s world. This was the attic.
Amanda left him to go down to the jetty to prepare the boat for sailing. He noticed she had not given him back Mr Grantham’s watch. Was she going to keep it after all? He trailed down to the quay after her.
‘Hello,’ he called, walking down to the jetty where the little boat bobbed on the waves. ‘Are we ready?’
The owl looked at him and nodded slowly.
‘I don’t like your owl much,’ he told Amanda, as he put his backpack into the boat. ‘Or rather, he doesn’t like me.’
‘Oh, he’s just jealous. Usually he gets all my attention.’
‘Well, he’ll have you all to himself soon.’
Once they were all in the boat, the owl left Amanda’s head and perched on the prow. Then they were off, scudding across the waves at a speed which thrilled Alex. Spray hit his face and ran down his cheeks in rivulets. They cut through pillars of golden sunlight, and tacked through avenues of deep shadow. Once or twice Amanda barked an order and Alex had to jump to some task with alacrity or earn her displeasure. Still, even though she treated him with less respect than gentry do their scullery maids, he found the whole experience exhilarating. He loved it. It filled him with a white wind that carried his spirit to the very heights of the attic.
‘Free!’ he cried, as the little boat shot over the surface of the water, its spinnaker billowing proudly. ‘Free as a bird!’
The owl’s head swivelled and the big eyes glared.
‘Well, some birds,’ amended Alex weakly. ‘The ones that actually are free.’
They made excellent progress. Amanda taught him even more about the skylight suns and stars, filling in his knowledge where there were gaps. She was much more adept at following the motion of the swell than he was and her touch was sensitive enough to feel it in the tiller when it was hardly even there. Certainly when Alex tried it, he could feel nothing at all. The shape of the dust clouds, the colour of the waves, the angles of the rafters high up in the roof, these were her guides. Her navigating skills were, as she had said, almost as good as those of the bortrekker. She also had the mystical uncanny knack of missing flotsam and jetsam which might damage her boat.
Sometimes, privately, Alex took her for a witch.
They made the far side in good time, even when a fog delayed them in a busy part of the tank known as the Rust-riven Roads, where she said many an Attican had fallen from the mast or rigging to end his days. The owl helped them in the fog, by hooting to warn other vessels of their intentions. When Amanda was not listening, Alex whispered to the owl, ‘At least you’re good for something.’
The owl farted.
Once they made the far side, the trekking began. Days of it. It was sometimes tedious, sometimes exciting. They circled villages full of lumpy, plaster-covered Atticans with their sewing-machine cars. They avoided dangerous places, like mountains made of weapons. They crossed deserts of boards with dunes of old clothes and forded shallow tanks on the edges of dark plains of planks. Forests there were, of many different trees, and valleys of dust, and lanes of boxes. Sometimes there was kindness and food from local people. At other times Amanda avoided contact, knowing the region was hostile to people, both native and not. It was long and arduous yet – yet deep down in some way Alex did not want it to end.
The owl was a constant companion, sometimes on Amanda’s head, but now sometimes on one shoulder or the other. Alex was surprised to learn she had conversations with it, always just out of his hearing. Did it reply? It seemed to. He was never quite sure. It reminded him that Amanda was not quite human any more, no longer a real person. She was something else, something part fey, part human, part attic-creature. Even if he were to stay a hundred years with her, he would never really get to know her.
As she had promised, Amanda knew her paths. She took