The Cradle of All Worlds. Jeremy Lachlan

in my sweaty sheets. This, though – actually being knocked unconscious – ain’t too shabby at all, like being wrapped in a thick, warm blanket. A floating cocoon where no bad dream can touch you. A safe place, deeper than normal sleep.

      Only problem is you have to wake up.

      ‘I was surprised to get your message.’ A deep voice tugs at my ears. ‘Capturing her after all these years. Throwing her inside this thing. Quite the change of character, Robin.’

      ‘Perhaps.’ An old and scratchy voice. Her voice. ‘But I have my reasons.’

      ‘So you keep saying. You have not, however, told me what those reasons are. Nothing is ever this simple with you. You haven’t set foot on a boat in years. How did you know she was going to end up in the water? You cannot tell me it was mere coincidence.’

      ‘Of course it was no coincidence. There is no such thing.’

      ‘Then how –’

      ‘You have waited fourteen years for this moment, Eric. I am surprised you are asking any questions at all. I have handed over the girl. She is no longer under my protection.’

      A moment of silence.

      ‘You know what this means, Robin. What you’re giving me permission to do. You may have struck a deal with my predecessor, but I won’t stand for it. Breaking curfew, wandering the streets, knocking on my door, bold as brass. Attacking an innocent group of people – attacking my own son. And another quake – today of all days – hours before the Lament? They’re getting worse. We all know it. We cannot live like this. We won’t.’

      ‘Like I said, I can protect her no more.’

      ‘And what of the other?’

      ‘His time will come soon enough. Leave him be. Now, if you please, Ms Doe is about to wake up. I would like a quick word with her alone.’

      ‘You think you can tell me –’

      ‘I know I can tell you, Eric. Out. Don’t even think about listening at the door. After I am through with Jane you may do what you wish, but until then I want absolute privacy.’

      I don’t like the sound of this, but she’s right about one thing. My cocoon’s unravelling, slowly spinning me through the dark. A door slams shut. My eyes blink open. Shapes blur, senses sharpen. It’s time to face the waking world again, whether I like it or not.

THE CAGE AND THE CURATOR

      The worst thing about being known as the Cursed One is that when you’re just minding your own business, following instructions from a secret message, you can somehow end up being chased, drowned, trapped in a fishing net and smacked in the head with a shotgun. My head hurts, my mouth tastes like a rotten sock full of seaweed, and I’m pretty sure there’s a dead fish trapped in my undies. I feel for the little guy, but at least its troubles are over.

      Mine, it seems, have only just begun.

      ‘Welcome back to the world of the living, Jane.’

      I’m sprawled on the floor of a cage. A cage lashed to the back of a wagon parked in a poky old boat shed. My cloak’s long gone, my tunic’s still damp, my wrists and feet are tied, and there’s a rag stuffed in my mouth. A little rowboat’s leaning against the wall to my right, surrounded by a clutter of crates and anchors. To my left –

      Oh no.

      Winifred Robin’s staring down at me.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I am not going to hurt you. I trust you already know my name.’ I nod, just the once, my eyes fixed on hers. She doesn’t shy away, doesn’t blink. ‘Good. I am the curator of the Museum of Otherworldly Antiquities. Sorry about the cage and bindings, but I had no choice. I will remove your gag but you must understand, crying out for help would be rather pointless.’ I flinch as she reaches through the bars. ‘Easy now. Easy.’

      I lean towards her, transfixed by the jagged scars crisscrossing her face, neck and hands. Are they claw marks? Battle wounds? Really, really bad paper cuts?

      ‘Lovely,’ the woman mutters, throwing the spit-drenched gag to the floor. ‘There was another quake while you were in the water. Just a tremble, really, but I am afraid your little escapade has set everybody on edge. They feared you might summon another upon waking.’

      I try to spit the dirty taste from my mouth. It doesn’t work. ‘Listen, lady –’

      ‘Winifred.’

      ‘Right. Winifred, whatever. Look, you’ve got the wrong idea here. It wasn’t my fault the jetty broke. If those idiots hadn’t chased me out there in the first place –’

      ‘I do not care about the jetty.’

      ‘Then tell everyone I was only following the mayor’s orders. Where’s my cloak? Check the pockets. There’s a photo inside with a message on the back, and –’

      ‘I know of the message.’ Winifred plucks a silver hip-flask from her cloak, throws it through the bars onto my lap. ‘Drink. It is tea infused with a sprig of feverfew. A herb to soothe your head.’

      ‘Sure it is.’ I nudge the flask aside. ‘Thanks.’

      ‘For goodness’ sake, girl, I am not trying to poison you. If I wanted you dead I would have let you drown. I understand it may be difficult for you to believe, but I am on your side.’

      ‘My side? I’m sorry, but did I wake up on a different island or did you accidentally whack yourself in the head as well? You do know who I am, right?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘But you don’t hate me.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘You’re not scared of me? Not even a little bit?’

      Winifred sighs, cocks an eyebrow.

      ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘If you’re my pal, why throw me in a cage?’

      ‘That is . . . complicated.’ Winifred wanders over to one of the grimy windows set into the boat shed’s double doors. ‘What would you say if I told you every man, woman and child on Bluehaven was in grave danger and you were the only person who could help them?’

      ‘I’d say you’ve clearly been sampling too many of your special herbs.’ I pick up the flask with my bound hands, give it a cautious sniff. ‘Why?’

      Winifred turns around. ‘Because every man, woman and child on Bluehaven is in grave danger and you are the only person who can help them.’

      Silence fills the shed, but not for long. A bubble of laughter swells in my gut and bursts from my mouth. I can’t help it. It’s a real shame, too. Unable to stand the taste in my mouth any longer, I’d just decided it was safe to take a swig of tea. It was hot and sweet and it really did make my head feel better. Now it’s gone up my nose and down my chin.

      Winifred isn’t impressed. ‘This is no laughing matter, Jane.’

      ‘But – but this is a joke, right? Some sort of prank for the festival.’

      ‘Unfortunately for us all, it is not.’ Winifred circles my cage like a shark. ‘The tension that has existed between you and the rest of the townsfolk is about to reach boiling point. Mayor Obi and I came to an agreement long ago – gods bless his soul – but Eric Atlas is not as understanding, or as forgiving. I was talking to him before you woke up. He is furious about what transpired earlier. Convinced you tried to drown his son.’

      ‘That’s a load of rubbish! I told you, check my cloak. Atlas told me to meet him –’

      ‘No,’ Winifred says, ‘he didn’t.’

      I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It was her.