A Broom at the Masthead (The Drowned Books Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

sunlight, and a place in the world. And a girl who
loved him, and - he moved her hand, carefully, from her possessive grip on his
backside - for some unfathomable reason of her own, desired him.
    What more could
a man wish for?
    He was almost
asleep, and thinking of nothing more useful than the comfort of the soft
breathing weight of her in his arms, when he heard the first scream.
     
     
    7
     
    He came bolt upright with a scream of
his own, and Thomazine came upright with him though she was barely awake, and
he could smell smoke -
    "Fire,"
he said, no more than that, with every hair standing up on his neck and the
flesh cringing on his bones. " Tibber ," and he took her by the
shoulders and he shook her till her head lolled on her shoulders and her
eyelashes fluttered and she would not wake, she murmured and blinked but she
did not wake, and he could smell smoke, smell meat roasting, hear the crackle
of flames and the warm orange glow of firelight under the door, he could hear
raised voices and running feet on the stairs, the roar of the flames and the
first splintering crash as the windows -
    "Wha'?"
she said drowsily, and he was half out of bed and pulling her with him,
dragging her by the arm across the crumpled sheets  -
    "Fire!"
    The wench was
heavier than she looked, deadweight, and she pulled her arm free and blinked at
him sleepily, "What?"
    "There's -
fire!"
    The ragged
muscle in his cheek gone stiff and twitching with panic, even now, and he could
barely speak so that she could understand, but it didn’t matter because she was
a little more awake, shaking her head and pushing her hair out of her eyes,
yawning. 
    "Russell,
what?"
    "No.
Time!"
    And she
resisted, she would go nowhere, and it was all he could do now not to drag her
by main force across the bed and throw her over his shoulder -
    "Smoke!"
    "There's no
smoke," she said, perfectly calmly. "Russell, you're dreaming."        
    "I heard
-"
    “It’s all
right,” she said, and he half-believed her, and she shook his arm until he
looked at her. “ Thankful . It is all right. It’s –“ 
    Well, it wasn’t
all right, clearly it wasn’t all right, whatever it was, as another yowl of
bloodcurdling ferocity split the air and Thomazine’s eyebrows rose. “Well, it’s
just noisy, then,” she said firmly. She opened the door a crack as a further
set of footsteps went thumping down the landing. “See? Mama? What’s amiss?”
    The sight of Het
Babbitt on the shadowy landing, as plump and four-square as a little hedgehog
in her stout flannel nightgown, was oddly comforting. “Nothing, dear,” she said
blithely. “There have been babies a-plenty born under this roof before, and I
imagine there will be plenty more to come. Everything proceeds as it should.
And really, Thankful, to be so squalmish – I recall you standing in that very
doorway when Joyeux was born, dear, you are no stranger to childbirth.”
    She gave a fond,
reproving shake of the head. “Now, young lady, I am needed elsewhere, for I
very much suspect you will be an auntie again by dawn. Go back to bed,” and she
smiled, “the both of you. Your father is gone for the midwife, Zee, so I am
sure there will be much commotion shortly, and if I know your father he will
have the house about its ears on his return. He has never been one to panic
quietly, the dear man."
    She smiled
again, and evidently dismissed her new-married daughter, who stood in no want
of assistance, from her immediate thoughts, as she pottered down the landing
towards the stairs. Thomazine closed the door again, firmly. 
    “There, now, you
see? We are not besieged, the house is not falling – “
    She was
laughing, and he was not. In his head, he knew that he was in a place of
safety, with the woman he loved, and that all was well. In his heart –
- a woman screaming, the sound of hoofbeats crashing on the stone flags of
the yard, the leap and flare of firelight –
    “Russell?”
    He shook his
head.