Tortoise reached up from the ladder and placed the lantern on the deck above, then clambered out onto another deck. He stood up with the lantern, and almost fell back into the hole when he found Gecko staring out of the gloom.

“Where have you been?” Tortoise asked grumpily.

“Looking around,” Gecko said. “It’s a really big ship! There’s lots going on.”

“We’re supposed to report to Polly. Do you know where we are?”

“In the middle somewhere, I think.”

“You’re lost, you mean.”

“No, we’re exploring! Who knows what we’re going to find!”

“Well explore us a way out then.”

Gecko cocked his head. “Did you hear that?”

Tortoise listened. “No. What is it?”

“I’m not sure. I keep thinking I hear something. I think it’s coming from over here somewhere…” He put his head and hands against the wall and clicked a few times, listening carefully.

“I’m tired,” Tortoise said. “There’s a light that way—let’s go ask for directions.”

“You go on ahead,” Gecko said, still listening to the wall. “I’ll catch up.”

Tortoise didn’t need another invitation. He plodded towards the light.

#

Standing among the hanging pots and clouds of steam was the cook.

A huge bovine man with chestnut-brown hair and tasselled piercings, he moved slowly and efficiently, his wide, wicked-looking horns gently clinking on the pots. He was dressed in a white, blood-spattered apron and green pants, and his arms were covered in thick, tattooed lines.

“Can I help?” he said, turning his huge head to Tortoise. One of his eyes was an icy blue.

“Um… ah… sorry to interrupt, sir,” Tortoise said. “It’s just that I’m a bit lost.”

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“Don’t call me ‘sir’. I work for a living.”

“I’m terribly sorry—”

“Forget it. An old joke. Here, come in so I can get a proper look at you. A new recruit, I take it. I’m Cook. Call me Gary if you like.”

“Is that your real name?”

Cook shrugged. “Everyone calls me Cook. Gary’s what I was called when I was born.”

“Then I’ll call you Gary,” Tortoise said. “I’m Tortoise.”

“Good to meet, Tortoise,” Cook said. “I’d shake, but I’m covered in blood.” He gestured with a large cleaver to the fresh ribcage on the bench in front of him. The smell of blood was disturbingly strong.

“What happened?” Tortoise asked.

Cook looked at him. “You a herbivore?”

“I don’t know. What’s a herbivore?”

“You eat animals, insects, eggs, milk, blood?”

Tortoise thought for a moment. “No, that’s disgusting.”

Cook grunted. “Plants?”

“Yes,” Tortoise said. “And fruit.”

“I’m with you, mostly. Nothing like a big salad. But we have carnivores, plus omnivores, insectivores. So we carry fresh supplies.” He hacked out a section of the ribs and laid it out on the bloody chopping block.

“Fresh supplies?”

“Live ones. Pigs, chickens, mealworms, goats. Sometimes a cow. Whatever we can get our hands on really.” Cook chopped the ribs effortlessly. “We’re all meat,” he added after a moment, as if to explain. “Some of us just talk more.”

Tortoise stared at the rib cage. “Who—?” He stopped himself.

“Who kills them?” Cook said. “I do, mostly. Better that way. Less screaming.”

Tortoise didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He noticed a large cowrie shell hanging round the cook’s neck, and wondered what it meant.

“Where you want to go?” Cook asked, continuing to demolish the carcass.

“The deck,” Tortoise said.

“Ah. Usual story. The trick is to remember where you are lengthways—sometimes you have to go down before you can go up. You’ll work it out. Takes time, not as much as you’d think.”

“How long have you been on the Pegasus?” Tortoise asked.

“Oh, a long time. Years. Not sure I could tell you how many, tell you the truth. Time moves differently on a ship. Speaking of which, I’m almost done. You have five minutes to help wash up? I’ll take you up.”

#

The sky was fierce pinks and a brilliant orange.

Tortoise felt a little queasy. He held the smooth side of the ship and smelt the salt of the dark sea until the queasiness passed. It was a lot cooler than earlier. And—except for the sound of the sea, and the creaking of the ship—a lot quieter, too.

Something splooshed in the dark. He took another deep breath, wondering what it was. Whatever it was, it didn’t splash again, and, feeling a bit better, he made his slow, steady way through the night towards the back—no, the stern—of the ship.

Polly’s cabin was right where Gary had said it was. It was hard to miss: the door was huge, with three ornate brass doorknockers of different sizes at different heights. The middle one, like the others, was a life-like octopus with swirling arms and tusks. Tortoise paused in front of it. The octopus looked as if he was about to say something. Tortoise wasn’t sure what, exactly. Something serious.

He grasped a loop in one of the arms, and knocked.

##

Next episode: Things That Are Known, And Things That Are Unknown