The time came about an hour later. Mitt put his head through, turned his shoulders sideways, and shoved. He could hardly do it. He thought he must have grown. His stomach stuck. By the time he finally forced himself through onto the high sill outside, his stomach felt as if it had been pulled down near his knees. He turned round, hanging on to the bars, to help Ynen and Hildy through.
But Ynen could not get through. He was too well nourished. His shoulders were just too thick. He pushed and squirmed and squeezed, and Mitt pulled him perilously from outside, but it was simply no good. Ynen had to give up, bruised and miserable. Hildy was even worse. She was bigger than Mitt all over and could barely even get her head through. They stood unhappily against the window, while Mitt crouched outside with his knees aching from the strain, feeling both unsafe and obvious, wondering what they were going to do now.
“Do I come in or what?” Mitt said angrily.
“Could you come back up and unlock the door for—” Ynen began to say.
“Oh, ye gods!” said Hildy. “There’s Father! Look!” Her face was suddenly bright red, and she looked as if she was going to cry again.
Mitt swiveled himself round on the sill to look. The man trudging along the shingle of the causeway was wearing farmer’s clothes and big boots, but he was certainly Navis. Mitt knew him by the way he walked and, even at that distance, by the face that was so like Harchad’s and Hildy’s. “It is, too!” Mitt said. “You lot have the luck of Old Ammet!”
“It’s not lucky at all,” said Ynen.
“Mitt, go down and warn him, quick!” said Hildy. “Tell him we’re prisoners and it’s not safe for him here. Quickly, before Al sees him!”
“But he’ll know me,” Mitt objected.
Hildy shook the bars
in her anxiety. “He can’t possibly—not in those clothes. If you won’t go, I’ll have to shout, and someone will hear!”
“All right, all right!” said Mitt. “I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him to keep back on the mainland, and then I’ll have a go at letting you out. Tireless Mitt does all the work again.”
“Oh shut up!” said Ynen.
“And hurry up!” said Hildy.
Mitt made a face at both of them and slid down the drainpipe. Mitt to the rescue! he thought. He reached the yard wall without anyone noticing him at all. Nobody seemed particularly interested when he shot down from the wall and raced to the gate.
Navis was just about to come through it. Close to, Mitt saw that he looked tired and not very well shaved. The big boots were caked with mud. But Navis took no notice of Mitt as Mitt darted out of the gate to meet him. That encouraged Mitt. Navis did not remember him. He could only have seen Mitt for half a minute on the day of the Festival, after all.
“Hey!” Mitt said to him. “Don’t come in here. It’s not safe.”
Mitt had reckoned without two things. Navis had been a fugitive, living on his wits, for days now. And he had Ynen’s memory for faces. Or perhaps not only for faces, for he recognized Mitt mainly by his build and the way he ran. And since Navis had no reason to think Mitt would do him a good turn, he simply looked at Mitt as people do when they are surprised to find themselves addressed by a total stranger and walked past him into the courtyard.
Mitt was so annoyed by this haughtiness that he would have let Navis alone had it not been for Ynen and Hildy watching from above. He ran after Navis and took hold of his sleeve. Navis shook Mitt’s hand off and walked on. Mitt was forced to trot beside him, trying to explain.
“See here, it’s not safe for you here. Lithar’s wrong in the head, and the fellow who shot Hadd got hold of him and made him take Hildy and Ynen prisoner. They’re up there, in that room with bars. Take a look.”
Since there were so few people about, Mitt risked pointing. But Navis would not demean himself to look. He trudged on, trying to decide why this murdering brat should spin him a yarn like this and taking no notice of Mitt at all.
“Father’s not listening!” Hildy said, with her head pushed against the bars. “Isn’t that just like him!”
“He may only be pretending not to listen because it’s safest,” Ynen suggested hopefully.
Mitt hoped Navis was pretending, too. “Hildy and Ynen sent me,” he explained, feeling sure this would convince Navis. But Navis tramped through the main doorway of the mansion into a large stone room without appearing to have heard. The room was full of people. Mitt hung back in the doorway, wondering whether he dared follow Navis in. They were mostly island people. The singsong of their talk rang round the room. Mitt decided that it was safe enough and ran after Navis to make one more attempt.
“Do come out of here,” he said, dodging about near Navis’s shoulder. “They’ll sell you to Harl to kill. Honest.”
Navis looked at someone beyond Mitt’s head and called out loudly, “Will one of you take this offensive child away, please!”
Mitt sensed a movement in the crowd and got ready to run. “Can’t you listen to me, you pigheaded idiot!” he said.
“Will you shut your unpleasing mouth?” said Navis. “Guard! Remove this, will you!”
Mitt turned and ran. But the guard was nearer than he thought. Two big men seized him as he turned. Mitt lost his temper then. He kicked and struggled and called Navis a number of names he had learned on the waterfront.
“Oh, him again,” Al said from behind Mitt. “Not to worry, sir. I’ll take care of him, sir.”