It was then that the first explosion occurred; the fo’c’s’le of the ship suddenly disintegrated into matchwood. The slaves fell silent and stared with amazement, almost as if they thought it was a joke. In the momentary silence, the voice of Doggins could be heard shouting furiously: “Get out of there you fools!” Then he turned and fled as a tremendous explosion rocked the boat.
Black smoke poured up from the decks and a shower of debris rattled down on the bubble dome. The children in front of Niall were clapping and cheering with excitement, apparently assuming that this was all part of the entertainment. Fireworks were exploding all over the island, and Niall observed with misgivings that the marquee suspended against the cliff had caught fire and was dissolving in an upward surge of flame. The island itself exploded in an ear-splitting roar; as it did so, Niall remembered the gunpowder scattered on the floor of the cave. A second later, the grandstand rocked back and forth as the earth shook, hurling children to the floor. Women began to scream, then to cough and choke as black smoke billowed under the bubble glass dome. The trembling was like an earthquake; fragments of rock pounded down on to the dome like black hail. Some of the seats collapsed; most of them seemed remarkably stable. One huge piece of rock, as large as a man, smashed its way through the bubble glass, splintering the steps below Niall. But most of them caused only star-shaped cracks in the glass, which, in spite of its transparency, was obviously as strong as steel.
Surprisingly, there was no rush to escape; everyone realised they were safer inside. The children below cowered on the floor, staring up at the glass above them as it was darkened with falling rubble. Odina had seized Niall’s hand and buried her face against his shoulder. The crashing and shaking gradually receded like thunder, until all was still again.
Niall said: “I’m going to see if Doggins is all right.” He made his way down the stairs, clinging onto a rail and skirting the hole that had been made by the falling rock. The smell of dust and sulphur dioxide was choking so that he was unable to swallow. It was like walking through a heavy fog. As the dust settled, and the sunlight revealed what had happened, Niall realised how lucky they had been to be enclosed in the bubble dome. All the tents and sideshows had been blown away. Where the island had been, there was a deep crater in the floor of the quarry. And behind it, the explosives cave had disappeared; the cliff above it had collapsed, and there was only a mountainous pile of rubble.
He found Doggins, looking dusty and angry, staring into the crater. Niall said:
“Thank heavens you’re all right.”
“Oh, I’m all right. But I’ve lost a hundred bleedin’ tons of explosive.” He gestured with fury and despair at the pile of rubble.
“What about the slaves?”
Doggins said sourly: “They got what they deserved, bloody idiots. But what am I going to do for explosives for the rest of the year?”
“Hadn’t you better go and find your wife? I expect she’s worried about you.” He could not get used to referring to wives in the plural.
“Yes, I expect so.” With a groan of vexation, Doggins turned back towards the grandstand, whose dome was covered with dust and rubble, some of it stained an ominous red. Behind them there was another thunderous crash as a further section of the cliff collapsed.
Mostig, the bald-headed assistant, hurried out from the tunnel under the grandstand; to Niall’s surprise he was smiling broadly. He chortled as he patted Doggins on the shoulder.
“Marvellous! You’ll get promotion for this!”
Doggins glared at him, evidently suspecting sarcasm. “What are you talking about?”
Mostig lowered his voice. “They think it was all part of the show. I wouldn’t tell ’em any different if I was you.”
A crowd of bombardier beetles emerged from under the sagging dome and surrounded Doggins. They were waving their feelers and making high-pitched chirping noises, and even Niall could tell they were conveying congratulations. Doggins turned from one to the other with a dazed smile, and waved his fingers with a deprecatory gesture. Niall was puzzled when the largest of the beetles raised his right foreleg and placed it gently on the top of Doggins’ head, and Doggins immediately prostrated himself on the ground. He asked Mostig in a whisper: “What does that mean?”
Mostig was staring so intently that Niall had to repeat the question.
“It means. . . it means he’s saying they regard Bill as one of themselves,” Mostig said finally. He seemed unable to believe his eyes.
“And is that a great compliment?”
“Of course it is! It’s like being. . . made king.”
Doggins was being urged to rise to his feet; he did so with an air of broken humility. For a moment, Niall encountered his eyes and was startled by their anguished expression.
Now the smoke was drifting away; beetles and human beings were issuing from the grandstand. Lucretia, brushing the dust from her black toga, looked on the verge of tears, and an air of dejection hung over the rest of the wives and children. When she saw her husband surrounded by beetles, she looked apprehensive; but as she listened to the high-pitched stridulations, her expression changed to delighted astonishment, then to incredulity. The other wives and the children, realising that something important was happening, also became watchful and silent. Finally, the beetles moved off, and Doggins once more prostrated himself on the ground and remained there until they were out of sight. When he stood up, Lucretia flung her arms round his neck, and the wives and children crowded around him. Mostig muttered in Niall’s ear:
“Well, some people are born lucky.”
Niall was looking for Odina; a moment later he saw her among the crowd that streamed from the grandstand; it was obvious that she was also looking for him. Niall started to push his way towards her. Before he had advanced more than a few yards, someone gripped his arm. It was Doggins.
“Don’t go away. I want a word with you.”
“All right. But I have to talk to that commander over there. . .” He waved to Odina but she was looking the other way.
Doggins said: “Later.” He seized Niall by both arms and steered him firmly in the opposite direction, towards the platform on which the musicians had been playing. Behind this, they were invisible to the crowd.
“That Fortress — can you tell me where it is?”
“Well, yes. But I’d have to draw you a map.”
“Never mind the map. Could you take me there?”
Niall stared at him in astonishment; he thought there must be some misunderstanding.
“But it’s in the slave quarter of the city.”
Doggins nodded impatiently. “I know that. Can you take me?”
“When?” Niall was thinking of Odina.
“Now — tonight.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s impossible.”
“Why?” It was almost a howl of agony.
“Because I’ve promised to go back to the spiders.”
Doggins shook his arm. “What are you talking about, you idiot? I told you I’d handle that.”
“But that was before she found me — the commander over there. . .”
Doggins groaned. “You mean you’re under arrest?”
“Not exactly. It’s just that I promised her. . .”
“What’s going on between you two?” Niall avoided his eyes. “There is something going on, isn’t there?”
Niall felt guilty on Odina’s behalf; he said finally: “She wants to marry me.”
To his surprise, Doggins gave a sigh of relief. “Thank God!” He punched Niall on the shoulder. “So if she wants to marry you, she’s not going to turn you over to the crawlies, is she?”
“But she wants me to go back, and I’ve promised. . .”
“That’s all right. You can do that tomorrow.” His voice took on a pleading note. “You can persuade her. Tell her you’ve promised to help me this evening. Tell her what you like. She can stay here overnight and you can both go first thing in the morning.”
“But why do you need me to go with you? I could draw you a map.”
Doggins shook his head. “That’s no good. You brought the slaves here this morning. So you’ve got to take ’em back this evening. Right?”
Niall was bewildered. “The slaves?”
“That’s right. The slaves.” He winked.
Suddenly, Niall began to understand what Doggins had in mind, and it startled him. He turned his face away to conceal the hope that made his heart beat faster; Doggins mistook this for hesitation.
“Come on now. It’s not much of a favour.”
Niall drew a deep breath. “I’ll have to speak to Odina first.”
Doggins squeezed his arm. “I’ll go and get her.”
While Doggins was away, Niall’s mind was racing. He found it hard to believe his good fortune, yet his relief was tinged with doubt. For the past few hours he had been wondering how to persuade Doggins to become an ally; now it looked as if he had decided to do it of his own accord. What baffled Niall was why he was prepared to take such a risk.