‘We’ve got to get those coordinates,’ Valian said. ‘If the Jar of Shadows—’
‘Shh,’ Ivy hushed, raising a finger to her lips. ‘There’s someone else here.’ She tried reaching out with her whispering, this time focusing on her immediate surroundings. Perhaps all the adrenalin running through her system had sharpened her senses – because it worked: she could pinpoint the presence of one of the dead approaching through the long grass. She spun on her heels and stamped into the bog.
‘Ouch!’ cried a shrill voice. A wobbly red and blue jester’s hat loomed out of the shadows. ‘What do you think I am? An ant?’ Johnny Hands had a scowl on his face and a hand to his chest.
Ivy squared her shoulders. ‘You were following us! And you were hiding outside the shepherd’s hut.’
Johnny Hands folded his arms. ‘What if I was? A ghoul has to work. There are several parties interested in Jack-in-the-Green’s whereabouts, I’ll have you know. I don’t suppose you saw what he wrote in that featherlight … My patron would be very interested to know.’
Ivy narrowed her eyes, wondering who Johnny Hands’ patron was. Still, if Johnny was spying on Jack-in-the-Green, at least he wasn’t working for the Dirge.
‘I can pay you for the information,’ he added. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy-pink plastic yo-yo.
Ivy gasped. ‘But that’s mine!’ The yo-yo had saved her life on several occasions. She hadn’t forgotten the confident feeling it gave her.
‘I’m afraid, my dear, that it was yours,’ Johnny Hands said. ‘You lost it and I claimed it. Uncommoners pretty much invented “finders keepers”.’
‘What will you trade for it?’ she asked through gritted teeth.
‘I’m only exchanging it for one thing,’ Johnny Hands told her. ‘The contents of that featherlight.’
Ivy kept her face blank. There was a way to intercept featherlight messages, she knew. ‘The yo-yo first, then I’ll tell you what was in that message.’
Johnny Hands smirked. ‘The message first, then I’ll hand over the yo-yo.’ He extended a gloved hand.
‘I don’t technically have the message yet,’ Ivy admitted. ‘We’re on our way to get it. Do we have a deal or not?’
Johnny Hands’ dark-ringed eyes tightened. ‘Well played, Ivy Sparrow.’ He shook her hand and slammed the yo-yo into her palm. ‘But I’m coming with you.’
The tall, wobbly brick tower of the featherlight mailhouse was now covered in dark vines, and there was moss on the tiled roof. Multi-coloured feathers of different sizes flew in and out of the building through teacup-sized holes.
Judy was waiting outside when they arrived, one roller skate resting up against the mailhouse wall. ‘You’re late – what happened?’ She spied Johnny Hands. ‘Oh.’
‘Glorious to meet you too, my dear,’ he said, tipping his jester’s hat in her direction.
‘He’s going to wait outside,’ Seb explained in a strained voice.
Johnny Hands muttered something that sounded like ‘Rude’ before gliding off.
Judy led Ivy, Seb and Valian into a small circular room at the bottom of the mailhouse. The last time Ivy had seen it, her great-uncle Cartimore Wrench – aka Ragwort – was living there, and it had reeked of unwashed clothes, rotting apple cores and filth. Now, the space was clean and bright, and the air smelled of ladies’ perfume and coffee. Jars filled with different feathers were arranged on shelves, each labelled with neat handwriting. Among others, Ivy read Long-Haul Albatross, Quick-Noting Pigeon and Send-a-Song Nightingale.
‘There’s no time to explain, but we need you to intercept a featherlight for us,’ Ivy told Judy hurriedly. ‘Can you do that?’
‘Er – technically yes, but my mum will kill me.’
‘It was sent a few minutes ago to Selena Grimes,’ Seb added. ‘We think it gave the location of the Jar of Shadows.’
Judy frowned. ‘I see. I’ll try my best. Do you know what feather he used?’
‘Greeny yellow with a fluffy grey tip,’ Valian said. ‘I memorized it.’
She nodded. ‘Sounds like parakeet. We’ll need to go upstairs; you can help.’
A set of winding timber stairs led them to the top of the tower.
‘I’m afraid it’s bad news about Amos Stirling,’ Judy said as they climbed. ‘I sent him a featherlight with a special long-distance feather – it would have found him anywhere. But … it didn’t even leave the mailhouse.’
‘So he’s Departed,’ Valian said. ‘They’re the only people you can’t send messages to. When they’re gone, they’re gone. I’ve tried it with Rosie. The feathers always leave. That’s how I know she’s still alive.’
Ivy turned round. ‘You know Rosie’s alive? Why didn’t you say so?’
Valian blinked. ‘Of course she’s alive. Did you think it was just wishful thinking? Why would I have been looking for her all this time if she was …’ He shook his head without finishing.
‘Valian, we’re sorry,’ Seb said behind them. ‘We should have had more faith. We’ll help you find her when this is over, we promise.’
Judy called down from the top of the stairs. ‘Come on, we haven’t got long!’
An even smaller room sat beneath the circular roof. The floor was carpeted in fluffy down, which whirled into the air every time the tower shifted.
‘The only way to intercept the message – if it hasn’t already been received – is to call all travelling feathers back here,’ Judy explained. ‘Between us, we’ll have to grab any parakeet ones that come in, and then resend the others. It will only amount to a short delay for most messages; I doubt anyone will notice.’ She cringed. ‘Except my mum, but I’ll deal with her later.’
Judy unhooked a horn hanging in the middle of the room and put it to her lips. Ivy expected to hear an ear-piercing sound, but when Judy puffed out her cheeks and blew, she heard nothing at all.
‘Quickly,’ Judy instructed, hanging the horn back up. ‘Stand by the holes. Get ready to catch anything green. It’s easier than it sounds; you just need to be focused.’
Ivy stood by six holes, arms outstretched. For thirty seconds or so nothing happened, and then a storm of dull thuds encircled the roof and feathers began swooping in through every hole.
‘Grab them!’ Valian yelled.
Ivy caught the first two by mistake – they weren’t even green – and dropped them onto the floor. She shook her head, trying to concentrate.
‘Got one!’ Seb shouted over her shoulder.
‘It’ll only last a few … more … seconds,’ Judy called, her voice strained.
The thudding stopped abruptly and the air cleared. Ivy turned round empty-handed, looking disappointed. ‘I didn’t get any – sorry.’
Judy and Seb were holding one green feather each; Valian had a peacock plume. When he saw everyone staring at it with quizzical expressions, he gave a thin smile and dropped it onto the pillow of feathers at his feet. ‘Similar colour. My mistake.’
‘You open the message like this,’ Judy told Seb, stroking her green feather backwards – from tip to quill. With a quick swish, it wrote a short message in the air.
Ivy shook her head. ‘It’s not that one.’
Judy snatched back the feather and ran her fingers along it in the opposite direction. It immediately disappeared with a tiny puff. ‘Seb, try yours.’
Seb was holding his feather as if it was a priceless sword, balancing it between both palms. Taking a breath, he stroked it as Judy had instructed and it began to write:
Ivy’s senses prickled. ‘That’s it! But … what does that mean? It’s nonsense.’
Valian stepped closer, watching the feather write two more lines. After it had finished, it bounced gently on the spot, the text glowing with a faint golden light. ‘Looks like Dead Man’s Code,’ he said. ‘It’s an ancient language the dead developed in order to keep secrets from the living.’
Judy examined the message. ‘My mum had to study Dead Man’s Code to be mailma
ster. She taught me how to read it.’ Her eyes widened as they followed the writing. ‘The Jar of Shadows is being hidden …’ She put a hand to her mouth before continuing to read faster. ‘Jack-in-the-Green asks Selena to join him there this afternoon to search for it together!’
‘So,’ Valian said, ‘where is it?’
Judy grabbed the green feather, stroking it from quill to tip so it vanished. ‘Sorry – if Selena doesn’t receive the feather soon, Jack-in-the-Green will know it was intercepted,’ she explained. ‘He might come here for my mum.’
‘Good thinking,’ Seb told her. ‘Er … where is the Jar of Shadows?’
Judy knelt down and began stroking each of the feathers, sending them back on their way with a little puff every time. ‘You can’t go there. It’s too dangerous.’
Ivy crouched to help her. ‘Judy, we have to,’ she said firmly. ‘Someone’s got to stop the Dirge from getting their hands on the jar. The life of every uncommoner in Lundinor is at stake. You’ve got to tell us.’
Judy sighed. ‘It’s hidden in the Skaptikon.’
‘Wait … that “living nightmares” place?’ Seb asked. ‘How are we going to search fo—?’
He was cut off by a loud crackle as Johnny Hands floated through the roof and hovered in the middle of the room. ‘Visiting the Skaptikon is not like going on some jolly holiday,’ he declared in a deep voice. ‘Don’t be fools.’
Ivy fell onto her bottom. ‘You were listening!’
‘Of course I was listening.’ He glared at them. ‘You can’t go to the Skaptikon. The less said about that place, the better. It still gives me nightmares, and I don’t even sleep.’
Valian cocked his head. ‘Wait … you’ve been to the Skaptikon?’
Johnny Hands rubbed his gloves together nervously. ‘Not as a prisoner, but I was there when they built it. The IUC recruited me to test it out.’
The International Uncommon Council … Ivy didn’t know what to say. Testing the Skaptikon couldn’t have been a pleasant experience.
‘One of the designers once told me that the way to fight the Skaptikon was to beat it at its own game. To fool it, like it fools you.’ He shook his head. ‘Of course, he also said that old socks made great tea bags, so who knows?’
‘Wait,’ Valian said. ‘So there could be a way to get into the Skaptikon safely?’
Johnny Hands raised a scruffy eyebrow. ‘My dear boy, like I said, the Skaptikon is no place for a jolly holiday. It has its own atmosphere inside – not even gravity behaves in the same way. It’s all back to front and upside down.’
Back to front … Ivy knew someone who saw the whole world that way.
‘Anyway, this is a pointless conversation,’ Johnny Hands said, fixing his jester’s hat tightly over his straggly hair. ‘Even if you find the place, it’s deep, deep below Lundinor. You’d never get in or out undetected.’ He began dissolving back through the rafters. ‘I’ve got to return to my patron with this information. Till our paths cross again, Ivy Sparrow!’
Once he’d gone, Ivy, Seb and Valian were quiet for a moment, then Valian took the Great Uncommon Bag out from under his jacket.
Judy looked up. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘If we leave now,’ Valian said, ‘we might have a head start. Selena can have only just received Jack-in-the-Green’s featherlight.’
‘I think Scratch might be able to help us when we’re inside,’ Ivy suggested, stuffing him into the left pocket of her dungarees, and her yo-yo into the right.
Seb pulled on his mandarin coat, stowing his drumsticks within.
Judy’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re all stupid,’ she said. Her eyes lingered on Seb. ‘Braver than anyone I’ve ever met … but still totally stupid.’
Ivy wasn’t sure where her earlier surge of confidence had come from, but once she’d emerged from the Great Uncommon Bag into the Skaptikon it swiftly left her.
At once her ears were assaulted by noises: a roaring wind, the distant clang of metal bars and incoherent shouting. The sounds seemed to permeate right through her skull, stifling her thoughts and blurring her vision. ‘Argh—’ She rubbed her temples as a hand tugged her up off the cold stone floor.
‘Just stay still,’ Valian said, his voice trembling. ‘It gets a bit better after a minute or so.’
They were in a windowless room about the size of a changing cubicle. The air was warm, as if they were standing close to an open fire.
‘The Skaptikon is messing with our senses.’ Valian was shivering. Ivy reached for him; his skin was like ice.
Seb arched his back and rubbed his shoulder. ‘I feel bruised. Like I’ve just fallen down some stairs.’
‘It must be affecting us all differently.’ Ivy was starting to sweat beneath her jacket but decided against taking it off. Johnny Hands had said that the Skaptikon fooled you; perhaps it was tricking their senses, telling them one thing when the reality was quite different.
Valian picked up the Great Uncommon Bag and tucked it inside his jacket. ‘There’s no alarm going off; the bag must have worked.’
The three of them examined their surroundings. A ragged hole in one wall appeared to lead out onto a dusty stone staircase covered in thorny weeds. Wind whistled through the opening.
‘What do you think this room is?’ Seb asked, wincing as he bent to pick up his rucksack. ‘A cell?’
‘The Skaptikon famously doesn’t have cells,’ Valian said. ‘It must be an old warden’s room. They stopped using them after a while; not even the wardens lasted long in this place.’ He slid a small garden trowel from his inside pocket. Ivy recognized it – Johnny Hands had given it to him last winter; it glowed pale blue when it sensed the presence of the dead. ‘Hopefully we can use Ivy’s whispering to find the jar and get out of here ASAP.’
Ivy’s face flushed. She didn’t like the thought of them relying on an ability she didn’t fully understand; she’d only really been able to harness her talents once. ‘I’ll try,’ she said with a forced smile. ‘If the broken soul inside the Jar of Shadows is powerful enough, I could use it as a homing beacon and pinpoint where it’s coming from.’ The soul inside the Great Uncommon Bag was stronger than most; she didn’t see why it shouldn’t be the same with the Jar of Shadows.
‘Let’s stay close,’ Valian suggested, zipping up his leather jacket and rubbing his gloves together to keep warm. ‘It’ll be better if we face this place together.’
Ivy was still sweltering. Seb drummed his fingers against his thighs, trying to relax. ‘Think of Johnny Hands’ advice,’ she told him. ‘Try and fool the Skaptikon like it fools you. Beat it at its own game.’
Seb looked at her blankly. ‘Yeah. Because we all totally understand what that means.’
Ivy led the way out into a series of interweaving staircases, doors, platforms and porticos – all constructed of the same grey stone. Light and shadow fell strangely, so it wasn’t clear where one structure ended and another began. Wind screeched in her ears; she couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
‘It’s like this artist I studied at school,’ Seb said. ‘Escher. He painted all these illusions and impossible constructions – stuff where it looked like a staircase was going down, when it was actually going up.’
No wonder it sends you mad, Ivy thought. She tried to concentrate on her feet, treading carefully over the weed-covered stone. Taking a few steps forward, she extended her senses. Echoing voices murmured all around her – the fragmented souls of the dead.
Valian’s trowel glowed brighter. ‘Could be inmates,’ he said. ‘Or could be Selena and Jack-in-the-Green. Be on your guard.’
Ivy listened carefully to each voice, checking for the jar, but couldn’t find it. After searching for a while she sensed a strange whisper carried on the wind. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to distinguish it from the others. It didn’t seem like the mutterings of one of the dead because it wasn’t moving. Instead, it felt trapped. Older. Darker; like someone chanting deep under the
earth.
Ivy’s eyes snapped open. ‘I think I’ve got it,’ she announced, surprising herself. It had to be the Jar of Shadows; it sounded similar to the Great Uncommon Bag. ‘But sensing it isn’t the problem; it’s locating it that’s going to be difficult. We need to go further in.’
They moved onto a platform with a sheer drop on both sides. Beneath them, a tangle of staircases twisted down into the shadows. Ivy’s sense of perspective warped every time she looked up from her shoes – the grey paths and steps seemed to fracture into jagged pieces and overlap. She didn’t suffer from vertigo, but the feeling was very similar, like seeing your surroundings through a kaleidoscope.
Seb rubbed the space between his eyebrows. ‘Is it me or does it feel like we’re walking upside down?’
Valian swayed. ‘Or like the ground is moving.’
‘Time to call on a friend, I think.’ Ivy reached into her satchel and retrieved Scratch, who was trembling.
‘Ivy don’t likings in the Skaptikon,’ the bell said, whirring nervously. ‘Gettings of out?’
‘No, Scratch,’ Ivy said. ‘We have to stay in here till we find the Jar of Shadows. Can you help us? What does this place feel like to you?’
‘Normals not,’ he said in an unsteady voice. ‘Scratch sensings storm can.’
At that moment a deafening clap split the air. Ivy threw her arms out for balance, the sound reverberating through her bones. ‘Was that thunder?!’ she exclaimed.
‘No way.’ Seb tipped his head back. ‘This is impossible.’
It was raining.
Droplets fell from nowhere, spitting off the grey stone. Ivy felt her cheeks; her skin was bone dry. It must be some kind of illusion. She searched for clouds, and instead spotted two figures standing on a platform high above her. One was incredibly tall and green; the other hovered over the floor, robes flapping in the wind. Even through the rain Ivy could see them glaring down at her.
No! Her legs jerked. ‘Seb! Valian!’ she shrieked. ‘We need to run. Now!’
The Smoking Hourglass Page 14
