Seb leaped quietly down from his bunk. ‘Glad you came,’ he said, flashing her a smile. He sat cross-legged on the floorboards next to her.
‘First things first,’ Ivy began, shuffling up between Valian and Judy. ‘How are you feeling? That injury in the Skaptikon looked really serious.’
Valian tapped his jacket. Ivy heard the clink of metal. ‘The Raider’s Tonic has been helping,’ he said. Ivy realized he had a flask tucked inside. ‘When I returned to my room, Miss H and Miss W had left me several bottles of it. They must have heard about me being admitted to the infirmary.’
Ivy could have sworn she’d seen Ethel sending them a featherlight earlier, but she decided not to bother mentioning it.
‘What about you two?’ he asked.
Seb rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Feels like I just played a really hard game of football … and I was the only player on the team.’
It was Ivy’s head that hurt more than anything. Sensing the broken soul inside the Jar of Shadows had been like standing next to the speakers at a gig by Seb’s band. Her senses were still buzzing. ‘Something like that.’
‘What about that Alexander Brewster kid?’ Seb remarked. ‘Can you believe it? It was him all along – he’s the real genius behind Dragon’s Breath Ale.’
Ivy looked at her satchel, which was lying on the floor by her bunk. ‘And he helped me. After the underguards had gone he gave me back Amos’s journal. He didn’t ask any questions either.’
‘Maybe he didn’t care,’ Seb said. ‘His dad’s just been exposed as a massive liar. That’s probably his biggest concern right now.’
‘I suppose so.’ Ivy was shocked to find that Alexander’s own father had exploited him so callously.
Judy’s hazel eyes sparkled. ‘I’m still getting over the fact that you three have been into the Skaptikon and survived!’
‘We failed, though,’ Ivy said glumly. ‘Selena and Jack-in-the-Green got away with the Jar of Shadows, and they’re planning to open it at the Grivens contest tomorrow night. How are we going to stop them now?’
‘If we even survive till then.’ Seb propped an elbow on his knee, and rested his chin on it. ‘Selena’s gonna try to get rid of us before then, I just know it.’
‘There’s still hope,’ Judy told them. ‘There’s always hope.’ She pushed a small brown paper bag into the middle of the floor. ‘I made these. Try one – they’re meant to be good for thinking.’
Ivy peered closer. The bag was stuffed with dusty white cubes. ‘Are they … marshmallows?’
‘Made with mixology,’ Judy explained, grabbing one and holding it in front of her nose. ‘Mr Littlefair gave me the recipe when I was practising for my exams.’
Ivy reached into the packet and took one. It felt just like a regular marshmallow. She gave it a sniff. Vanilla. ‘What do they do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Judy said. ‘I was too busy studying to make them before, but like I said – they’re meant to help you think; to give you ideas. That’s why I’ve made them now.’
Valian and Seb grabbed one each. ‘It can’t make our situation any worse,’ Seb decided. ‘After three? One, two …’
On three, Ivy took a bite of her marshmallow. At first it was just gooey and sweet, but then it started fizzing. With a whoosh, her bottom lifted off the floor as a dense pillow of steam appeared beneath her.
‘What is this stuff?’ Seb was wobbling around on the small white cloud that had formed under him.
Judy dipped a gloved forefinger into it and rubbed it against her thumb. ‘Not sure. Perhaps it’s meant to be a cloud of thought …’ She took another bite of marshmallow. Ivy, Seb and Valian copied her.
A ball of cloud now appeared under Ivy’s satchel, tipping it up and spilling out the contents for the third time that day. Amos’s journal and the postcard were lifted up and carried into the centre of the room.
Ivy watched them as she bobbed up and down. The movement was soothing, helping to focus her mind. Floating towards her on a soft white wave, the journal seemed to be calling out to her. ‘When we were in the Skaptikon, even though she’d already found the Jar of Shadows, Selena still wanted to know where the journal was,’ Ivy remarked. ‘It must have another value that we don’t know about.’
Valian’s face brightened. ‘First Selena tries to destroy the postcard, and now she desperately wants the journal. The only connection is Amos Stirling. He’s the key to the whole mystery.’
The postcard bobbed over to Judy and she picked it up. ‘Oh, now that’s interesting,’ she commented, reading the message again. ‘Before my mum began her training in the Featherlight Guild, she worked at the Lundinor Registry, where the births and deaths of every uncommoner are recorded. You didn’t mention the posting date before – the twenty-seventh of December 1967. That’s two days before Selena Grimes died.’
Ivy’s skin prickled; she thought they might be close to a breakthrough. The rocking motion of the cloud allowed her imagination to drift …
‘This would be a whole lot easier if Amos Stirling wasn’t Departed,’ Seb said, swaying gently. ‘He’d have all the answers. There’s nothing uncommon that lets you go back in time, is there? Then we could go and ask him what’s going on.’
Valian snorted. ‘I wish.’
Ivy’s thoughts were being guided by a gentle tide, pushing her in one direction. They gradually gathered themselves around a single extraordinary concept.
She pondered the riddle they’d had to answer to get into the Well at the World’s End.
I have no wings and yet I fly.
If you master me, you will never die.
‘You don’t think we could use the Great Uncommon Bag, do you?’ she said.
The other three turned to her.
‘To do what?’ Judy asked.
‘To discover why Selena doesn’t want anyone to know about Amos,’ Ivy said. ‘To travel back in time.’
The next morning the inn was quiet.
‘She’s gone,’ Ivy said, trudging into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, sighing with regret. She’d wanted to see Granma Sylvie before they left. ‘There was a note on her pillow explaining that the underguard had called her in early again and she didn’t want to wake us. They’re exploring the bedrooms of the mansion today.’
Ivy could tell from Seb’s expression that he was just as disappointed. As things in Lundinor grew more dangerous, spending a few moments with Granma Sylvie seemed even more important. Ivy knew that they might not see her again.
‘I’ve still got the salt cellar. We can check on her when we get back from …’ Seb’s face hardened as he looked down at the Great Uncommon Bag.
‘I suppose so,’ Ivy agreed. She thought about her mum and dad too; they were so far away. ‘According to the note, Ethel’s coming to collect us after breakfast.’
Valian was sitting on the bottom bunk. ‘We’d better be quick then. It’ll be easy to avoid Ethel afterwards. There’s always a big sale along the Gauntlet today; the House of Bells will be packed.’
‘Hmm.’ Judy held a faded denim shirt against Seb’s chest. ‘You can’t wear the LA Lakers shirt; it’s too modern. What about this one? It’s from the 1950s.’
Smiling, Seb shrugged off his mandarin coat. ‘Good idea – thanks.’ Judy’s cheeks flushed.
Ivy smoothed down the long sleeves of the black kurta tunic Judy had given her, along with some khaki combat trousers and canvas pumps. Hobsmatch outfit number two. She liked this one because the tunic was loose fitting and easy to move around in.
‘This won’t be like looking at the photo in the uncommon frame, will it?’ Seb said darkly, arranging the Great Uncommon Bag.
‘If it even works,’ Ivy pointed out. They still couldn’t be certain of the bag’s capabilities.
Valian stood up and wiped his hands on his vintage Levis. ‘But if it does, just imagine what we could do. I could return to the day Rosie disappeared and learn what happened. I could even go back and stop my parents
—’
‘This is dangerous,’ Ivy cut in, glaring at Valian and her brother. ‘You’re right: this won’t be like looking at shadows of the past. This will actually be the past. We can’t afford to let anyone see us in case it changes the course of history. Anything we do could affect what happens now.’ The back of her neck tingled. They were messing with things more powerful than any they’d encountered before.
‘All right,’ Valian muttered. ‘If we risk disrupting the past, we’ll leave straight away and come back to the present. Hopefully we can find Amos before that happens.’ He took a luggage tag and pen out of his jacket pocket. ‘I’m using a label to be accurate.’
‘Are you sure I can’t come with you?’ Judy asked. ‘I want to stop them as much as you three.’
‘We need you to stay here in case something goes wrong,’ Valian said, gulping. ‘You’re the only other person who’ll know what’s happened to us.’ He scribbled on the luggage tag and tied the label to the side of the old hessian sack. ‘If this works, we’ll arrive in Lundinor two days after Amos sent the postcard – the twenty-ninth of December 1967, the night Selena died.’
Ivy fiddled with her gloves as Valian and Seb crawled into the bag before her. If the experiment went wrong, she didn’t know what might happen to them … She gave Judy a thin smile before putting her head inside.
The bag dragged her forward at high speed and whipped her around in a dizzying pattern of twists and turns – like the teacups at a fairground, except in pitch darkness. Pressure squeezed her face and chest, making her feel queasy. She caught the faint whiff of burning in the air. Just when she thought something might have gone seriously wrong, there was a flash of light and the bag spat her out at the side of a dark cobbled street.
Ivy scrambled to her feet, snatching the Great Uncommon Bag off the ground. From the silver bells hanging on the buildings she could tell that she was in Lundinor, but the undermart had a wintry feel: cast-iron streetlamps stood guard on the pavements and the air was full of the scents of cinnamon and roast chestnuts.
She gawped at the frost-topped roofs. The bag might just have worked …
‘Over here!’ Valian waved to Ivy from behind a stack of empty wooden crates beside the road. Stuffing the Great Uncommon Bag into her satchel, she dashed over and tucked herself down beside him.
Crouching on Valian’s other side, Seb looked like he was trying not to throw up. Ivy remembered the teacups sensation and guessed that his journey had been particularly awful. ‘Do you think this is it?’ she asked Valian, adrenalin surging through her. ‘Are we in 1967?’
Valian seemed lost for words. He shook his head and pointed to the crates, which were each stamped with the logo of the business opposite: Mr Snippets. Hanging in the pristine shop window were photographs of men sporting elaborate moustaches: one gentleman had two hairy galleons sailing on his upper lip; others had the roaring head of a dragon or the body of a vintage racing car. Ivy couldn’t decide if they’d been fashioned with an uncommon object, or if the resident barber was just incredibly talented. She searched for her reflection in the glass but it wasn’t visible; no one would be able to see them from the street.
‘My dad used to get his hair cut here when I was little,’ Valian managed, his voice disbelieving. ‘But it didn’t look as new as this. We must have gone back in time.’
‘So it worked!’ Ivy couldn’t believe it. Time travel.
‘You know what this means,’ Valian said. ‘I can return to my childhood and save them – Rosie and my parents …’
Ivy didn’t think it was wise to get his hopes up; there was so much they still had to learn. She squeezed his shoulder. ‘We’ve only been here a minute – we don’t know what’s going to happen. Let’s get this over with first.’
She locked eyes with him, and his expression hardened. ‘Yeah, OK. You’re right.’
The clip of heels suddenly disturbed the quiet street.
Ivy tensed. ‘Someone’s coming.’
Seb – who had finally regained his composure – craned his neck round the corner of the crates to get a better view. Ivy lowered her head, peeking through a gap.
Someone wearing a long grey cloak and red stilettos swept along the road. As the figure turned, Ivy, Seb and Valian glimpsed a pale face and a long dark plait.
Selena Grimes. She looked exactly the same as she did in Ivy’s time, almost fifty years later – except that in sixties Lundinor her feet touched the ground. Ivy was looking at a living Selena Grimes. ‘What’s she doing here?’
‘I don’t know, but I can’t see Amos yet,’ Valian whispered. ‘Let’s follow her – she might lead us to him.’
Seb got to his feet. ‘She’s heading down the street opposite.’
They pursued Selena from a distance, mixing with the traders on the main roads and hiding in the shadows where it was quieter. Selena’s heels were so noisy, they were always able to locate her, even if she occasionally drifted out of sight. The other uncommoners didn’t give them a second glance. Ivy hoped none of them had a good memory for faces. Her mind kept returning to the consequences of their time travel, but she tried not to dwell on it.
‘Look at what they’re using to fly,’ Seb said. ‘Vintage.’ He signalled to a stream of traders sweeping over the rooftops on old-fashioned vacuum cleaners with flowery fabric bags hanging from the back.
As they continued, Ivy noticed further evidence of the fact that they were walking through a Lundinor of another era – shop signs painted in old-fashioned fonts, and goods displayed in wicker baskets behind dusty wood-framed windows. Traders called ‘Cheerio’ as they left buildings; fashion pieces from later decades were missing from their Hobsmatch.
All at once Valian pointed to a recess in the wall. ‘Quick – in there. I think she’s going inside.’
They watched from the shadows as Selena stopped outside a door. Instead of producing a key to open it, she stamped one of her stilettos twice on the ground, and they saw a circular metal panel set into the cobbles beneath her feet.
‘Drain cover?’ Seb mouthed.
With a swish, the disc slid open and Selena Grimes descended into the ground as if there was a platform under her feet, lowering her down. Ivy tensed. The only thing she knew about the drains of Lundinor was that they were inhabited by foul races of the dead.
‘We’d better investigate what’s down there,’ Valian decided.
They waited thirty seconds before sneaking after Selena. The drain cover was only big enough for one person to stand on at a time. Ivy went first. She held her yo-yo in front of her, ready for anything that might jump out when she reached the bottom.
An empty stainless-steel tunnel welcomed her. She pressed herself against the cold wall as she waited for Seb and Valian to descend behind her. The air smelled fusty and the floor was wet.
‘Ivy – anything down here?’ Seb asked, appearing in a crouch on the drain cover. He aimed the light from his mobile phone ahead of them.
The end of the passageway was shrouded in shadow; there was no sign of movement. ‘Nothing yet.’ Ivy touched her satchel, thinking of the Great Uncommon Bag inside. If anything happened, they would need to escape fast.
Valian joined them as they crept nervously along the tunnel. The further they went, the closer the walls seemed to draw in. Eventually the ceiling was so low that Seb had to bend his knees. ‘OK, this place is definitely getting smaller. What’s going on?’ He directed his phone into the distance. The tunnel appeared to shrink to a point at the very end.
‘I don’t get it,’ Ivy said. ‘Where did Selena go?’
Valian narrowed his eyes. ‘There must be a clue somewhere.’
They continued as far as they could, crawling on their hands and knees when there wasn’t enough room to stand. At the very end of the tunnel Seb swept the light across the wall. Writing had been scratched into the surface, but there was so much, and in so many different hands, that it looked like one huge scribble.
‘The crooked s
ixpence,’ Ivy said shakily. ‘Look.’ The coin appeared six times in a circle, the face of each featuring the masked head of a different member of the Dirge, with their code name written below.
‘Over here – there’s something written on the other wall.’ Seb lifted his phone to illuminate words etched into the steel.
‘It’s like the creepiest answer-phone message ever.’
Valian scrutinized the tunnel. ‘This has to be where the Dirge’s followers came to contact them. They had a whole army working for them in the sixties – a pocket full of spies, like the message says. They must have built secret gateways like this all over Lundinor in order to communicate.’
‘So that’s what Selena was doing down here – trying to contact the Dirge.’ Ivy picked up a jagged piece of flint and held it to the wall. ‘You must have to scratch your response; that’s what all this writing is. If only Selena’s wasn’t lost with the others.’
Valian patted his jacket pocket. ‘I might have something that can help with that.’ He retrieved a small plastic torch and aimed it at the wall. ‘People claim you can find a needle in a haystack with an uncommon torch. I’ve only ever found stuff that I’d misplaced in my room.’
Seb folded his arms, impressed. ‘I swear you’ve got more gadgets in that pocket than Q from the James Bond films.’
‘Who’s James Bond?’ Valian asked, flicking the torch switch back and forth.
Seb stared at him. ‘You’re kidding, right? First Scratch doesn’t know about Star Wars, and now this?’
‘Valian, is it working?’ Ivy asked. There was no light coming from the torch.
‘Shhh.’ Valian flicked the switch one last time. ‘It works with sound, not light. I’ve told it to find Selena’s handwriting.’
The Smoking Hourglass Page 17
