Maximillian Fly

by Angie Sage

  I am embarrassed to say. “I brought it with me,” I tell him. “I . . . I thought that if I found Mama and gave it to her she would forgive me.”

  “For what, Maximillian?” Papa asks. “For being her son?”

  “Perhaps,” I admit. “But at the time I wanted her to forgive me for allowing her precious porcelain collection to be smashed to smithereens.”

  Papa’s eyes fill with glee. “Really? The whole lot in pieces? She won’t have liked that.”

  “She didn’t,” I agree. How strange it is, I think, to be talking like this about Mama. And how liberating too. “The teapot was a foolish idea,” I say. “Even if I knew where to find her I do not think she would ever forgive me.”

  It is now I see my sister, Kaitlin, looking at me in a peculiar manner. “But, Maximillian, of course you know where to find your mother—I mean, your mama.”

  I shrug. “Why would I? She never told me. She does not want me to find her.”

  My Kaitlin looks shocked. “But when she came with me to your house, surely you knew then?”

  “Knew what?” I say. I see that my papa is looking at me with the same expression as Kaitlin. Also Tomas and Parminter. Oh dear. I think I have been foolish again. I sigh. Why is it that I am always a fool when it is anything to do with Mama?

  Papa is slowly pacing the room, stepping over the mess on the floor like a heron searching for fish. No one is saying anything, but at last, Tomas breaks the silence. “No more secrets, Dad,” he says sharply, and Papa looks stricken. He comes to me and takes two of my hands in his. “Maximillian,” he says. “When your mama left you it was not because of anything you did or said. It was because she had become . . .” He stops and takes a deep breath. “Guardian. The Guardian. Up in the Bartizan.”

  I gasp. Behind me I hear Andronicus gasp too and I feel a little happier. At least my friend did not know either. So we are both fools together.

  “That is the reason why your brother and sister were conscripted as SilverSeeds,” Papa is saying. “It is why your lovely stepmother, my dearest Joanna, who loved you and looked after you when you were a baby, was put in a barbarous Astro. And it is why I was put in the Night Roach Steeple. Because when your mama became Guardian she at last had the power to finish what she started all those years ago when she took you away from us. She had the power to destroy us.”

  My legs feel wobbly and I sit down upon a nearby stool. There is something I understand now. “It was your flute I heard in the Night Roach Steeple. I flew there every evening to listen. I thought I went because the music was so beautiful. But I see now that it was because it was . . . it was you. My papa.”

  Papa smiles at me. “Oh, Max, I wish I had known you were listening. I would have played your favorite song.”

  I do not know what my favorite song is, so I say nothing. Or maybe I say nothing because it is too hard to speak. I am not sure. I wonder how Mama could have done such an evil thing. Evil. This is a new word for me to think about. But it is true. Mama is evil.

  Papa is pacing like a heron again. “Max, I believe you are right,” he says. “You must give your mama her teapot back.”

  “I am sorry, Papa,” I say politely, “but I do not wish to give it to her anymore. I no longer care what she thinks of me. All I wish for is to find Parminter’s mama and go back to the beach and live beneath the stars.”

  But Papa will not take no for an answer. “Maximillian,” he says a little sternly. “We must not think only of ourselves. We have a duty to set everyone in this city free so that they too may live beneath the stars.”

  I am thinking that I do not understand what Mama’s teapot has to do with this when we hear the distant rumble of an explosion.

  A harsh laugh comes from Cassius. “No one in this city is going to be living beneath any so-called stars. While you were away we searched your cozy little hut of conspiracy and found a most interesting tunnel. Which has been blown up. Your little moment of triumph will not last long, I can tell you. I am looking forward to a very interesting spectacle—a mass Astro launch, testing the first Roach Astros. They’re all ready to go. Orange bags, in case you wondered. Nice and simple. Just like your nasty little baby cocoons.” I wonder if Cassius has gone crazy, for he seems to forget that he is Roach.

  “Parminter, is there anywhere we can put this unpleasantness?” Papa asks angrily, pointing to Cassius.

  “We have a dung pit,” Parminter says with a smile. Tomas and Papa pick Cassius up like a sack and Parminter leads the way out.

  Kaitlin stays behind. She kneels down in front of me and takes my hands, just as Papa did. I think this must be a family thing. It is a little uncomfortable, for I am not used to prolonged touch from a soft-skinned human. It feels too damp and sticky for comfort. But I do not show my unease, for my Kaitlin Drew is my dear sister now.

  “Maximillian,” my sister says, “everyone has the right to see the stars, don’t you agree?”

  How can I disagree? “Yes,” I say. “Of course they do.”

  “So,” Kaitlin says, “you must take the teapot to your mama.”

  Why? I wonder. What has this nasty teapot to do with the stars? I am beginning to wish I had never found Mama’s teapot.

  K

  I’ve guessed what Dad wants to do and I think it is our only hope. I feel Maximillian trying to pull his hands away from mine, but I’m not letting him go. This is too important.

  “Why?” he asks curtly.

  “Because if you have the teapot she will agree to see you.”

  “But I do not wish to see her,” Maximillian says stiffly.

  I ignore this. “And while you are distracting her by giving her the teapot, we will take the DisK back.”

  “That is just crazy,” he says.

  “Maybe it is, but it is our only chance to open the Orb—forever. And set everyone free. Please. You have to do this.”

  “No,” he says. “I cannot.” And suddenly Maximillian looks just as he did when I saw him cowering in the shadows of his own home. So frightened. So alone.

  “Maximillian, you are not alone anymore,” I tell him. “You have us now, your own family who love you, and you have no need to be afraid of your mama. In fact, she is the one who will be afraid of you.”

  He laughs. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, she will be,” I tell him. “She will be afraid of us all.” I let go of his hands and a look of relief crosses his face. I think I have imposed upon him too much, too soon. But there is so little time left; any minute now they will find us and then that will be it. Over. Finished. But Maximillian doesn’t seem to understand that. So I stand up and say, “Maximillian, it is time for you to confront your mother. You know it is.”

  He looks at me with his big gray eyes that sparkle just like Dad’s and I see that I’ve almost convinced him. But just as I think he is going to agree, Parminter races into the kitchen, her wings clattering in alarm. “Enforcers!” she says. “Coming up the Long Field track! We must get out of here, fast. But where can we go?”

  And then Maximillian says a wonderful thing: “We will go to the Bartizan. With the teapot. To see Mama.”

  I want to hug him, but I let him be. He has had enough of me for now. And besides, as Parminter says, we must get out of here. Fast.

  We have a teapot to deliver.

  Chapter 35

  Family Reunion

  T

  We are wading through the gloom of the city, breathing its thick, muggy air with the whiteness of the Orb pressing down upon us. After only two days beneath the big blue—as Jonno calls the sky Outside—it feels unbearable to be trapped in this muggy bubble once again. I look back at my new Roach brother, who is following at a discreet distance because it is illegal to walk in a mixed group. I have never minded this before, but now, seeing Maximillian alone and trailing behind us, I mind a lot.

  It is not pleasant walking through the streets. People are edgy—the SilverShip has not returned and no one knows why. They glanc
e anxiously up at the Orb and jump at every noise, expecting the sirens to start up at any moment so that they will have to run for cover.

  At last, at the end of grubby alley known as Sneak Snoop, we arrive at a pair of battered doors, which look like the entrance to a seedy nightclub. Above them is a sign saying: Dancing until 2 a.m. No Roaches. But this is no club—this is the hidden way into the lower levels of the Bartizan for Sneaks and us Enforcers. “This is it,” I tell Dad.

  He looks surprised. “Oh! Right. We’ll wait around the corner.” He gives a brief, tight smile and Kaitlin and I watch him walk away. We wait while Maximillian goes by, cradling the teapot wrapped in a soft cloth like a baby, following Dad into the shadows. I glance up at the dullness of the Orb and see Parminter and Andronicus flying above, shadowing them. Everything is in place. Kaitlin and I exchange nervous glances. It all depends on us now.

  We push open the doors and set off briskly down the dingy corridor. We are heading for the Enforcers’ uniform store, the pass to which is still embedded in my tattered CarboNet. Every step we take brings us farther into danger and right now I can’t imagine why we ever thought this was a good idea. But there is no going back. We have to do this.

  K

  We did it!

  Tomas took two sets of CarboNets out of the automated uniform store with no trouble at all and we are now two Enforcers, marching in step. This CarboNet feels great. It’s so easy to move in, and it gives you so much confidence. I could get into this. I pull down my visor and stride along the corridor, taking care to keep in step with Tomas. Suddenly we hear a shout.

  “Hey, you! Marne!”

  My heart does a flip of fear and I see Tomas go pale. He wheels around, salutes and stands to attention, his right fist balled over his heart. I do the same, taking care to cover up the identical T.M. embroidered on my left pocket. “Ma’am!” he says.

  The woman’s badge declares her to be a commander. She eyeballs Tomas suspiciously. “Marne. It is you. But you’re Astroed.”

  My CarboNet confidence has evaporated. I want to run away screaming. Or take a chance and thump her. Or both. Anything to get out of this.

  But Tomas is so calm. “A cover story, ma’am,” he says smoothly. “Apologies. Can’t reveal anything right now. Excuse me, ma’am. I’m expected on Top Tier.”

  She tries not to look impressed, but she is. “Very well, Marne. Carry on,” she says. And then she is gone, her metal-tipped heels clacking away up the corridor.

  We march away fast and are soon out through the doors, falling into Sneak Snoop with relief. “Tomas, you are so cool,” I tell him. “She believed you!”

  He looks shaken. “For now,” he says. “But I know my comm. Soon enough she’ll complain to someone that she wasn’t told about me. And then they’ll be after us.”

  “No time to lose, then,” I say. And I stride off down the alley in search of Dad and Maximillian, my CarboNet confidence returned.

  M

  We are walking into the lion’s den.

  No matter that we have a detailed plan, that we all know what we must do, and even have a code word—“evil”—for when we must do it. No matter that I am surrounded by my family, whom I trust with my life, as I walk between soaring pillars of ebony and progress up the white marble steps into the main entrance of the Bartizan I feel as frightened as if I really am the first Roach to be Astroed.

  Papa leads the way and, flanked by Tomas and Kaitlin as my guards in their smooth Enforcer carapaces, I follow him. Every step I take I fear will be my last, for this entrance is forbidden to all who are Roach. Papa says that if we walk in with enough confidence no one will challenge us, but as we reach the top of the steps, a guard in Bartizan uniform bars our way. “No Roach filth here,” she barks.

  “Quite right too,” Papa says. “But this, here”—and he points to me like I am a thing—“is our very first Roach Astro.” Papa is smiling proudly. He leans forward to the guard and lowers his voice confidentially. “We’re testing the bags. You can see it in about half an hour. Be worth a watch.” He laughs. “Think of a giant orange sausage. Ha-ha!”

  I do not know how Papa can laugh at this awful thought, but he does it so well that the guard laughs with him. “We heard Roach Astros were being planned,” the guard says. “Get rid of the lot of them, I say.”

  “All the more money for me, ha-ha,” Papa says. “Roach Astro bags are my own invention and I’m very pleased with them, even if I do say so myself.” He makes a play of fumbling through his pockets. “Now, let’s see, I can show you the design. It’s very interesting how we . . .”

  And now I see how clever Papa is. Because the last thing the guard wants to do is to listen to the mad inventor of Roach Astro bags. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it is,” she says impatiently. “The lift is over there. Don’t be late; they won’t like it. You might find yourself heading out in your own little orange suit. Ha-ha.”

  Papa does a very good job of looking terrified. He hurries us past the guard and our “Enforcers” escort us across the lobby to two black marble pillars with a dark wooden door set between them. Tomas pulls it open and then slides a noisy concertina cage-like door across as confidently as if he has done this all his life. And now we are squashed into this strange box contraption, lurching upward, every inch taking us closer to Mama. I feel quite ill.

  At last three little letters: T-O-P light up and the contraption stops. Tomas and Kaitlin pull back the gate, shove open the door, and we pile out into a surprisingly bright and colorful atrium. And standing there, as if she has been waiting for us, is Mama.

  I cannot believe it. I feel dizzy at the sight of her. But there she is, wearing a black jacket with the three gold bands of the Guardian. So it is true. Mama really is the Guardian.

  Mama’s hands fly to her mouth and she smothers a sharp little scream. “Matt!” she squeaks.

  “Marianne,” Papa replies.

  I wonder who Marianne is—and then I realize it is Mama. It is very unsettling to hear she has a name. And it seems that Mama finds her name unsettling too. She looks gray with shock. “But how?” she whispers.

  Papa laughs. “Who knew Night Roaches would fall asleep to the sound of a flute? Such delightfully musical creatures . . .”

  Mama gathers herself together. “Well, Matthew, you may have escaped from the idiot Roaches but you’ve not escaped from me.” She clicks her fingers at the two bodyguards standing with folded arms outside a pair of double doors opposite us. They jump to attention. “Fetch the Astro Techs. Go!” she barks. The bodyguards hurl themselves into the elevator, slam the doors, and we hear them clanking downward. Mama glares at Tomas and Kaitlin. “Enforcers. Why was I not informed of this?”

  Tomas’s voice screen gives me a shock. “Madam Guardian, I apologize,” he says smoothly. “We understood that you were informed.”

  “Well, I wasn’t,” she snaps. “Shame. I would have liked a few hours to look forward to this . . . event.” I see a thin smile move across Mama’s lips and her eyes flick across to me, like a snake. “Well, well. Matthew and Maximillian,” she says. “Together again. How sweet. Just like old times, the three Ms—remember? Quite the family reunion.”

  And then it hits me. This is indeed a family reunion. For the very first time in my memory, I am with both my parents. And Mama wants to kill me, just like the last time we were all together.

  K

  This is the moment that Maximillian is meant to tell Madam Guardian about the teapot. But he doesn’t. I am holding his arm and I feel it trembling beneath my glove. I glance at him and I see him paralyzed with fear, just as he was on the landing in the darkness of his house. This is bad. The silence lengthens and at last Dad comes to the rescue. “Marianne,” he says, “Maximillian has something he would very much like to give you.”

  It is so weird to hear him call Madam Guardian by a normal name. And it is even weirder to think that once Dad was married to her, and that she and Max were his family. And that Tomas, Jonno an
d I didn’t exist.

  Madam Guardian laughs her brittle silvery tinkle. “I want nothing from Maximillian, thank you very much. All he has ever given me is trouble, and I have had quite enough of that.” She looks at Tomas and me, “Enforcers, take them to the Astro Room,” she snaps, and then she wheels around and walks toward the double doors.

  We all look at Maximillian in dismay.

  Now, Maximillian, Dad mouths. Say it now!

  M

  I must do it. I must speak. “Mama!” I call out as if in distress. “Oh, Mama, please wait!” Mama stops dead, like someone has pulled her on a leash. “Mama,” I say quickly, “I have your teapot. Your little golden eagle. Your precious darling bird.” Slowly Mama turns around. I unwrap the teapot from its cloth cocoon and see Mama’s eyes widen. “Oh . . . ,” she breathes.

  I hold the teapot out to her as an offering. “I saved it, Mama. Just for you.”

  Mama reaches out for the teapot and Papa steps in front of her. “Marianne,” he says. “First, a word please. In private.”

  Mama cannot take her eyes off the beady-eyed teapot. “Matthew. Just tell me why I would ever want to talk to you again?” she asks.

  “Because I do not think that Maximillian is ready to give you the teapot until you do,” Papa says very calmly.

  Mama laughs. “I could have my Enforcers take it from him like that,” she says, snapping her thin, hard fingers in Papa’s face.

  “You could indeed,” Papa says smoothly. “But your teapot is such a delicate thing, Marianne. So very . . . vulnerable.”

  I see Mama balancing up the odds. To our great relief she says, “Very well. But make it quick. We will go into my office. And don’t trip, Maximillian. You know how clumsy you are.” She presses the palm pad, the double doors open and we follow her into the Guardian’s chamber like the bad smell Mama thinks we are.

  T

  I am in Madam Guardian’s office, as Enforcer with my prisoner, who is my dad. How did this happen? Three days ago I was on the other side of that one-way glass with all those grapes and cherubs prancing around it, being shoved into an Astro.