Brightstorm

by Vashti Hardy

  Beggins Hall was on a street of uneven cobblestones. The cart made their bones rattle inside as they clattered along. The house was tall and thin, as though the buildings either side were compressing it, and it was the grimiest of them all, with smoked out windows and dripping pipes.

  “Right, Mr Beggins, you’d better get that horse back before old Cleghorn notices we took it, and I’ll think about dinner.”

  Arthur realized how terribly hungry he felt, and the idea of a warm meal was at least something cheerful. They followed Mrs Beggins inside. Beggins Hall was as gloomy on the inside as out, with tattered curtains and ripped wallpaper hanging off the walls. The hallway had bare floorboards and felt colder than outside.

  “I’ll show you to your room.”

  The twins followed her up the three flights of narrow crooked stairs to a tiny door at the top of the house. Mrs Beggins opened the door and a chill draught escaped. Glimpses of grey sky could be seen through several holes in the roof. There were two mattresses and one dirty window.

  “Here we are. I don’t want to hear a peep out of you two – we maintain a calm, peaceful home.”

  Shouting and cursing ensued in the street outside. A baby was screaming in a house nearby.

  “What chime is dinner, Mrs Beggins?” Maudie asked.

  “Best you get making it soon. Mr Beggins isn’t his kinder self when he’s hungry.”

  “Us?”

  “Of course – you need to earn your keep! There’s a scraggleneck for stewing, which old Ratchett had going spare.” She shut the door.

  “Well, a scraggleneck sounds yummy,” Arthur said.

  Maudie looked at him. “And we didn’t think things could get any worse.”

  CHAPTER 4

  PARTHENA

  Three moon-cycles passed in a numb routine of labour and sleep. Maudie was quickly set to work in the shipyards, while Arthur had the impossible task of keeping Beggins Hall clean, fetching supplies and cooking dinner. Moreover, Mrs Beggins was still taking offence to Arthur’s lack of a right arm and made him wear his iron arm at all times. He loved his iron arm and how it could help him, but he wanted it to be his choice when he wore it. The shoulder strap rubbed if he wore it all the time and it became uncomfortable day in, day out. But the worst thing of all to Arthur: there wasn’t a book in the house. Not one. The only thing to read was the Lontown Chronicle, and he could only sneak that away at the end of the day when the Begginses were snoring. It felt as though they’d been thrown into a terrible dream.

  They didn’t see a sovereign for their toils – Maudie must have earned back twice the amount the Begginses had paid Mistress Poacher. The siblings talked about running away, but even their rickety room was better than sleeping on the streets of the Slumps.

  Every day, when Arthur had cooked dinner, he and Maudie would both serve it and stand at the edge of the shabby dining room, which Arthur called the Black Room on account of everything being black from floor to ceiling, even the table and two chairs. They stood watching the Begginses slobber and slurp the food down, waiting for the next command.

  “I heard they’ve relaunched that challenge to reach South Polaris,” Mrs Beggins said.

  Arthur’s heart missed a beat. He glanced at Maudie.

  “Why anyone would want to leave Lontown is beyond me,” Mr Beggins said as he bit into a chicken leg, grease dripping down his hand.

  “Who’d want to leave all this comfort?” Arthur mumbled under his breath to Maudie.

  “Keep your mouth shut and one of you fetch the loaf,” Mr Beggins said.

  Mrs Beggins let out one of her silly high-pitched laughs. “I’ll tell you why, Mr Beggins. One million sovereigns!”

  “Not everyone does it for sovereigns,” Maudie said, banging the loaf of bread on the table in front of Mrs Beggins.

  “Watch what you’re doing. That costs, you know!”

  Maudie turned and walked back to join Arthur. “Sovereigns we earned,” she muttered to him.

  Mr Beggins threw down his chicken bone. “You cheeky blighter, I heard that. We give you a roof over your head, the kindness of our loving hearts. You’re lucky you ain’t scrabbling around on the streets.”

  “Now, Mr Beggins, don’t you go upsetting yourself over these ungrateful wretches.” Mrs Beggins pointed a pudgy finger at them. “There’ll be no supper for either of you this evening.”

  Arthur’s stomach rumbled. Mrs Beggins glared at him. “Now get out of my sight.”

  Maudie’s cheeks flushed angry red and she took a step, but Arthur tugged her arm back. “Let’s just go to our room.”

  “And there’ll be no breakfast for you, either!” Mr Beggins called after them.

  That evening, Arthur turned and fidgeted in his bed and tried to ignore his complaining stomach. He stared through the gaps in the roof at the stars, listening to the creak of the wooden beams. A cold draught licked over him and the scratch of small feet came from under the floorboards. He drew his legs up and felt the hairs on his body stand up. He hated rats. They were the worst thing about the Slumps, and Beggins Hall had dozens of them. Whenever he heard one he imagined it crawling all over him with its sharp little claws, long, worm-like tail and nibbling teeth.

  He flung off his cover and climbed out of the window on to the rooftop. Silver-edged clouds drifted beyond the layered shapes of crooked roofs, bent chimneys, and washing lines. He balanced along the lip, then jumped the short distance to a ledge on the old ship watchtower next door. It was perhaps the one good thing about living at Beggins Hall.

  “Hey, wait for me,” Maudie called, lurching out of the window.

  “Shh! You’ll wake them.”

  “They’re snoring away like a pair of wild boars.”

  “I thought you were sound asleep too.”

  “What, with you jogging your legs around like a jumping jack?” She laughed. “Honestly, Arty, mice and rats are pretty cute if you kept still enough to look at them. And let’s face it – they’re the only friends we’ve got here.”

  She joined him and they pushed their way through the loose panel in the tower, then went up the rickety spiral staircase. After several flights, they climbed out on to the roof.

  Arthur balanced along the tiles and crouched at the end, taking in the view of Lontown. They could see everything from here. Around them were the Slumps, so accurately named with rooftops that curved and leaned precariously over the streets. Further north the houses were neater. Elegant shapes filled the skyline – the tower of the Lontown Chronicle and the huge domes of the Geographical Society and Lontown Universitas. Despite everything that had happened, Arthur still felt Maudie would study at the universitas one day. She was destined to be the best engineer in Lontown. It was as though a shape which fitted her perfectly waited on the horizon. He thought he’d known his own destiny – Dad was going to take him on his first expedition. One day they’d build their own ship. Maudie would design it and the three of them would explore: Maudie as first engineer, Dad at the helm and Arthur as Dad’s first mate. Now that future had been snatched away, and there was just a Dad-shaped hole in the world.

  To the east, the river snaked through Lontown, and fog clung to the distant hills, seeping into the city. The moon painted a blue evening hue on the arched buildings of north Uptown. Thin twists of smoke rose into the sky all around and faint music floated towards them.

  “Is that a banjo?” Maudie asked.

  Arthur couldn’t answer, his throat tight with sudden emotion. Dad used to play. Both of them stared in the direction of their old house, far off in the distance. Maudie took her mini uniscope from her tool belt and passed it silently to Arthur – their mother had made it and it was especially powerful, so they could just see as far as their old neighbourhood.

  Way in the distance, a warm glow shone from Arthur’s old bedroom and the dark silhouette of a stranger could be seen. They had felt so free and so safe there. So happy.

  “I can’t believe there’s already someone else li
ving there.”

  “Arthur, it won’t always be like this. You never give up on anything. You, me, and … well, you and me against the world, isn’t that right?”

  He nodded. “Me and you.”

  “Come on, re-tie my ribbon with me.” Maudie paused. “Although with the state of your hair lately, perhaps I should lend one to you!” Maudie ruffled her hand in his rusty brown hair. They re-tied her ribbon then Maudie got up and balanced her way along the rooftop to the clock face, climbed up and started examining the hand mechanism. Arthur remained where he was, watching a trade ship as it flew north across the sky not far from them, the faint chug of its engines carried on the warm breeze. Arthur watched it fly across the moon, leaving wisps of grey behind it.

  After a minute he said, “We should get back.”

  Maudie didn’t answer, and he couldn’t hear her tinkering any more.

  “I said, we should get back.” He turned around and his heart stopped. Because Maudie wasn’t there.

  Scrabbling to his feet, he leapt to where she had been and looked, desperate, over the edge, his head swirling with dread. “Maud!” he called.

  “What are you shouting about?” she said, swinging around from behind the clock face, then jumping to land on the roof tiles beside him.

  He thumped her arm. “I thought you’d fallen.”

  “Ow! I’m likely to, if you carry on like that! I was tweaking the mechanism around the back – it was out of rhythm.”

  Arthur gave her sleeve a tug as his heart rate slowly climbed down. “Come on, let’s see what scraps we can find in the larder.” As he stood, he felt compelled to have one last look back at Brightstorm House. He paused – a tiny shape now circled above it. “Pass me your uniscope, Maud.” After a moment he said, “It can’t be.”

  Maudie snatched the uniscope. “What is…? Oh!”

  A pure white, moon-bright hawk circled the roof of Brightstorm House, its outstretched wings giving it a soft W shape.

  Maudie lowered the uniscope and looked at Arthur, eyes wide.

  “Parthena!” they both said.

  Without needing to say another word, they scrambled down the tower stairwell and into the streets, running towards Uptown, hunger burning their bellies and their muscles on fire, but not stopping until they reached Brightstorm House. Wheezing, they stood before their old home in the moonlit square.

  “What if Parthena won’t come to us?” Arthur said. “She’d only ever land on Dad’s arm.”

  “Try,” Maudie said.

  Arthur whistled a single note, like Dad used to. He’d left his iron arm back at Beggins Hall, so he extended his left arm. Parthena flew down from the rooftop, her flight path uncharacteristically shaky.

  She landed unsteadily on Arthur’s arm, her talons digging in. “It’s all right,” he said as Maudie stroked her. Parthena’s grip softened and she dipped her head sadly – she was a large bird and filled the length of his lower arm, but she was so much thinner than when they’d last seen her many moon-cycles ago.

  “She survived; she somehow made it back,” Arthur said. Seeing her felt like having a little piece of Dad back. The bird had been inseparable from him; loyal for life, as all sapients were. They were rare in the Wide, so it was usually only explorers who came across them – or could afford the few being paraded in Lontown’s markets, in the hope of a wealthy match.

  “What happened, Parthena?” Arthur knew she could make sense of what he was saying. A sapient’s heightened intelligence meant they could understand a person, but they couldn’t communicate their own thoughts back easily.

  Parthena screeched.

  “It’s all right, you’re home.”

  “What’s that in her claw?” Maudie said.

  They both stared at it. An oval shaped silver locket was looped by its chain around one of Parthena’s talons. Elaborately inscribed on the locket were the entwined initials V and E. Violetta and Ernest.

  “It’s Dad’s locket,” Arthur said.

  “But how?”

  Maudie gently opened it. There was the picture of their father smiling widely, slightly younger, his beard less full, his brow wrinkle-free. Beside him was a young woman with a hand placed lightly on Dad’s chest, twinkling eyes and eyebrows set in a determined slant. The resemblance to Maudie was uncanny.

  “Mum and Dad looked perfect together,” Maudie said.

  Parthena hopped on to Arthur’s shoulder. His mind turned over and over, as he raised his arm to stroke her head.

  “What are you thinking, Arty?”

  “It doesn’t fit. If Dad was being attacked by a great beast, how would he have had the time to take the locket off, give it to Parthena and send her on her way? That would hardly have been his priority, right?”

  Maudie nodded. “And Parthena would have been fighting with Dad, until the end.”

  They both lost themselves in thought, standing alone in the dark street.

  After a short while, Arthur said, “Maybe the locket means something more. And maybe they’re wrong about what happened.”

  Parthena screeched.

  Arthur and Maudie’s eyes locked.

  A spark of hope had lit inside Arthur. “I know it’s a slim chance, but what if somehow he survived?”

  Maudie shook her head. “Parthena wouldn’t have left him.”

  Arthur took a few paces. “We have to find out.”

  “Arty, we can hardly traverse three continents without a sky-ship.”

  “There’s always a way, Maud. We could go to the Geographical Society and show them the locket.”

  She paused for a moment then looked at him doubtfully. “They’ll need some convincing it means something. They don’t exactly think much of the Brightstorm name at the moment. They’ll probably say we’re making it up.”

  “Then what about the Polaris Challenge? You heard Beggins say they’d launched another. We could go ourselves to find the truth.”

  Maudie laughed. “Now you’re just being daft, Arty. We have no money, no ship, and that means no chance of going. Much as you can find a way around most things, I think you’re dreaming.”

  “Remember what Dad said? Don’t call it a dream, call it a plan. There’s always a way, Maud, there has to be.”

  She sighed. “We should get back.”

  Arthur kicked his foot in the dust of the street.

  Maudie put a hand on his arm. “Come on, let’s think about it later. Right now, we’d better find a way of hiding Parthena or Mrs Beggins will be selling her at Thimble Street Market on Saturday, or worse, have us cooking her for dinner.”

  They started making their way back to the Slumps.

  A thin figure around the corner had been watching them. They didn’t notice him slipping into the shadows as they belted past on their way back to Beggins Hall.

  CHAPTER 5

  POMERIAN PUFFBACK

  Eudora Vane stared at the three hundred and sixty-five outfits in her great dressing room and the three hundred and sixty-five pairs of shoes lined up neatly below – one for every day of the year. If only they were good enough.

  It wouldn’t do.

  Pomelroy Pompelfrey was late with her new set of outfits – was he going for an award as the most incompetent seam-master in Lontown, for guild’s sake? She ran her fingers across a silk jacket. She couldn’t address the Geographical Society board in one of these old things. She needed more funding – there was one thing she was certain of; sovereigns bred more sovereigns. It wasn’t cheap being one of the most envied members of Lontown society, and this second expedition would take nearly everything she had. Fortunately, she knew it would be more than returned when she won the race to South Polaris – which she would, this time. But it was more than that. She wanted her statue in the Geographical Society’s great hall of explorers, the next in the venerable lineage of Vanes.

  An insect scuttled out from beneath the pink lounge chair and extended her four silver wings. She fluttered them and flew up to land on Eudora’s finge
r.

  “This won’t do at all. I have nothing to wear, Miptera,” Eudora said, then calmed her brow and cursed Pompelfrey for making her so cross. Wrinkles were very unbecoming. She made a mental note to send someone to retrieve more of the honeybloom extinctus, or whatever it was called, that was so good at soothing her skin.

  Rushed footsteps stomped up the stairs and a bedraggled man burst through the door. He could barely be seen, due to the swathes of material in his arms – just two blood-shot eyes with bulging bags underneath, and a few tufts of hair on his balding head.

  “Three days you’ve had since I rejected your last efforts,” Eudora snapped.

  Miptera took flight and hovered close to Pompelfrey, gnashing her silver mandibles.

  “I’m sorry, Madame,” came the seam-master’s muffled voice. He gave Miptera a worried sideways glance as she lingered beside his face, the clack of her teeth growing faster. Pompelfrey’s voice juddered. “Catching a pomerian puffback proved more difficult than one may expect, as there are but three left in the Wide.”

  “I hope you killed the other two, as well.”

  “I beg your pardon, Madame?”

  “Good gracious, man – I may need matching accessories! And the one I wear would be much more desirable then, wouldn’t it?” She rolled her eyes. Was the whole world really this slow? “Well – show me.”

  Pompelfrey heaved the many gowns across the chair.

  He held up the first. “This is an exquisite silk discovered recently. Made by indigenous people of the Eastern Isles, berry dipped and…”

  “No.”

  He tossed it behind the chair and picked up the next – a lush pink fur. He’d hired five extra seam-masters to get right.

  “No,” she said before he could even begin.

  He picked up the next – a tight-fitting bodice which bloomed out to a trumpet skirt with pink furry hems and cuffs. Pompelfrey’s eyes were wide and hopeful.