by Vashti Hardy
Eudora tilted her head and reached to the plumes, so soft they could barely be felt. “Ah, the pomerian?”
Pompelfrey nodded.
She held it up – it matched her tall elegant silhouette perfectly. The board would give her whatever she wanted. “This one will do.”
The edges of Pompelfrey’s lips curled in a smile.
“But the pink needs lightening – see, the shade is out.” She held it beside the three hundred and sixty-five others.
It looked identical to Pompelfrey.
“Have the dress back by morning.”
Pompelfrey opened his mouth to complain, but he knew it was futile, so shut it again. “As you wish, as always.”
“Don’t use a tone with me, Pompelfrey – there are hundreds of seam-masters in Lontown queuing up for the chance to create for me. This will be front page in the Lontown Chronicle.”
“Would six and thirty chimes suit you, Madame?”
“Make it six. And don’t disappoint me,” she snapped.
Pompelfrey dipped his head and Miptera saw her chance, darting in to bite him on the arm.
He yelped, and lifted his hand to knock her away, but managed to restrain himself.
“Now go. You’ve quite upset Miptera,” Eudora said, waving him away. The insect landed on Eudora’s shoulder, clacking her teeth triumphantly.
As a dishevelled Pompelfrey left the room, another man entered, tall and utterly calm in contrast. He took off his hat and inclined his head respectfully towards Eudora.
“Smethwyck, it’s rather late for business – can’t it wait? I’m meeting the board in the morning for the final expedition approval.”
“This you will want to hear – I caught sight of a bird close to Brightstorm House.”
She frowned, but quickly corrected it. “Hardly news worthy of the Lontown Chronicle, Smethwyck.” She threw herself back into the pink gowns on the chair.
“I’m certain it was Ernest Brightstorm’s sapient bird, Eudora – the purest white hawk, not a marking on her.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How could it have flown all the way back? When?”
“Not two chimes ago. The children got to it first. I thought you’d want to know,” he said.
“Watch them closely and report back to me.”
Smethwyck bowed his agreement, and left the room.
CHAPTER 6
THE ADVERT
The Brightstorm twins hurried back to the Slumps, climbed the tower, crossed the roof, and sneaked back through the window to their tiny attic room. Parthena flew up to the exposed roof beams.
A loud growl came from Arthur’s stomach. “Come on, the Begginses will be snoring away still – let’s raid the kitchen. I’m starting to feel hollow and poor Parthena looks half-starved.” Parthena gave a sharp screech. “Shush, Parthena. You’ll have to be quiet here, we can’t risk them finding you.”
In the larder, the only food left on the work surface was a lump of hard cheese, a crust of stale bread and half a boiled egg.
“Great, if it wasn’t bad enough scrabbling around in their leftovers, there has to be an egg,” Arthur said.
Maudie patted his arm. “Well, we don’t want your tongue swelling like a ship’s balloon so you can’t talk.” She paused. “On second thoughts…”
He pushed her shoulder jokingly. “I’ll have the cheese. It should be fine if I cut off the mould.” He opened the tap, then searched the cupboards for a clean cup while waiting for the pouring water to become less rusty brown. A spider scurried into the corner as Arthur took out a cracked cup. He couldn’t help but imagine himself, Maudie and Dad back home in the drawing room with honeyed tea, buttery crumpets and sweet berry jam.
Arthur picked up the copy of the Lontown Chronicle discarded on the side. He read the headlines:
Pelt of vicious Third Continent Wolf makes a record amount at auction
Blarthington drops out of bid for South Polaris after sky-ship fire
Labour urgently needed in southern pitch mines due to unprecedented demand
He tucked it under his arm, then they climbed the creaking stairs to their attic room.
Arthur threw the newspaper on to his bed and pressed his shoulder to the wall to undo his jacket fastenings. He wriggled free.
“What if Dad survived, Maud?”
“Arthur, we’ve spoken about this. We don’t even have a sovereign to feed ourselves properly, let alone go looking for him.”
Parthena flew down from the roof and landed on the Lontown Chronicle. She cocked her head and screeched at Arthur. “Parthena, you must be quiet.”
Maudie took the crust from her pocket and gave half to Arthur with the old cheese. They nibbled in silence, feeding bits of bread to Parthena. Arthur stroked her pure white feathers – her beady eyes were so sharp and knowing. “If only you could talk,” he said.
“He promised to come back,” Maudie said sadly.
Arthur sat beside her. “He would’ve tried anything to get back to us.” He wanted so much to put two arms around her and hug her, the way Dad used to envelop them both like a huge bear.
“I just feel so useless without him,” she said. “Like I knew who I was, but now…”
“Dad told us Mum was the best engineer in Lontown, do you remember?”
Maudie nodded.
Arthur smiled. “You’ll be a great engineer too. I mean, who makes an iron arm at eleven years old?”
Maudie arched an eyebrow, her mood lifting. “I was still ten, actually. And I’ll make you a more powerful arm one day, with fingers that move with a twitch of your shoulder, so you don’t have to even manipulate them into place with your other hand, and it’ll bend at the elbow when you shrug. Dad said…” Quick as a gust of wind her face saddened again. “It’s as though every trace of who we are has been wiped out, Arty. If I didn’t have you, I would probably become invisible.”
Arthur took the length of red ribbon from the floor. “Remember what you started telling me almost as soon as you could put a sentence together?”
She looked at him.
“You said it didn’t matter that I had one arm, together we could do anything. We’re Brightstorms. Dad had to fight to be an explorer, the first ever in our family. He travelled all the way to the Volcanic Isles, through the worst storm the North had ever seen. But no matter how hopeless it became, he said there was a bright light he held inside; his determination to never give up. Against all odds, he made it, and discovered new islands and an amazing rare moth. So we’re Brightstorms, the name he chose for himself and for us.” Arthur held out the ribbon. “You’re Maudie Brightstorm, and one day you’ll be proud to say it again.”
Parthena screeched and hopped up and down.
“And you, Parthena. The last three Brightstorms against the world.”
Parthena scuffed at the paper with her talons. Arthur looked at the print at Parthena’s feet. He picked up the newspaper and a bolt of excitement rushed through him. A smile spread across his lips.
“What is it?”
He read aloud:
Individuals Wanted
For treacherous journey to South Polaris,
Small wages, certain danger,
Shared reward and recognition if
successful.
Evaluations Monday
Apply to: Miss H Culpepper
4 Archangel Street
He looked across, eyes wide. “It’s our chance, that’s what.”
Maudie frowned. “Arty, this is daft. We’re twelve, she won’t take us seriously.”
“I read about her in the Lontown Chronicle – the youngest explorer to captain a sky-ship to the Second Continent.”
“Not at twelve.”
“But we’d just be part of the crew. With your engineering skills and my … well, I’m not bad in the kitchen now, and every ship needs a cook’s help.”
Maudie still looked doubtful.
“Come on, we at least have to try,” he said.
“But Monday is tomorrow.”
“Then we’d better think up a good excuse for the morning.”
CHAPTER 7
LUCKY SPOON
The sun hadn’t even peeped over the horizon when Arthur and Maudie woke. They sneaked downstairs and rushed through the morning routine of cleaning out the fireplaces and sweeping the floors.
“I can make up some excuse for the dock-master, but Beggins will know something’s up when you’re not there when she wakes,” Maudie said, shutting the front door behind her.
“I’ll say I went to Ratchett’s to pick up her supplies. I can get them on the way back.”
After a quick wash in the street pump, Arthur and Maudie headed north into the heart of Lontown with its domes, towers, and great brick-fronted houses.
Eventually, they came to the street listed in the advertisement, Archangel Street. The houses were trimmed with ornate iron balconies threaded by rose-covered vines, arranged around a central square garden.
Maudie brushed Arthur’s wayward hair through with her fingers. “We look like a pair of ragamuffins.” Then she untied the ribbon and retied it around a wayward lock of her hair, holding it back from her face.
Arthur started up the street looking at the numbers, twenty, eighteen, sixteen, each one identical in their perfection. They carried on until they stood before number four.
He looked at the advert clutched in his hand, then up at the house. He frowned. “It looks as though someone jumbled up the pieces,” he said.
Number four Archangel Street stood alone from the rest, and it looked unlike any building he’d ever seen. It was smart as its neighbours, with fine brass hinges on windows with polished frames, but it was crooked, as though the house insisted on doing its own thing. There were wooden panels with metal rivets, windows of different shapes, round and long and square, with intricate shutters on pulleys. Curious creatures were emblazoned in stained-glass windows at the top, and the whole roof looked as though it had been put on sideways.
“This is some house,” he said.
“Wow, look at the mechanism on the windows! Some kind of auto-winder, by the look of it,” Maudie said.
“Are you ready?” Arthur said.
She nodded.
Arthur’s stomach turned over with nerves. He wanted it so much. What would Dad have told him? He remembered what he’d said before he’d left for the expedition: Fear kills more dreams than failure ever will. You can be comfortable or courageous – never both at once.
There was scuffling behind. Arthur turned and almost bumped into a rather round and tall woman stumbling off the curb. She cursed in the foulest language he had ever heard and a huge silver spoon fell from her coat.
Arthur bent and picked it up for her. He looked at her curiously. The woman clutched a piece of paper the same as his. She wore a little tilted hat that looked like those the gentlemen of Uptown wore, and her hair was frizzy and red. A heavily skirted coat bulged out like petals at the waist, and her enormous feet had been squeezed into what appeared to be gentlemen’s brogues.
She took the spoon from him and smiled. “It’s me lucky spoon, not that it’s brought much luck today. Bleedin’ shoes are four sizes too small. You’d think in the whole of Lontown I’d be able to get a pair in my size at short notice but, well, you’d think wrong.”
“Yes, you would.” Arthur nodded politely. He did his absolute best not to look at her extraordinarily large feet.
“Are you two here for the evaluation?” She looked at them with narrowed eyes and a knowing smile. One of her eyebrows raised independently of the other one. “Why, you look like a pair of scared bunnies.”
Maudie smiled and said, “It just means a lot to us.”
“It’s a nerve-wracking business for sure, an evaluation, and one could easily turn from it at the last minute, like when I applied to go with the Acquafreedas on that expedition to the Island of Nimoy. I stood outside for an hour before I got the courage to go in. Mind you, I got the job and wished I hadn’t because I had nothing to cook but bleedin’ seaweed and spine fish for weeks on end, and they taste worse than a sea-sailor’s stinky shoes, I tell you!” She took a big breath. “I vowed only sky-ships from then on, so as Granny said – if you want the best eggs go straight for the goose.” She smiled. “I know! We’ll go in together.”
She talked a lot, but Arthur took an instant shine to her. “Thank you, but honestly, we’re all right on our own.”
She ignored him. “Felicity Wiggety, pleased to meet you.” She reached for Arthur’s right hand, looked down, then back at his face. “Oh! Will you look at that?” Her cheeks flushed beetroot. “Dreadfully sorry, sonny.”
Arthur tucked the advert in his pocket and extended his left hand.
“I’m Arthur,” he offered.
“Pleased to meet you, Arthur. Now there’s a story behind that arm and no mistaking it, and I’m dying to know, but now’s not the time to ask. It’s something for friends to discuss, and as I’ve barely made your acquaintance…” Her cheeks blushed redder. “Brings a whole new meaning to putting your foot in it.” She stared at her feet. “Ha! Putting your foot in it – me, who’d have thought!”
He could feel Maudie itching to give Felicity an arm story, but there was no way of getting a word in. Arthur and Maudie couldn’t help but laugh.
“And this must be your … ah, a twinnie – a fine pair you two make, and no mistaking. Like popples in a pod, matching freckles and dimples to boot! I can tell we’re all gonna get on,” she said, hooking Arthur’s arm. “After all – I’m footloose and fancy-free and you’re completely ’armless!”
She put her hand over her mouth, clearly shocked by what had come out, but Arthur grinned. It felt good to make light of it; most people looked at him with alarm, as though his situation was contagious, or worse, those who looked at him with pity.
As Felicity paused to take a breath, Maudie saw her chance. “He was struck by lightning twice in one day, in a storm in the Northern Isles. The first bolt took his hand, the next his elbow.”
Felicity laughed. “Ha, what a yarn, no mistaking.”
Before anyone could say another word, she escorted them up the steps.
Underneath the number four on the wall, a brass plate read Aurora Heights.
Dad had told Arthur a story about the aurora. Strange magical lights of all colours which appeared in the furthest skies.
“Go on, one of you knock,” said Felicity.
“You do it, Arty,” said Maudie.
The painted black door had a great brass knocker in the shape of a bird; Arthur thought it was a swallow. He lifted it and let go, the loud knock echoing in the street.
After a moment, slow footsteps approached, and the door creaked open. An old man with collar-length white hair combed neatly backwards surveyed them from top to bottom. “Can I help?” he said, his voice raspy, with the poshest Uptown accent. He raised his V-shaped eyebrows.
“We’re here for the evaluation,” Maudie said.
As he dipped forward, his whole body curled over them. “You’re children,” he said, curiously.
Arthur looked up. “We’re twelve and two moons.”
The butler shook his head, then gestured to Felicity. “This is very irregular. Just the Madame, I’m afraid.”
“Look here…” Felicity waved her hand.
“Welby,” he said, giving the faintest dip of his head.
“Welby, this is my niece, and this is my nephew. Hugely knowledgeable they are in ship-like affairs. I completely vouch for their talents in…” She looked to Maudie.
“Engineering,” Maudie said proudly.
Felicity gave an impressed nod. “And…” She looked at Arthur with an encouraging smile.
All he could say was, “Er, knives, in the kitchen.”
Felicity swallowed and raised her eyebrows. “Yes, knives, such a talent. So, where I go they go. Besides, it says open evaluations, ain’t no age specified – give them a chance, will you?” She grinned toothily.
&n
bsp; Welby surveyed them, a small amused grin on his lips. “I suppose you’d better come in, then.”
CHAPTER 8
HARRIET CULPEPPER
The hallway was grand, with russet star-shaped tiling on the floor. Lamps dangled from the ceiling at different heights, giving a warm glow to the wood-panelled walls filled with drawings of exotic landscapes. The scent of spices hit Arthur like a blow to the chest – it smelt of home.
Welby moved slowly, every step considered, as though his joints had rusted. He showed them into a large empty drawing room off the hallway. Blossom petals drifted in from an open door at the far end.
“Queenie will tell you when it’s time,” Welby said. With a nod he slowly left the room.
It was a peculiar room with enormous hinges in the corners of the ceiling and pipes twisting in and out of one of the walls, as though the parts that were usually hidden had broken free from inside.
They listened to the groan of Welby’s footsteps heading up the stairs.
On a chair opposite, an enormous fluffy cat stared at them, her fur the colour of stormy clouds, especially thick around her chin. She observed them with intelligent amber eyes and flicked her velvety tail. “I’m glad we left Parthena at home,” Arthur whispered.
The walls of the drawing room were as full as those in the hall: cabinets and cases overflowing with shells, skulls, jars, feathers, pinned butterflies, rocks, and drawings of weird and wonderful creatures.
Shortly, the cat’s ears pricked up, then the creaking of stairs sounded, and the front door opened and shut again as someone left. The cat jumped from the chair and stood in front of Arthur and Maudie. “Prroah, miaow,” she said.
“I guess this is Queenie,” Arthur said.
“I think she winked at you,” Maudie said, blinking.
“Meowt,” the cat said.
“I think her intention is to say what are you waiting for?” Felicity whispered.
“She must be a sapient animal,” Maudie said.
Arthur nodded. “She certainly seems pretty clever.”
“So I guess you follow her.”
Queenie looked to Maudie. “Meowt prrwt.”
“I think she means both of us.” Arthur squeezed Maudie’s hand.
