The Star Thief

by Lindsey Becker

  “Well, they do,” the Mapmaker said, pointing up toward the house while looking intensely at Honorine.

  “What would they want with me? They were looking for a book.” The crow on the Mapmaker’s shoulder hopped up onto the potting bench and pecked at the glass.

  “Yes, yes, I’m going as fast as I can, Corvus,” the Mapmaker said testily. “Our apologies, Miss Honorine. A smart, young thing like yourself is very right to be suspicious. However, we are in a bit of a tight spot at the moment, so I must be embarrassingly blunt, I’m afraid. I don’t know exactly why, but those men are hunting us. But I believe that before the night is through, they will be hunting you as well. And you won’t be much of a challenge for them. I would like to propose that, instead of being captured by the likes of Salton and Bloom, you consider joining up with us instead.”

  Honorine blinked and furrowed her brow.

  “You want me to come with you?” she asked.

  “It’s either us or them,” Astraea said, nodding toward the house, and the men armed with rifles and knives wandering the gardens.

  “What if I don’t like either of those choices?” Honorine asked, looking from Astraea to Lux to the Mapmaker. “You broke into Lady Vidalia’s house and tried to burn Lord Vidalia’s journal. What else did you take? Are you thieves?”

  The Mapmaker brightened at this.

  “I always thought I’d make a rather dashing thief,” he said. “But no. We’re not here to take anything that doesn’t belong to us already.”

  “That book wasn’t yours,” Honorine said. “It belonged to Lord Vidalia, and I think you tried to destroy it.” She motioned to Astraea. “I saw your feathers near the fireplace.”

  Astraea turned toward Honorine, her eyes blazing, and looked as if she was about to say something a little more than harsh, but the Mapmaker stopped her with a wave of his hand.

  “And what about the information inside?” he asked Honorine. “If Lord Vidalia wrote something down that could harm us, have we no right to protect ourselves? We can’t let that information fall into the hands of someone who would use it against us, can we?”

  “But there wasn’t anything dangerous in it.…” Honorine said at the same moment she realized that might not be entirely true. “Was there?”

  “Could I have a look at it?” the Mapmaker asked. “It’s in your pocket right this moment, isn’t it?”

  Honorine hesitated. Lord Vidalia did not trust this Mapmaker. But then, his journal had been written many years ago. Perhaps he had been mistaken or he hadn’t had all the information. The Mapmaker had not threatened her or harmed her in any way. He had, in fact, offered to help.

  She pulled out the little journal and placed it in his hand.

  “Thank you,” he said, his eyes a calming shade of ocean blue as he flipped through the book. “Log notes, some rather nice illustrations, diagrams of machinery… but not the information that Nautilus is really looking for.”

  “Who?” Honorine asked. “You keep saying that name. Who is he?”

  “The captain of the Gaslight, Nautilus Olyphant,” answered Astraea. “The worst of the lot.”

  “We’ve been observing him,” Lux said. “Keeping track of where he travels, trying to find a way to stop him from coming after us. We first found it curious that he would come here. But then word reached us that Nautilus was looking for a rather important piece of work created by Lord Vidalia, a lost journal, and that he was traveling across the whole of the North Atlantic to find it.”

  “Well, I didn’t believe it,” the Mapmaker said. “Not entirely. I was certain there must be something else here, something even more important, for Nautilus to go to all the trouble.”

  The Mapmaker looked down at Honorine.

  “Now I understand,” he said. “I would have come to find you much, much sooner, had I known you were here all along.”

  Lux moved suddenly, knocking past Honorine to get to the windows. “You’ll have to explain it to her on the ship,” he said. “We’re out of time. He’s here.”

  Behind him, the moon hung low and full and yellow, brushing the tops of the trees, and beside it, Honorine saw a second large, round shape resting in the sky as if the moon were casting a shadow. A flicker of golden firelight illuminated the underside of a huge blue dirigible growing closer and larger every second.

  “What is that?” Honorine asked.

  “Nautilus’s airship,” the Mapmaker huffed. “This is it, Honorine. We have to get back to our ship. It is the only place where Nautilus cannot catch us. There will be time to ask all the questions you’d like once we get outside his reach.”

  Honorine felt the dread building in the greenhouse as Astraea, Lux, Corvus, and the Mapmaker stared up at the looming airship, waiting for her to give them the signal to flee to safety.

  “What about the others?” she asked. “Lady Vidalia is still in the house! And Agnes and the other maids! I can’t just leave them behind!”

  “Nautilus is looking for us, not them. If we go away, he will follow,” the Mapmaker explained.

  A deep, powerful explosion rang out in the dark morning sky, rattling the glass in the greenhouse windows until several panes cracked.

  “What was that?” Honorine asked.

  “That would be cannons,” Lux said.

  “Are you ready, Honorine?” the Mapmaker asked before the echo of the cannon fire had completely faded.

  This was it. The adventure Honorine had always dreamed of, right in front of her. The kind that Lord Vidalia had undertaken, traveling away from the manor house and the garden walls to bring home all those treasures and artifacts. The kind of adventure that had taken him away forever, she realized, perhaps had even been his demise. There would be excitement and mystery and discovery. And cannons.

  “All right,” she said finally.

  “You’ll come?” Lux asked, his ears pricking up brightly.

  “Yes, I’ll go with you.”

  She expected him to be pleased, but the Mapmaker’s first reaction, just for a moment, was one of melancholy. He nodded, then put a hand on Honorine’s shoulder.

  “Welcome back,” he said, giving her a pat. “Now, we have to get to the Carina before Nautilus works out that we’re still here, wandering around unprotected.”

  The Mapmaker moved to the tangled dark at the back of the greenhouse, brushing aside a shriveled rope of vines covered in yellowing leaves, and slid open a panel of glass leading to a narrow gap in the brick garden wall. Astraea and Corvus went through after him, leaving Lux and Honorine alone under the glowing omen stones and dead palm fronds.

  “You first,” Lux said with a nod toward the little brick doorway. “I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

  Honorine took a breath and one last look back at the Vidalia house, then ducked through the wall, leaving behind the manicured gardens and the elegant estate—and entering the dark, wild woods.

  The Vidalia Estate was surrounded by a hundred acres of wild woodland, mossy ravines, and dark, silent groves of old oak trees. Honorine and Francis had often wandered in the woods, but she hadn’t been out past the garden wall once in the year since he’d left home for school, and she’d never done so at night.

  There was not much to see, except what was illuminated by the Mordant, who each gave off a faint aura of ethereal light. Lux was a bluish white, Astraea was a faint violet, and the Mapmaker was a color she had never seen before. It was something like ocean green, but with a phosphorescent tint. They gathered on the far side of the wall, taking a moment to observe the forest before they headed into it.

  Astraea perched on the bend of an enormous oak branch, her wings stretched out for balance. The Mapmaker stood below her on a wide path of packed earth covered with fallen leaves. Honorine padded her way across the cold forest floor on her bare feet, with Lux following right beside her.

  “Where’s the crow?” she whispered to Lux.

  “Reconnaissance,” he explained. “Looking out for Nautilus�
��s men.”

  The Mapmaker leaned down, putting one hand on Honorine’s shoulder. “Stay with Lux,” he instructed as his eyes scanned the darkness around them. They were flashing from dark to light. Honorine supposed he could probably see much better in the dark, like a cat or an owl. “He will lead you back to the Carina. Astraea and I will take a higher route to keep ourselves between you and Nautilus. Move as quickly as you can without—”

  A branch snapped with a dry crack that echoed through the woods. Before the sound had died, a rush of brilliant electric-blue sparks erupted underneath a tree a dozen paces away. They illuminated the outline of Corvus, no longer the size of an ordinary crow, but taller than the Mapmaker, with wings that reached out to a span of perhaps ten feet or more. The glow of Corvus, in turn, illuminated the silhouette of a person, slightly hunched over, with one foot balanced in the air, as if he were praying that no one had heard his very unfortunate encounter with the dry branch.

  “Ah,” the Mapmaker said. “And who do we have here?”

  “Um, sorry!” said the silhouette nervously. “Didn’t mean to interrupt! I heard some noise and thought I should check things over. Just for safety, you see.”

  “Oh, it’s Sam!” Honorine said. He was just a bit older than Honorine herself and had worked in the stables for at least half a dozen years. “He’s a stable hand. He’s nothing dangerous.”

  “That’s right,” Sam said with an eager nod. “I tend the horses, keep watch on the grounds. Sometimes. As needed. That’s all.” His eyes moved from the wolf to the enormous crow to the winged girl, each faintly glowing. “So, none of this seems to be any of my business.”

  The Mapmaker stepped closer, offering him a hand.

  “And that’s all you do here?” he asked as his hand closed over Sam’s. Astraea’s wings rustled, and she took a half step toward them. “You work only for Lady Vidalia?”

  “And the lord, of course,” Sam said. “Though we haven’t seen him.… Well, I’ve never seen him. My, you have a very strong grip there, sir.”

  “Indeed,” the Mapmaker said. The pointed blue star on his hand pulsed with light, and Sam tried to pull his hand away with a yelp.

  “He’s not dangerous!” Honorine repeated as Sam grew more frantic in his attempts to free his hand. The Mapmaker was still as iron, not flinching as Sam struggled and tugged, trying to escape. “Let him go! You’re hurting him!”

  Astraea swooped in on a trail of violet and silver sparks and stood behind Sam as he cried out and fell to one knee.

  “Enough,” Astraea said firmly. “This boy has done nothing wrong. Set him free.”

  The Mapmaker glared down at Astraea, gave Sam’s arm a final twist, and then released him. The boy crumpled to the ground. Honorine rushed to him.

  “Sam!” she said, picking up his hand. It was hot, his fingers a bit blue at the tips from the pressure. He flinched when she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Sam, are you all right?”

  “I think so,” he said, flexing his fingers. “That was terrible. Like I stuck my finger in a socket.”

  “Well, it’s done now,” Honorine said, offering him her other hand. Sam began to reach for her with his good arm, but when he looked up at her, his expression flashed from confusion to fear. He quickly drew his unhurt hand away as if she had shocked him just as badly as the Mapmaker, and scrambled backward.

  “See? He’s a quick learner, this one,” the Mapmaker said with a nod. “Now he will stay away from us, which is the safest place for him to be.”

  “Sam!” Honorine said, taking a step toward him, which only sent him into an utter panic. He bolted away, pulling himself a few feet across the dirt and leaves before he managed to get his feet under him and take off running.

  He had barely faded from view before a whistle pierced the dark around them, followed by a cannonball crashing through the trees and exploding in a blast of yellow sparks and green smoke.

  The Mapmaker swung up onto the crow’s back with one graceful leap. “Stay with Lux,” he said, “and we will meet you on the ship.”

  Then, with a mighty lunge, the great black bird lifted into the sky, every feather outlined in glittering blue light and trailing a wake of shimmering sparks through the shadows.

  A second thunderous boom of cannon fire echoed out over the forest, followed by an explosion of yellow-green light, like fireworks.

  Lux nudged Honorine’s hand with his nose. “Sam will be fine,” he said. “The Mapmaker only gave him a warning. It could have been much worse. Now, follow me if you want to remain unexploded.”

  He nodded toward the trees and took off at a slow trot.

  Honorine followed, but the way the Mapmaker had treated Sam had created a bother in her that curled up just under her heart. She had seen plenty of people being treated unfairly before, but as a maid, there was little she could do when someone was scolded too harshly. Perhaps this time, she thought, she could speak to the Mapmaker about it, when they had safely reached his ship.

  The only light came from Lux’s shimmering coat and his paws kicking up occasional white sparks. The rest of the forest was dark all around them, punctuated by blasts of yellow light from the cannon fire overhead. Amid the whistles and blasts was another sound, a low rumbling that rattled Honorine’s ribs and ended in a wild growl.

  “That wasn’t a cannon!” Honorine said as she jogged a bit closer to Lux.

  “No,” he replied. “That was a lion. Nothing for you to be concerned about. He’s really rather pleasant. You’ll meet him when we get to the ship.”

  No matter how pleasant he might be, Honorine could not imagine that meeting a lion would not be cause for concern.

  “About that ship,” Honorine said as she ducked under a thorny branch. “We are quite a distance from the seashore.”

  “Ah, well,” Lux said, “this isn’t like any ship you would recognize.”

  “No, but I would,” said a voice from the dark.

  Lux’s ears shot forward, and Honorine’s eyes snapped to the tangled forest ahead, but neither of them located the speaker before they heard a crack of gunfire, followed by an explosion of white sparks so bright that Honorine shrieked with surprise and threw her arms over her eyes to shield them.

  When she lowered her hands, there were still stray sparks floating down out of the dark sky, but the wolf was nowhere to be seen.

  Lux?” she called. “Lux!”

  “I did it!” said the voice from the dark. “I hit him!”

  “Who’s there?” Honorine shouted. “And what did you do to that wolf?”

  “I shot him!” said a boy as he hopped down from the stout oak branches and landed on the leaf-strewn path just in front of Honorine. He held up an odd, clunky copper pistol, staring at it with both joy and bewilderment.

  “I can’t believe I hit him!” he said. “I’ve never done that before. And you’re welcome, by the way.” Then he looked away from the weapon and back to Honorine. He wore a small lantern on a copper chain around his neck that gave off just enough light so she could see his face.

  “Francis!” Honorine shouted, both in greeting and surprise.

  He had grown since she last saw him. He was taller and skinny, with shaggy hair and a slightly unkempt appearance, not at all like a boy who had been away at a very proper boarding school. He was dressed in black breeches and boots, a dark wool sweater with a high neck, and a snug black leather jacket, quite different from the tailored suits and cravats he had worn around the house. But it was unmistakably him.

  “What are you doing out here,” he asked, “wandering about in the dark with wolves?”

  “Me?” Honorine asked. “What are you doing wandering about with guns? You’re supposed to be at school!”

  “Yes, well, let’s not tell my mother,” he said. “Are you all right? Did the wolf hurt you?”

  “No,” Honorine said with a quick shake of her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Well, we should get moving,” Francis said as he reloade
d the clunky pistol with round pellets made of glowing yellow-green stone. “These don’t do much but distract them. Look, he’s already coming back.”

  Francis was right. Honorine could already see Lux re-forming from the last of the white embers. They clung together along invisible ears, tail, and snout, illuminating the outline of a wolf. He gave a raspy, barking laugh and took a step forward, the little sparks multiplying and congealing to give him substance once more.

  “It’s like shaking up oil and water,” Honorine said. As she was pondering the regenerating wolf, Francis tugged her hand, urging her to step back.

  “Come on, then. We’ll only have a few more minutes before he’s all solid again.”

  Francis jogged off into the trees.

  “Well, wait!” Honorine called, hurrying along after the bobbing light of the lantern around his neck. “You don’t have to shoot him. He’s not dangerous. He was trying to save me, actually.”

  “Save you?” Francis asked as he came to a stop near a particular oak so ancient that its lowest branches sagged all the way to the ground. “Save you from what?”

  “Nautilus Olyphant. And his pirates.”

  Francis scrunched his nose in his familiar Francis way. And even if he had just shot a seemingly friendly, certainly magical wolf, seeing Francis again made her smile.

  “So you’re running away from Nautilus Olyphant?” he asked with a huge, goofy smile of his own. “Is that why you’re out in the woods in a stable hand’s overalls in the middle of the night, covered in mud and grease? And with no shoes to boot?”

  Honorine looked down at her feet.

  “Nope, no shoes or boots,” she said, and started to giggle, then burst into an uncontrollable laugh that made Francis giggle, too. In moments, they were both snorting and laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

  “A bunch of terrible brutes broke into your mother’s house and tried to steal from your father’s personal library,” Honorine explained between bursts of laughter. “What about you? Is this how they dress you at school?”