by Barbara Else
“Not another talking coat-hanger!” said Sibilla.
“It was useful,” said the King. “It told you when to get up and what to wear.”
“It broke,” said Sibilla.
“Accidentally-on-purpose,” Jasper said. “Go on, admit it.”
“I don’t want any presents. Just leave me alone! I hate everyone and everything!” Sibilla ran up the back steps.
“For goodness sake …” King Jasper started to follow her, but a sudden breeze lifted a skein of leaves into the air.
The King tilted his head to the midnight sky. The wind seemed to beat like giant wings, and a warm sort of scent came to Hodie. He tried to see over the bins in the shifting moonlight. A huge winged shape had settled on the herb garden. It had a crown of feathers which glowed a faint silvery-green. Its silver feather-scales rustled in a quiet metallic chime.
King Jasper held out his arms. “Dragon-eagle!” His voice was hushed, but happier than Hodie had heard it for many months.
~ Take care of your sister ~ said a voice that seemed like a soundless echo.
“Of course …” began Jasper.
~ Take care of the Guardian of The Ties ~ the voice continued.
“My father and Beatrix are searching for them.” Jasper spread his arms again. “We hope this time …”
~ The Queen must come into her magic before I die ~ The green glow of the dragon-eagle’s coronet dimmed almost to nothing. The great hooked beak lowered to the ground.
“Die?” King Jasper took a step forwards.
~ I grow old too fast from the wounds I suffered ~ said the soundless voice. ~ And my companion has been captured ~
The side gate gave another squeak. The visiting Um’Binnian officers straggled through it.
The breeze gusted. Leaves and grit dashed around, and the officers turned and ducked to save their eyes. When Hodie looked though his shielding fingers, it was as if a silvery bird-shaped cloud with the paws of a lion soared into the dark sky. A last chime of words floated down. ~ Find The Ties ~
The King stared after it. The wind surged and whistled around the garden, and died down. The sweet perfume disappeared.
“Unsettling weather in Fontania,” groused one of the Um’Binnians.
Another noticed the King, nudged his friend and saluted. “Pardon us, Your Majesty.”
“Of course,” said Jasper, cool and King-like, as if nothing had happened. “I’m off to bed. It’s your last night with us, and you should be tucked up too. I hope our barracks have been comfortable.” He gave a polite half-salute to the men. Back straight, he passed the bins without seeing Hodie. But as he went up the step, the King staggered as if weariness and sorrow tried to lower him.
Keeping in shadow, Hodie followed the Um’Binnians down to the barracks. They nudged each other as if they knew something they weren’t telling.
Hodie was feeling very strange indeed. That Um’Binnian Cream might have disagreed with him. He’d seen – and heard – a dragon-eagle for the first time. He’d heard it speak in a voice like a strange song. But parrots could talk. So could magpies and budgies. It meant nothing about magic. Anyway, Hodie was getting out of here tonight.
The officers straggled onto the barracks veranda. One of them knocked something to the ground. “Oops,” he said. “Clumsy Um’Binnian, cannot be trusted.” The others muffled their laughter and stumbled inside.
Hodie crept up to see what had fallen – the stool and Murgott’s notebook. It was a common sort of notebook around the Palace, the kind people used to jot down chores and write their birthday wish-lists. Everyone knew, but never said, that Murgott used his to write poems. Murgott had been a stinker to Hodie, but if the book was left out all night, the dew might spoil it.
A wave of tiredness pulled at Hodie and he found himself inside the lean-to, the Corporal’s book in his hand, without quite knowing how he’d got there.
Moonlight came through the little window. He put the book down, took his jacket from its hook and tucked it into the top of the satchel. Then he tied his blanket to the satchel with a piece of string. The old drawstring bag with his mother’s stuff hung there in the moonlight. Would he bother to take that with him? Well – it wasn’t heavy. He may as well.
He tucked Murgott’s notebook through the loops of the bag so he wouldn’t forget to put it back on the veranda, yawned, and sat on his bed while he tied a fresh piece of string around his boot. He wanted to lie down for just a minute.
~
The moonlight disappeared, and Hodie told himself to stand up and get moving. He must have fallen asleep – the blanket of the night seemed wrapped around him.
There were soft footsteps, and people gave puzzled whispers and scuffled about. Then it was quiet. Hodie remembered the nothing-taste then sweetness of the Um’Binnian Cream, and sleep came over him again. It was a sleep laced with an uneasy dream where he waded in a vast dish of hot pudding with little Queen Sibilla trudging beside him. Even though he was asleep, he told himself it was definitely a dream. And that was just as well, because it was a dream where he and the Queen were heading north to the Bridge of Teeth, to the boundary of Fontania.
~
5
dangerous choice
A ray of sun poked through the window of the lean-to. When the sun came through like this, it was mid-morning.
Hodie tried to put a hand over his eyes, but the blanket was wound around him. Dardy used to tuck him in this way when he was little, so tightly the mattress folded up like a canoe. It had made Hodie laugh. But he remembered tying the blanket to the old satchel last night. And he couldn’t have tucked himself up.
He wriggled free. His head felt blurry and he was still in his clothes – even his boots. He staggered out into the yard.
A small figure ran from the back door of the Palace, and sped from the herb garden to the laundry lines and back. It was Queen Sibilla in dressing gown and bare feet. “Where’s everyone?” she called. “What’s going on!”
The barracks door slammed open. Corporal Murgott lurched onto the veranda in his socks. Hodie stayed where he was, by the lean-to.
“Murgott!” The Queen came running through a flurry of chickens. “Murgott. Everyone is sound asleep.”
The Corporal saluted. “Your Majesty, Lady Helen and the King must be tired after the banquet.”
“I mean everyone!” cried Sibilla. “The cook, the servants – but not the Um’Binnians. Thank goodness, they’ve gone like they promised.”
Murgott nodded. “The officers are not in the barracks, and they’ve left their beds in an awful mess.”
“Well, my mother won’t wake up. And Jasper’s snoring. I thought only old men snored,” said the little Queen.
“Er …” Murgott finished buttoning his shirt. “There’s nobody but me awake down here.”
Neither the Queen nor Murgott had glanced at Hodie. If he gave a meaningful cough, would they notice?
Er-hrmph?
They didn’t.
“Your Majesty,” Murgott said, “let me make pancakes for you. It will cheer me up to toss ’em. With honey and lemon …”
“I don’t want breakfast!” Sibilla shouted. “I’m saying everyone seems drugged. Even the servants.”
“Everyone?” Murgott scratched his forehead. “That would use up a lot of my belief, Your Majesty, and believe me I have plenty of belief.”
“I bet it was the pudding,” said the Queen. “Everybody gorged on it but me. Did our soldiers have that pudding?”
“The men dived at it,” said Murgott. “Everybody does, when something’s free. There was bowl after bowl, and then more bowls. I’m the only one down here who couldn’t face it.” At last he turned to Hodie with a sunburnt scowl. “Ruined boots sit heavy on a soldier’s mind.”
The Queen looked startled and her face went red.
&
nbsp; Hodie’s throat filled with the bubble of a laugh. He stepped back into the lean-to. He buckled his jacket to the satchel, bulging with food from the banquet – he could have sworn he’d fastened it there last night. For the second time he folded and tied his blanket. Now, where was Murgott’s notebook? He’d toss it at the Corporal and step whistling down the side path …
Hodie saw the hook where he had hung his mother’s bag. The bag was gone. So was the notebook.
He looked on the floor, in every corner – there was no sign of the drawstring bag, nor of the notebook. Had the Um’Binnians stolen the bag when they left in the night? And nicked off with Murgott’s poems too? One of the Um’Binnians must have taken the time to tuck Hodie in after stealing his mother’s old rubbish. What very strange people.
Still, why should he care about that stuff of his mother’s? He’d never even known her.
Hodie jammed a cap on, slung the satchel on his back, swung outside and crashed the door shut. He bowed at the Queen, nodded at Murgott and strode off for the side path.
“Come here!” called the Queen. “Did you eat that pudding?”
Hodie kept walking.
“The Queen spoke to you!” said Murgott.
Hodie stopped. He had to admit his heart was jumping. He turned around, but didn’t bow. Queen Sibilla went red again. The ends of her hair twitched.
“Your Majesty,” said Hodie. “Thank you for helping me last night at the banquet. But I have to tell you now, I’m not one of your subjects.”
“Of course you are,” said Queen Sibilla.
“Learn some responsibility,” said Murgott. “First you ruin …”
The little Queen held up her hand and blushed even harder. “I was going to tell you, Murgott. It wasn’t the boy who wrecked your boots. I’m afraid it was me. I’ll buy you a new pair as soon as my mother gives me more royal pocket money.”
Corporal Murgott’s face went purple-red. His mouth stayed open but he made no sound. A door banged in the barracks, and a troll soldier staggered out. A servant opened a window in the kitchen.
“Now, boy,” began the Queen.
Hodie’s heart jumped more than ever. “Your Majesty, the Grand Palace never paid my father. I suppose he might have worked for you to pay some debts. But I came to the Grand Palace with him when I was small. I didn’t have much say in it. Now, I do.”
Sibilla blinked but Hodie continued. “I don’t know where I was born, but I do know it wasn’t Fontania. And I have a name. It’s actually Hodie. And I’ve had enough of being ordered around and not paid and not fed properly. So I’m off, Your Majesty.”
His heart was racketing about, so Hodie put a hand on his chest to help him speak calmly. “And by the way, your guests stole something that belonged to me. It might be wise to be more careful who you have to stay.”
He left the Queen standing there as if she couldn’t believe her ears.
“Your Majesty?” he heard Murgott say. “You let the boy take the blame? For wrecking my boots? If I may say so, Queen Sibilla, that was not well done.”
As he marched around the side of the Grand Palace, Hodie heard the first scream of another tantrum.
~
6
very little choice
for lunch
In wooden barrels outside the High Street shops, marigolds and sky-blue pansies danced in the breeze. A steam-tram puffed at an intersection, brakes squealing to be let off. Merchants were sticking up new Bargain signs in their windows. Groups of noisy school children straggled down to learn about the wharves, and queued up for the museum.
Hodie was so happy to be on his way that he marched right past the first crossroad south without noticing. It didn’t matter. He could stay on High Street going west. Out of the City it turned into the High Way. Eventually it turned into the Low Way and headed north, but he’d turn south at another crossroads. His feet side-stepped a sign for the daily paper that said: Lucky Escape. No War with Um’Binnia.
In only an hour the bustle of the City of Spires was behind him. Ahead was parkland with well-groomed trees, sweeping lawns and ferny gardens. He walked with a hop and a jink, and imagined saying what he liked to Emperor Prowdd’on or laughing in Commander Gree’sle’s sour face. If he was following them to claim his mother’s stuff, that’s just what he’d do. But why should he care about a mother he couldn’t remember?
He began to whistle one of Murgott’s marching songs. When he stopped to take in a breath, he heard footsteps pattering behind him. He glanced around. A boy, smaller than him, in a floppy cap, grey shirt and trousers, a jacket tied by its arms round his waist, waved at him. Hodie didn’t want company and strode faster.
The boy caught up, puffing.
“Boy!” said the boy. “I knew I’d catch you!”
Hodie’s mouth dropped open. It was the Queen. Over her shoulder she carried a bag with a silver feather embroidered on the side. He recognised the cap, an old one of King Jasper’s, big enough to hide all her hair.
“I’ve run away too,” she said. “I should have done it months ago. I can’t bear it!” She gave a little laugh, though her eyes were red and teary.
Hodie’s head was a thicket of thoughts. Which one to say first?
“It’s all right,” she said. “Talk to me as if I’m normal.”
She strode on, and he caught up, still struggling with words. She smiled at him, a sheepish glimmer.
“You don’t know how awful it is, everyone watching you, waiting, when nothing is ever going to happen!”
Did that mean she knew magic was nonsense? That must make things very complicated for her. Hodie didn’t blame her for running away – though he didn’t want her to think she could travel with him.
She flung her arms out and took a deep breath. “This is much better.”
Hodie had to do another hop to keep up with her. “It’s actually a really bad idea.”
She smiled again. “The Um’Binnians were terrible guests. But they were my guests. If they’ve taken something of yours, I should help you get it back.”
“But I’m going south,” Hodie said. “I’m heading south.”
“It’s nice there,” she said.
“I’m not going to Um’Binnia!” he said.
“No, but you can catch up with the Emperor first. We’ll turn south then.” She stopped and faced him. “I owe you a kindness. I was awful to let Murgott blame you about the boots. I’ve told him the truth.”
“I heard,” he said.
She shuddered to show it had been a difficult moment. (It served her right.) “He said such behaviour was to be expected if you were a pirate. But that everyone must learn to do better and I have to make amends.” She pulled a face. “He didn’t really say that last bit. I realised it myself, when the tantrum passed. I’m actually pretty sure it’s my last tantrum.” She let out a sort of sob-chuckle. “Anyway, making amends is what he meant and what I’ve decided.”
“Your Majesty, you helped me at the banquet so we’re even.”
“I’m coming to help, and that’s that.” She walked on fast.
Soon they’d reached the end of the parkland. Under a tree with shimmering leaves was a stone seat for weary travellers. Hodie hoped the Queen would sit on it. Surely she’d start whining for a coach to carry her home?
Instead she gave Hodie a bright smile and kept on faster.
Maybe he should say something about what he’d seen and heard last night – the King and the old dragon-eagle. Even if she didn’t believe in magic, she might scurry off. Then Hodie could forget her.
Apparently, when Queen Sibilla was a toddler, she hadn’t talked much. Now she started rattling on without a pause. “Princessa Lu’nedda pretended to be nice, but she was spiteful. My mother says spiteful people are really unhappy. Do you think she was spiteful, or just bumbling? I mean, Lu’nedda i
s a grown-up, but her father treats her like a badly trained spaniel – a big spaniel with ringletty ears. If everything in Um’Binnia is so wonderful, why did the Emperor bother to visit us? I suppose just to show they don’t want war.”
Hodie let her chatter. Queen Sibilla might be selfish and spoiled, but how she could help it? She was basically good-natured, and she was a beautiful little Queen with sparkly eyes and long blonde hair that fell straight when she was content and twisted in various mad ways when she was not. People couldn’t stop themselves from spoiling her. She needed to be protected. But Hodie didn’t intend to be the boy who did that job.
~
They passed a few coaches, some carts and a steam-truck. Nobody recognised the Queen under the big cap and in those clothes. Hodie thought Sibilla enjoyed pretending to be ordinary and a boy. One man on a plodding horse began to ask something, but the breeze kicked up a flurry of dust. The man rode on, hunched into his coat, muttering about silly boys too far from home.
Lunchtime came, and still no crossroads. A stream rippled beside the road. Some yellowy grass made a place to rest, though hardly a nice one if you were royal. There was torn newspaper, and ants crawled over two apple cores and a crumpled napkin with a golden edge. Hodie guessed the Um’Binnians had picnicked here for breakfast and left their litter.
Sibilla screwed her nose up, but sat down and took off her shoes. “Oo,” she said. “Spongy bits.”
“They’re blisters,” said Hodie.
She poked her toes. “How interesting.”
Hodie didn’t want to look at royal blisters. He brought one of the baked potatoes out of the satchel, broke it apart and offered her half.
She crinkled her lip as if to say What’s that!, then gave a chuckle. “Oh,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Hodie muttered.
She sat on the bank of the stream, munched the potato and swished her feet in the water. After a while she frowned.
Hodie hoped she was ready to give up. “You really shouldn’t come with me.”
