The Queen and the Nobody Boy
Page 5
He stood up. The little Queen was out of sight. The metal bird was no protection for her – it was just an interesting gift, bound to smash itself on a rock before too long.
One more hour, Hodie thought, one more, she’ll be ready to cross back home, and this time the troll won’t stop us.
Hodie hurried past a few skimpy, leafless trees, up a gravel path between walls of rock. Ahead, he saw the bird crash-land in the dirt and Sibilla marching on. The bird whirred up again.
Back over Fontania, the sun still sparkled. But here the sky was grey, like the bathwater those times Mrs Emily made Hodie come and use the servants’ bathroom and clean himself properly. He reached a rise in the dwindling path. Ahead lay the Stones – a desert of canyons and craters and grey boulders. Nobody owned them, as the Queen had said, and who would want to? Here and there stood leafless trees (grey) and little plants (grey) like the fuzz when the older soldiers hadn’t shaved for several days.
Panting and limping, he caught up with the Queen. “Your Majesty,” he began.
“Please,” she said, “use my name. I’ll use yours. Hodie.”
“Er. Sibilla.” He nearly choked on it. “You see, this is the situation.”
“What is?” she asked.
“Well,” said Hodie, “I know you used to day-dream when you should have been listening to your tutors.”
Her jaw firmed as if she might whack him, but she didn’t stop walking.
“The thing is,” he continued softly, “we should be quiet.”
“Why?” she asked.
“There are things around …”
“Yes, rocks,” she said. “And more rocks. Look over there, stones and rubble.”
He had to keep his temper. “No – I’ve heard there are rabbits that aren’t the soft and cuddly sort.”
“Where?” she asked.
“In the Stones,” he said.
“I mean, where did you hear about them?” She was hobbling, and it was clear she felt impatient.
This could be awkward. “I listened underneath your schoolroom window.”
She stared at him. “You got free lessons?”
In the circumstances, what was wrong with that? “You can see it as payment for the odd jobs.”
She blushed. “I’m also helping you get back whatever the Um’Binnians took from your hut.”
He settled his satchel on the other shoulder. “Look, it was just some old stuff of my mother’s. And Murgott’s poetry, by accident.”
“What! Why?” She nearly tripped over the metal bird having one of its rests.
“Because I shouted at the Emperor, I think. When … you know … the squirrel …” He glanced at her warily.
Sibilla’s eyes filled with tears. She cleared her throat. She had that look that meant someone’s going to try changing the subject. “I remember your father, and the elephant. He let me ride on it when I was small. Then he was very good at all the odd jobs. I’m sorry he didn’t get paid.”
“Thank you,” said Hodie.
There was a moment when she didn’t say anything. Then –
“Your mother’s stuff. No wonder you want it back.”
He shrugged, clenched his jaw and hiked on.
“What was she like?” Sibilla asked.
He’d never been asked before. It came as a shock. He stopped walking. “I don’t remember.”
“Nothing? What about the colour of her hair?”
He had no idea. Even if he could have said – his throat choked again.
The sun was hidden by low clouds that streamed in the wind. Here and there were signs of travellers: a horseshoe, a mangled glove, a few bones. Hodie hoped they were only lunch bones left by humans. The metal bird still circled over the Queen’s head, squawking now and then. “Ho-ome. Quee-een, ho-ome!”
The further they walked, the more upset Hodie felt and the more he actually missed Dardy.
The sides of the canyon grew steeper. As they struggled past a small crater, whispery crackles sounded from an oily puddle in its depths. The path kept on rising. Hodie looked up and saw grey fuzzy movement – with luck, it was only bushes in the wind. Then the canyon seemed to end in a tumble of rocks.
“This is it,” Hodie said. “Wrong turning. We have to go back.”
“For goodness’ sake, you give up easily.” The little Queen started to clamber over.
“Come back!” But it was no good. She was scrambling on, and he had to follow.
Around a huge boulder, a steep slope of pebbles led down to a shallow valley. Deep canyons rayed out in all directions. Dust spiralled and ghosted. In the middle of the valley was a long low building – the Depot. The Um’Binnian crest blazed on its side: a yellow sunburst with a purple coronet. At one end of a wooden platform were pulleys and hoists – Hodie supposed they must be to lift the wind-trains up to catch the gale. Two carriages waited, but no engine.
His heart felt sore on Sibilla’s account. She looked frightened, and he understood why. The Um’Binnians had extraordinary machines. King Jasper would never make anything big enough to match them, though it was no wonder he wanted to try. The thing was, if the world had such amazing machines, what was the point of magic? What was the point in being Queen of Fontania?
~
10
going on by mistake
It was obvious the Emperor and Princessa would have left on the previous night’s wind-train. And Hodie had never expected – or wanted – Queen Sibilla, in her grey shirt and trousers, to simply stride along the platform and say, “You vain pig, Emperor Prowdd’on, give the boy’s bag back at once.” Still, he felt oddly disappointed.
Sibilla’s bird gave a creaky whirr.
“What are we waiting for?” She’d clamped both hands on her cap, so her hair must be trying to frizz.
Hodie opened his mouth to say in a short sharp sentence that they must turn back. But there was a creeping sound, like paws. From the corner of his eye he saw a little blur of animal launch at them. It landed on the Queen’s cap, she screamed, and the animal leaped at Hodie. Sibilla slipped and started plunging down the pebbles. He lurched after her. The sock-bandage dangled off his leg – he tripped on it, and slid in a clatter and jangle of stones. At the foot of the slope the Queen crumpled onto her knees, clamped both hands on her cap and let out the Royal Swear Word. Hodie dragged her towards the Depot – she kept slipping and so did he – but at last he shoved her up the steps onto the platform.
The metal bird rattled down beside them. “Quee … Sib … Quee!” it croaked. It had lost all but one of its tail feathers. Sibilla grabbed the bird and stuffed it in her bag.
Heart still thudding, Hodie looked at the creature that had chased them – a small squirrel, scruffy and grey. It crouched below the platform steps, the metal bird’s tail feathers in its mouth. It was extremely ugly, like the ones who had adopted the Grand Palace. This one also looked disappointed in the metal feathers.
Sibilla turned a furious look on Hodie.
“I was scared it was one of those rabbits,” he began. “But you ran first.”
“A rabbit!” said Sibilla.
“Or … or a toad!” he continued. “But toads are later – at the other end of the Stones, I mean. They need water.” He knew it wasn’t a terrific explanation.
The little Queen wiped the smears of dust and dirt on her face, which made them worse. Ignoring Hodie, she hitched the waistband of her trousers, sat down and eased her feet out of her shoes. She peeled her socks off very carefully. “Oo,” she murmured. “Ouch.”
A number of soldiers in Um’Binnian uniforms milled at the far end of the station. Hodie didn’t like the look of them.
A station guard came out of a door and marched over. “No beggars,” he said. “No boys who do not have minder.”
Sibilla opened her mouth. “I happe
n to be the …”
Hodie nudged her, then smiled at the man. “He wants to see the Emperor. Emperor Prowdd’on.”
“Excuse me!” cried Sibilla.
Hodie elbowed her again.
The guard grinned. “Two dressed-in-rag urchins? See the Emperor? Very big joke. He arrive last night and take first wind-train. He throw everyone off, and leave these extra carriages so he travel faster. Passengers all hopping mad.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the soldiers. “And look. Boys must think sense. Enough problems here for me without stray urchins. Clear off, and you are lucky I am not swearing.”
“Er,” said Hodie. “Can … my little brother! … can he wash his blisters first?”
The guard looked at Sibilla’s bare feet. “Oh yes. Wash nasty toes. Then, on your way. Boys safer at home …”
Hodie stared after the man – he was sure he’d heard, “safer at home until Emperor declare war on Fontania.”
Sibilla’s mouth looked a bit trembly. “I was trying to help. But the Emperor’s gone. I should have thought harder.”
“Behave like a boy. Stay in disguise,” Hodie hissed. “Did you hear what he said? Um’Binnia might declare war after all.”
She kept her chin up, glanced at the soldiers, then put both hands to her cap.
“Leave it on!” he said.
“My hair is trying to throw the cap off! They haven’t declared war yet and I won’t give up. You can’t give up either. I’ll get your mother’s stuff for you. We’ll take the next wind-train.”
He couldn’t help noticing how her hands shook, though her smile tried to be bright. “I’ve told you all along,” he said, “I want to go south! Besides, the guard would stop us and we don’t have tickets.”
Her smile dropped. “Oh – you don’t have money.” She forced another smile. “I’ll pay.”
Hodie groaned.
“Except …” She bit a thumbnail. “I didn’t bring my pocket money. Maybe they’ll take a cheque … No. I don’t have one. Anyway, my mother has to sign them till I turn twenty.”
What a relief. Now the Queen would realise she had to go home and …
“New message!” squawked the metal bird inside her bag. “New mess-awk!” Sibilla jolted the bag. The bird shut up.
If only the Queen would listen to her brother’s present, she might realise the trouble she was in. She didn’t even seem to realise how lucky she was to have a brother, let alone parents.
By now, people with suntans, and in sunhats or sunbonnets, had crowded from the waiting room. They stared at their watches, tapped the dials, and tapped their boots and walking sticks on the platform. On the Depot walls, posters said: Dare the Open Air in quaint Fontania! Sun and surf on the Beaches of Summerland! Other notices said: Protect Um’Binnia from rebels. Tell on your friends.
Hodie grabbed the last odd socks from his satchel. “Use these for your blisters,” he said to the Queen.
“Thank you …” began Sibilla in a royal way, then she stopped with a tiny real grin. In a little-boy voice she said, “Don’t boss me round, oink bruvver.” She snatched the socks and took them to a drinking fountain, where she dampened the top of one and started cleaning up her feet.
Hodie sat at the top of the platform steps, head in his hands. The squirrel had dropped the metal feathers. It picked up a yellowy pebble, tried to chew that, dropped it and looked pathetic.
“Hungry?” Hodie asked.
The ugly thing stared at him and waved its tail like a tattered banner. Could it be the one from home? Surely not. And he didn’t mean home anyway – he meant the Grand Palace.
He fished in his satchel and rolled a small potato down the steps. The squirrel grabbed it and started nibbling. Then it stopped, sniffed the pebble again and batted it closer to the step. It was Sibilla’s pendant, along with its chain.
Hodie scrambled down and picked it up. The Queen came back. She’d rinsed her face as well as her feet, but the torn trousers and big cap still made her look like an urchin. He handed the pendant to her.
“Oo, I didn’t know I’d lost it.” She stuck her top teeth over her lip like a cheeky brother ragamuffin. “Fanks! I’d better keep it tucked away.” She threaded the chain round her neck and under her collar.
They sat in silence for a moment. This whole place gave Hodie the creeps. The wind blew dust from one end of the valley to the other, then another gust blew more dust, like gritty ghosts rank after rank. Behind him, most of the long building looked as if it was used for storage. That’s what “depot” meant, of course. It was better to say Depot than something boring like “coal shed” or something that would give the game away like, “where we keep the weapons to overrun Fontania and steal all their stuff”. Hodie had not trusted the Emperor and Commander even as far as their moustaches reached across their faces.
“How long before the next wind-train?” asked Sibilla. He’d known she couldn’t stay quiet for more than a minute. “I’m starving. But I’m tired of stale banquet. I hope there’ll be something to eat on the wind-train … oh, I’ll have to pay for food as well. Like ordinary people.”
“We’re not going on the wind-train,” Hodie said.
Sibilla rolled her eyes. “You give up far too easily. We’ll stow away.”
He buried his face in both hands.
“We could climb a pylon and hop on at the last minute,” she continued.
Climb the pylon? The height was bad enough, but the top was swaying. When the heavy wind-train was slung between the towers … Hodie went cold and sweaty.
“My father used to reckon that something always happens in the end,” he managed to say. “We just have to wait.” Even before the words were out, Hodie wished he hadn’t spoken. For one thing, why had he said anything about waiting? For another, now she’d ask again about his father.
“Where did he come from?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.
What did that matter? Dardy was gone – disappeared, or even dead. Now Hodie wanted to disappear as well – just not into Um’Binnia.
This was ridiculous. He jumped to his feet. He would march off at once, back the way they had come.
But far to the east, in the direction of Summerland, a flicker showed among the Stones. With it came a faint howl, thinner than the wind and more metallic. Hodie decided it wouldn’t hurt to wait and just look at the wind-train.
Railway workers hurried over to the two stationary carriages and began hoisting them out of the way with hooks and pulleys.
The squirrel gave a low chk-chk and stiffened, looking up the rocky slope behind the platform. Suddenly, it vanished into a crevice between two rocks. Over the rise, where Sibilla and Hodie had tumbled down, a horse’s head appeared. Another head appeared, wearing a hat. Then Hodie saw six legs appear: four for the horse as you’d expect, two for Corporal Murgott – whom Hodie had not expected. But he was pleased. Now the Corporal would take charge of the little Queen. Hodie was free.
Murgott wasn’t dressed in uniform and had a big duffel bag over his shoulder. He stopped on the top of the slope and brought a sandwich out of his bag. Chewing, he stood and scanned the Depot – he spotted Hodie, and seemed slightly puzzled when he saw Queen Sibilla. Her little-boy disguise must be very good if it could fool Murgott.
The Corporal shoved the rest of his sandwich back in the bag. He and the horse trod sideways down the slope.
Neither horse nor Corporal looked happy.
The squirrel pounced out of the crevice and headed for Murgott. It was small but it was tough. It scrabbled up the Corporal’s trousers, up his jacket. Murgott dropped the horse’s reins, and the horse reared and heaved itself up back the way it had come. Murgott rolled yelling down the slope in a flurry of claws and scruffy tail, duffel bag and second-best boots.
Hodie ripped open his satchel and yanked out a sausage. “Here!” he cried.
Murgott stumbled to the steps, hand to his ear where the squirrel had tried nibbling. “That sausage is off,” he growled at Hodie. “I can smell it from here. Are you trying to poison yourself and your tatty little mate … Skull-and-crossbones! It’s the Qu–” He creaked up the steps. “In the circumstances I won’t bow, Your Mm – ah – nor even speak your title. I can’t say how relieved I am to see you in disguise. I have news. In fact, several pieces.”
“I’m not going back with you,” Sibilla said.
“Please take her back immediately,” said Hodie.
~
11
one way to
make a squirrel sick
Hodie hitched up his satchel and opened his mouth to say goodbye. But Murgott’s hand clamped on his shoulder. “Boy,” he began.
The little Queen put her hands on the hips of her torn trousers. That chin of hers went more pointy with determination. “Before you say anything else, Murgott, do you have food with you?”
He eyed her under bristly eyebrows. “I’m not giving any out right now.”
She began to speak again, but he talked over her. “And, Your Mm – ah … you and the boy must not eat anything else from that old satchel.”
“But …” said Queen Sibilla.
Something nearby began to give disgusting coughs. The squirrel, perched on a boulder near the steps, was trying to be sick. That was proof the banquet leftovers had gone off.
“Boy,” said Murgott, “I apologise. I should have known you were not the kind of boy to wreck a man’s boots.”
Sibilla reddened but her jaw went determined as well.