by Cate Cain
Tolly moved to the back of the caravan where a cupboard decorated with painted roses was set into the wall, forming an alcove over the bed.
“Ann’s very tidy – she’s always scolding me about the state of my own caravan. This is where she keeps her clothes.” He reached up and opened the door. “Here it is. She wears it every day.” He pulled down a roll of red woollen cloth and crushed it to his nose. “The dogs won’t mistake her – and I can help them too. I’ll try to … explain how important it is to find her.”
“Of course!” Jem felt a first flicker of hope. “You can talk to animals, can’t you? I’d forgotten about the lions. That first time when I visited Gabriel’s camp you climbed into the cage with them! I’d thought you were mad and about to be eaten alive, but they did exactly what you asked them to do.”
Tolly handed Jem the shawl. “I wouldn’t call it talking exactly; it’s more like the way I read people’s thoughts. Not in words – feelings is more accurate. The closer I am to a person or creature the easier it is to see into their mind.”
Jem nodded. “Well, whatever it is you do, Tolly, it must help. Come on!”
“No, wait a minute. I can’t search dressed like this …” Tolly looked down at his golden winged sandals, his black toes poking out at the ends. “And nor can you, Jem – we’ll freeze to death before we’ve gone a mile. I’ll fetch some travel clothes from my caravan. You can borrow some of mine. It will be quicker.”
“Good idea.”
The bell in the clock tower struck the quarter as if to remind them that time was slipping through their fingers.
Tolly dipped out through the door. Cleo watched from the middle of the bed as Jem threw his cloak into a corner and shrugged the tunic Ann had made over his head.
Moments later Tolly was back with a bundle of clothes in his arms.
“Here. There’s a thick cloak for each of us, long breeches and other warm things. I brought some riding boots as well; one of the players gave them to me, though they’re a bit big for my feet. I think they’ll fit you.”
The boys dressed speedily, their numb fingers fumbling at ties and laces. Jem gave up trying to fasten everything properly. Instead, impatient to leave, he just wrapped himself in the layers.
“Right. Let’s get the dogs from the kennels. Gabriel should have everyone ready by now.” He ducked through the doorway and jumped down to the snowy stones of the courtyard.
But Tolly didn’t follow. “Come on!” Jem frowned, called again then climbed back up the steps.
“It’s Cleo,” Tolly said. “She won’t come to me.”
Cleo was now squeezed into the tiny gap between the top of the cupboard over Ann’s bed and the canvas caravan roof. Her eyes gleamed in the soft lamplight.
“Here girl …” Tolly held out his hand gently so that she could smell his fingertips, but instead of jumping onto his arm as usual, Cleo whickered and plunged to the quilt, then dropped lightly to the boarded floor and disappeared under the bed.
“We’ll have to leave her.” Jem was anxious to be off. “She’ll be safe here.”
“No!” Tolly spun about, his eyes blazing. “I can’t. She and Ann are all I …” He faltered. “Cleo has to come too. It’s important.”
Jem scowled. He wanted to shout about wasting time, but knew Tolly was deadly serious. He bit his lip as his friend knelt down and moved the trailing end of the quilt aside.
“Cleo – come to me, little one.” Tolly spoke softly. There was a scuffling sound from beneath the bed and then a scraping, bumping noise as something rolled out across the boards.
It wasn’t Cleo.
The boys stared at the object in horror.
“I can’t believe Ann kept that thing!” Jem shuddered and moved the tip of his boot away from Count Cazalon’s nubbled black staff. The crystal bird-head set at its tip glinted in the lamplight.
Jem remembered the first time he had seen the staff at Malfurneaux Place, when the count had interviewed him in front of the roaring fire. The count had said it was made from the spine of a shark. “Sharp-toothed wolf of the sea.”
As he thought of the words, Jem felt a horribly familiar creeping sensation under his scalp. The Eye of Ra flared in his heel. He gasped and shifted the weight from his stinging foot – the place where Ann, in the form of a mouse, had once nibbled the ancient mark of protection into his skin. He tore his eyes from the crystal bird and looked at Tolly.
“I knew she had it, Jem. I just didn’t know it was under the bed.” A black-and-white ball of fur emerged from under the quilt edge. “Ah, come on, Cleo.” Tolly reached to stroke her nose. “We have to go.” He tried to catch hold of her, but she scampered aside, seating herself beside the end of Cazalon’s staff. She stared at the boys in turn and made a low keening noise.
“This is ridiculous.” Jem was angry and frustrated now. “Just grab her.”
“No … she …” Tolly shook his head and held out a hand. Cleo wrapped her tiny digits round his thumb. “It’s the staff, Jem. She’s trying to tell us something about it. Only I can’t quite …”
Cleo released Tolly’s thumb and stretched her paw slowly towards the staff. She took a great gulping breath, trembled and touched it. Immediately she shrieked in pain, as if she had been burned. The scream turned into a long, low wail of terror, accompanied by a faint crackling, sizzling noise.
Cleo’s eyes rolled back in their sockets so that only the whites showed. Her body bucked and quivered – but she didn’t seem able to take her paw away from the staff.
Jem’s nostrils clogged with the sickly sweet smell of burning fur and skin. He tried to kick the thing away from her, but his legs suddenly felt like lead.
Tolly lunged forward and snatched the staff up. He yelped in pain too, but managed to stagger to his feet and make for the door. Jem guessed his friend intended to hurl the thing into the snow, but at that moment the crystal bird’s eyes started to pulse with a cold yellow light.
CHAPTER SIX
The caravan was filled with a low thrumming. Jem felt his whole body vibrate, from the centre of his chest to the tips of his fingers, making his stomach flip queasily. He brought his hands to his ears as the sound grew stronger.
The bird’s eyes were glowing so brightly now that he blinked and looked to the floor to avoid the brilliant glare. As he did so, he caught sight of Cleo – a shivering ball of damp fur curled against a neat stack of books and papers at the foot of Ann’s bed. She held her paw close to her chest and rocked back and forth.
“Drop it! Drop the staff, Tolly!” Jem tried to shout, but the words were caught in his mouth, coming out as a sort of mangled, stuttering gasp. With difficulty he forced himself to turn his head.
Tolly was rooted to the spot just in front of the door. The staff was clutched in his fist – its pointed tip wedged into a crack between the timber floor planks. He stared directly at the crystal bird-head, his eyes wide with terror.
“I can feel it … It’s alive …” Tolly’s body jerked as twin beams of light sprang from the crystal eyes. They shot through the air, searing into the wooden planks of the caravan wall just above Ann’s bed. Jem could smell burning wood now and for a moment he was transported back to last September when Cazalon razed the timber buildings of old London from the face of the earth.
“It’s e-evil. L-let go.” Jem just managed to stammer out the words, but Tolly gritted his teeth and shook his head.
“Look.” He pointed at the caravan wall.
The beams from the crystal eyes met at a single point that was now moving across the wood. It left a looping singed pattern in its wake that shimmered and shifted to form glowing words and shapes. Red and gold sparks flickered around the outlines of odd symbols and letters seared into the timbers. Then the burning words themselves began to move, squirming about on the wall, everything jostling and twisting to find a new place.
In the very centre, a single golden word suddenly flared brightly.
ANN
“What the …?” Jem managed to take a step forward, but Tolly caught his sleeve with his free hand.
“K-keep back. L-let it show us.” His voice was cracked with pain.
Almost as soon as Ann’s glowing name had appeared it faded, leaving dark marks in the plank. The burning point paused and then it veered off again, scorching madly until it had inscribed the fiery outline of a ship. The vessel seemed to glide across the wall, disappearing behind the cupboard over the bed. For a moment nothing moved, although the beam pulsed steadily like a beating heart. Then it was off again, this time twisting wildly upward and out across the ceiling.
The humming sound was now so loud the vibration was actually painful, each beat like a great kick to Jem’s belly. He bent double, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the canvas overhead where another single word blazed in the smouldering fabric for two seconds.
FORTUNA
He could smell something acridly familiar, though he couldn’t work out exactly what. Then the burning script zigzagged back from the ceiling to the point in the very centre of the wall where singed black letters forming Ann were still clear.
As he watched, the “A” burst into flames that ate into the wood until there was just a blazing circle there the size of an apple.
Every scorch mark on the wall pulsed with eerie greenish light now – and the letters began to move, coiling and rushing towards the place where the “A” had been. It was as if they were being swallowed by the glowing hole, which, in some peculiar way, seemed to stretch far beyond the wooden slats. Jem stared at the burning disc – so deep and unfathomable it was like looking into the centre of the universe.
A loose sheet of paper from Ann’s stack of books whipped into the air and flattened itself against the caravan wall. It burst into flames and within seconds it was drawn into the flaming mouth. More papers began to fly and now whole books too – everything hurling itself against the wall to be devoured. Jem ducked as a woollen glove flew past his head, smacked into the wood and burst into brilliant blue flames.
At last he recognised the smell – burning flesh! Jem tore his eyes from the wall to glance at Tolly. His hand still gripped Cazalon’s staff just beneath the crystal head, but he was shaking. The boy’s face was a mask of pain. His dark skin was the colour of ash and his lips were stretched back from his teeth in a rigid parody of a smile.
Jem scoured the caravan. A metal jug stood just beside the bed. Although it felt as if his limbs were moving through treacle, he forced himself to take it up. He turned to the wall and hurled the watery contents into the centre of the burning vortex.
It blinked once, like an eye, and instantly disappeared.
Tolly crumpled to the floor. There was a sickening crunch as his head caught the edge of the bed. The staff clanked as it fell to the boards.
Jem knelt beside him. “Tolly, can you hear me?” He took his friend’s hand. It was hot, sticky and damp. When he looked down he was horrified to see Tolly’s fingers were scalded raw, as if he had plunged his hand into a pan of boiling water. There was a deep gash above his right eyebrow and blood trickled down his cheek.
“Tolly?”
Cleo chirruped softly and shuffled across the planks to nudge her master’s arm. Jem was relieved to see her concern. She, at least, seemed to have recovered. She picked at the wool scarf around Tolly’s neck, all the while making little crooning noises. It did the trick.
“Cleo … Is that you? J … Jem?” Tolly opened his eyes and winced as he moved his head.
“I thought I’d lost you for a moment there.” Jem dabbed at the blood on Tolly’s face with his sleeve. “You’ll have a nasty scar if we don’t get some goose fat and nightshade on that. Eliza has some in the house.”
Tolly grinned weakly. “That probably would kill me!” He struggled to sit upright, rubbed his head and yelped in sudden pain. He looked at his raw, blistered fingers, blinking in shock.
“When did that happen?”
“When you were gripping Cazalon’s staff. First it burned Cleo, then you.” Jem eyed the discarded object suspiciously. The crystal bird-head was turned away towards the underside of the bed. It was lifeless. “What was it, Tolly? What happened just now?”
“I don’t know for sure. It was as if I could see things in my mind.” Tolly sat up straight and stared at the wall. He frowned. “And then, as I thought them, they began to come to life … sort of. I saw a ship – well, the figurehead of a ship, anyway. I saw a red-haired woman with a star on her forehead. And I could sense Ann too, only … it wasn’t her exactly. But I could see where she was.”
He closed his eyes. “Danger. There is great danger. Every step is agony. There is a woman … No, a man … Feathers, bones, pestilence, flesh …”
As he spoke he swayed and his voice deepened.
“Blood. So much blood. Red everywhere covering the land – it is raining blood! Beware the man of shadows. He who walks between the worlds. He who —’ Tolly began to choke. He brought his good hand to his mouth and hunched over as he hacked and spluttered. Uselessly, Jem thumped Tolly’s back – there was no water to help, and Jem was worried his friend wouldn’t stop.
Tolly’s coughing finally lessened, and he took a ragged gulp of air. “S-something just stopped me talking. It got into my throat and …” He faltered and peered up at the wall. “What’s that?”
Jem followed his gaze. The caravan wall was now almost completely bare. It was as if all the strange words had simply been scrubbed away. The only mark left was a blackened shape above the bed in the exact spot where the burning mouth had been. He stood to examine it, tracing the scorched lines with the tip of his finger.
“What it is, Jem?”
“Er … I’m not sure. It looks like a man, but it’s not. It’s got the head of an animal of some sort – I don’t know what exactly … It might be a dog? It’s got a long snout and pointed ears?” He spun round. “I know – it’s a sign! We must fetch the dogs and search for her. Do you feel well enough?”
Tolly nodded, wiped his mouth and struggled to his feet. He stared at the dog-man on the wall. “Where would you find hundreds of ships all moored together?”
“There isn’t time for riddles!” Jem pulled the grey muffler tight around his neck. “Gabriel will have everyone ready in the courtyard. Come on, we need Bess and Musket.”
“Wait, I’m serious, Jem. The image came into my head when I was holding the staff. Where would you see so many ships?”
Jem thumped the caravan wall in exasperation. “A port? The Pool of London is the greatest port in the world. I’ve seen hundreds of ships there all lined up across the river.”
“Then we have to go to London – now – not waste time searching with the dogs.” Tolly swept Cleo up into his arms and kicked open the little door. “Ann is on a ship in the Pool. I’m certain of it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“How much further?”
Jem felt Tolly’s grip tighten around his waist as the big horse clattered beneath an archway leading into the City. It was dark and very early in the morning.
“Not far. The Pool of London is that way.” Jem pointed at the deserted, snowy crossroads ahead. To the right, the jagged stumps of buildings and shadowed gaps in the streets were bitter reminders of Cazalon’s plot to destroy London.
“I hope you’re right about this, Tolly.” His breath froze on the night air. He couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers curled about the reins.
There hadn’t been time to tell anyone where they were going. Jem wasn’t entirely sure they would have been able to explain it, and he was certain that his mother wouldn’t have allowed him to take Titan. He glanced at the horse’s alert, twitching ears. The creature was skittish and wary. Now they were alone in the dark city Jem began to wish he’d left a message to let his mother know where they’d gone.
He patted the horse’s sweating flank. “Woah, there. Easy.”
The boys had raced to the stables, avoiding the courtyard where they heard th
e chatter of the search party, saddled up the huge grey stallion and galloped off into the night. The ride to London had been wild and hard – and utterly exhilarating. Despite everything, a small, secret part of Jem was thrilled at the way he’d been able to manage the magnificent creature.
As Titan slowed to a trot, Jem wondered how long Gabriel and the search party had waited. Instantly he felt a pang of guilt.
“No one will mind when we bring Ann back.” Tolly read his thoughts. “And don’t worry. I am right about this. She’s on a ship. I saw that very clearly.”
Cazalon’s staff thumped against the side of Jem’s leg. Tolly had pushed it under the saddle and secured it with straps. Jem shifted. He didn’t want to touch the thing, even if it was rolled in Ann’s shawl.
“I still don’t understand why we had to bring the staff with us.” He twisted in the saddle to look back. Cleo was poking out from the thick folds of Tolly’s cloak. There was a dusting of snow on her nose. “Cleo – yes, but that thing …”
“Ann always said it was important. It’s why she kept it. She was fascinated by it, but I think she was scared of it too.” Tolly sighed. “Look, I don’t understand it either. The staff hurt me tonight, but it helped us, didn’t it?”
Jem grunted. He wasn’t so sure.
“The sharp-toothed wolf of the sea.” Cazalon’s sing-song voice swam into his mind and Jem’s mouth went dry. What if the count was still alive? What if he had taken Ann again?
“He cannot have survived.” Tolly read his fear. “We both saw what happened in the cavern under St Paul’s – veins erupted from the stone itself to bind Cazalon’s body, and the chamber collapsed on top of him. You mustn’t think those things. Remember what I said.”
Jem scowled. “Well, you’re thinking it too. Admit it. It’s not so easy to forget what happened. And I’d thank you to stop poking around in my head.”
He pulled his hood forward and stared at the silent streets ahead. To the left of the crossroads narrow timber houses that had escaped the fire were clustered together, their tottering storeys stacked one upon the other, as if the buildings were scrambling up to reach the light.
