by Dave Barry
“They are indeed,” said Tom, pleased. “The legendary Tower of London ravens. It’s said that if they ever leave the Tower, the kingdom will fall. Their wings are clipped so they can’t fly away. How’d you know about them, Sarah?”
“I read about them in a book,” said Sarah.
“Excellent!” said Tom. “Now, the Bloody Tower has a fascinating history…”
He was off again, detailing the gory events that gave the Bloody Tower its name. But Sarah wasn’t listening. She was trying to remember what she’d read about the ravens. She decided she’d have to look it up when she got back to the hotel.
Her father finished discussing the Bloody Tower and was leading them to the left, toward the White Tower, still talking. Sarah looked back at the ravens. They had not moved. Sarah turned away and followed her family.
Because of Tom’s frequent stops to point things out, it took them more than an hour to reach the Waterloo Barracks, which houses the Jewel House. They joined the line of tourists waiting to enter, then shuffled forward for another forty-five minutes before finally reaching a series of dramatically lit rooms with exhibit cases containing the historic objects that are known, collectively, as the Crown Jewels. Tom was now in full guide mode, talking excitedly and constantly, but only Natalie was listening. Both Aidan and Sarah were darting quickly from case to case, reading the labels and then moving on.
Aidan was the one who found what they were looking for.
“Sarah!” he hissed, beckoning her toward a case in a corner. “Over here!”
Sarah walked toward her brother. He was pointing at a sword about three feet long, with a blade that looked like steel, gleaming in the exhibit lighting. The tip of the blade had been broken off, leaving the end shortened, the edge at a slight angle.
The Sword of Mercy.
Sarah looked around. There were Tower staff people keeping watch in every room, but in the horde of tourists milling around, nobody appeared to be paying attention to her. She shifted the backpack around so that she was carrying it in front of her, then unzipped the top so she could see the top of the golden box inside. She moved forward until the backpack was about a foot from the display case. Her eyes were on the box.
Nothing happened.
“Well?” said Aidan.
Sarah shook her head. She stepped closer to the case; the backpack was now just a few inches away. Still nothing. She lifted the backpack up and pressed it against the case.
She felt Aidan’s hand on her arm. “There’s a guy coming,” he said.
Sarah glanced around and saw a uniformed Tower staff person walking toward her.
“Miss,” he called. “Don’t touch the case.”
Sarah kept the backpack where it was. She was looking intently at the sword now.
“Miss!” said the man.
“C’mon, Sarah,” Aidan pleaded.
“Aidan,” she said. “Look at the sword.”
Aidan followed her gaze.
“Whoa,” he said.
The sword was glowing. It wasn’t a bright glow, but it was unmistakable. And the blade now had a golden tint. Sarah felt warmth coming from her backpack. She looked down; the box was also glowing.
“Miss!” The man was next to Sarah now, gesturing at her to move away from the display case. “If you can’t follow instructions, you’ll have to leave.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, zipping the backpack closed. Her parents, seeing the commotion, were coming toward them.
“Sarah?” said her mother. “What’s going on?”
“I got too close to the case,” said Sarah. “I’m sorry.” She looked at the sword; it was no longer glowing.
“Please move along,” said the staff person.
They rejoined the shuffling throng moving past the exhibits. Sarah paid little attention; all she wanted to do was look inside her backpack. She finally got a chance when they exited the Crown Jewels exhibit and found themselves in the inevitable gift shop. While her parents shopped for souvenirs, she found a relatively quiet corner and, with Aidan hovering close, unzipped the backpack and peered inside.
“Yes,” she said.
“What?” said Aidan.
“Look,” she said.
Aidan leaned over.
“It changed,” he said.
It had indeed. Where the box had once been an unbroken block of metal, it now had a clearly visible seam running all the way around four sides.
“That’s how you open it,” said Sarah, a note of triumph in her voice.
“So are you gonna do it?” said Aidan.
“Not here,” said Sarah. “Too many people around. When we get back to the hotel.”
Tom and Natalie, having made their purchases, were coming; Sarah quickly zipped up the backpack and slid it onto her back.
“Ready?” said Tom.
The children nodded and the family exited the gift shop. The day was warm and sunny; the Tower grounds swarmed with tourists. Sarah was oblivious to the scene, walking a bit behind Aidan and her parents, her head down, her mind on the strange object she was carrying. She bumped into her father, not having noticed that he’d stopped walking.
“Look at that,” he said, pointing ahead. Other tourists were pointing as well. Sarah looked. She inhaled sharply when she saw what was drawing the attention.
Ravens. Twelve of them, perched on a wall, evenly placed in a perfect line. All twelve struck the same pose; all twelve were looking in the same direction, with their heads cocked at precisely the same angle.
“I believe that’s all of the Tower ravens, gathered in one place,” said Tom. “I’ve never seen that before.”
“What do you suppose they’re looking at?” said Natalie.
Aidan and Sarah looked at each other, but said nothing.
“Strange,” said Tom.
“What is?” said Natalie.
“Well,” said Tom, “I know this is crazy, but…it’s almost as if they’re looking right at us.”
CHAPTER 8
OUT THE WINDOW
“GOOD NIGHT, KIDS,” SAID NATALIE.
“G’night, Mom,” said Sarah and Aidan.
“Tomorrow,” said Tom, standing behind his wife in the hotel hallway, “I was thinking we might visit the—”
“Good night, Dad.” Gently closing the door, Sarah said to her brother, “Finally.”
Since leaving the Tower, Sarah and Aidan had spent more than eight hours waiting impatiently for a chance to have a closer look at the golden box. But their father, as always, had crammed the rest of the day with sightseeing, so by the time they’d eaten dinner and returned to the hotel, it was past ten p.m.
Sarah unslung the backpack, set it on her bed, and unzipped it. She lifted out the heavy box and held it up in the light, examining the newly formed seam, which ran around what she assumed was the top of the box about an inch from the edge.
“So this is like a lid, maybe?” said Aidan, touching the seam.
“Looks like it,” said Sarah.
“Are you gonna open it?” said Aidan.
“I guess so,” said Sarah.
“You don’t sound enthusiastic.”
“I’m thinking about the ‘death to thee’ thing.”
“Oh, now you’re thinking about that.”
“I just think we need to be careful, that’s all.”
“Meaning what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Now, there’s a plan.”
“Shut up. I’m thinking.” Sarah studied the box. “The thing is, in the books, when they deal with starstuff, they wear gold suits.”
“Okay, then! I’ll just put on my gold suit.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying they’re very careful.”
“Maybe aluminum foil?” Aidan said. “We could wrap ourselves up.”
“It’s always gold.”
“So if Starcatchers found the box, they’d have known to wear gold. Right? Otherwise, death to thee.”
Sarah stud
ied the box some more. “Okay,” she said, heading toward the dresser. “I’ll get a mirror. You get the curtain rod.”
“What?”
“Just get it.”
A minute later, the box was propped between two pillows on the bed. Aidan and Sarah were crouched on the floor. Sarah held the curtain rod; Aidan held the mirror up so she could see the box. Using the mirror, Sarah maneuvered the curtain rod so it was touching the lid.
“Get ready,” she said.
“For what?”
“For whatever happens.”
“I wish I had a gold suit,” said Aidan.
Her eyes on the mirror, Sarah gently pushed the rod against the side of the lid. It came up easily, pivoting on two internally mounted hinges. As the box opened, Sarah and Aidan both instinctively turned away, wincing, fearful of…
Nothing.
No blinding light, no sound. Nothing.
After a few silent seconds, Sarah and Aidan opened their eyes, rose to their feet, and cautiously peered into the box. They saw what appeared to be a second lid. It was also made of gold, but at its center was a small, exquisitely crafted five-spoked wheel. Next to the wheel was a circular opening about a half inch in diameter and a half inch deep, closed at the bottom.
“What do you think?” said Sarah.
Aidan studied the box for a moment, then said, “I think if you turn the wheel, you open that hole.”
“I think so, too. That way you can control how much comes out.”
“And not kill yourself,” said Aidan. “I hope.”
Sarah set the box down on her bed. She put her hand on the wheel, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
“Here goes,” she said.
She turned the wheel counterclockwise a quarter of a turn, then waited.
Nothing.
Sarah looked at Aidan. He nodded. She looked down and turned the wheel another quarter of a turn. Suddenly, the hole was glowing brightly, a warm golden color.
And the room was full of music.
Aidan jumped. “Do you hear that?” he said.
Sarah nodded. “Bells,” she whispered.
“Like a million of them.”
“Where’s it coming from?”
Aidan waved an arm. “Everywhere,” he said.
Sarah hugged herself. “Do you feel…different?” she said. “Like, kind of warm, but warm inside?”
“Yes!” said Aidan, smiling broadly. “I feel warm and…just good.”
“Better than good,” said Sarah, giggling. “Wonderful.”
She put her hand on the tiny wheel again.
“Sarah…” cautioned Aidan.
“Just a little more.” Sarah gave the wheel another quarter turn. Now the bells became a symphony, playing all around them and inside them.
“Oh my,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Aidan.
Sarah looked at the box.
“I want to touch it,” she said.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Aidan. But his tone was unconvincing; he, too, wanted to touch the source of this glorious feeling.
Sarah reached out her right hand and gently tilted the box. She held her left hand cupped next to the glowing hole. She had barely moved the box when what looked like a tongue of light flowed from it, enveloping Sarah’s hand as it flooded the room with a brilliant whiteness.
Aidan turned away, momentarily blinded. When the glare faded he turned back, blinking, waiting for his eyes to readjust. When they did, he froze.
Sarah was gone. The glowing box was still on the bed; the door was closed. But he saw no sign of his sister.
“Sarah!” he called, panic sweeping away the feeling of well-being. He dropped to his belly and looked under Sarah’s bed, then his own. Nothing. He jumped up, his eyes sweeping the room frantically.
Then he heard the giggle.
From directly overhead.
Aidan looked up to see his sister suspended in air, her back gently bumping the ceiling, a huge smile on her face.
“It was true!” she said. “The stories were true!”
For a moment, Aidan could only stare.
“You’re…flying,” he said.
“Yes! Yes, I am!” she said. She angled her head down slightly; the movement caused her to drift across the room. She held her hands out to keep from bumping into the far wall.
“Wow,” she said.
“What’s it feel like?” said Aidan.
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
Aidan went to the bed, hesitated, then gently tilted the box toward his cupped hand. Again, a brilliant light filled the room, and for a moment Aidan couldn’t tell what was happening. He felt the top of his head brushing against something and realized it was the ceiling. He looked down. The movement sent him into a very slow 180-degree midair rotation that ended with him upside down and vertical, as though he were standing on the ceiling.
“Whoa,” he said.
“Exactly,” said Sarah.
They spent several giddy minutes getting the feel of flight, seeing how the angle of their bodies affected their direction and speed, occasionally bumping into walls and furniture.
Then Sarah opened the window.
“Wait a minute,” said Aidan.
“If I’m going to fly,” said Sarah. “I want to fly.”
She swung her legs out and sat on the windowsill, looking down. Their room was on the fourth floor of the Cadogan; it looked down on a side street, which at the moment was deserted. The night air was cool and clear. A gentle breeze stirred Sarah’s hair.
“Here goes,” she said, slipping out of the window and into the night.
Aidan pushed off the far wall and flew to the window, grabbing the sill to stop himself from shooting through it. He stuck his head out and caught sight of Sarah as she swooped across the street, gaining speed, heading straight toward a parked car. Aidan was about to shout when she let out a little shriek and swooped upward, missing the car by inches and then gaining altitude rapidly until, seconds later, she was over the building on the other side of the street, making a soaring right turn and then swooping back toward Aidan.
“Come on,” she called.
Aidan swallowed hard and pulled himself through the window, willing himself to keep his eyes on his sister, not the street below. He angled his body left and, after a few wobbles, got himself aimed toward Sarah, who was now flying about a hundred feet in the air, heading toward the busy traffic of Sloane Street. She shot across the street and into what appeared to be a private park, above which she made a series of swoops and turns, periodically emitting squeals of pure happiness.
As he followed her across Sloane Street, Aidan hazarded a glance down and was horrified to see pedestrians, although at the moment none appeared to be looking upward. He flew more cautiously than his sister and had trouble getting near her, but finally she drifted to a stop, reclining dramatically in midair as though relaxing on an invisible sofa. Her eyes shone with excitement.
“Isn’t this fantastic?” she said.
“Yeah, fantastic,” said Aidan. “But maybe we should go back.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re flying over London, Sarah. Somebody might see us.”
“Nobody’s looking up here.”
“Um,” said Aidan, pointing. “I think that guy is.”
Sarah looked toward Sloane Street, where an elderly man had stopped on the sidewalk and was looking directly at them, shielding his eyes against the glare of a streetlight. As they watched he stopped a young couple and started gesturing insistently toward Aidan and Sarah.
“Uh-oh,” said Sarah. “Follow me.”
She swooped downward and in a few seconds flew the length of the little park. Aidan followed unsteadily, a little higher and slower. At the far end of the park he caught up with Sarah, now hovering behind a tree, peering through the foliage at the elderly man. He was still with the couple, who evidently had not seen Sarah and Aidan and wanted to move on. The
man was arguing with them, still pointing toward the place where Sarah and Aidan had just been.
“Come on,” said Sarah.
She rose straight up, Aidan trailing. They were now high above the park. The elderly man was arguing with the couple; they were edging away from him. Sarah leveled off and shot back across Sloane Street toward the Cadogan. Aidan followed. He heard a shout and looked down.
The man had seen them again. Aidan looked right into his eyes. The man was pointing and yelling; a small crowd was gathering, looking up. Aidan looked forward and flew as fast as he could after his sister, who had just swerved around the corner into the side street, now flying quite low. He heard more shouts from behind but did not look back. As he flew into the side street, he looked toward the hotel room window but didn’t see Sarah. Assuming she was already inside, he flew toward the window.
“Aidan!”
His sister’s voice came from below. He looked down and saw her standing on the sidewalk. He heard yelling from Sloane Street.
“Come on!” he called to Sarah.
“I can’t!” she called back. “It wore off!”
Figures appeared at the end of the street. Aidan hung suspended in the air for a moment, uncertain, then swooped toward the sidewalk. He landed next to Sarah a little too hard. He stumbled, his sister catching his arm to keep him upright.
“People are coming,” he panted, pointing toward the end of the street.
“I see them,” she said. A half dozen people were running toward them now.
“What do we do? Run?”
“No—we just act calm and walk toward them. They didn’t get a good look at us, and they’re looking for people going the other way.”
Sarah started walking toward Sloane Street; Aidan joined her. The first of the runners—a young man—sprinted right past them, his eyes on the sky. Three more young men ran past, also looking upward, one of them holding up his cell phone, evidently shooting video. Next came the young couple, who hesitated when they saw Sarah and Aidan.
“Excuse me,” said the woman. “Did you see anybody just go past in the, um, in the air?”
“In the air?” said Sarah.
“Yes,” said the woman, embarrassed. “In the air.”
