by Angie Sage
The rich smell of incense made Deela’s head spin, and her feet in their filthy slippers felt as though they were standing on shifting sands. She was wondering why Hagos was ringing bells in her ears when the floor came up and hit her.
“Deela . . . Deela . . .” Someone was calling her at the end of a long tunnel. Deela groaned. It was all a dream. Hagos hadn’t rescued her by pretending to be the king. Of course he hadn’t. What a stupid thing to imagine. She was still in her horrible cell.
“Deela, Deela,” came Hagos’s voice. “Wake up. There, there. You’re all right. Drink this.”
Deela sat up slowly. Hagos’s anxious face loomed large in front of her, and with a trembling hand she took the offered glass of something red and gulped it down. The liquid burned her throat, but it seemed to clear her head. Deela blinked and the room came into focus—dark and mysterious, hung with thick curtains, lined with books, bottles and jars of all colors and sizes. “So it’s real,” she murmured. “You did rescue me.”
Hagos gave her a rueful half smile. “Not entirely. We are still prisoners.”
“But these are your old rooms.” Deela gazed around the familiar space where she once used to visit Hagos, his wife and their baby daughter.
“Indeed they are,” Hagos agreed. “And I am only in them because I have made a deal with Belamus.”
“A deal?” Deela asked blearily.
“I shall explain later. Rest now.” Hagos helped Deela to a sofa by a small fire and made her comfortable. And then, as Deela fell asleep, he walked over to a tiny arched window behind his desk and looked up at the stormy sky. Despite Deela’s weather prediction, the storm showed no sign of abating. From a drawer in his desk he took out a small spyglass and trained it on the strip of iron-gray ocean just visible beyond the high walls of Rekadom. Anxiously, Hagos scanned the foam-tipped waves, praying that he would not see a small white sailboat with a red sail, not yet, while the storm raged. Please let her wait until it calms down, he thought. He looked at his timepiece and saw there were only three more hours until the causeway would once again be clear and the Jackal would return to Oracle Rock. “Just go away will you, storm?” he muttered. “Please. Just go away.”
Chapter 3
Storm Watch
AS HAGOS GAZED OUT OF his window at the stormy sky, Alex was doing the very same in the tiny sitting room of the cottage. Palla had made them all lemon tea, the fire was burning brightly and the sea coals obligingly spluttered their salty flames, but even so the little room was full of gloom. A row of Deela’s multicolored knit octopuses sat on the windowsill looking out; it seemed to Alex they were watching faithfully for Deela’s return. The wind set the small panes in the windows rattling like teacups on shaky saucers and howled as though it wanted to be let in, like Jackal, thought Alex.
Benn joined her at the window and looked down at the swirling waters. “I reckon there’s about another three hours before the causeway is clear again,” he said.
“We will go up to the cave soon,” Palla said.
Alex turned around. “Thank you, Palla,” she said, “but we’re not going to the cave. Benn and I are leaving in Merry.”
Palla looked shocked. “But the storm,” she protested. “You cannot go out in that.”
“It’s okay,” Benn said, squinting hopefully up at what might possibly be a patch of blue sky. “It’s passing now. All we have to do is get down the coast a little way to Netters Cove, and the wind’s blowing in exactly the right direction. We’ll be fine.”
Palla was horrified. “You will not be fine! You do not know the power of the ocean. You have never been shipwrecked.”
Alex picked up something in Palla’s voice. “Have you been shipwrecked?” she asked.
Palla nodded. “Deela rescued me. I was only nine.” She rubbed a sudden rush of tears from her eyes. “And in return what did I do? I caused all this trouble for her. And trouble for you, Alex. And for your father.”
“It’s King Belamus that is causing the trouble, not you,” Alex told Palla.
Benn was puzzled. “Why would you even think that you caused the trouble?” he asked Palla.
Palla sighed. “Because I did. After she rescued me, Deela became ill with a fever. Her throat swelled up and she lost her voice. So when King Belamus came to hear the Oracle—as he often did then—I decided to help out. I became the Oracle.”
“But your voice—didn’t the king notice the difference?” Benn asked.
Palla shook her head. “The Oracle stands inside the Oracle Bell, which changes your voice completely. It also . . .” She paused. “This is a hard thing for me to say, but it also changes you. Well, it changed me, although I don’t think it ever did that with Deela. Deela said that she and Hagos used to get together and decide the best things to tell the king, just to keep him happy. But I could not do that. As soon as I put on the Oracle Robe, I felt like I was a thousand years old and part of something ancient. So when I stood in the Oracle Bell and heard the king’s voice asking how he would die, I knew at once what I must say.”
“That he would die by the hand of an Enchanter’s child,” Alex murmured.
Palla looked at Alex. “But it was not I who said that, it was the Oracle. You do understand?”
Alex nodded. “I understand.”
“But even so, I still cannot stop thinking about all the terrible things that have happened since then,” Palla said. “I remember the day Deela told me about the king throwing all the Enchanters and their children out of Rekadom—except for your father, Alex, whom he arrested. Your poor mother he threw into the dungeons. And you just disappeared. Deela was frantic. But Hagos wouldn’t even speak to her.” Palla shook her head. “And then we began to hear about the awful entities appearing across the land, hunting down anyone with any Enchantment to them. Those terrible Hauntings . . .”
“Which my father created,” Alex pointed out.
“Only because in return the king promised to release your mother from the dungeons.”
“Which never happened,” said Alex. She got up, went over to Palla and hugged her. “It’s okay,” she told Palla. “Look.” She took the codex from the pocket inside her sash and opened it to show Palla her cards stacked neatly inside the front cover.
Palla’s eyes shone. “That truly is an Enchanted book,” she murmured. “Look how the edges of those pages sparkle.”
“These are the sealed pages,” Alex said. She flipped open the book to a block of pages stuck together, edged with a shimmering blue wax. On the front of the block was an empty T-shaped pocket. “That is for the Tau, which has to be there to open the pages,” Alex said. “But the king took it away from Poppa yesterday.”
Palla sighed. “After all those years that Deela kept the Tau safe for Hagos inside her favorite octopus. It is a very sad end for it, to be back with that wicked king.”
Alex pushed away the memory of the day before, when her father had given King Belamus the precious Tau in exchange for her freedom—for that day, at least. She looked at Palla, a determined expression in her eyes. “I’m going to get the Tau back, Palla. And when I do I will put it into its pocket here and unlock the sealed pages. And then I can read the Disenchantment for all the Hauntings. And get rid of them all. Every one of them!” But even as she spoke, Alex could hear how impossible it sounded.
Palla clearly thought so too. “The king will never give you the Tau,” she said sadly. “You will have to get rid of him first.” She looked Alex in the eye. “And maybe you will. You are, after all, an Enchanter’s child.”
“No!” Alex was horrified. “That Oracle is not real, Palla, whatever you may think. Don’t go making me part of some stupid game.”
“It is no game. The Oracle never lies,” Palla said.
“It is lying about me,” she retorted, furious that Palla thought she was the kind of person who could kill someone. “Thank you for helping us, Palla,” Alex said stiffly. “We’re going now. Aren’t we, Benn?”
“Sure.�
�� Benn stood up. He understood why Alex was angry, but he felt bad for Palla. “Thanks for everything, Palla,” he said.
Palla stood up too. “You are welcome. I wish you a safe voyage.”
Alex and Benn headed off down the winding stone steps that took them through the rock to a small door that emerged halfway down Oracle Rock. The wind was still brisk, but Benn was right, the storm was passing. The clouds were white now and the ocean was dark blue rather than gray, and the waves were long and slow, with flat tops. Benn grinned. “Merry’s going to love this!” he said as he headed toward the harbor, longing to see his boat once again.
But when they reached the harbor, they stopped dead. “No!” Benn gasped.
“Oh,” Alex said.
Merry was still there, but not on top of the water where a boat should be. About a foot below, held up by her two mooring ropes, Merry’s ghostly shape bobbed and swayed.
Alex looked across the harbor to a small rowboat tied up in a more sheltered position on the opposite wall. “We’ll have to take Deela’s boat.”
Benn was indignant. “No way. We can’t leave Merry like this. And we can’t row all the way to Netters Cove. We need to sail.”
“But Merry’s sunk,” Alex said.
“She has not sunk,” Benn protested. “She’s filled up with water, which is totally different. We just have to get the water out, that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
“Yep. We pull her up and bail her out.” Benn grinned. “Good thing we put the oars safely up on the harbor, huh?”
Alex did not reply. She was looking at the drowned boat, rocking slowly beneath the clear green water. It gave her a really bad feeling.
Chapter 4
Min
HAGOS HAD A BAD FEELING too. From his window he could see King Belamus crossing Star Court, accompanied by his Jackal, and he knew at once they were heading straight for him.
“Deela!” Hagos raced across the room to the recumbent figure on the sofa. He was greeted by a soft, snuffly snore. “Deela!” None too gently, Hagos shook his friend awake. “Wake up. Belamus is coming. Wake up!”
Deela sat up with a start. She stared at Hagos, trying to remember where she was.
“Deela, the king is on his way here. We must hurry!” Hagos said urgently.
Deela jumped up and looked around wildly. “I must hide!”
“No. The Jackal will sniff you out. Listen, Deela. Remember I said that I made a deal with Belamus?”
Deela nodded.
“I promised to Engender another Hawke—”
“Hagos! You can’t make another one of those murderous monsters!” Deela protested.
“I’m not going to,” said Hagos.
“But you just said—”
“Deela, just listen, please. This is what I had to offer Belamus in exchange for my life.”
“Oh,” said Deela. “I see.”
“But I promise you, I won’t be making another monster for the king. However, I have to pretend I’m doing it.”
“Ah,” said Deela.
“And,” said Hagos, “I also have to explain who you are. So I have a plan. You are a Hawke Meister.”
“A what?”
“An expert. On Engendering Hawkes.”
Deela looked aghast. “But I couldn’t Engender an ant, let alone a Hawke.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything, you just have to look like you could.”
“But ‘Meister.’ That’s a man, isn’t it? I’m not a man, Hagos.”
Hagos sighed. “I know that, Deela. But soon enough the king will discover you are no longer in the dungeons. He’s not the cleverest of cookies, so I’m hoping he won’t be suspicious of a man turning up here at exactly the same time you have vanished.”
“Ah, I see. But if a random weird woman arrives in your rooms, he might work it out?”
“Exactly,” Hagos laughed. “You may be random, Deela, but you’re not weird. You are a good friend. Come now.” He took hold of Deela’s arm and hurried her over to a tall cupboard, where he threw open the doors to reveal an array of somewhat dusty but stunningly beautiful robes and cloaks in shimmering silks. “Choose something impressive,” he said. “Quickly. Belamus will be here in a minute.”
Deela stared at the rainbow of colors before her. “Oh. These were Pearl’s. I can’t wear them, Hagos. It doesn’t feel right.”
“Pearl wouldn’t mind. Please, Deela, hurry. Any minute now the king will be—”
An imperious banging upon the door silenced Hagos. As he ran to open it, Deela grabbed a shiny blue cloak embroidered with silver moons, threw it on and pulled its hood up so that it dropped down over her face. The cloak’s hem trailed on the ground, for Pearl was a good head taller than Deela. Hurriedly Deela grabbed a low footstool from beside the fire and stood on it so that the cloak swept gracefully to the floor.
The door crashed open, sending Hagos leaping backward, and the king blew in like a thunderstorm. Behind him came his bodyguard, the Jackal. The white-headed creatures, in their long red coats emblazoned with gold buttons, loped into the room on their hind legs, but once inside they dropped onto all fours and began sniffing around. From the safety of her footstool, Deela gathered her cloak around her and kept her eyes on the king. He was resplendent in an array of vivid silks, the buttons of his long yellow waistcoat straining over his fat stomach and his stick-thin legs lost inside wrinkled blue silk stockings. Deela thought he looked like a lemon on toothpicks.
“Your Eminence,” Hagos said, performing an oddly complicated bow that put Deela in mind of a chicken trying to lay an egg.
“Yes, yes,” King Belamus said tetchily. “Now, RavenStarr. Don’t think you’ve gotten away with anything. I know you’re a double-crossing toad. Who is this?” he asked, pointing at Deela.
Deela saw Hagos’s shocked expression at her sudden increase in height and risked a wink.
Hagos recovered fast. “This, your graciousness, is the renowned Hawke Meister,” he replied. “He is, as I am sure you know, the world’s foremost Engenderer of Hawkes. We are honored that he has deigned to grace us with his presence.”
King Belamus looked suspiciously at Deela. “I did not give permission for this . . . this person. What is his name?”
Hagos threw Deela a warning glance. “Forgive his silence, Sire,” he told the king. “The Hawke Meister speaks only the language of the Hawke.”
“Then you speak, RavenStarr! What is his name?”
Deela saw a blind panic flash over Hagos’s face. There was a terrible silence, and Deela knew she must break it. “Min!” she said, and then stopped, horrified at the high squeak that had emerged.
“Min,” said the king. “He has a peculiar voice, this Min.”
Hagos thought fast. “It is the language of the Hawke, Your Majesty. High and sharp, like the call of a bird.”
Belamus stared at Hagos. “Very poetic, RavenStarr. But I want results. I want the biggest, keenest-eyed Hawke possible. I want the very best hunter and killer of all the remaining Enchanters that blight my kingdom.” Belamus stopped and glared at Hagos with narrowed eyes not unlike those of his much-desired Hawke. “And their children.”
Hagos flinched. Was the king telling him that he knew Alex was his daughter? No, he told himself, that is not possible. All the king knows is that there are children on Oracle Rock, and for some reason he thinks they are Enchanters’ children. But the king sees Enchanters and their children lurking in every shadow. It means nothing, Hagos told himself.
King Belamus was now at the door. “The Jackal will escort you and the Min person to the mews to choose the Hawke egg.” Keeping the two largest Jackal for himself, the king turned upon his pointy little heels and strode out the door. Deela waited until the king was out of the room, then she jumped down from the footstool and, along with Hagos, was hustled out by the remaining Jackal.
Ten minutes later, at the top of the ladder in the Rekadom falconry mews, Deela was peering into a h
igh shelf where a small, neat nest held a clutch of four mottled eggs. A dull gloom suffused the air, broken only by a blade of sunlight glancing in through one of the narrow windows just beneath the eaves. Tiny feathers floated in the sunbeam and made Deela’s nose twitch. In her hand she held a tiny gold box in which she must place an egg, but Deela was dithering. She had no idea which one to pick.
At the foot of the ladder were Hagos and a stocky, red-faced man in a leather jerkin with a very angry mother hawk tucked firmly under his arm. The red-faced man was Ratchet, the chief falconer, and he was gazing up at the blue-cloaked figure at the top of the ladder with an awestruck expression. Ratchet had never seen a Hawke Meister before. He had never heard of one either, but he was not about to admit that to anyone, least of all to his new trainee Flyer, who was lurking in the shadows, watching with some interest.
The trainee Flyer was a girl of about thirteen. She wore a padded jacket and trousers and a calculating expression in her dark eyes. In addition to being the new trainee Flyer for the Rekadom Hawke, she was—although Hagos did not know it—foster sister to Alex, and her name was Zerra D’Arbo.
It was with some wariness that Zerra watched Hagos, for the previous day on Oracle Rock she had caused his capture by King Belamus. That day Zerra had also shot the Rekadom Hawke dead with her Lightning Lance. She had blamed its demise on Alex, whom she had betrayed to the king as an Enchanter’s Child. Zerra was unsure how much Hagos had seen and had decided to keep to the shadows. The last thing she wanted was for Ratchet to know she had killed his precious Hawke. Arms folded, with a scowl on her face, she leaned against the wall and listened intently, ready to interrupt if she had to. There was no way a stupid Enchanter was going to mess up her new job.
Zerra need not have worried; the previous day’s events were a painful blur in Hagos’s memory. But the trainee Flyer’s glowering stare unsettled him, and he called anxiously up to Deela, “Hawke Meister. Have you chosen?”
