by George Hagen
Abby smiled. “You’re welcome, Somes.”
Then he looked at Gabriel. “Did you know that there’s a mausoleum in the graveyard with your name on it? It has ravens all along the top. There are stairs leading down somewhere.”
“Ravens? Stairs leading down?” Gabriel turned to Abby, wide-eyed. “I bet it’s the entrance to Aviopolis! The first time I met Septimus he told me it was ‘miles right beneath us!’ ”
“It makes perfect sense!” agreed Abby. “Somes? Will you show us?”
Hurrying through the windswept cemetery, the three friends were barely able to contain their excitement. When they found the mausoleum, they approached slowly, quietly, the way you might approach a cliff edge.
Somes tried to turn the bronze gate’s handle, but it was either very rusty or locked. He couldn’t open it, so he pointed through the gate at a staircase that descended into darkness.
“It looks like it goes on forever,” said Abby.
“Let me get this straight,” said Somes. “You think a guy is keeping your dad down there?”
“Well, he’s sort of a half-raven, half-human guy called Corax,” replied Gabriel.
“Corax,” repeated Somes. He told them about the conversation he had overheard in the cemetery.
“Probably valravens,” Gabriel said.
Somes looked at him doubtfully. “C’mon. Birds that talk like people?”
“You’d be surprised,” said Abby. “Valravens serve Corax. They’re flesh eaters. You’re very lucky they didn’t attack you.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true,” said Abby.
Although he was full of astonishment as Abby explained the Finley family’s history and Gabriel’s unusual friendship with Paladin, what most impressed Somes was something else. “Your dad must be pretty cool for you to go to all this trouble,” he said. “Do you really think you can rescue him?”
“Well,” said Gabriel, “I have to try.”
Staring down the darkening steps, Somes nervously asked, “Hey … Do you think … Can I come with you guys?”
“Sure, but it’s dangerous,” Gabriel warned him. “We don’t know what’s down there.”
Somes looked at Abby. She had a small, excited smile.
“Count me in,” he said.
Where Is Septimus?
Pamela guessed that Gabriel had a plan, because he ate Trudy’s latest soup without comment. Trudy assured them it was a minestrone, but there were objects bobbing in the mixture that resembled shoelaces and rubber bands, and the smell was like moldy boots left in an attic.
Even Trudy noticed Gabriel’s hearty appetite. “Somebody seems to have changed his mind about my cooking!” she remarked.
“What? Oh, right,” said Gabriel.
Pamela followed Gabriel outside after dinner. He stood alone in the backyard, holding the staff.
“Where’s Paladin?” she asked.
“Oh, I asked him to take a message to Septimus by way of the sparrows,” he explained.
“I see,” she replied enviously. Recently, she’d attempted to befriend the writing desk by trying to talk to it in her head. It did not reply.
“Hey, guess what? I found out how to get to Aviopolis.” Gabriel told Pamela all about the mausoleum and the staircase he hoped would lead him to the bird city. “So we’re planning to rescue my—”
“I’m coming,” interrupted Pamela.
He nodded. “I figured you’d want to, but listen—it could be dangerous.”
“What could be dangerous?” asked a voice.
Trudy was standing in the doorway. “Pamela? Where are you going with him? Tell me right now!”
Gabriel noticed that Aunt Jaz lingered behind Trudy, listening.
“Mother, I’m going to Aviopolis.”
“Where?” asked Trudy.
“It’s nowhere, seriously,” said Gabriel.
“I doubt that,” snapped Trudy. “And you, young lady, are not going out all night like last time, worrying me to death. Now, where is this place?”
To Gabriel’s horror, Pamela repeated everything he had just told her.
“It’s … it’s an amazing city full of birds,” she said. “It’s miles beneath the earth, and very hard to get to. We think you enter through the cemetery and walk down a deep staircase!”
Trudy’s reaction was a surprise, however. Her anger melted and she gave her daughter a small, indulgent smile. “Oh, I see,” she said. “Sometimes I forget that you’re still a child with an imagination. Look at the time. You still have practicing to do, dear!”
“Yes, Mother.” Pamela shot Gabriel a sly glance, then followed Trudy back inside.
Aunt Jaz, however, didn’t look as amused. “Gabriel,” she said, “if you were any other boy, I would tell you to forget about this. Stay at home, enjoy your childhood.” Then her voice softened. “But you are like no other boy. To talk to ravens, fly with them, and unlock the secret of a necklace that has been a mystery for a thousand years—well, I don’t quite know what to say, except that you are your father’s son, and if anyone can help him, it is you. But please be very careful.”
Gabriel promised her that he would.
Once Aunt Jaz had walked back inside, Paladin arrived, breathless and agitated.
“Bad news,” he said. “Nobody’s seen Septimus in a week. The valravens may have gotten him.”
Gabriel and Paladin flew to Septimus’s rooftop terrace apartment. What they found was a shock. Every window had been shattered; the french doors swung carelessly in the breeze; plush armchairs had been pecked to pieces, their stuffing spilled across the floor. Many of the valuable pots and vases Crawfin and Septimus had gathered (or stolen) from all over the world had been picked up and dropped on the hearth to reveal their contents. The grand fireplace that once crackled with a blazing fire was now a dark hole.
A tatty-looking raven with a jagged beak and a blistered, featherless neck looked up when Gabriel and Paladin entered.
“Answer me this! Whenever I introduce myself, people turn and walk away. What is my name?”
“Hmm,” said Paladin. “Is it Goodbye?”
“Well done, Paladin,” whispered Gabriel.
The valraven, however, was furious that the young raven had solved the riddle so quickly. It flew at them, sharp talons extended, but Gabriel removed his coat and used it to bat the valraven away. It hurtled across the room, toward the enormous mantel, and dropped into a large stone urn perched on top.
Gabriel immediately clamped a lid on the urn. The bird squawked and struggled inside.
From the other room, a second valraven appeared. “No necklace here,” it muttered, then noticed Gabriel and Paladin. Raising its wings threateningly, it said, “Where is Septimus Geiger?”
“I was looking for him myself,” Gabriel replied.
“Looking?” The valraven smiled viciously. “You’ll have no need of your eyes when I’m finished.”
It fluttered across the room and perched in the ashes of the fireplace, searching for its companion. “Grinderbeak? Where are you?”
At that moment, the urn began rocking violently above him.
“Grinderbeak! Show yourself!” snapped the valraven.
The urn tottered, then tipped off the mantel and shattered upon the valraven below, silencing them both.
Gabriel surveyed the pillaged room. “Now, where could Septimus be?”
“Do we really need him?” asked Paladin. “The mausoleum leads down to Aviopolis, I’m sure of it.”
“Yes, Paladin, but we have to find my dad in a maze of passages, and Septimus knows exactly where he is.”
Suddenly, a voice came from behind them.
“What gets wet when it dries?”
Gabriel turned with Paladin, but they couldn’t see who had spoken.
“What gets wet when it dries?” repeated the voice.
“Wet when it dries? Doesn’t make sense. How can something get—” bega
n Gabriel.
“A towel!” replied Paladin with a laugh.
A chuckle of raven laughter came from the old globe in the center of the room. A crack appeared in the lower hemisphere, right between Paraguay and Argentina, and the scruffy raven from Mr. Pleshette’s shop flew out.
“Hobblewing!” cried Paladin.
“Greetings, old friends!” said Hobblewing. “Look, I’ve learned to fly!”
“Excellent,” said Paladin. “Say, have you seen Septimus anywhere?”
“Why, of course,” said the bird. “I’m his lookout.” He raised his head and uttered three sharp throks in the direction of the fireplace.
Cinders began to fall from the chimney into the grate. Suddenly, two boots dropped down, followed by trousers and a long coat. A figure as gray as ash dusted himself off to reveal snow-white hair and a weatherbeaten face.
“Young Finley?” He sniffed. “I didn’t expect a visit from you.”
“Septimus,” said Gabriel, “my friends and I think we found an entrance to Aviopolis in a graveyard.”
The man looked disappointed that his secret had been discovered. “You found it? I had forgotten how inquisitive children can be.”
“Yeah,” continued Gabriel, realizing his advantage. “So if you help me find my father—”
“Help you?” Septimus said bitterly. “Go find him yourself.”
As Gabriel wondered how to get him on board, he noticed the ugly scar around his neck.
“Septimus,” he replied, “I’m sure my father would help you remove the torc if you showed me the way there.”
Suddenly, Septimus’s face turned eerily blue. “Remove it?” he snapped in an unnaturally shrill voice. “Never!”
Surprised that these words sprang from his mouth, Septimus winced and corrected himself in a desperate whisper. “No, no, it’s all for the good. Must get rid of it, quickly, quickly!”
The Journey Begins
Septimus wanted to set out for Aviopolis as soon as possible. This pleased Gabriel, so they agreed to meet the next evening at the cemetery.
Gabriel and Paladin flew home discussing the plan.
Are you sure we can trust him?
Not really, replied Gabriel. There’s no way I’ll let him have the staff.
In the morning, Gabriel explained the plan to Pamela; on the walk to school, he told Abigail; and he slipped a note to Somes during math.
At dinner, Gabriel and Pamela ate great helpings of Trudy’s eggplant ragout, a purple and black broth that smelled like skunk cabbage, knowing they would need plenty of energy for the evening’s adventure.
Gabriel stepped out of the house first, with Paladin on his shoulder and staff in hand. Pamela appeared a moment later, holding her violin case.
“Do you really want to bring something that valuable?” said Gabriel.
“Mother thinks I’m practicing,” Pamela explained. “Besides, if it works on writing desks, it might work on other things.”
Gabriel nodded. “I never would have thought of that.”
Abby raced across the street wearing rubber boots (one yellow, one purple), four cardigans, and a heavily stocked backpack slung over her shoulder.
“Where’s Somes?” she asked.
“Meeting us at the cemetery,” Gabriel explained.
They set off along wet Brooklyn streets, past dark storefronts, dimly lit restaurants, and bright bodegas with neon lights glowing in the gathering fog, toward the cemetery that rose on a hill overlooking New York Bay. Aside from the mournful echo of a ship’s horn, the city was quiet. Gabriel imagined most people were nestled warmly in their armchairs or curled up in bed, unconcerned about a world far beneath the earth ruled by a villainous half man, half raven.
He was excited at the prospect of rescuing his father, but terribly anxious, too. If they got lost, who would know where to find them? Who would look so far under the ground, or even imagine a city populated by birds, dominated by the Lord of Air and Darkness?
The moon was just a fuzzy smear behind the clouds as they entered the cemetery gate. After searching, they found the Finley mausoleum and waited for Somes. The wind began to blow unkindly, chilling their ears and biting at their cheeks. When a security guard drove by, flashing his searchlight, the children scattered to keep out of sight.
As Somes prepared to leave the house, Mr. Grindle arrived with a pizza box. He squinted at the boy’s glasses. “Where’d you get those?”
“A nice lady gave them to me,” Somes replied, adjusting them. “She checked my eyes and said I needed them for reading.”
“A nice lady, huh?” His father sniffed. “Well, glasses can’t make a dumb kid smart.”
Somes frowned. “I can see better. I can read better.”
Unimpressed, his father put down the pizza box. “Sit. I brought dinner.”
Somes hesitated. He was very hungry, but he had to go.
“Are you late for a train?” snapped Mr. Grindle. “Sit.”
His stomach was growling, so Somes took a seat. He wolfed down a slice and was halfway through a second when his father spoke.
“Now,” said Mr. Grindle. “Suppose you tell me where you were going?”
“Cemetery,” said Somes.
“Cemetery? Why?”
Somes shrugged. “It’s safe there.”
Suddenly, Mr. Grindle’s hand flew out and slapped Somes on the cheek, sending his glasses flying across the floor. Somes picked them up tenderly. “You almost broke them!” he cried.
“I told you, glasses can’t make a dumb kid smart.”
“I’m not dumb,” Somes replied, putting the glasses on.
His father raised his arm to slap him again; but this time, Somes was ready. He raised his hand, catching his father’s wrist, and he twisted it. The man let out a cry and fell off his seat.
“I’m not dumb!” Somes said angrily.
With a fresh slice of warm pizza cradled in his hand, Somes ran out of the house—and he didn’t stop running until his father’s shouts had faded in the soft rumble of evening traffic.
When Somes arrived at the cemetery, a low-hanging mist encircled the gravestones. He listened for voices, but all sounds were muffled here. He wondered if the dead kept things nice and quiet. Had his friends forgotten about him? Even though he had eaten, Somes felt a lonely ache in his chest. He tossed away the last crust of pizza and leaned against the Finley mausoleum.
Moments later, Gabriel arrived with Paladin on his shoulder, Abby and Pamela by his side. He saw Somes, then noticed three dark birds alight above him on the roof of the mausoleum.
“Somes! Step over here, carefully,” said Gabriel.
Paladin addressed the birds. “Tie me up and I’ll walk all day. Loosen me and I’ll sit still. What am I?”
The birds didn’t answer.
“I am a pair of sneakers!” said Paladin. When the birds didn’t laugh, he nodded at Gabriel. Definitely valravens.
The ghouls stared from Paladin to Gabriel, pining for a time when they had their own human companions. This feeling passed quickly. Their eyes burned a sicklier yellow and their bitterness reappeared.
“Son of Finley!” said the first valraven. “The Lord of Air and Darkness wants the torc.”
“I don’t have it,” replied Gabriel.
“Deliver it—or die!” added the second.
Gabriel felt a sudden tremor come from the staff in his hand. The ancient wood grew warm; its heat jumped to his fingertips and traveled up his arm into his shoulders. Quivering, the staff began to turn, its tip pointing at the birds.
Out came a loud pop!
The first valraven disappeared, leaving only a cloud of black feathers fluttering down.
“Cool,” said Gabriel, staring at the staff. “This is what the Romany Geese said it would do.” He turned the staff toward the remaining phantoms.
Pop! Pop! Two more clouds of feathers.
“How does it do that?” Somes looked at Gabriel with amazement.
; “I have no idea,” said Gabriel.
“Look out!” exclaimed Paladin.
There was a cry from the mist. A man in a long coat came running, waving his arms wildly. Two valravens pursued him, their yellow eyes piercing the fog.
“Septimus!” said Pamela.
Gabriel raised the staff and pointed it at one of the valravens. There was another abrupt pop! and the valraven vanished, leaving a few bones and feathers scattered on the ground. Gabriel pointed the staff at the next valraven and it disappeared just as swiftly.
“Ha ha! You wretches! That’ll teach you!” Septimus shook his fist triumphantly. Facing Gabriel, his gaze turned cunning. “Well done, lad. Now, let’s have a look at that marvelous thing, eh?”
Gabriel pulled the staff to his chest. “I don’t think so.”
“Dear boy …” Septimus’s expression shifted quickly to disappointment. “You still don’t trust me?”
“I trusted you once,” Gabriel reminded him.
The man’s shoulders dropped; he searched the group for a sympathetic face, but there wasn’t one.
Meanwhile, Somes had also been admiring the staff. “Can I hold it, Gabriel?” he asked.
“Sorry, Somes,” said Gabriel. “But I think I’d better keep it for now.”
The big boy frowned, embarrassed to be treated just like Septimus in front of the others. Septimus noticed this immediately and offered his hand.
“We haven’t met. I’m Septimus Geiger.”
Somes shook his hand and gave his name. Septimus smiled, filing away the information. Suddenly, his hand was grabbed by Abby and given a vigorous shake.
“We haven’t met either,” she said. “I’m Abby Chastain. I know all about you! And you’ve already met Pamela.”
At the mention of Pamela, Septimus’s smile faded. “Charmed,” he muttered.
“So,” said Abby, turning to the mausoleum. “How do we get in?”
The gate was made of tarnished bronze. The circular hole in the very center was the right size for a raven. It was wrought in braided metal, with two raven heads meeting at the bottom, just like the torc. Paladin perched upon it and looked to see if there was a lock on the inside but didn’t find anything. They all took turns trying to turn the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
