‘Coo, coo,’ Chatterbeak chirped softly. ‘Should we split up and search the rocks?’
‘No,’ Whisker said, looking straight at Ruby. ‘We stick together at all times. I don’t want any of you wandering off and falling down a hole or being crushed by a precariously positioned boulder.’
Ruby rolled her eye.
‘Aye, Captain,’ she said, saluting him with a crutch. ‘I’ll be two hobbles behind you at all times.’
‘This place gives me the creeps,’ Horace said, wrapping his scarf more tightly around him. ‘I swear I can hear whispering. Or maybe it’s a stream? A stream of whispers – that could be it.’ He stuck his hook in his ear and gave it a good scratch. ‘But then again, maybe it’s just the wind …’
‘Swords at the ready,’ Whisker said, moving his paw to his belt. ‘Keep your eyes on the sky and your ears to the ground.’
Moving cautiously forward, the rescue team began searching the boulders. It was slow work and the task was made even more difficult by the misty clouds forming around them. Soon the entire buttress was hidden behind a veil of white and the tops of the highest fir trees were barely visible above Blackbird Wood.
With patches of mist drifting past them like ghosts, the companions reached a jumble of boulders in the centre of the Erratic Blocks. Many of the rocks were butted up to one another and several were piled on top to form a large, interlocking structure.
Chatterbeak whistled quietly and waved his wing at a patch of white on a rock.
‘Bird poo,’ Whisker said, identifying several more splotches of the dried white substance. ‘Is it recent?’
‘No, no,’ Chatterbeak prattled. ‘Not recent.’
Ruby was already making her way around the side of the boulders when she suddenly stopped and hissed to her companions, ‘Hey. Take a look at this. I think I’ve found something.’
The others rushed to join her. A large rectangular slab of granite stood upright on the eastern edge of the boulders. A second equally large slab leant diagonally against it. In the triangular gap that formed between them was a carved set of stone stairs. The stairs led downwards, disappearing into darkness beneath the rocks.
‘What now?’ Horace asked, peering into the blackness.
‘Now we do a little exploring,’ Whisker said, removing a lantern from his rucksack.
‘But what about the birds?’ Horace said. ‘They could be waiting for us down there.’
‘Birds belong in the air,’ Ruby said confidently, pulling out the second lantern. ‘Dark tunnels are the domain of rats.’
‘She’s right,’ Whisker said. ‘Chatterbeak will barely fit through that gap, let alone a golden eagle.’
‘It’s big enough for a raven,’ Horace argued, glancing nervously in the direction of the wood.
‘Caw, caw, I’ll keep watch,’ Chatterbeak squawked. ‘A hole in the ground is worse than a cage with no view.’
‘Very well, but stay close to the entrance,’ Whisker said, striking a match. ‘We’ll report back as soon as we discover what’s down there.’
He lit the lantern and adjusted the flame so that only a faint glow radiated through the glass. Ruby did the same and thrust her lantern towards Horace.
‘Carry this, pageboy,’ she demanded. ‘I’ve got enough to manage with a pair of crutches and two scissor swords.’
‘Alright,’ he mumbled, taking the lantern in his hook. ‘But don’t expect me to carry your bridal train.’
Ruby ignored him and followed Whisker down the rough stone steps. Horace trailed a safe distance behind them, humming Here Comes the Bride.
The stairs only extended a short way before levelling out onto a floor of limestone. Whisker raised his lantern and peered around the empty space.
He was in a small underground cavern. It was roughly square in shape, with a semicircle of blackened stones surrounding a chimney-like crack in the far wall. A thin shaft of light radiated from the top of the crack, illuminating a makeshift fireplace below. In the light, Whisker could see that several raised sections of rock had been chiselled away and a small section of the floor had been replaced with a square slab of limestone, creating a perfectly flat surface across the entire cavern.
The walls were the same cream-coloured limestone as the floor, but the roof was something entirely different. The jumble of grey granite blocks above the cavern were locked into place to form an arched ceiling. Set into the centre of the ceiling was a magnificent painted dome. It was a perfect half sphere, its plastered surface as smooth as an egg shell.
‘Heavens above!’ Horace marvelled, raising his lantern above him. ‘We’ve stumbled upon the wedding chapel of Cloud Mountain.’
Ruby was too in awe to even think about clobbering him.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she sighed, her eye fixed on the glorious scene above her. ‘I could swear those stars were actually twinkling.’
Whisker simply stood there and stared. The dome was like nothing he had ever seen. Its background was painted in a brilliant midnight blue. Inlaid across its surface, tiny stars reflected the lantern light. Every star appeared to be made from pure gold. The spaces between the stars were decorated with swirling white clouds. In the middle of the dome, a peregrine falcon and a red-tailed hawk were painted in detail as they glided across the night sky.
What took Whisker’s breath away was not the glorious expanse of the panorama or the enormous full moon painted on the edge of the dome but the two small letters scrawled below it. A.W.
A.W. Whisker repeated to himself. The initials of the artist.
Lowering his sword, he felt the shape of his gold anchor pendant beneath his thick coat. His mind formed a single conclusion.
‘Could it really be him?’ he pondered, picturing the engraved letters on the pendant’s reverse side. ‘The rat who travelled the world …’
‘What are you muttering about?’ Horace asked suspiciously. ‘This is hardly the time to be rehearsing your wedding vows.’
‘No, no,’ Whisker said. ‘I was thinking about the craftsman who painted this dome – A.W. I think I know who it is.’
‘Who?’ Ruby asked.
‘My great-grandfather,’ Whisker replied. ‘Anso Winterbottom.’
‘Shiver me surprises!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘Are you telling me that Anso Winterbottom is responsible for this masterpiece?’
Whisker nodded. ‘It’s a strong possibility. We’ve all seen his skill as an artist – first with the Forgotten Map, then with the King’s Key, not to mention the hundreds of pages he illustrated in the Book of Knowledge.’
‘He certainly had some talent,’ Horace said, shaking his head in admiration. ‘Anso Winterbottom, dome decorator …’ He turned to Whisker, an excited expression spreading across his face. ‘You do know what this means, don’t you?’
‘Err, no,’ Whisker said, not quite following him.
Horace took one look at his friend and attempted one of Ruby’s eye rolls. ‘For someone so bright, you can be as thick as a wedding cake sometimes, Whisker!’ He raised his lantern towards the dome. ‘If the famous adventurer, Anso Winterbottom, painted this honeymoon heaven, then there’s a good chance it’s more than just a pretty picture.’
‘You mean it has a hidden meaning?’ Ruby asked eagerly.
Horace shrugged. ‘Now how would I know that? I’m just the ring bearer. Captain Noncommittal here is the problem solver of the bridal party.’
‘Well, Whisker?’ Ruby asked, ignoring Horace’s wedding innuendo. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Maybe,’ Whisker considered, placing his lantern on the floor. ‘But I’ll need some time and a little more light.’
‘Leave it to me,’ Ruby said, making her way towards the stairs. ‘I saw a fallen pine tree not far from here and I can load Chatterbeak with firewood. I doubt the ravens will notice a few wisps of smoke with all the clouds around.’ She disappeared up the stairs and the two rats lay down in the centre of the floor.
‘Look at that,’ Horace said, staring
up at the starry sky. ‘A cloud in the shape of a love heart. How romantic.’
Whisker let out a sigh. ‘I somehow doubt that was what Anso had in mind.’
Stories and Stars
Horace and Whisker were still lying in the same spot when Ruby returned with Chatterbeak.
‘Any luck?’ Ruby asked, unloading a pile of firewood from Chatterbeak’s back.
‘Romance-wise, yes,’ Horace said, blowing kisses to his heart-shaped cloud. ‘Hidden-meaning-wise, no. I’m afraid we’ve been going around in circles.’
‘That wouldn’t be hard,’ Ruby quipped, brushing the snow off a bundle of sticks. ‘You’re two pi-rats staring up at a circular dome.’
‘Very funny, Miss Geometry,’ Horace muttered.
Whisker jumped in before any further maths-related insults could be thrown. ‘Our best and only guess is that the full moon feast is to be held somewhere between the nesting territories of the hawks and the falcons.’
‘Like the stone cairn we passed in the blizzard,’ Horace chimed in.
‘It sounds a little too obvious, if you ask me,’ Ruby said. ‘Viola or Gertrude would surely have noticed a massive feast on their doorstep.’
‘Yes, that did cross our minds,’ Horace said glumly.
‘One thing is puzzling me,’ Ruby said, forming a pyramid of wood in the fireplace. ‘If Anso did know the location of the feast, why didn’t he just reveal it in the dome?’
‘Caw, caw, he couldn’t do that,’ Chatterbeak squawked. ‘The birds would have destroyed it years ago. You saw the droppings outside. They clearly know the artwork is here. Exactly when they discovered it is anyone’s guess, but for the dome to remain intact, they must believe it’s an innocent depiction of the night sky.’
‘Maybe the birds are right,’ Whisker conceded. ‘I mean, A.W. could stand for anyone.’
No one responded.
Ruby struck a match and a small fire began to burn. The aromatic scent of pine smoke filled the air. The colours of the painting grew brighter but Whisker saw nothing he hadn’t already seen before – stars, birds, clouds and the full moon.
After a long silence Horace decided to speak.
‘Lying on the floor isn’t getting us anywhere,’ he said morbidly, then brightened, ‘so what about a ghost story or two to lighten the mood?’
‘Absolutely not!’ Ruby said firmly. ‘There’s only one story you want to tell and I forbid anyone from hearing it.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Horace pleaded. ‘We can pretend we’re camping. Look. There’s a roaring fire, twinkling stars and chocolate for everyone.’ He pulled out a squashed block from his coat pocket. ‘See?’
‘I’m in,’ Chatterbeak chirped, raising his wing. ‘I love a good story, though I’ll pass on the chocolate. My uncle Sammy once ate a piece and dropped dead off his perch.’
‘What about you, Whisker?’ Horace asked, hopefully.
Whisker hadn’t trekked all the way to the mountain to hear a ghost story. But he was tired of staring into space with no answers and hoped the chocolate would at least revitalise his mind.
‘Alright,’ he agreed. ‘Spooky stories and soggy chocolate it is.’
Horace broke off a square of dark chocolate and passed it to Whisker.
‘Listen carefully,’ he said. ‘This story is about a pretty young rat and a white sheet …’
There was a loud THRUMP from the fireplace as Ruby slammed a crutch against the stones.
‘I knew it!’ she hissed. ‘You couldn’t resist, could you?’
‘Pipe down, Ruby,’ Horace said, flinging a piece of chocolate in her direction. ‘I’ve been waiting since the Island of Kings to share this story.’
With a frustrated huff, Ruby picked up the chocolate and hurled it back at him. Horace caught it on the end of his hook.
‘Back to the story,’ he said, sticking the battered square into his mouth. ‘Our spook-tacular tale takes place on the night of Ruby’s apprenticeship graduation. Our humble hero, Fred, was busy preparing a special berry pie as a surprise. It was the kind of pie you’d find in the window of a gourmet cake shop – a true work of art. Not only was it filled with the most delectable raspberries, strawberries and cherries, but its golden crust was decorated with dark chocolate buttons, little swirls of pastry and sugar frosting. In a word, it was irresistible!’
Whisker licked his lips. Horace passed him a second piece of chocolate and took one for himself.
‘After dinner, Fred snuck into the ship’s galley to collect the pie while the Captain made a speech about how brave and fearless Ruby had become. Before Fred had a chance to return, Ruby decided that celebrations were a waste of time, and stormed off to the deck in one of her moods. Poor Fred staggered out of the galley with the pie in his paws, singing happy graduation to you, only to discover that Ruby had gone.’
There was a splintering CRACK from the corner of the room as Ruby began hacking up large chunks of firewood.
‘Ignore her,’ Horace said to his small audience. ‘She doesn’t like the next part of the story.’
‘Caw, caw. I don’t think she likes any part of the story,’ Chatterbeak chirped in amusement.
Horace simply shrugged and helped himself to a third piece of chocolate.
‘Back to the real drama,’ he said with bulging cheeks. ‘Well, there was no way I was having a bar of Ruby’s ungrateful rot, so I scampered off to confront her. I reached the top of the stairs to discover her lying in the centre of the deck, staring up at the stars. For a moment I was tempted to tip a bucket of cold water over her head, but then an even better idea popped into my head.
‘Before she had a chance to see me, I crept down the galley to find Fred. Moments later I was back on the deck, scaling the rigging with a rope around my waist and a white sheet draped over my shoulders. To add to my disguise, my face and ears had been dusted with flour and the pie was wedged on my hook. Shiver me tombstones! I was the ghost of ingratitude and I had a very special message to deliver.
‘I reached the top of the foremast and shimmied along the sail until I was directly above Ruby. She was staring at some distant constellation, connecting the stars with her finger, totally oblivious to what was going on around her. Fred was waiting at the base of the mast, clutching the rope in readiness. With a quick nod, I threw myself over the sail and plummeted headfirst towards her, shaking my pie and howling like a were-rat. At the last second, Fred yanked the rope, jerking me to a halt.
‘And there I hung, hovering mid-air, as pale as death, only inches from Ruby’s terrified face. You should have heard her scream. It was so loud I thought my ears were going to burst. Fred covered his ears to block out the sound but forgot he was holding the rope. The next thing I knew, I was crashing down on top of Ruby with the pie in pieces and berries spewing everywhere. Ruby took one look at the blood-red syrup oozing across her chest and screamed even louder!’
Horace lay back with his hook beneath his head and grinned with satisfaction. ‘And that, my dear gents, is what happens to ungrateful little Pie Rats on graduation night.’
There was a loud ‘HUMPH’ from the fireplace as Ruby voiced her opinion.
‘A rather fanciful version of events, if you ask me,’ she said, ‘especially the reference to the ghost of ingratitude. From my recollection of the evening, it was closer to the ghost of incompetence.’
‘Rotten pies to your recollection, Ruby,’ Horace scoffed. ‘Whisker loved my factual recall, didn’t you Whisker?’
Whisker grunted in acknowledgement, but kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
‘Oh, come on, Whisker,’ Horace said, prodding him with his hook. ‘Surely my story deserves some reaction? A smile perhaps, a hearty chuckle?’
‘What about an astronomy badge?’ Whisker said, pointing upwards.
Horace shook his hook. ‘You’re as bad as Ruby with your star gazing. I doubt you heard a single word of my story!’
‘That’s not entirely true,’ Whisker retorted. ‘I specifical
ly recall the bit when you revealed the secret meaning behind the dome.’
‘Secret meaning?’ Chatterbeak squawked in excitement. ‘Do tell, do tell!’
‘Oh, yes …’ Horace said, totally confused. ‘The secret meaning. Who could forget that bit?’ He shot a quick glance across at Ruby and then turned back to Whisker, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘Err, refresh my memory. Exactly what part of the story are we talking about?’
Joining the Dots
Raising his arm to the heavens, Whisker drew an invisible line between two stars. ‘Ring any bells?’
Horace shrugged. ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star?’
‘No,’ Whisker said, shaking his head. ‘I was referring to the part of your story when Ruby traced a constellation with her finger.’
‘Right,’ Horace said, still not understanding. ‘That part.’
‘The only accurate part of the story, I might add,’ Ruby interjected, clomping over to them. Discarding her crutches, she lay down next to Whisker and peered up at the dome. ‘So what are we looking at, Galileo?’
‘Answers,’ Whisker said with a smile. ‘At first I thought the gold stars in this dome were randomly placed, but on closer inspection, I realised they formed a number of constellations.’
He moved his finger across the dome, connecting the stars as he went. ‘There’s Andromeda on the right and next to it is Crater and the snake-like constellation of Hydra. Further to the left you can see the Eridanus constellation surrounding Aquarius.’
‘Aquarius,’ Horace repeated. ‘I know that one. Pete mentioned it during one of his navigation classes. From what I recall, he said that the position of stars assisted sailors to navigate at night. Apparently you can identify north and south and the other points of the compass.’
‘Exactly,’ Whisker said. ‘My mother encouraged me to memorise the constellations on clear nights when we were travelling with the circus.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’ Horace muttered.
Whisker went on, ‘The strange thing about the constellations in this dome is that they don’t match their correct positions in the sky.’
Child of the Cloud Page 9
