Secrets of the Dragon Tomb

by Patrick Samphire

  “We’re all tired,” Olivia said.

  Freddie cleared his throat awkwardly. “The truth is, native Martians have good reason to treat outsiders with suspicion and fear. But prove yourself a friend and you will see how welcoming they truly are.”

  * * *

  It took us well over an hour to reach the station. When we got there, the street below the concourse was packed from end to end with a mixture of steam-driven and horse-drawn carriages. Drivers were shouting at each other, but no one seemed to be moving.

  “Better get out,” Freddie said. “Wait for me in the station.”

  “Where are you going?” I said.

  “To sell the carriage.”

  “Then we should all come.” I looked out the window. “This doesn’t look safe.”

  Freddie shook his head. “I need to get rid of the carriage fast. That means no questions, no delays. I might have to go to someone whose … ah … morality is not of the highest standard.”

  “Criminals?” Putty said, perking up for the first time since we’d reached the city. “Can I come?”

  “Parthenia!” Olivia said. “No young lady should dream of associating with criminals.”

  Putty made a face.

  “He’s right,” I said, opening the carriage door. “We should wait in the station. We’ll be fine.”

  I helped Olivia climb down from the carriage onto the crowded walkway. Putty jumped out after us. Olivia stared after the automatic carriage as it pulled away.

  “I can’t believe he left us here.”

  “But he is very handsome, isn’t he?” Putty said, gazing up at our older sister with wide eyes.

  Olivia blushed.

  “He’ll be fine,” I said. “Freddie can look after himself.”

  “I didn’t say I was worried about him!” Olivia said, then turned away with an “Oh!” at Putty’s spreading grin.

  Even though the Clockwork Express tracks dipped down at the terminus, the platforms were high above the rest of the city. A wide staircase led up to the concourse, and a steam-powered elevator hauled up heavy goods and the passengers who didn’t want to climb. We took the stairs.

  The ticket counter for the Imperial Martian Airship Company stood on one side of the main station concourse, beneath a large clock. We flopped on a bench opposite and settled in to wait. We were all exhausted. I thought we probably looked more like something nasty that had been washed up on the beach than respectable people waiting to travel high above the surface of Mars in a luxurious airship. None of us had slept much on the journey. We were unwashed and stained with dust from the explosion. My head ached from being whacked about by our captors. I decided to have a bet with myself about whether we’d be arrested as vagrants before Freddie got back.

  I watched the hands of the clock creep slowly around its face.

  “We should explore,” Putty said. “I’ve never been in a real old Martian city before. There could be anything here.”

  “Exactly,” Olivia said. “That’s why we’re not going anywhere.”

  Through the steel and glass ceiling over the concourse, I could see the airship tethered high above us. The giant springs that would drive its propellers were being hoisted up and the spent springs lowered down on the other end of pulleys. The passenger gondola had been winched down on its ropes from the long, cigar-shaped balloon to meet the boarding platform. Passengers were already embarking. I drummed my fingers impatiently on the bench.

  By half past nine, Freddie still hadn’t appeared. The trickle of passengers heading for the airship had almost dried up, and the elevator carrying the luggage now stood empty.

  “What if he doesn’t come?” Putty said. “What if something’s happened to him?”

  “Nothing’s happened to him!” Olivia said. Her fingers twisted nervously.

  The clerk behind the counter sat back in his chair, yawning. The airship would have to leave on time; the Imperial Martian Airship Company always left on time. If we weren’t on board, it wouldn’t wait for us.

  “Stop fidgeting, Edward,” Olivia whispered. She straightened her back and lifted her chin.

  I clenched my fingers and bit my lip.

  Twenty-five to ten. Where on Mars was Freddie? I couldn’t wait any longer. I jumped to my feet. “I’m going to look for him.”

  “No!” Olivia said, then dropped her voice, as though she’d surprised herself by speaking so loudly. “You can’t just go wandering off. What if you get hurt or lost? Who’s going to come looking for you? We can’t split up.”

  Across from us, the clerk stood, stretched, and reached for the blind above the counter.

  “Here he is!” Putty shouted, bouncing up. She waved wildly, drawing disapproving glances.

  Freddie hurried toward us across the concourse, carrying two heavy cases, one in each hand. His walking stick jutted from under his arm.

  “Oh, Cousin Freddie!” Olivia ran past us. I stared after her, astonished, as she flung her arms around him. Freddie dropped the cases.

  “Cousin Olivia … I…”

  Then Olivia must have remembered how improper this was, because she backed away.

  “We were so worried,” she said. “What would we have done if you’d been hurt? You shouldn’t have left us for so long.”

  Freddie wilted.

  “I … ah … that is … I bought us all some clothes,” Freddie stuttered. “I do hope I got the right sizes and styles. Not exactly my specialty, girls’ clothes. That is to say…”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “You are wonderful, Cousin Freddie. I could not have worn these for another hour. The dust has ruined them.”

  “I’m starting to feel sick,” Putty muttered.

  “The counter’s closing,” I said. “We’re going to miss the airship.”

  Freddie blinked, then whirled, snatched up the cases, and rushed across to the counter. Too late. The clerk snapped down the blind. Freddie knocked on the glass. The clerk’s head appeared around the edge of the blind, one eyebrow raised disdainfully above his glasses.

  “We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.”

  Freddie leaned forward, blocking my view of the window, but I saw enough to notice him reach inside his jacket, pull something out, and flash it briefly to the clerk.

  The clerk popped up the blind again.

  Whatever Freddie had shown the clerk had been enough to make the man abandon his procedures and reopen his counter. Clerks never did that. Another of Freddie’s blasted secrets. I’d thought we were done with those. I fixed his back with a baleful glare.

  “How many?” the clerk said.

  “A suite with two cabins,” Freddie said. “Four people for Lunae City.”

  Grumbling, the clerk produced the tickets.

  Behind us, heavy footsteps came running up. I turned to see a small man with extravagant eyebrows staggering toward us, pulling two enormous trunks behind him. He was slumped under the weight, his cravat was half undone, and he was sweating like a waterfall.

  “I’m not too late, am I?” the man called as he stumbled up to us.

  Freddie stepped aside, giving the clerk a wide smile. “I don’t believe so.”

  The clerk shot Freddie a look of disgust, but he didn’t protest.

  “Thank you,” the little man said. “I must reach Lunae City. I believe a particularly interesting strata has been revealed by the shifting sands.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Freddie said. I couldn’t have put it better myself.

  “I do apologize,” the man said. He let go of one of his trunks. It hit the ground with a solid, heavy clunk. “Dr. Octavius Blood, Martian. I am a geologist.”

  “Martian?” Putty said. “You don’t look like a native Martian.”

  Olivia winced at Putty’s rudeness, but the geologist didn’t seem to notice.

  “Indeed not, although, in a way, are we not all native Martians now? I do call myself a Martian, because I believe I am a Martian first and foremost. It may be that I was born in the B
ritish Martian Territories, but I do not see myself as such. I am no more British Martian than Chinese Martian or Turkish Martian or Patagonian Martian. No, we are all children of the Martian rock, are we not? We crawl upon its surface, and it is to Mars that we belong.”

  “I’m supposed to be closed,” the clerk said, shooting a glance at Freddie.

  “Ah, yes, yes,” Dr. Blood said. “One, to Lunae City, where my new rocks await! First class, if you please!”

  The moment the geologist had his ticket, the clerk slammed his blind back down and stalked away from the window.

  “Now,” Freddie said, “we’d better run. Time and airships wait for no man. Ha-ha.”

  We reached the elevator just in time. The final pieces of luggage had been loaded, and the porter stood tapping his finger against the gate as we rushed up.

  “All aboard!” Freddie shouted.

  The geologist, Dr. Blood, scampered in behind us and let his trunks fall. He gasped, then wiped his brow and looked up at us.

  “What on Mars do you have in there?” Freddie asked. “Looks like you’re carrying half a mountain around with you. Reminds me of the time old Huffy—do you know old Huffy?”

  “Er, no,” Dr. Blood replied, looking confused.

  “Don’t know old Huffy? Well. I thought everyone knew old Huffy. Anyway, it reminds me of the time we were going to go boating on the—”

  “My rock samples,” the geologist said, before Freddie could launch into his story, which I was sure he was making up on the spot. “I always carry my rock samples with me. You never know when you might need them. Are you interested in rocks, sir?”

  Freddie blinked. “Ah … Um … Can’t say I’ve exactly studied the fellows. Still, never too late to learn, eh?”

  “Quite, quite,” Dr. Blood said. “I have some particularly fascinating samples of sandstone. I have, in fact, published several monographs on the subject.”

  “Monographs, you say?” Freddie said. “Well, well.” But by now I recognized that look in Freddie’s eyes. He didn’t believe a word the geologist was saying, and neither did I. Because when Dr. Blood had let his trunks fall, the sound had distinctly been of metal clanking together, not rocks.

  10

  Secrets and Spies

  The airship gondola hanging beneath the great balloon was made up of two levels and was almost as long as the balloon itself. Walking up the boarding platform to the top level would have felt like walking up the gangplank to an enormous ocean-going ship … if the ship had been a hundred yards up in the air with nothing underneath it. I looked down and had to grab the safety rail.

  I hadn’t forgotten that Freddie was still keeping secrets from me, and I hadn’t forgiven him. We were going to be stuck on this airship for a full day. If Freddie thought he could keep me in the dark the whole trip, he was fooling himself. The moment I got him alone, I’d get the truth. I pushed myself off the rail and followed him up the boarding platform, glaring the whole way.

  The top level of the gondola was made up of a grand salon for the passengers to relax in, a drawing room, a large dining room, a kitchen, and a small ballroom, although why anyone would want to spend the trip dancing was beyond me. The back third was closed off. I guessed it must contain the springs that drove the propellers. Each spring was almost as big as a house.

  At the front, there was a wide viewing deck with a high rail so that passengers could sit or stroll about. A walkway stretched around both sides of the gondola, all the way to the back, where I could see teardrop-shaped wooden lifeboats the size of big carriages, hanging like chrysalises from the stern rail. Each lifeboat was wrapped in wide canvas wings and had a square entry hatch that stood open on its roof. Rope ladders led over the rail to the hatches.

  We followed a white-uniformed steward down to the lower level, where the cabins were located. Freddie sauntered along as though he hadn’t a care in the world. My teeth clenched as he twirled his walking stick in the air. Did he think this was all a joke?

  Our suite of cabins was on the left of the airship—the port side, the steward called it. There was a single door leading into a small private salon for the four of us to share. It had two chaise longues, a couple of high-backed chairs, a low table, a sideboard, and a small cabinet. On either side of the salon, polished wormwood doors led into the bedrooms. Someone had spent far too much time inlaying tiny brass patterns into the wood.

  “Well. Here we are,” Freddie said. He passed one of the cases to the girls. “There should be something you can wear in there. I’m afraid I was only able to procure secondhand clothes. I know it’s not what you are used to, Cousin Olivia. There was no time for a fitting…” He cleared his throat. “Edward and I will meet you here when you are done.”

  I gave them a quick jerk of my head, then stalked into our room.

  There were two neatly made beds in the cabin I was sharing with Freddie; a writing desk with quill, ink, and paper laid out; a couple of chests of drawers; and a cupboard. The rugs that lay across the wooden floor were thick enough to lose a foot in. Ignoring Freddie, I crossed to the window and peered down to the city below, my hands clenched on the windowsill. The houses and the people hurrying along the streets looked tiny from up here.

  “You’re angry with me,” Freddie said, throwing himself onto one of the beds.

  I didn’t bother to reply.

  A horn sounded. I braced myself against the window frame as, with a slight jerk, the whole passenger gondola winched up toward the airship’s balloon.

  Freddie sighed. “We’re under way.”

  I watched out the window, trying to calm myself, as the tether fell away from the nose of the balloon. Springs engaged, and the enormous propellers began to beat. Slowly, the airship turned and pulled away from its tower.

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re angry?” Freddie asked after a moment.

  “What did you show that clerk?” I demanded.

  Freddie folded his hands behind his head. “Not sure what you mean, old chap.”

  “Oh, don’t play the fool, Freddie. I saw you.” I pushed away from the window.

  “Can’t hide much from you, can I? I showed him the identification of an Imperial Martian Airship Commissioner.”

  “You’re not a commissioner.”

  “I got the papers from the men I sold the carriage to. I thought everything might go more easily if I had some official papers.”

  I shook my head angrily. “I don’t believe half of what you’re saying. I know you’re not an idiot, and your stories don’t hold up. What are you really up to?”

  He turned a perfectly blank face to me. Normally, I could read every emotion on Freddie’s face as easily as I could read my magazines. Right now, I couldn’t get a thing.

  “You’re either going to tell me,” I said, “or I’m going to tell Putty and Livvy everything I know and everything I’ve seen. I’m going to make sure they’re as suspicious of you as I am. I’m not going to let you lie to us and put us in danger anymore.”

  Freddie sighed, then gestured me over. “If I tell you, Edward, you can’t tell anyone else. Not even your sisters. Do you understand? It’s important.”

  Reluctantly, I nodded.

  He let out a deep breath. “Very well. I’m not a student at Oxford—well, I am a student, but that’s just cover. I work for the British-Martian Intelligence Service. I’m a spy.”

  “You?” I choked out. “A spy?” I felt the color rise in my cheeks, and my throat tightened until it hurt. “You can’t be.”

  Freddie was a spy? Freddie was an idiot! A famous idiot. I was the one who wanted to be a spy. It felt like he’d stolen something from me. I’d rather he punched me in the gut.

  Freddie shrugged. “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if it was easy to believe. You’re not supposed to suspect me.” He leaned forward on the bed, bringing himself closer to me. His voice was scarcely more than a whisper. “When Sir Titus Dane disappeared so suddenly ten years ago, the service thought
he must be up to something. They’d been keeping an eye on him, but he managed to slip away. They didn’t track him down again until a couple of years ago, when they found him working under the identity of Professor Alfred Westfield at King’s College, Oxford.” He gave half a grin. “That’s where I came in. I’d already been recruited by the Intelligence Service when I turned sixteen. The service often recruits promising candidates young and directs our education and careers.”

  “That was when you suddenly turned into a blithering idiot,” I said.

  He smiled. “It was cover. Trust me, when you get to that age, most people are half expecting you to turn into an idiot, so no one was surprised. People are much more likely to let something slip if they think you’re stupid. Anyway, by the time the Intelligence Service uncovered Sir Titus’s new identity, my training was complete. I was the right age and from the right background, so I was sent to Oxford to spy on him.”

  “I’m guessing you found out what he was up to,” I said. My voice sounded hollow. “What’s it got to do with the map you stole?”

  “Copied, not stole. It took me almost two years to find anything, but one day he must have been called away in a hurry. I found the dragon tomb map he was trying to decode, shoved under a pile of papers in a drawer in his office. When Sir Titus disappeared from Mars, he’d been disgraced. He’d led three missions that had discovered and opened dragon tombs, but he’d been stealing their locations from other archaeologists. Society turned against him.”

  “Mama seemed happy to see him,” I said.

  Freddie nodded. “Sir Titus Dane was an important man. Most people wouldn’t have anything to do with him, but he still had friends and admirers. The Danes are an old family, and his dragon tombs gave British Mars some of its most spectacular inventions. But even before his disgrace, Sir Titus had been frustrated that the profit from his discoveries had gone to British Mars rather than to Sir Titus himself. He had no interest in helping his country, only in increasing his own wealth and fame. What the British Martian government paid him wasn’t enough for the likes of Sir Titus Dane.”