Silo and the Rebel Raiders

by Veronica Peyton

  “What is the meaning of this?” cried Feeton. “Trying to escape, are we?”

  “No, sir!” cried Orlando. “I was trying to get in.”

  “Why?!”

  “Because I’m an orphan, sir! My parents died of crab pox, and I’m all alone in the world. I heard that the Division was a friend to poor orphans, took them in and fed them and gave them a roof over their heads. I know I should have asked, but I was afraid you’d turn me away. So I thought I’d just sneak in, and that perhaps you wouldn’t notice one more among so many. Please don’t send me away, sir—don’t let me starve on the streets! I’m willing to work for my keep. My name is Titus MacGurk.”

  “A volunteer,” said Feeton in wonder. “A genuine volunteer! Usually we has to catch them.”

  Then he pulled himself together, shaking Orlando free of the ropes that held him. “You’ll report to Superintendent Frisk immediately! Come with me.”

  “Bless you for your kindness! You’ll put in a good word for me, won’t you, sir?”

  Feeton took Orlando firmly by the scruff of the neck and hauled him away. A moment of stunned silence followed their departure; then Maximillian burst out indignantly, “He’s not Titus MacGurk! He’s a dirty great liar called Orlando Bramble!”

  “I know he is,” said Silo, “but keep it to yourself, will you? I’ll explain later.”

  So his friend had come to rescue him. It was a pity he had made such a mess of it, but in his heart of hearts Silo was deeply touched. He had missed Orlando badly, and the sight of him stirred within him a renewed resolve to be free of this dreadful place. He had allowed himself to succumb to despair, he realized, and it was vital that he, Orlando, Maximillian, Ruby, Daisy, and all the other wretched children forced to labor in the gloom of the Unicorn Tower escape, and soon. The Island was in danger and every day counted, and now there was a new cause for urgency—what if Feeton repeated the conversation he had overheard? Silo realized there and then that it was his sacred duty to take Maximillian somewhere far, far away from the Capital—somewhere the Division could never find him or set him to work in pursuit of their dark designs, for he hated them with a passionate intensity. They abused the powers they already had, and the thought of them unleashing the mysterious powers of the Ancients was too horrible to contemplate. He had no time to waste. Silo took up his pick and, with all the strength at his command, dealt the wall a mighty blow.

  “Rauuugh!” he cried.

  —

  That evening he sat in the dining room with Orlando, Maximillian, and Ruby. The atmosphere was rather strained as Maximillian, quite understandably, had a very low opinion of Orlando, and Orlando knew Ruby only as a girl who assaulted strangers with vegetables. He had just joined them, fresh from Frisk’s office, and wore a sack with the number 31 stenciled on it.

  “How did you find me?” said Silo.

  “Simple. Everyone in the Capital knows the Division uses stray children to work on their sites, and the Unicorn Tower’s their biggest digging right now. I had it all planned out, but then the windowsill gave way—bit of a pig, that.”

  “Wasn’t Frisk suspicious about you?”

  “At first, yeah,” said Orlando, “but I just pretended to be really, really thick. He didn’t need much convincing. After all, he needs more slaves to shovel dirt for him.”

  “Did you get the chance to have a look around before you got caught?” said Ruby. “Can you add to our map?”

  “We’re close to the river,” said Orlando. “The north quay’s only a stone’s throw from the gate. There’s shipping there, so that would be our best way out of the Capital.”

  “We have to get out of the building first,” said Ruby.

  “I think I know how,” said Silo. “I found a drain this afternoon.” He spoke with quiet satisfaction. He had been saving up this happy news until after supper, and was rewarded by a look of joy on Ruby’s face.

  “Maximillian and I are working in the northeast corner. I broke through the wall today and there’s a pipe behind it, a huge one. And when I put my ear to it I could hear gurgling.”

  “Brilliant! Finally things are going our way! Tomorrow we can—”

  But Silo silenced her with a quick motion of his hand, for Superintendent Frisk was advancing toward them.

  “Number Twenty-Nine! You’ve been sent an official communication from the State Archaeological Division.”

  He placed a thick sheet of parchment before Silo and stamped back to his office. Mystified, Silo unfolded it and read:

  To Silo Zyco, former resident of the Island in the Eastern Swamps.

  This is to notify you that the State Archaeological Division has identified the above-mentioned Island as the site of a power station from the age of the Ancients, and therefore an area of Priority Archaeological Interest. The department will begin excavation of the site in July this year. All owners of property and/or Eel Rights are hereby notified that, on the arrival of the Division’s team, their property and/or Eel Rights will be considered official government property under Decree No. 255 of the State Archaeological Division. This decree is absolute and no appeals will be considered.

  By Official Order of the State Archaeological Division, dedicated to Service, Obedience, Unity, and Progress.

  Silo read it, and then reread it, his brain reeling with disbelief. So this was the great catastrophe that would lay waste to the Island! He recalled, with a sudden rush of dread, the story that Orlando had told him of the power station in the west; of the villagers who were forced to dig, and of the terrible consequences that followed. This, then, was to be the fate of the Mudfords and the Pattles and the Beans! He thought of his seeing, and of the long row of graves that lined the Causeway, and the hairs prickled on the back of his neck.

  “What’s wrong? What does it say?” cried Ruby, watching the dawning look of horror on his face. Silently he handed her the letter.

  Elgarth was lounging in an armchair. A pedicurist was crouched at his feet seeing to his toenails, and the remains of supper lay on the table beside him. He picked up a bell and rang for Rankly.

  “Clear up this mess, would you? I’m expecting Mrs. Morgan.”

  “She’s just arrived, master,” said Rankly.

  “Excellent! Show her in.” Elgarth kicked his pedicurist aside with practiced ease and pulled on his boots, and a moment later Mrs. Morgan entered and bared her long yellow teeth at him in an exultant smile.

  “Good news!” she cried. “Our expedition is finally ready to depart! In a few days’ time I set off to begin work on a most important project. Members of our Research Department have been hard at work, and they have unearthed old documents that reveal, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the exact site of an Ancient power station. We mean to excavate it immediately.”

  “What a splendid opportunity to find out more about the source of the Ancients’ power!” said Elgarth.

  “Yes indeed,” said Mrs. Morgan. “And it is all the more gratifying after the setback we suffered last year, when the Raiders, those seaborne vermin, had the audacity to mount an attack on our power station in the west. The Government was extremely displeased, and so it has taken a great deal of convincing on my part, but happily I have finally brought them around to my way of thinking. We shall take an army with us this time, and I am certain that our endeavors will be crowned with success!”

  Her dark eyes glittered at the prospect. “Only imagine! It could be but a matter of weeks before we unlock the secrets of the power stations, and what a blessing that will be to those of us who aspire to revive the glories of the Ancient world, and to see the dawn of a new age of Service, and Obedience, and Unity, and Progress!”

  “It is a privilege to live in such exciting times,” said Elgarth.

  Mrs. Morgan favored him with her wolfish smile. “And obviously, as a government-approved seer, I wish you to accompany us. It could be that the Raiders will seek to interfere again, and your gift could be of use.”

  Not only was Elgarth
an official government-approved seer now, he was the lone survivor of his class. Silo Zyco had been neatly disposed of, and Maximillian had been exposed as an impostor. Getting rid of the Arson Sisters had proved a little more difficult. They and Daisy had been asked to produce accurate seeings within the space of three days, and all had failed miserably. Daisy had talked of rainbows and sunbeams with increasing desperation, but the Arson Sisters were made of sterner stuff. They had predicted another fire, and on hearing this, Elgarth felt he really must put his foot down, for he had no desire to be burned in his bed. So the Arson Sisters had to go. It had proved to be extremely simple. Even they realized that it was only a matter of time before they were exposed as frauds, and so he had paid them the sum of ten silver crowns on the understanding that they disappeared. And disappear they had. There had been a spate of small fires around the Capital, it was true, but that could have been mere coincidence. And Daisy had disappeared too, although in an altogether more mysterious way. She’d had a seeing that the Academy’s resident mouser would give birth to a litter of beautiful fluffy kittens. Unfortunately it was a tomcat, and the next day Daisy’s place at the breakfast table was empty.

  So Elgarth was victorious. He had but one worry, and that was that the real Maximillian Crow might reappear, and with his formidable gift of the seeing put his own more modest one in the shade.

  “I was wondering,” he said to Mrs. Morgan, “if you have any news of the whereabouts of Maximillian. If he is as gifted as everyone says, his services would be a welcome addition to the expedition.”

  “Indeed they would,” said Mrs. Morgan. “But you may rest assured that we are on his trail. Maximillian is an orphan, and with no home to return to it could well be that he has been wandering the streets, alone and friendless. But our government is compassionate. It is their policy to collect up stray children and send them to be cared for at one of the Division’s many archaeological sites. A most humane plan, for there they are given food, shelter, and constructive work to occupy them. It could well be that Maximillian is among their number, and the inspector and I are visiting these sites in the hope of finding him. In fact, we had planned to visit one tomorrow—the project Superintendent Frisk is overseeing at the Unicorn Tower. It is a most promising location, and we expect to make exciting discoveries there. Perhaps it would interest you to join me?”

  “Isn’t that where they sent Silo Zyco?” said Elgarth.

  “Indeed it is.”

  Elgarth didn’t care much for Ancient ruins, but he knew they were a subject close to Mrs. Morgan’s heart, and he felt it would be diplomatic to join her. And besides, Silo was there. Elgarth had disliked him from the first, not just as a rival seer but also for being so distressingly ill-mannered and ill-bred, and his presence at the Unicorn Tower would add interest to the expedition.

  “I’d be delighted to accompany you,” he said with his ready smile.

  Next morning Elgarth arose bright and early to keep his appointment with Mrs. Morgan and the inspector. Superintendent Frisk, bowing and smiling, was waiting to greet them at the entrance of the Unicorn Tower.

  “Good morning, Inspector. And Mrs. Morgan! A right pleasure to have you with us again. And you must be Master Early. But come on in! You’ll be wanting to see how we’ve been getting on with the excavation.”

  “Indeed we do,” said Mrs. Morgan. “But there is another purpose to our visit. We are looking for a small fair boy of about eight years old. Do you have such a child working here?”

  “We’ve several,” said the Superintendent, “and you can examine them at your leisure. They’re at work down in the diggings. This way, if you please.”

  They walked out onto the platform and into the shadow of the great treadmill.

  “Magnificent!” cried Mrs. Morgan, gazing rapturously around the ruin. “I never cease to be struck by the grandeur of Ancient architecture.”

  It was well that she was so happily occupied, for frenzied activity was taking place behind a stack of crates just to her right. A hefty girl was scrambling into the bucket used to transport artifacts, and a desperate figure in a number 31 sack was fumbling with the ropes of the pulley, preparing to lower her down to the diggings.

  “Warn Silo and Ruby!” he hissed. “Tell them to hide Maximillian! Heck, what if they see me? Curse the beasts! What kind of lunatics are they to come and visit a rat pit like this, anyway?”

  “Lower the bucket,” said Drusilla, her dark brows knitted with concentration.

  Orlando did. She was much heavier than he had supposed, and descended at record speed. Then he pulled his sack up over his head, so that just his eyes were showing, and scuttled back to the treadmill. He was just in time, for the unwelcome visitors had stepped into the basket and were preparing for their own descent.

  “Lower away!” cried Frisk.

  “Oh no!” muttered Orlando as the great wheel stirred to life. “How long before he notices Drusilla’s missing? This is a disaster! I suppose we could just drop them,” he added hopefully. But Daisy thought otherwise.

  “Please, no violence! It sets a shocking example to the little ones.”

  Orlando’s reply was a rude one, so it was probably just as well that it was drowned out by a mighty bellow from Frisk.

  “Where’s Number Two? Why is she not at work?”

  “She’s not well, sir,” said Orlando desperately. “She just nipped outside for a breath of fresh air.”

  Frisk uttered an inarticulate howl of rage and strode toward the entrance of the tower.

  “Damnation!” said Orlando. “Silo and Ruby need to come up with a plan, and fast.”

  —

  Silo, Ruby, and Drusilla were scuttling between the piles of earth at lightning speed. They had hidden Maximillian beneath an upturned barrow and given him strict instructions to stay there until further notice.

  “We’ve not got much time,” said Ruby as they arrived panting at the northeast corner. “Drusilla! You’re the strongest. Take a pick to the pipe. And Silo—keep an eye out for Feeton, would you? That’s the last thing we need, him creeping up on us.”

  Silo scanned the diggings. Feeton was nowhere to be seen, but his eye was caught by another and even more unwelcome figure. The inspector and Mrs. Morgan had completed their descent and had scaled the plinth beneath the Unicom statue, the better to examine the extent of the excavations, and a blond boy, resplendent in a fur-trimmed cloak, was just climbing up to join them. It was Elgarth. Silo fixed him with his most powerful stare. And it seemed as if Elgarth sensed it, for he paused and scanned the chaos of churned earth beneath him as though seeking something there, and finally his eyes met Silo’s. Silo cut a small, spectacularly dirty figure and his eyes blazed with hatred, but Elgarth seemed delighted to see him, for he smiled and gave him a cheerful wave. Beating back the red tide that threatened to overwhelm him, Silo turned on his heel and watched, seething with rage, as Drusilla squared up to the gigantic pipe with a pick.

  “Go easy,” said Ruby. “Just a small hole to begin with, so we can see what’s inside.”

  But Drusilla and subtlety were strangers to one another. She struck the pipe a mighty blow and a huge chunk of concrete flew out. There was a sudden dreadful stench, so potent that the three of them gagged and staggered back. As they watched, something dark, viscous, and vile trickled from the hole that Drusilla had made, and a network of jagged cracks formed about it, creeping slowly but inexorably across the surface of the pipe.

  “Oh hell!” said Ruby. “I think it’s the main sewer.”

  Silo backed away. “And it’s going to burst.”

  “Of all the filthy luck!” cried Ruby.

  Filthy was the word for it. Silo’s eyes met Ruby’s and he knew, from the horror that he saw there, that she too was contemplating the catastrophic consequences of a tidal wave of sewage. He spun around and surveyed the diggings, racking his brains for ways to avert a terrible and malodorous tragedy. The great basket lay at the foot of the platform, and Sil
o counted sixteen children at work in the diggings. That meant there were eleven on the treadmill—surely not enough to haul their companions to safety.

  Ruby was obviously thinking along the same lines. “I’ll go and warn them,” she said, “but we’ll need more on the treadmill. You two get up there and help them.”

  Easier said than done, thought Silo.

  They ran over to the lone ladder that led up to the platform, but Feeton was, as always, in the last place you wanted to find him, and stood guard at its foot. He looked down at Silo with an unpleasant smile. “And why aren’t you working, Number Twenty-Nine?”

  Silo opened his mouth to reply, but at that very moment a brick, thrown with astonishing force and accuracy, came hurtling out of the gloom. It struck Feeton squarely on top of his head, and he keeled over and collapsed in a heap at Silo’s feet.

  Drusilla bent over his crumpled form. “Ruby threw a brick at him!” she said, in a voice in which astonishment and pleasure were equally mixed.

  “Let’s get up to the treadmill,” said Silo, “and fast.”

  As Drusilla went storming up the ladder he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. Mrs. Morgan, the inspector, and Elgarth were still standing on the plinth of the statue, but mercifully they were staring up into the tower, seemingly reveling in the glories of Ancient architecture. The brick-throwing incident had gone unnoticed. Swiftly Silo followed Drusilla, and as he did so a whiff of something ghastly wafted up from below. The sewage was stirring. Time was running out, and yet the ladder was an immensely tall one, and its rungs seemed to stretch on to all eternity. And worse still, it began to move beneath him, shuddering and jerking. He looked down to the ground, now far distant below him, and saw that Feeton was moving. He was evidently still stunned from the blow, but even so he had laid hands upon the ladder and was tugging at it, yanking it sideways. Drusilla reached the top and, without her weight, the movement intensified. The ladder was going to fall. Whimpering with terror, Silo redoubled his efforts, fairly flying up the rungs, but he was too late—it was sliding, moving with a strange, slow-motion drift. But by now the safety of the platform was only inches away, and Silo made a mighty upward lunge and clutched the edge of it with one desperate, white-knuckled hand as the ladder slid out from under his feet and began its descent to the ground way, way below.