The Last of the Sky Pirates

by Paul Stewart

  At that moment, from far away in the depths of the underground sewers, there came the roar of a cheering crowd. It throbbed along the tunnels, drowning out the noise of the dripping water. Felix turned to Rook. ‘The Announcement Ceremony,’ he said. ‘It’s started. Quickly, Rook, we must hurry. I’ll never live it down if I miss my own name being announced!’

  They had by now reached the end of the narrow pipe. Felix looked up and down the adjoining tunnel. ‘Left, I think.’

  ‘No,’ said Rook. ‘We’ll go right. I know a quicker way’

  And he dashed off down the tunnel. ‘Follow me,’ he called back.

  Rook skidded round into an abandoned, unlit pipe to his left. Felix followed, close on his heels. The pipe was old and cracked, with pools of water and jagged debris lying all along the floor. Nightspider webs – thick and soggy – wrapped themselves round the two youths’ faces as they splashed and stumbled on.

  ‘Are you sure this is – ppttt, ppttt – the right way?’ said Felix, spitting out the cobwebs as he spoke. ‘I can’t hear the crowds any more.’

  ‘That’s because they’ve stopped cheering,’ said Rook. ‘Your father’ll already be doing his stuff. Trust me, Felix. Have I ever let you down before?’

  ‘No,’ said Felix. He shook his head slowly. ‘No, Rook, you haven’t. I’m going to miss you, you know.’

  Rook made no reply. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat wouldn’t let him.

  ‘You’re right!’ Felix exclaimed a moment later as the deep, resonant voice of the High Librarian filtered down into the pipe. ‘I’d know that voice anywhere.’

  ‘Welcome!’ cried Fenbrus Lodd. ‘Welcome to the Great Storm Chamber Library, librarian academics of every echelon, on this, the occasion of the Announcement …’

  ‘We sound near,’ said Felix.

  ‘We are near,’ said Rook. ‘A little bit further and … yes, here we are.’ He darted off into a broader pipe which, fifty strides on, abruptly emerged into the Grand Central Tunnel. Rook sighed with relief. They’d made it. The arched entrance to the Great Storm Chamber stood before them.

  ‘Come on,’ said Felix grimly. ‘There’s probably only standing room left.’

  Rook looked ahead at the vast crowds who had gathered to witness the Announcement Ceremony. They were spilling out of the Storm Chamber and jostling for position. ‘We’ll be lucky to get beyond the door,’ he said.

  ‘No problem,’ said Felix. ‘Mind your backs!’ he shouted good-naturedly. ‘Make way for an apprentice with an appointment at Lake Landing!’

  ith so many crammed together in the great chamber – packing the Blackwood Bridge, clinging to the jutting gantries and perched on the skittish buoyant lecterns – the place was warmer than ever. Both Felix and Rook were soon dripping with sweat, and when their wet clothes began to dry they also began to steam.

  Having forged their way right to the front of the crowd on the Blackwood Bridge, Rook and Felix stood on the lower rail of the carved balustrade and looked across to the smaller Lufwood Bridge. Below them, the channel of water – sluggish after so long without a decent downpour outside – was covered with rafts, each one weighed down with still more spectators and held in place by the raft-hands’ hooked poles.

  ‘They’re all there,’ Felix noted, jerking his chin towards the stage on the Lufwood Bridge.

  Rook nodded. Seated on high-backed chairs on either side of the High Librarian’s speaking-balcony, from which Fenbrus Lodd was addressing the crowd, were the Professors of Light and Darkness, Ulbus Vespius and Tallus Penitax. Both were former sky-scholars who, appalled by the behaviour of the Guardians of Night, had decided to throw in their lot with the Librarian Academics. Flanking them, six on either side, were the elders of the library.

  Fenbrus Lodd’s voice echoed round the hushed chamber. ‘Never has the Council of Three had such a hard task selecting those who are to journey to Lake Landing. Not, I should add, because there was a lack of suitable candidates, but rather the opposite. Each of your library elders put up an excellent contender, and argued well in his or her favour …’

  Rook looked at the dozen venerable individuals, one after the other. Their backgrounds were wildly varied. Some were brilliant earth-scholars who had returned from exile to help with the new underground library; others had been eminent sky-scholars who, like the Professors of Darkness and Light themselves, had changed sides when the evil Guardians of Night took over Sanctaphrax – and then there were those whose histories were an absolute secret. His gaze fell on Alquix Venvax. The kindly professor who had taken him under his wing was a case in point. His past was a mystery.

  ‘As always,’ the High Librarian continued, ‘the shortlist has been whittled down to the three individuals who we, the Council of Three, consider best suited to the task ahead …’

  Rook glanced round at Felix. His face was glowing with keen expectation. The pair of them had talked often about what being selected would involve. First the journey, through Undertown, over the Great Mire Road and on into the Deepwoods, aided by those loyal to the librarian-scholars. Then, after a period of intense study (which Felix usually chose to gloss over) the building of his own sky-craft. Finally Felix’s dreams of flying were to come true.

  ‘… sacred, but also arduous,’ the High Librarian was saying. His voice dropped. ‘And deeply perilous. Those of you who are selected must fight against over-confidence, for that is your worst enemy. You must remain on your guard. The world outside is a dangerous place.’

  Just then Rook’s and Alquix Venvax’s eyes met. The professor acknowledged the young under-librarian with a slight nod. Rook nodded back, and hoped Alquix hadn’t noticed how red his cheeks had become. The professor, he’d heard, was intending to take him on as his permanent personal assistant when he came of age. Rook knew he should be grateful – it was, after all, what most under-librarians dreamed of. But for Rook, the thought of spending the rest of his life down in the airless, sunless underground system of tunnels and chambers was, instead, an absolute nightmare.

  ‘And so, Edge scholars, one and all,’ Fenbrus Lodd proclaimed, his voice laden with occasion, ‘the time has come for the Announcement.’

  The chamber fell still. All that could be heard was a soft, distant dripping which echoed round the vaulted ceiling and, like great wings beating, the flutter of the wind-turners. All eyes fell on the scroll which the High Librarian, Fenbrus Lodd, now unfurled before them.

  ‘The first Librarian Knight elect shall be Stob Lummus,’ he announced.

  The news was greeted with clapping and cheering, and the traditional whoop-whoop-whooping of the apprentices, while the professors nodded approvingly. As Stob Lummus was a brilliant scholar, his selection came as no surprise to them – although a couple of the older, wiser academics present noted that he would soon learn that barkscroll-learning alone was not enough to ensure success. Rook and Felix looked down to see a stocky youth with a broad back and a shock of thick, dark hair being hoisted up onto his neighbours’ shoulders.

  ‘That must be him,’ said Felix, peering down more closely. He was feeling a little uneasy not to have been announced first. ‘Stob Lummus,’ he said finally, and shrugged. ‘I don’t think I know him.’

  Rook frowned. ‘ I might,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘From down in the Eastern Reaches. I think he’s the son of that big guard in the sewer patrol – you know, the one with the scar …’

  ‘The son of a guard, eh?’ said Felix. He stared across at his own father. There was a time when the other apprentices had accused him of being at an unfair advantage with so eminent an academic as his father. Felix didn’t see it that way. If anything, being the son of the High Librarian and brother to the famous Varis Lodd meant that everyone seemed to expect great things of him. He had to be twice as good at everything as anyone else. Sometimes he just didn’t think he was up to it. He often saw disappointment in the eyes of his tutors. Only Rook continued to have absolute faith in his friend.

  ‘You
r turn next,’ he whispered.

  Felix nodded, but made no reply. As Stob Lummus reached the side of the stage, Fenbrus Lodd raised the scroll for a second time. Once again, the chamber fell into a silence that seemed to quiver with expectation.

  ‘The second Librarian Knight elect shall be …’ Felix swallowed hard. Rook bit into his lower lip. ‘Magda Burlix.’

  There was a sharp intake of breath from, it seemed, every onlooker present. The shocked gasp echoed round the chamber walls. The next moment, as the person in question revealed herself, the crowd split itself into two. Half of them raised their hands and clapped; the other half kept their hands in their pockets and turned to their neighbours to express their surprise.

  Magda Burlix, tall with piercing green eyes and three thick plaits, emerged from one of the rafts. She was hauled up onto the Lufwood Bridge, where she took her place beside Stob Lummus.

  From the back of the chamber came the sound of booing. But the clapping grew louder to drown it out, and a lone voice from near the Central Tunnel cried out, ‘Another Varis Lodd!’

  Those in favour of the announcement cheered gleefully. Those against fell silent, for how could they reject Magda Burlix’s selection without also dismissing the finest, bravest, cleverest Librarian Knight ever to have been ennobled?

  Felix stared directly ahead, fighting back the tears. With such a father and such a sister, how could he fail? Yet if he did, how could he ever show his face again? He turned to Rook and seized him by the sleeve. I’m not going to make it, am I?’ he said. ‘Am I, Rook? They’re not going to announce my name.’

  ‘Of course they are,’ said Rook. ‘There’s no-one here who is better than you, Felix. At one-to-one combat, you’re unbeaten. At swordplay, you’re the best. At pummelball and parajousting …’

  Felix shook his head. ‘It’s the studying,’ he said. ‘It’s always let me down. The learning. The memorizing. Without your help I wouldn’t even have got this far.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Rook reassuringly. ‘Besides, who needs books when they fight as well as you do?’

  Felix nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. He paused and looked at Rook properly. ‘Do you think I’m being foolish?’

  ‘No, not foolish,’ said Rook. ‘But you’re worrying needlessly. There’s one perfectly good reason your name hasn’t been announced yet.’

  ‘There is?’ said Felix.

  ‘Yes,’ said Rook and smiled. ‘They’re saving the best till last.’

  For the third time, an expectant hush fell over the great chamber. The High Librarian scratched at his thick, bushy beard and returned his attention to the scroll.

  ‘The third Librarian Knight elect …’ Fenbrus paused and looked round. For a fleeting moment his gaze rested on the spot on the Blackwood Bridge where the two friends were standing.

  Rook sighed sadly. This was it, then. Felix’s selection would be announced and the two of them, who had once been like brothers, would be separated, probably for ever. Felix would leave for Lake Landing that evening – while he, Rook, would remain underground. ‘I’ll miss you,’ he whispered.

  ‘Same here,’ Felix whispered back.

  Fenbrus Lodd returned his attention to the scroll before him. ‘… will be …’

  As one, the entire assembled gathering held its breath. The High Librarian cleared his throat. He looked up again. ‘Rook Barkwater.’

  For a moment there was complete silence in the chamber. No-one, but no-one, could believe what he or she had just heard.

  Rook Barkwater?

  The youth wasn’t even an apprentice! A mere under-librarian, that’s all he was; a lectern-tender, a chain-turner … How could such a lowly individual have been accorded so high an honour? It was in credible. It was unheard of.

  Low muttering grew in volume until the whole chamber was in uproar. The gantries and bridges trembled and, as the atmosphere grew more heated and steamy, so the buoyant lecterns dipped and swayed wildly. Several senior apprentices fell into the water, and had to be retrieved by the raft-hands.

  Dazed, Rook looked along the line of academics on the Lufwood Bridge. He saw Tallus Penitax, the Professor of Darkness, looking at him levelly, his brows knitted and his heavy arms folded. He saw Alquix Venvax nodding enthusiastically – and he remembered his professor telling him to smarten himself up. Now he knew why. The fact was, however, that the chase for the muglump had left him looking even scruffier than usual. Still, there was nothing to be done.

  Rook climbed down from the balustrade, head in a whirl and knees knocking, and turned to go back along the Blackwood Bridge. The rowdy crowd parted before him. Their faces, shocked and questioning, were a blur to Rook. As he stumbled on, murmurs and whispers filled the air.

  ‘An under-librarian!’ said one. ‘What next? A sewer cleaner?’

  ‘I, for one, have never heard of him,’ said another.

  ‘Apparently he’s Varis Lodd’s foundling,’ said a third scornfully.

  ‘And a friend of that fool son of the High Librarian!’ added someone else.

  On the Lufwood Bridge at last, Rook advanced slowly towards the stage, where Ulbus Vespius, Tallus Penitax and Fenbrus Lodd stood waiting in a triangle. Following Stob and Magda’s lead, Rook went from one to the other. Each of the venerable academics congratulated each of the librarian knights elect and presented objects to help them with the task ahead.

  Ulbus Vespius was handing out pairs of pale yellow stones. ‘Sky-crystals,’ he told Rook. ‘Keep them in separate pockets, for they glow when close to each other. And if you rub them together, they spark.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Rook. ‘Thank you.’ He moved on.

  The Professor of Darkness was next. Having congratulated Magda, he turned to the bashful youth.

  ‘Well done,’ he said gruffly, and leaned forward to tie a folded square of glistening black material around Rook’s neck like a scarf. ‘The Cover of Darkness is woven from the finest silk that nightspiders can produce,’ he explained. ‘Open it up and wrap it round you when you need either to hide away or travel unseen.’

  Once again, Rook gave thanks and moved on. Fenbrus Lodd, High Librarian of the Great Storm Chamber, stood before him.

  ‘Congratulations, lad,’ he said, and reached down to place a talisman over Rook’s head. ‘It is a bloodoak tooth – engraved with your name,’ he added. ‘It will offer you some protection from the dangers of the Deepwoods.’

  Rook looked down at the pointed claw-like object which gleamed in the lamplight. ‘Thank you,’ he said uncertainly. ‘But …’

  ‘But?’ said Fenbrus.

  ‘Please, sir,’ Rook mumbled. ‘It’s just … It should be Felix going, not me,’ he said. ‘Surely there’s been a mistake.’

  Fenbrus took a step forwards and gripped Rook by the arms. ‘There has been no mistake,’ he said. ‘Even though he is my own son, I cannot pretend that Felix is cut out for the task ahead. Certainly, he has the boldness, the courage and the strength required, but he has no natural aptitude for study – and without that, his other qualities count for nought.’

  ‘But—’ Rook said for a second time.

  ‘Enough,’ Fenbrus interrupted him. ‘The decision was unanimous.’ He smiled. ‘Though given the powerful arguments put forward by your proposer, that was hardly a surprise.’

  Rook nodded. ‘Professor Venvax has always been good to me,’ he said.

  The High Librarian frowned. ‘I’m sure he has – yet it was not he who offered you up for selection.’

  Rook was confused. ‘It wasn’t?’ he said.

  ‘No, it was not,’ came a voice from behind him. Rook turned to see Alquix Venvax himself standing there. ‘Indeed, if it had been down to me alone, you would have become my personal assistant—’

  ‘It was I who put your name forward for selection.’ The Professor of Darkness stepped forwards. He looked quite different in the formal ceremonial robes of his office, rather than the usual harness and jerkin of a s
ky-flyer. His dark, attentive eyes darted this way and that, seemingly missing nothing.

  ‘You?’ said Rook, surprised – and blushed at how insolent he must have sounded. ‘I mean … thank you, sir,’ he added.

  The Professor of Darkness nodded. ‘I’ve had my eye on you for some while now, Rook,’ he said. ‘Your perseverance and rigour have impressed me greatly – even though your willingness to bend the rules can, at times, be a little alarming.’

  Rook’s eyes widened. The professor clearly knew all about his reading the treatises.

  ‘Remember, Rook. While such behaviour was understandable in an under-librarian, it is completely unacceptable in a librarian knight elect. I shall continue to keep an eye on you.’ His eyebrows came together sternly. ‘Do not disappoint me, Rook.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Rook assured him.

  The professor nodded approvingly. ‘You have a long and difficult journey ahead of you. The treatise you will produce is precious, for it is only by librarian-academics constantly adding to our knowledge of the Edge that we will keep the dark ignorance of the Guardians of Night at bay – and in due course, Earth and Sky willing, discover the cure to stone-sickness. If you are to return safely and successfully, Rook, you must travel in secret and trust no-one. A single careless word, and you could all perish!’

  Just then a dozen tilderhorns trumpeted loudly, announcing that it was time for the three young hopefuls to take the Scholarship Oath. Rook took his place between the others.

  The High Librarian raised his head. ‘Do you, Stob Lummus, Magda Burlix and Rook Barkwater, swear to serve Edge Scholarship, both Earth and Sky, for the good of all?’

  Three voices rang out in response. With his eyes fixed on the High Librarian’s face, however, Rook was aware of no-one but himself. He heard the words come out of his mouth – words he’d always longed to say, but never dared to imagine that he ever would.