Alexander nodded. Seb’s knuckles were white as he clutched his drumsticks. “Wait here till you’re sure the pyroaches have seen us, Ivy. You don’t want to set off too soon.”
Ivy hugged him. “Be careful.” She watched as he and Valian raced out from behind the tree stump, sprinting toward a half-melted line of sky stop lockers.
Ivy turned her attention back to the big top, trying not to think about the danger Valian and Seb were putting themselves in. She tensed when she saw Mr. Punch. His face was weary and his appearance flicked between the red-haired ringmaster and the crooked-toothed old man.
Other uncommoners wouldn’t be able to see the changes, but she understood exactly what it meant: he was getting weaker. If Mr. Punch’s umbrella was anything like Ivy’s yo-yo or Seb’s drumsticks, you needed energy and focus to operate it, and Mr. Punch’s were rapidly draining away. She didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep it up.
“Mr. Punch’s strength is faltering,” she told Alexander. She thought of the families trapped inside the big top. “We have to help him.”
Alexander blinked. “What about my pa?”
“We’ll rescue him afterward,” Ivy promised, “but there are too many lives at risk in that tent. Mr. Punch needs us.”
“No!” Alexander grabbed her arm. “We have to save my pa now. The pyroaches will soon run out of ale and get desperate.”
Ivy was about to suggest they split up, when something tugged at the back of her memory: Ethel had mentioned that no one inside the big top knew about the Dragon’s Breath Ale. “How do you know about the ale?” she asked.
Alexander’s face twitched. “It doesn’t matter. We need to focus on my pa.”
Ivy shook his hand off, overcome by an unsettling thought. “Alexander…did you have something to do with this?”
His voice was bitter. “It wasn’t meant to happen this way. The vats were set to flood the sewers while I was in the stadium. I thought my pa would be in the East End, not here.”
Ivy swayed on her feet as she absorbed his complete lack of guilt. “You released the pyroaches?”
“My plans have never gone wrong before!” he said defensively. “I make sure I take into account every eventuality—it’s what mixologists do. My pa was never in danger on the other occasions.”
The other occasions…?
Ivy went cold as she realized what he meant.
“The smoking hourglass—it was you, wasn’t it? You started the fire at the alehouse. You killed those underguards at the memorial!” She couldn’t believe he had fooled her into feeling sorry for him. “Why?” she cried. “Why would you do that?”
Alexander squeezed his hands into fists. “I only did what I had to do to prove myself worthy! Being invited into the Rasavatum is the greatest accolade a mixologist can receive. I had to prove I was good enough.”
The Rasavatum…That was why Alexander had used the smoking hourglass—to attract their attention and win their favor.
“I did it for my pa,” he continued, gritting his teeth. “It’s the only way he’ll ever notice me.” For a moment Ivy felt sorry for him, but then he added, “If people have to die, then so what? You have to make sacrifices to become great. I thought Mr. Punch would know that and invite me in.” He scowled. “I guess he isn’t the man I thought he was.”
Ivy stiffened, wondering how Alexander had discovered that Mr. Punch was in the Rasavatum. “Alexander, listen to me,” she pleaded. “You can stop this before it gets any worse.” She checked on Mr. Punch, who was still floundering. “Help me fight the pyroaches.”
“Fight them?” Alexander jerked his head. “Why would I want to fight them?” He took something out of his apron—a small plastic wand, the kind you used to blow bubbles—and stepped out from behind the tree stump.
Ivy shot to her feet. “No—wait!” She spied the glow of the pyroach swarm as it skirted the big top, heading toward them.
But she needn’t have worried. Alexander ran toward the flaming mass holding the bubble wand to his mouth. As the creatures dived toward him, he formed a tiny O with his lips and puffed out his cheeks, blowing.
A blast of fire shot from the wand, directing the pyroaches away from him. Ivy remained frozen with shock as Alexander leaped onto a smoking tree stump at the mouth of the Gauntlet, opposite Mr. Punch. He had a confident look that Ivy had never seen before.
“What do you think of my show?” he asked, arms outstretched. “Is it not good enough for the Rasavatum?”
Ivy couldn’t believe it—the gentle, meek boy she had first met…it had all been a façade. This was the real Alexander.
Mr. Punch looked horror-struck. “You have got it all wrong, Alexander,” he cried. “The Rasavatum brew remedies that rebuild lives; they don’t destroy them like this. You must stop this madness!”
“Madness?” Alexander snorted. “Do you know how many pyroaches there are, surviving in the fiery places on Earth? Hundreds of thousands! More than there are uncommoners in this whole stinking undermart; and they are free now because of ME! And the Rasavatum think that is madness?”
“Alexander, listen!” Mr. Punch boomed, his patience clearly at an end. “The Rasavatum will never accept you. It’s over!”
Alexander snarled in fury. He raised the bubble wand to his mouth, and this time an orb of fire the size of a double-decker bus emerged and shot toward the big top.
“No!” Ivy shouted, running out into the open. If that fireball hit, it would burn a hole right through the big top, letting the pyroaches in.
His expression grim, Mr. Punch took hold of his umbrella in both hands and swung it toward the fire like a tennis racket. “Gah!” he cried, his face straining. The gigantic fireball was repelled in a flash of steam. It jetted off toward the cave ceiling, where it soon fizzled away.
As Mr. Punch dropped to his knees, the pyroaches came thundering into sight over his shoulder. Ivy gripped her trusty yo-yo, wondering if she could use it to somehow trap them.
“Hey, bug-brains!” Valian shouted. “Over here!”
Ivy turned to see him and Seb zooming about on uncommon mops, trying to lure the pyroaches toward the other side of the green. Ivy assumed they’d scavenged the mops from the damaged sky stop. She couldn’t believe Seb had found the courage to ride one on his own.
“Tasty human flesh snack!” he yelled. “Ready to eat!”
The pyroaches clocked them instantly, and the whole horde turned.
Ivy sprinted forward, reaching out with her whispering as she headed for Valian and her brother. She could sense the pyroaches approaching fast. “Seb!” she shouted. He did an about-face and caught her eye. “I’m going to try and trap them. Use your drumsticks to keep them contained.”
Seb saw her yo-yo and nodded, steering his mop down toward the ground, while Valian remained in the air.
Ivy threw her hand down, charging her yo-yo with power. After a few revolutions she shot it over her shoulder, using her whispering to help find her target. A huge tornado exploded out of it, advancing on the pyroach swarm.
“Stop it!” Alexander shouted. “You’re ruining everything!” He jumped off his tree stump and marched in Ivy’s direction, bringing his bubble wand to his lips. Behind him, Ivy caught sight of Mr. Punch struggling to his knees.
Alexander took aim at Seb and Valian and blew a stream of orange fire toward them. Valian sent his mop into a nosedive, dodging clear of the flames, but on the ground Seb wasn’t fast enough to outrun them.
Ivy screamed. “Seb!”
The fire was seconds away from engulfing him when a dark-haired figure wearing a pale pink tutu materialized out of thin air at Seb’s back.
Judy…?
She threw herself over Seb as if she was a fire-retardant blanket, forcing him to the ground. The flames coursed around them and then dissipated a hundred yards away
, crackling in the grass.
Ivy ran toward them as Valian landed on his mop. A huge black scorch mark surrounded Judy’s body. Slowly she peeled herself away from Seb. Ivy’s eyes watered with relief to see her brother stirring. Judy’s tutu had been burned to shreds and her roller skates were smoking.
There was no time for conversation. As Ivy skidded to a halt beside Valian, she sensed the pyroaches approaching and turned just as they collided with her tornado. The impact sent shockwaves through the air. Ivy was driven back across the grass so hard that she left marks in the mud.
The tornado whirled faster, dragging every pyroach inside it. It spun so rapidly that the creatures lost control and hurtled through the flames, crashing into one another.
Seb stumbled dazedly to his feet. He caught sight of Judy and then the tornado, and managed to slide his drumsticks free. Steadying himself, he aimed a few beats at the maelstrom, pushing back any pyroach that managed to gather enough momentum to pull free.
With the creatures temporarily contained, a flurry of people started dashing between buildings, trying to find better shelter. Ivy noticed a shiny-faced Drummond Brewster leave his hiding place and run out onto the green toward Alexander.
However, Alexander’s attention was elsewhere. Glaring at Ivy, his face flushed with rage and he lifted his bubble wand to his lips.
Ivy floundered around, looking for an escape. She couldn’t outrun a fireball.
As Alexander forced air through the wand, Mr. Punch charged him from behind. Too late, a flaming sphere the size of a small truck erupted from the wand and headed not in Ivy’s direction but toward Drummond Brewster.
Alexander jumped up and down, waving madly. “No! Pa! Run!”
But there was nothing Drummond Brewster could do.
Ivy looked away as the flames hit. When she turned back, Alexander was running toward a blackened heap on the scorched grass.
A small group of people spilled out of the big top. Ethel hurried toward Mr. Punch, while Granma Sylvie came running up to Ivy and the others.
“The cyclone is dying,” she cried, waving her hands. “Get back inside the tent, all of you. The pyroaches won’t be contained for much longer!”
Ivy glimpsed the Sack of Stars in her hand and had an idea. “Granma, the bag—we can send the pyroaches through it.”
Granma Sylvie’s eyes gleamed. She hesitated for a moment, then brought the bag to her lips and whispered something into the opening. She sprinted toward the pyroaches, lifting an arm above her head, and flung the bag into the center of the flames.
With a great roar, the tornado imploded, gathering in on itself like a dying star. All the pyroaches were dragged inside the bag—but, as they disappeared, the burlap caught fire and was reduced to cinders.
Ivy sucked in a deep breath as the shock tingled through her.
The Sack of Stars was gone.
Granma Sylvie trod on the patch of soot where the bag had once been. “Well, that’s ruined one of Amos’s theories. The Great Uncommon Good can be destroyed, obviously.” She sighed and pulled Ivy and Seb toward her in a hug. “Are you two OK?”
“Some of the other traders ’ave gone to free the underguards,” Ethel said, approaching them.
Ivy saw a stream of uncommoners cautiously leaving the tent, still clutching one another tightly and glancing around.
Ethel ruffled a hand through Ivy’s hair. “Well done, kid. That move with the yo-yo really got those beasts disorientated. Shame about the bag.”
Ivy couldn’t believe it. One of the Great Uncommon Good—gone forever. There were only four left now.
From over by the big top they heard a cry. Alexander was being wrestled away from Mr. Punch. His uncommon bubble wand had been taken off him.
“I’m sorry about your father, Alexander,” Mr. Punch said sincerely. As he bowed his head, Ivy noticed that he was switching between the red-bearded ringmaster and the bespectacled, gray-haired shop assistant.
“Get off me!” Alexander roared, struggling to break free. “This is all your fault!” Then he pointed to Ivy and Seb. “And yours. You did this. All of you. You killed my pa!”
There was so much pain in his voice. After everything he’d done, Ivy still felt sorry for him.
Valian and Judy came running across the grass. The crowd emerging from the big top fell silent. Ivy noticed it parting, and into the gap strode…
“Selena.” A chill went down Ivy’s spine.
“Stay close,” Granma Sylvie said. “This isn’t over yet.”
“Traders of Lundinor!” Selena called, her voice as majestic as always. “I’m afraid I have some troubling news.” She turned in a circle, catching the gaze of every trader. Her gray dress rippled like water. “This boy is not the true criminal among us, nor the true mastermind behind the pyroach attack.” She swept toward Alexander and laid a hand on his shoulder. The burly gentleman who had been restraining him simply let go.
Alexander looked as if he didn’t know whether he should make a run for it or wait to see if Selena revealed any more. He hesitated….
“No need to fear, Alexander,” Selena told him softly. “Just cooperate and I can reveal who is really behind this.”
Ivy studied her closely. There was a stiffness to her movements, as if she was trying very hard to remain calm.
“Many of you may have noticed that I left the stadium earlier than planned,” Selena continued, raising her voice. “This was because, shortly before the Grivens contest began, I received new evidence relating to a theft that I suffered many years ago. A powerful uncommon object was stolen from me, an item that would be dangerous in the wrong hands.”
Amos’s journal, Ivy thought. That was what Selena was referring to. She considered the information it contained—all the secrets Amos had discovered about the Dirge and Selena’s involvement with them. Perhaps it wasn’t Amos Stirling whom Selena wanted destroyed in those archive photos; perhaps it was his journal.
“I tracked down the object,” Selena continued, “and found the thief.” Her head snapped around and she pointed a bony gloved finger at Ivy. “It was none other than your Grivens champion, Ivy Sparrow!”
People started murmuring. Ivy saw frowning faces and shaking heads. A few were counting on fingers, trying to work out if Ivy was even old enough to be Selena’s thief. Alexander gave a smug smile but remained silent.
Ivy folded her arms. Seb shifted his weight beside her, about to step to her defense….
But someone much more unexpected got there first.
“Lady Grimes!” a voice called—so cold and sharp it sliced through the air. The throng parted for Inspector Smokehart. His uniform was shredded and scorched, and ash dusted his slick black hair. “Is this the item you’re referring to?” In his gloved hand he was shaking Amos’s journal.
Ivy nudged Granma Sylvie. “That’s where you sent it in the Sack of Stars? To Smokehart?”
A wicked smile crept onto Granma Sylvie’s lips.
“Inspector—that’s it!” Selena cried, marching toward him. She reached for the journal, but Smokehart quickly withdrew it.
“I’ve just conducted a very interesting interview with Jack-in-the-Green,” he said. “He told us that he is an employee of yours.”
Smokehart must have been questioning Jack-in-the-Green since his arrest at the Grivens contest. Their arrangement can’t have been that solid if he was willing to expose Selena.
She laughed. “Jack-in-the-Green? Have you quite lost your senses, Inspector?”
Smokehart rapped his fingers on the journal. “And then there was this notebook that appeared in my hands. We have a resident forensic mixologist expert at the station. He only managed to decipher a few pages, but that was all I needed.”
Selena’s face twitched. She reached for the journal again. This time Smokehart grabbed her wrist wit
h his free hand and tugged off her glove.
The crowd gasped. The skin on Selena’s hand was yellow with pus and writhing with maggots.
“All. These. Years,” Smokehart growled, his dark glasses fixed on her rotting fingers. “Every order you gave me, every decision you made…You were never working for the uncommoners of Lundinor, were you? You were never working on the side of the law.”
All the traders fell utterly silent. Ivy beamed at Granma Sylvie. She must have known that sending Smokehart the journal would have been enough to put Selena’s true allegiance in doubt.
Selena dragged her glove back on. “Inspector,” she cried, “are you quite well? You’re not making sense.” Selena looked over his shoulder at the troop of underguards. “Guards! Escort the inspector to the infirmary immediately; I fear he may be suffering from the pyroach attack.”
She made another dive for Amos’s journal, but Smokehart threw the notebook to the nearest officer, who neatly caught it and stood there waiting. None of the other underguards moved. Smokehart drew his toilet brush from beneath his cloak. “Lady Selena Grimes, I’m arresting you for being a member of a banned guild, and for perpetrating murder, corruption and the betrayal of your fellow uncommoners in the service of that guild. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used against you in a court of GUT law.”
Selena leaped back, her body tensed, as if she was about to pounce. She slid her ebony cane out of the folds of her silk dress and jabbed it in Smokehart’s direction, sending thorns splaying through the air toward him. He parried the strike with his toilet brush, frying the plants with charged blasts.
Amidst the commotion, Ivy spotted Alexander slipping away.
“He’s escaping!” she shouted, but the fight between Selena and Smokehart had everyone rapt, and no one listened.
Seb went up on tiptoe to peer over people’s hats. “That way…” He grabbed the sleeve of Ivy’s tunic and pulled her through the crowd onto the Gauntlet. Alexander had disappeared behind a hedgerow, along with someone in a long black cloak. Ivy and Seb crept after them and stopped at the corner of a cottage. Alexander and the stranger were talking.
The Uncommoners #2 Page 24
