The Queen and the Nobody Boy (19 page)

The wind-ship tipped back and forth so much that Hodie was sure he would throw up. Salt spray blew in the windows, out the other side, then in again.

Murgott let out a roar. “Breakers ahead! Keep it steady!” The Corporal was keeping the ship steady all by himself, if you asked Hodie. He decided Murgott liked to shout orders because it gave him something to obey.

The Princessa pointed to those dark shapes like fists either side of a blur of grey sea. “If we get beyond headlands, I can be free. Free of my father. I will build bungalow outside in sunshine, with biggest green lawn, and flowers of pink, crimson and blue …”

“A little cottage close to the sea would suit me fine,” said Murgott. They both blushed.

Hodie stared at the horizon, hoping it would stop him feeling sea-sick. The headlands and beyond made his eyes water. So he glanced down – and saw a little puddle … and another … too many puddles to be the squirrel's accidents.

“We might not get past the headlands,” he called. “Your father's wind-car has sprung leaks.”

The Princessa dropped to her knees and checked. “So. We are going to sink and drown,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The wind-ship tilted sharply, then just as sharply tipped the other way. Lu'nedda stood up, life-bottles clinking, pulled herself to her full height (very tall and very full – imposing) and faced Murgott. “I will say at this point, it has been great privilege to know you, Corporal Murgott. Such fine steady loyal person. That is all I have to say.”

“Er.” Murgott seemed to realise that hardly-a-word was not enough of a reply. Hodie agreed – if you were probably about to die, you should choose some good last words. “Er,” Murgott said again, “thank you, Princessa. For my part, I have never met so fine a lady.” He glanced at Sibilla with some embarrassment. “Except for my little Queen's mother, Lady Helen. And except of course for Her Majesty Queen Sibilla.”

“I'm still twelve,” Sibilla said, “and not a lady. Please get us through the headlands so with luck we come to shore beyond the Moat. Then I'll have a chance to grow up. Murgott, please, do your best.”

She was being very brave and Queen-like now without being bossy. But Hodie saw how tense she was. He hoped he would be as brave when it was needed (which was actually right now). Those waves beyond the headlands would pitch the wind-ship round like a cork from a bottle.

Chitter!
screamed the squirrel.
Chitter-chit!

Lu'nedda screamed too. “A Toad! An Ocean Toad! It's dead ahead!”

~

If the Toad had been ahead and dead, it wouldn't have mattered. But it was alive, heading straight for them, three times bigger than the huge Toad in the Zoo, three hundred times more dangerous. It surged towards them, sank down, then surged again. Each time it surged, a terrible stench came with it.

Chitter!
the squirrel cried again.
Chitter-tck-tck-tck-tck-tck!

The little Queen uttered the Royal Swear Word. Hodie wouldn't ever want to repeat what Murgott said. Lu'nedda's curses were Um'Binnian and didn't make sense to Hodie, but he wouldn't repeat them either.

The Toad was closer. Lu'nedda and the squirrel were still screaming.

Murgott was trying to manoeuvre the controls. “Start bailing!” he roared.

“What with?” Sibilla cried.

Lu'nedda yanked open a cupboard and found a royal peanut bowl. She threw it to Sibilla and snatched one herself. They began scooping, tossing water through the shattered windows. It would hardly help a drop.

The wind-ship lurched. The Ocean Toad raised its head alongside. It was nearly as big as a small elephant.

The squirrel batted the last full bottle of Roar-juice towards Hodie's boots. Of course! He grabbed the bottle and yanked out the cork. The smell of cabbage and sickly wormwood fought with the stink of the Toad. Prowdd'on obviously found Roar-juice irresistible – it might appeal to other dreadful creatures.

Hodie held the bottle up to a (broken) window. Teasing it away and back, he kept the Roar-juice just inside the wind-ship. The wind-ship kept bobbing. The Toad kept bumping. The puddles on the floor joined up as they grew deeper. The Toad watched the bottle. Its eyes were white with a dot of grey – maybe the creature had poor vision. Maybe it hunted by smell. Its nostrils wrinkled. Hodie put his whole arm out the window. He hoped no royal female (nor Murgott, nor squirrel) would scream at the wrong moment.

The Toad's bottom lip stuck out at last. Hodie upended the bottle and glugged Roar-juice down the toadly maw.

The toad dropped back from the wind-ship and licked where it should have had lips. It blinked. After a moment it rolled over to one side. It rolled back. It ducked under the waves, swooshed up and rolled again. Dreadful sounds of partying boomed from it.

Then the Toad surged right out of the Great Salt Moat with a joyous bellow. It crashed on the roof of the wind-ship, and the wind-sails smashed into the sea. The vessel lurched to starboard. A wave slammed through the broken windows. It lurched to port and back – more water burst in. Murgott held the wind-ship steady but the weight of the Toad pressed it low in the water.

The Toad's smell like rotten onions stung Hodie's eyes and made his nose run. Sibilla coughed and retched. Lu'nedda gripped Sibilla with one hand while her other covered her own mouth. Sweat poured down Murgott's forehead (unless it was sea-water splashes). “Horror,” he groaned, “horror, horror …”

The Ocean Toad let out a reverberating belch. The vessel shuddered. The roof creaked and threatened to crack. A vast scaly foot with horny toenails scrabbled in near Hodie's head. Sibilla and the squirrel screamed. There was another resounding belch, another lurch, and the Toad slid – oh, only half-off.

For a moment it clung to the side, so big its pale scaly belly (with plenty of warts) covered three windows. At last, with a happy Toad-roar, it flung itself into a backwards somersault and disappeared in a monumental splash.

“Thank you!” Sibilla hugged Hodie, which was surprising.

Weak at the knees (from escaping the Toad) he fell onto a seat. Now all he had to do was wait to drown with the lost treasures of Fontania in his satchel.

~

They still had a roof. But puddles sloshed inside the wind-ship. Waves slammed the hull. They'd reached the headlands.

“Check your life-bottles are on tight!” Murgott yelled.

The tide dragged the wind-ship past the headlands. It scraped on a rock, just missed another and splintered against a third. Water dribbled in at a fast rate.

“No, no, no!” Sibilla shouted.

Hodie leapt onto the gold throne-chair, stretched up to the hatch in the roof and tried to slide the bolt. It stuck – he had to bash it several times – but at last the hatch crashed open. The squirrel scrambled out over his head. Hodie grabbed the edge and hauled himself through and onto the roof. He reached down to help Sibilla, but Lu'nedda pushed her up, and was tall enough to clamber out by herself. She was also strong enough to help haul Murgott. There was a frightening moment when Murgott stuck. Hodie suggested the Corporal take off his life-bottles, pass them up first, then climb out, and put them back on. Murgott actually said thank you.

They clung to the top, bracing against the twirly golden bits or the broken spars of the wind-sails. The wind-ship swept north-east in the current. There was no wind.

Hodie gazed at the north and wished for clouds foaming, ripe with gale. Sibilla glanced at him, then up at the sky. A strong gust swept out of nowhere, caught the last shreds of sail and pushed the vessel south, out of the current. Another early shred of magic from the Queen? Sibilla blinked and clutched her pendant.

The wind dropped again and the wind-ship bobbed gently. By now they were far from the headlands and Hodie saw the northern coast stretching up and round to the north-east. The southern coast curved south-east, which was where they were heading, if this bobbing about was going anywhere much by now. The sun was maybe an hour from sinking into the Great Salt Moat behind Um'Binnia. It seemed far longer than a single day since Hodie had eaten bacon and raspberry jam at the Princessa's.

Hodie wiped his nose on his sleeve. His life-bottles clinked. He felt surprisingly good, considering. The squirrel crept onto his lap, rested its ugly little head on the satchel and closed its eyes. Lu'nedda, Murgott and Sibilla were bedraggled, but Hodie thought that added to your charm if you were a traveller.

It would be a shame for them all to drown now. But, just as the sun was lowering, so was the wind-ship into the waters of Old Ocean.

Hodie wondered if this would be a good time to tell Murgott he was carrying the notebook of poems.

The water lapped and sent up teasing drops.

“We'll have to swim,” Sibilla said.

“I cannot,” Lu'nedda answered. “After my father's stories about Toads, I do not even like a bath.”

Chit
, said the squirrel.

“I've dog-paddled in the Grand Palace pond,” Sibilla said.

“Me too,” said Hodie. “Between the ducks.”

Murgott cleared his throat. “Then you two had better set off.”

“And you?” asked the Princessa.

“Pirates don't swim,” Murgott replied.

“I'm not leaving you behind,” Sibilla said.

“Your Majesty,” said Murgott. “I'm not actually your subject either. I only signed up for the Fontanian Army because you were such a dear little girl when you were small. Now I offer my official resignation. May I have a confirmation letter?”

“No,” said Sibilla. “Anyway, I'm not swimming either. The Toad might have plenty of friends.”

In a moment of silence, waves licked the sides of the wind-ship. A sea-bird called.

“I was dear little girl once,” Lu'nedda said into the sunset. “It is cruel fact that nobody is ever as cute again as toddler at two or three.”

“You were a cute little boy,” Murgott said to Hodie. The surprise nearly toppled Hodie off the wind-ship. “When Dardy and you arrived at the Grand Palace, you'd just turned three. Still cute. You grew out of it.”

Hodie decided this was definitely not the time to mention the poems. The right time would never come now.

Lu'nedda and Murgott sat side by side, staring at the land, not talking. Now and then there was a clink from the life-bottles. The wind-ship bobbed lower. A breeze whistled in Hodie's ears, cold and thin, and stole around his hands. He found his fingers on the buckle of the satchel.

“Before the sun completely goes,” Hodie murmured to Sibilla, “you must look at this.” He opened the satchel, unfolded the bag, and showed the little Queen the pocket where the silver map lay glowing. Sibilla started to shake her head, but glanced at the Princessa's back and then nodded.

~

The last rays of the sun washed veils of colour, pink and peach, through the clouds. The little Queen drew out the map. The glow grew much stronger than it had under Hodie's palm. He took in a breath.

“There's the Eastern Isle, where my father will be,” Sibilla murmured. “And there's the City of Spires … the Grand Palace where my mother is … where you lived.”

Hodie felt a pang round his heart. “It's your Palace. I did the odd jobs.”

“It was your home,” said the little Queen. “It still could be, if …” She looked at the glowing map again. “In a steamship, we could be at the Eastern Isle in a couple of days.”

The wind dropped completely. The vessel bobbed lower, lower, and bumped on something. Hodie felt sick at the thought of another Toad, but there was no surging. The wind-ship simply seemed stuck.

Murgott clambered to his feet with a gruff laugh. “Tide's full out. We're on a sand bank. There won't be a better chance than this. It's a long walk – or a paddle – to shore. But we already got our boots wet. We've got life-jackets of a sort, and company.” His smile at the Princessa was rather sweet.

Lu'nedda stiffened. “But that piece of coast is Fontanian.”

“Upper Fontania, ma'am. The Waiting Lands,” Murgott said.

The Waiting Lands? Waiting for what? Hodie couldn't see the name on the map.

Lu'nedda put her chin up, like a Princessa. “Corporal, our countries are at war.”

“For goodness sake,” Sibilla said. “It's not as if we can arrest you.”

She gentled the map back into its pocket in the bag, taking care not to let Lu'nedda see it. Hodie folded the bag into the satchel again, took off the cloak Lu'nedda had given him (so it was useful yet again) and wrapped it round the satchel. The bundle held high, he slipped into the water. His foot only just touched bottom.

The others splashed in with a few shrieks each. Lu'nedda made roars of protest at how wet the ocean was, but at the same time seemed to enjoy it. She touched the bottom easily and helped keep Sibilla's chin above the wavelets. Murgott made explosive noises (swallowing curses as well as sea water, Hodie supposed).

“We forgot the squirrel!” cried Sibilla.

Chit
, said something, spluttering.

The life-bottles were a chinking blessing because the sea floor was uneven. It didn't matter how slowly Hodie went in his one-armed dog-paddle. It mattered only that he carried the bag to land, safe and dry. They were going well – very well – till the strings of Murgott's life-bottles broke apart. He roared and splashed. Lu'nedda didn't let go of Sibilla, and dragged Murgott along too till he found his footing. Royal females seemed pretty good in an emergency. But it was a long paddle before they waded at last onto a beach.

“Welcome home to Fontania, Your Majesty.” Murgott collapsed on his back.

Fontania – Sibilla's home, where they might find the dying dragon-eagle. Hodie hoped so. He untied his own life-bottles, and the squirrel's. There was no house visible, not even a road. The stars had started to come out.

Sibilla's face was a pale oval in the evening gloom. “How far does the tide come in?” she asked.

She really should be a Queen – she had a good brain now it had started working.

Hodie expected Murgott to take charge, but he seemed utterly exhausted. He'd even stopped cursing. The Corporal simply climbed to his feet and began trudging. Soldiers are trained to do so without question.

They reached the dunes. Beyond was open grassland with a few low bushes.

Lu'nedda groaned. “This is far enough for me.” She fell to the ground under a scrubby sort of shrub with tiny white flowers that shone faintly in the dark.

Murgott collapsed again onto his knees. “We're still damp,” he muttered. “Need to dry out. Have to huddle to keep warm. Even though one of us is at war with the rest of us. It's sensible soldiering.”

This was embarrassing. Hodie didn't want to huddle Murgott. And how could he huddle with a royal female? But something crept beside him and said
Chk?
For a small squirrel it was very warm. He was thankful for its company. And at least they were now in Fontania. He just hoped it wasn't too far from this part to the bit where you might come upon a dying dragon-eagle.

~