Stormchaser (40 page)

Just as Cloud Wolf had taken on the Stone Pilot all those years ago to give her back her freedom, so Twig left with three individuals who should never have been in a pet shop in the first place.

The first was Spooler, an oakelf with wide eyes that twitched nervously. Although a fragile-looking specimen, Spooler had valuable experience of skysailing.

The second was Goom, an adolescent banderbear who still bore the wounds of the spiked pit it had been trapped in. As Twig looked the creature up and down, it leaned forwards and touched the banderbear tooth around his neck.

‘Wuh?’ it said questioningly.

‘Wuh-wuh,’ Twig explained.

‘T-wuh-g?’ it said.

Twig nodded. Even though the banderbear was young, it knew all about the boy in the Deepwoods who had once cured a banderbear of toothache.

And the third crew-member … Twig would not even have noticed the scaly creature with its reptilian tongue and fanned ears had it not spoken. ‘You are looking for crew-members,’ it hissed. ‘How useful it would be to have someone aboard who can hear thoughts as well as words – Captain Twig.’ It smiled and its fan-ears snapped shut. ‘I am Woodfish.’

Twig nodded. ‘Welcome aboard, Woodfish,’ he said as he handed him his ten gold pieces.

Six strong, they were now. With a couple more the crew would be complete. Yet with Woodfish now amongst them, the finding of two suitable crew-mates proved difficult.

Every time Twig approached and talked to likely-looking characters in the inns and markets, Woodfish would listen in to their deepest thoughts, and was soon tutting critically and shaking his head. This one was too cowardly. This one, too careless. This one had mutiny in his heart.

It wasn’t until late afternoon on the second day that they stumbled across the next crew-member in a seedy
inn. At first he looked the least likely of them all, a stocky red-faced slaughterer, drunk at the bar and weeping into his woodale. But Woodfish was adamant. ‘There is sorrow in his head, but his heart is good. What's more, he understands the rudiments of skysailing. Go and speak with him, captain.’

In the conversation that followed Twig discovered that the slaughterer's name was Tarp – Tarp Hammelherd – and that he had come to Undertown in search of his brother, Tendon, who had run a small lucky-charm business. That evening, not two hours since, he’d learned that Tendon was dead, blown up in some stupid accident with stormphrax – because he was thirsty.

‘And it's not right,’ he wailed.

Woodfish was correct. Tarp Hammelherd's heart
was
good and, having calmed him down, Twig offered him ten gold pieces and a place on the
Edgedancer
. Tarp accepted.

‘Forgive me,’ came a strident voice from behind them. ‘But am I correct in understanding that you are looking for crew-members. If that is the case, then look no further.’

Twig turned round. The person before him was thin yet wiry, with a pinched and pointed face, a hooked nose and small, sticking-out ears. ‘And you are?’ he asked.

‘Wingnut Sleet,’ he replied. ‘The finest quartermaster this side of the sky.’

Twig glanced at Woodfish, but the scaly eavesdropper merely shrugged.

‘I have a head for heights, a mind for numbers and an eye for a bargain,’ he announced, his restless blue eyes glinting behind steel glasses.

‘I … I … Wait a moment,’ said Twig, and took Woodfish aside. ‘Well?’ he whispered.

‘I’m not sure, captain. Certainly, every word he spoke was the truth. And yet. I don’t know … there is something. Something pent-up about him. Something that might snap at any moment – or never at all.’

Twig sighed, exasperated. ‘We could go on searching like this for ever,’ he complained. ‘And this Sleet character sounds good. If we take him on then we’ve got ourselves a complete crew.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘We could go to Mother Horsefeather at once.’ He tipped the final ten pieces of gold from the pouch and turned to Woodfish. ‘I’m going to take a chance on him.’

Woodfish nodded. ‘Your decision, captain,’ he said. ‘Your decision.’

‘The
Edgedancer
is ready and awaits you somewhere safe,’ Mother Horsefeather said. ‘But first, the secret.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Twig. ‘The secret.’ Mother Horsefeather drew closer as Twig pulled a crystal of stormphrax from his pocket and placed it on the table before him. ‘A mortar and pestle, if you please,’ he said.

‘But … but…’ Mother Horsefeather clucked anxiously. ‘This is what everyone tries – and you know what happens.’

Twig drummed his fingers impatiently. Mother Horsefeather fetched the mortar and pestle.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now, observe. I place the crystal in the bottom, so. I raise the pestle and I wait.’

Feathers rustling, Mother Horsefeather stared at the youth as he whispered strange words under his breath. ‘What are you saying?’ she demanded. ‘Is it some kind of incantation?’

Far above them, the sonorous bell of the Great Hall tolled. Twig brought the pestle down. The stormphrax turned to phraxdust with no more than a fizz and a glimmer.

‘Yes, oh, yes!’ Mother Horsefeather exclaimed and wrapped her huge padded wings warmly around Twig. ‘Excellent. Excellent. But what
were
the words. You must tell me.’

Twig laughed. ‘I was counting off the seconds,’ he explained. ‘The secret is that stormphrax can only be turned safely to dust at the exact moment of true twilight. Not a moment before. Not a moment after.’

‘Twilight is twilight as far as I’m concerned,’ said Mother Horsefeather. ‘And it lasts a whole sight longer than a moment.’

Twig smiled. ‘To you and me,’ he said. ‘And yet to the Professor of Darkness, that fragment of time which separates light from darkness is as plain as … as the beak upon your face.’

Mother Horsefeather clacked with irritation. ‘And how am
I
to determine that fragment of time?’

‘The Professor of Darkness will sound a bell every evening at the precise moment,’ he explained. ‘All you have to do is be ready.’

The bird-woman's eyes narrowed. ‘The Professor of Darkness?’ she said, suspiciously.

‘It's not what you think,’ said Twig hurriedly. ‘He is doing it in celebration of my return from the Twilight Woods. He…’

‘If you have breathed a word of this to him, then our deal is off,’ Mother Horsefeather snapped. Her eyes glinted. ‘In fact,’ she said, ‘since you have already told me so much…’

Twig stood up abruptly from the table. ‘Consider how awful it would be if, one day, the bell rang either a moment too early or a moment too late,’ he said coldly. ‘I have kept my side of the bargain, Mother Horsefeather. My crew are waiting outside. Now I want my gold and my sky ship.’

Mother Horsefeather pulled a key from her apron and tossed it down on the table. ‘The boom-docks,’ she said. ‘Wharf 3. The gold is on board.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Twig. ‘Remember the bell.’

Mother Horsefeather clucked miserably. ‘It will be by the time you get there,’ she said.

The new crew fell in love with the
Edgedancer
the moment they clapped eyes on it.

‘She's a beauty,’ Tarp Hammelherd gasped, ‘and no mistake.’

‘A diamond,’ murmured Sleet.