The Dragon Lantern (33 page)

“What about the rest of them?” Miss Jakande said.

“Just go! I'll fly them up! They'll slow you down too much!”

Miss Jakande took two of the orphans by the hands. “Fives, Sixes, and Sevens with me!” she called, and hurried toward the front door of the hotel.

Another
boom
. Fergus wasn't playing around.

“Circus! Showtime!” Hachi cried. Four little animals burst from her bandolier this time, not three, and Hachi almost cried for joy at the sight of them. “Mr. Lion, Tusker, follow Miss Jakande. All those boys and girls have to get to the roof. No stragglers!”

The little lion and elephant darted away, not-so-gently herding the slowpokes with nudges in the back. Hachi looked around at the five children who were left—what she guessed were the Fours.
At least there aren't Ones, Twos, and Threes too,
she thought.

Another
boom
, and this time, the distant sound of rushing water.

Hachi grabbed one of the Fours and started the gyrocopter.

“Everybody, this is Freckles and Jo-Jo,” she told the other children, who were already delighted by the flying gorilla and giraffe. “They're going to keep you company until I can come back for all of you, all right? Jo-Jo, Freckles, parade! But don't let any of them wander off!”

Hachi's little wind-up animals started a two-animal song-and-dance routine, and Hachi lifted off. One by one, she flew the Fours up to the rooftop, but each time, Hachi could feel the gyrocopter getting slower and weaker.

“Come on, come on,” Hachi urged it. “Just a couple more.”

On the next-to-last child, Miss Jakande and the other kids were there to take the Four from her without her having to land. She swooped down and grabbed up the last of the children, who was happily applauding Freckles's antics, and hauled her up. One story. Two stories. Three stories … The gyrocopter started to flag. Four stories … The gyrocopter topped out and started to dip. They weren't going to make it!

And then Jo-Jo and Tusker and Freckles and Mr. Lion were there, grabbing on to her harness and pulling up for all their little wings were worth. The gyrocopter and Hachi's circus lifted her just enough to pass the last Four off to the reaching hands of Miss Jakande and the Sevens, and then she was falling, spiraling down toward the street as the last of the lektricity drained from the gyrocopter's battery with a whine.

Hachi landed with a thunk on the rooftop of the streetcar and looked up to see a giant wave of seawater towering over her. Fergus's invention wasn't going to save her this time.

Nothing was.

28

Buster sat in a park near the top of Nob Hill in Don Francisco, watching the city's streetcars. Every time one of them clanged, Buster took the bell as an invitation to play chase, and Clyde had to remind him to stay. Thanks to his Dog Soldier training, Buster hadn't gone chasing after a single streetcar. But he longed to.

“Good dog,” Clyde told him, petting a rail on the bridge. “That's a good dog. Stay. I know you want to play.”

They had been sitting atop the hill in the city by the bay for three straight days now, looking for some sign of Philomena Moffett. While Buster watched the streetcars, Clyde, Archie, and Mr. Rivets watched the rolling hills of the city and the open-air submarine docks for trouble. So far, there hadn't been any. Sings-In-The-Night hadn't seen anything on her daily flights over the city, and Kitsune hadn't found her on the streets. Every morning the fox girl disappeared into Don Francisco, and every evening she came back with sacks full of food. Archie never asked where or how she got it, but he had a guess.

All five of them met up again in Buster's galley, where Mr. Rivets inserted a Chef talent card and made them dinner. Archie looked around the table at his new friends and teammates. They were four of the League of Seven. The hero, the trickster, the scholar, and the shadow. In New Orleans were the tinker and the warrior—five and six—leaving only a seventh to join their League: the lawbringer. Would they find him or her here, in the Republic of California, on the other side of the continent from Septemberist headquarters?

“I don't think she's here,” Kitsune said.

“What?” Archie said.

“Mrs. Moffett. I think she tricked us,” Kitsune said. “Told us she was going to California to mislead us, then took off for the United Nations.”

“It's possible,” Clyde said.

“No,” Archie told them. “No, she's here. I know it. She told me she was coming here because she wanted me to chase her. She's messing with me. With all of us. She hates me. She hates all of us, and she wants to hurt us.”

That made everyone quiet for a while.

“I have an idea how to counteract that sonic scream of hers,” Sings-In-The-Night said. “I've been thinking about it during my flights over the city.” She spread a large piece of paper filled with scribbles and equations out on the table. “It all has to do with resonant frequencies. If we can find a way to turn Buster into a tuning fork, or maybe install one on him, we might be able to reach an equilibrium with her sonic scream.”

“And then Buster wouldn't shake all to pieces?” Clyde asked.

“That's the idea,” Sings-In-The-Night said. “I know the theory is sound, if you'll forgive the pun, but I don't know how I could actually
build
it.”

“Leave that to Fergus,” Archie said. “You guys are going to love working together.”

Mr. Rivets was just bringing the food to the table when they all heard it—a piercing alarm ringing out over the city, and a low
womwomwomwomwom
that vibrated in the air.

“Mrs. Moffett,”
Archie said.

He and the others raced to the bridge, leaving Mr. Rivets holding an enormous steaming bowl of fish stew. “I'll just keep this warm for later then, shall I?” he asked the empty room.

Buster was already honed in on the ruckus, and Clyde activated his magnifying eye lens as soon as he was in the driver's seat. The glass panes clicked down, zooming in on an island in the bay near the Golden Gate Bridge.

“That's Alcatraz Island,” Sings-In-The-Night said, studying a map at the navigator's station. “It says the Republic of California has a high-security prison there.”

“What's she doing there?” Clyde asked.

They watched as a building on the island crumbled. “Whatever it is, it isn't good,” Archie said. “But how are we all going to get there?”

“I can fly you and Kitsune over one at a time,” Sings-In-The-Night said. “But that doesn't get Clyde and Buster there.”

“I know how to get there,” Clyde said. “Hold on!” A streetcar was just coming over the crest of Nob Hill, and Clyde pointed Buster at it. “Buster, fetch! Get it, Buster, get it!”

Buster leaped to his feet and charged after the streetcar, whistling happily. The driver of the little red-and-gold trolley looked back over his shoulder and panicked as the ten-story-tall steam man bore down on him. He released the hand brake and the streetcar shot away, but all that did was make Buster happier. Steamcars and horse buggies scattered, and people screamed and dove for shop doors as Buster ran back and forth behind the trolley, nipping at its bumpers.

“Clyde!” Archie cried. “Clyde, what are you doing! We can't ride a streetcar to Alcatraz Island!”

“No, but it gives us a running start!” Clyde said.

The streetcar swerved away, but Clyde kept Buster running straight ahead at full speed toward the bay.

“A running start at
what?”
Archie asked, but he was afraid he knew the answer: the Golden Gate Bridge.

The Golden Gate Bridge was a tall orange suspension bridge that connected the city of Don Francisco to the Marin Headlands on the other side. It had been built millennia ago by some ancient civilization, and from the gold curled corners at the top and the pair of dog-like stone lions that guarded each end, it looked like the same civilization that had made the Dragon Lantern.

Buster ran up the hill to the entrance of the bridge, sending trucks and taxis steaming up the curbs.

“Clyde,”
Archie said.
“Clyde, what are you doing?”

“I'm going to jump it!”

“Jump from the bridge to Alcatraz?” Sings-In-The-Night said. “You'll never make it!”

Buster leaped over a bus.

“No—I can make it! The island's closer to the bridge today.”

“Wait, what?” Sings-In-The-Night said. “You
do
know islands don't move, don't you?”

“Here we go!” Clyde cried. “Hang on!”

Buster angled toward the low point in the suspension wires and jumped.

29

Clyde's arms windmilled in his chair like it was he who had jumped. Archie closed his eyes. Sings-In-The-Night shot out the top hatch. Kitsune yelled
“Woohoo!”
It looked like they were going to make it, but then they were dropping too fast, too soon—

KER-SPLASH!

Buster hit the water feetfirst. The impact ripped Archie from the railing he held and threw him into the metal wall between the front windows. Water gushed up in great waves around the steam man, and he bobbed back up before starting to sink. They had landed just short of the island!

“Swim, Buster! Swim!” Clyde yelled, doing a dog paddle in his seat. The giant steam man pawed at the water, pulling himself toward the shore. Archie hauled himself to his feet and looked out the window.

“We're sinking!” he cried.

“As long as the water doesn't put out the furnace, we're okay!” Clyde yelled.

Archie looked down again. More than half of Buster was already underwater. The engineering deck had to be completely submerged! The water had just reached Buster's neck when they felt the lurch of his feet meeting solid ground, and Clyde marched the steam man up out of the water onto Alcatraz Island.

“Made it!” Clyde said. “Told you we would! Good dog!”

Buster shook himself like a dog trying to get dry, spraying the buildings below with bay water and tossing around everything and everyone inside him. Kitsune giggled.

Sings-In-The-Night flew down and hovered in front of them. “Moffett's on a roof near the central courtyard. She's knocked down the walls. It's a prison break!”

Clyde steered Buster to follow her, stepping over a water tower.

“Kitsune, you and I can—” Archie began, but suddenly he was overwhelmed with a vision. He was holding his breath underwater, the sea a murky green all around him. He was naked but for a loincloth at his waist, and his long brown hair flowed around his face like seaweed.

“Enkidu,” said a voice. He put a hand to his ear and found a tiny aetherical device there that carried sound. A Cathay woman riding a snakelike dragon swam up, speaking to him through an aetherical mouthpiece connected to the air tanks she wore. “Enkidu—Sun Wukong and Gilgamesh are already in place. Are you ready?”

Archie looked around. Nearby floated a young bearded man wearing a tunic and a monkey-man wearing fitted leather armor and carrying a staff.

Archie shook his head. He wasn't ready. He didn't know who “Enkidu” was or what he was doing here.

An eye opened in the darkness of the water before them: an eye fifty feet tall and glassy black, filled with stars.

Jandal a Haad,
it whispered.

Archie felt the crack of a slap across his face, and he awoke from his dream back on the bridge of the steam man. Kitsune stood in front of him holding the lead pipe she'd hit him with.

“Dang, that's a bit much, isn't it?” Clyde asked.

“No,” Kitsune said. “This doesn't hurt, does it?” she asked Archie, whacking him over the head with it again and again.

Archie caught the lead pipe. “No,” he said, taking it away from her. “But it's really annoying.”

“We lost you for a second there,” Clyde said.