The Last of the Sky Pirates (10 page)

‘No,’ Stob conceded. ‘So far as I know, they are given only to librarian knights elect, and their supporters.’

‘Then nothing has changed,’ said Tegan. She opened the front of her cape to reveal her own ornate talisman.

‘You?’ said Stob, surprised. ‘You’re our contact?’

‘You seem surprised,’ said the gnokgoblin. ‘Over the years I have done my best to be useful to scholars and academics of every persuasion. Acting as a counsellor
here, a guide there …’ Her voice took on an icy edge. ‘Anything, rather than allow the Edge to slide into the dark oblivion those cohorts of the Tower of Night would foist upon us all.’

‘Well said,’ Magda agreed.

The gnokgoblin looked around anxiously. ‘We have already been standing here for too long. It’s not safe.’ She turned back to them and her face broke into a smile. ‘The three of you have got a long and difficult journey ahead of you, but with a little luck and a lot of perseverance, I just know you’re going to succeed.’

Rook suddenly felt buoyed up by the gnokgoblin’s confidence, and grinned from ear to ear. He could hardly wait to get going.

‘Right, then,’ said Tegan. ‘It’s high time we saw about your tally-discs. Keep close together – and let me do all the talking.’

As they approached the Great Mire Road, Rook saw that there was a row of tally-huts and barriers strung out in a line between the huge towers. Individual queues led to each one. The gnokgoblin led them straight to the tally-hut closest to the left-hand tower.

Ahead, on an ornately carved throne, sat a large shryke matron, bedecked in jewels and rich fabrics. On either side of the throne sprouted enormous carved claws which barred the way through. The shryke eyed each trader with yellow, unblinking eyes, before scrutinizing the tattered, much-thumbed papers handed to her.

‘Pass!’ Her voice rasped out as she flicked the lever at her side with an evil-looking talon. The carved claws
clicked open and the trader walked through. ‘Next!’

‘Pass!’
Click
. ‘Next! Pass!’
Click
. ‘Next!’

Rook jumped. To his surprise, he realized that Stob and Magda were through. It was his turn. His heart leaped into his mouth.

‘Remember,’ Tegan whispered in his ear. ‘Let me do the talking.’

‘Next!’
The shryke’s voice was shrill with irritation. Tegan pushed Rook forward. Somehow, Rook made his legs work. With a trembling hand, he offered up his false documents, trying not to look at the yellow eyes that seemed to be boring into his skull. What if there was some mistake with his papers? What if the shryke asked him about his so-called line of business? What did Rook know about knife-sharpening? A cold panic began to build in the pit of his stomach.

‘Knife-sharpener?’ The shryke cocked her large head to one side. The feathers at her neck ruffled, the jewels clinked, her terrible curved beak came towards Rook’s down-turned face. ‘Don’t look old enough to play with knives, do he?’ the shryke cackled nastily. ‘Well, sonny? Goblin stolen your tongue?’

Tegan stepped forward. ‘It’s his first time,’ she smiled. ‘Obviously he’s overcome with the beauty of your plumage, Sister Sagsplit.’

The shryke laughed. ‘Tegan, you old charmer. Is he with you?’

Tegan nodded.

‘I might have known,’ said the shryke. ‘Through you go.’

The talon flicked the lever. Rook took his papers and tally-disc, and stumbled through the opening claw-stile. Magda and Stob were waiting on the other side.

‘What kept you?’ Magda sounded panicky.

‘Stopped for a chat, no doubt,’ said Stob smugly.

‘Shut up, Stob,’ said Magda. She clasped Rook’s hand. ‘Are you all right? You look very pale.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Rook shakily. ‘It’s just, I’ve never seen a shryke before. They’re so … so …’

‘You’ll see plenty more on the Mire road,’ said Tegan, motioning them forward.

‘You?
Don’t you mean
we?’
said Magda.

‘Yeah, I thought you were coming with us,’ said Stob.

‘My place is here,’ Tegan explained. ‘My role is to get travellers safely through the tollgate tally-huts and onto the Great Mire Road. Others will make themselves known to you along the way’ She gave them each a brief, but heartfelt hug. ‘Take care, beware and well may you fare, my dears,’ she said. And with that, she was gone.

The three young librarian knights elect suddenly felt very alone. From behind them, there came the loud noise of clattering and chattering as a contingent of rowdy mobgnomes lugging a vast range of ironware products, from buckets and bellows to wrought-iron railings, drew closer and overtook them. Without saying a word to one another – but instinctively aware that there was safety in numbers – Stob and Magda attached themselves to the back of the group, and Rook brought up the rear.

Ever since the young under-librarian’s name had echoed round the high vaulted ceiling of the Great Storm Chamber, Rook Barkwater had felt he was in a dream, scarcely able to believe the events unfolding before him. Now, as he stared ahead at the magnificent raised road, with its ironwood pylons and huge floating lufwood barges; with its look-out posts, its toll-towers and its blazing beacons snaking away into the distance far ahead, his head reeled and his body tingled with excitement.

‘This is it,’ he whispered softly. ‘There’s no turning back now. The greatest adventure of my life has already begun.’

Back at the tally-hut, there was a soft
click
as the claw-stile opened once more. An angular figure in dark robes slipped through. As he lowered his hood, the moon glinted on high cheekbones and closely cropped hair.

hey had been walking for hours over the slippery boarded walkway. All around them traders, merchants and itinerant labourers just like themselves trudged on, backs bent under heavy burdens, eyes staring fixedly down. Few spoke, and when they did, it was in whispers. It was dangerous to attract attention on the Great Mire Road.

Rook glanced up. Ahead, the timber walkway snaked off into the distance like some gigantic hover worm. To their left and right, the Mire mud glistened in the fading light.

‘Keep your eyes down!’ Stob’s whisper was urgent and threatening.

‘Remember,’ said Magda softly, placing a hand on Rook’s shoulder. ‘To look directly into a shryke guard’s eyes is punishable by death.’

Rook shuddered. Just then, ahead of them, he heard
the clicking sound of clawed feet on the wooden boards and the brittle crack of a bone-flail. Shryke guards were approaching.

Rook’s heart missed a beat.

‘Steady,’ Stob hissed. ‘We mustn’t draw attention to ourselves. Just keep moving. And you’ – he jabbed Rook nastily in the back – ‘keep your eyes to yourself!’

‘It’s all right,’ whispered Magda. ‘Here, take my hand, Rook.’

Rook grasped Magda’s hand gratefully, fighting the urge to turn tail and flee.

The clawed feet clicked nearer. Ahead, the slow-moving crowd seemed to melt away into the shadows cast by the blazing beacons that were strung out high above them at hundred-stride intervals along the way. Rook couldn’t help himself. He glanced up.

There ahead of him, staring back with cruel, yellow unblinking eyes, was a tall mottled shryke guard, resplendent in burnished metal breast-plate and great curved beaked helmet. A razor-sharp talon moved to her side, where the vicious-looking bone-flail was strapped. With a rustle of feathers, the guard drew the flail. Rook was transfixed with fright. He looked down instantly and squeezed Magda’s hand with all his might. He heard Magda gasp.

‘How
dare
you!’ The screech pierced the air like a dart.

Rook closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders, waiting for the blow he felt must surely come.

‘Mercy, mercy,’ a goblin’s frightened voice cried out pitifully. ‘I didn’t mean to … I beg you. I—’

The bone-flail cracked to life in the evening air, followed by the sound of a skull shattering. Rook opened one eye. In front of him, in the harsh glare of an overhead beacon, a small goblin lay at the shryke’s feet. A pool of blood spilled out across the surrounding boards.

‘Goblin scum!’ the shryke squawked, and behind her two other guards clacked their beaks with amusement.

The shryke swung the flail over her shoulder, and the three of them strode on. Magda pulled Rook to one side as they passed. He felt faint. Rook had witnessed, and experienced, violence before – the viciousness of an angry professor, the brutality of the fights that had occasionally broken out amongst the apprentices and under-librarians …

But this. This was different. It was a cold violence, callous and passionless – and all the more shocking for that.

‘That was close,’ said Stob quietly, behind them. ‘Come on, now. Keep moving, or we’ll never make it to the toll-tower. There’s a rest platform there,’ he added.

Rook glanced down at the body on the road and, with a jolt, recognized the pack on the hapless goblin’s back.

The goblin had been a knife-grinder, just like himself. Hands were now grasping the body, dragging it into the shadows. Rook heard a distant muffled thud as something landed far below in the soft Mire mud. All that was left of the goblin was a small blood-red stain in the wood, which marked what had happened. It occurred to Rook that, along the length of the Great Mire Road, he had seen many such stains.

Rook turned to Magda. ‘This is a terrible place,’ he said weakly.

‘Courage, Rook,’ said Magda kindly. ‘We can stop for the night at the rest platform. There’ll be someone there to meet us, I’m sure.’

Rook stopped. ‘Couldn’t we just stay here? Night’s closing in, the road seems to be getting more and more slippery – and I’m so hungry’

‘We keep on to the toll-tower,’ said Stob firmly.
‘Then
we stop for something to eat. Rook!’ he snapped. ‘Do keep up.’

Rook was motionless, rigid. His eyes and mouth were open wide, his face drained of all colour. He had seen something hanging from a great beacon-pole, just up ahead.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Magda. ‘Rook, what is it?’

Rook pointed. Magda looked round – and gasped. Her hand shot up to her mouth.

‘Earth and Sky,’ Stob groaned as he, too, saw what Rook had seen. ‘That is … dis-
gus
-ting,’ he murmured.