فصل 30

CHAPTER 30

FRANKLIN

AS THEY NEARED THE HEART OF MAKNAR, Leonard and Bakari dismounted from their camels and led them by the reins through the crowded streets. Activity swirled around them: men and women shouting and bantering, bargaining for all manner of goods. The sweet smell of incense and the musky odor of burning rope filled the air. Rug merchants sat cross-legged next to their colorful wares, sucking on tubes that ran to bubbling hookahs from which tobacco smoke rose like gray rope. Barefoot children ran past in packs, laughing and chasing one another in a game as timeless as humanity itself.

From just ahead came a mournful, haunting melody. A crowd was gathered around a snake charmer, who was playing a flutelike instrument, drawing a cobra from a wicker basket. The cobra swayed back and forth, apparently moving in time to the tune. Then it became motionless as the snake charmer leaned forward and, to gasps from the onlookers, kissed the top of the cobra’s head. The crowd applauded, some people tossing coins.

The afternoon was turning into evening, although to Leonard, unused to the desert, the heat still felt brutal. Finally the sun winked good-bye on the horizon. As darkness fell, the streets began to empty. Leonard and Bakari found a deserted square, and Leonard, apparently speaking to the air, said, “All right, Tink.”

It’s about time, said Tink, poking her head out of a fold in Leonard’s turban.

Bakari pointed to a group of spires looming in the distance, turned reddish gold by the last rays of the sinking sun.

“Zarboff’s palace,” he said.

“How do we go in?” said Leonard.

“Our man guards a door on the east wall,” said Bakari. “It’s near the palace kitchen. We’ll enter that way.”

“All right, Tink,” said Leonard. “We’ll be near the kitchen. You need to find Peter, then come find us and lead us to him. Can you do that?”

Of course I can, said Tink, and then she was flying, a streak of light in the night sky.

“She thinks she can do anything,” said Leonard, watching the streak disappear over a building.

“I hope she’s right,” said Bakari, as the two men began trudging toward the palace.

Tink had seen only one city other than Maknar—London. The two places could not have been more different. London was clouds and rain and cold. Here, even in the dusk, she could feel the waves of heat wafting upward from the parched streets and sun-baked buildings.

She sensed something hurtling toward her and veered sharply left. It was a swarm of huge dragonflies, nearly the size of Tink herself.

Watch where you’re going! she chimed. They ignored her. This did not surprise Tink: most insects, in her experience, were very stupid.

She resumed flying toward the palace now looming ahead, its towering walls elaborately decorated with mosaic depictions of epic battles. She swooped high over the near wall, unobserved by a guard in the watchtower directly below. The instant she was inside she felt it—an unmistakable flutter in her tiny heart…Peter.

He was here. But where, exactly? The palace complex was enormous—dozens of buildings, hundreds of windows, and many, many rooms. Tink flew across a huge courtyard with two odd-looking, sharp-pointed towers. Ahead, she saw a line of gray doves standing on the peak of a steep-angled tile roof. Birds, at last.

Tink settled next to the doves, who regarded her curiously. Hello, she said.

Hello, said the nearest dove, in a thick accent that Tink barely understood.

I’m looking for a boy, said Tink, speaking slowly. Boy.

The dove studied Tink for a moment, then said, Girl.

I know I’M a girl, said Tink, trying to remain patient. I am looking for a boy. Do you understand? Boy.

The dove turned and consulted the other doves, speaking quickly in sounds Tink could not follow. Then it turned back to Tink.

Girl, it said.

Idiots! said Tink, losing her temper.

Girl, replied the dove.

With a hmph! of contempt, Tink launched herself from the roof and began a circuit of the courtyard, hovering in front of each window so she could look inside. It was slow going, and after only a few dozen windows—all looking into empty rooms—her patience had worn thin. At this rate it would take her all night to…

What was that?

It echoed across the courtyard, coming from well below where she was flying, a screeching sound Tink knew well from the thick, teeming jungles of Mollusk Island.

Monkeys.

Finally, an intelligent creature! Tink tucked her arms in and threw herself into a steep dive—down, down, down into the shadowy courtyard. Just before the ground she leveled off, swooping along a line of barred windows, listening. She thought she felt Peter’s presence closer now, but could not tell precisely where…

There it was again, the screech. She shot to the window from which it had come. Cautiously, she poked her head through the bars, wrinkling her nose at the pungent monkey smell.

Hello, she said in monkey. I’m looking for a boy.

I’m a boy, said a monkey voice. And I’m looking for a banana.

I haven’t got any bananas, said Tink.

Neither have I, said the monkey. That’s why I’m looking for one.

The monkey approached the window; Tink saw that he was quite young. Behind him she saw a dozen or so other monkeys of various ages sprawled around the cell, most of them asleep. The young monkey climbed up to the bars. Who are you? he said.

I’m Tinker Bell. Who are you?

My name is Franklin. You speak monkey quite well for a bird.

I’m not a bird, said Tink, a bit huffily. I’m a bird-woman.

Good, said Franklin. The birds around here are idiots.

Tink, who was of bird ancestry, ordinarily would have defended the species, but in this case she agreed with the criticism. And she needed Franklin’s help. So all she said was, I’m looking for a boy human.

Which one? said Franklin. There are lots of them around here.

Tink’s hopes rose. This one is named Peter.

Franklin frowned, rooted around in his chest fur, extracted a bug, examined it for a moment, then popped it into his mouth. I’ve heard that name, he said, chewing.

When? said Tink. Where?

From the cage that way, said Franklin, pointing. They have humans there.

Thank you! said Tink, turning to go.

Be prepared, said Franklin. They smell awful.

But Tink was already gone, darting along the wall and in through the next barred window, where she found…

Captain Hook!

The pirate lay on the floor, snoring. Tink noticed his hook was gone: in its place was the wrapped stump of his forearm. Tink sneered at Hook defiantly but kept her distance, just in case. She darted through the bars into the next cell, which was a bit larger. On the floor were five sleeping forms wrapped in foul-smelling blankets. Heart pounding, her glow the only light in the cell, Tink darted from one body to the next. The first was James, the second Prentiss.

Of the third, all she could see was the tangled, untamable mass of red hair so familiar to her—the place where, except for these past few horrid days, she had slept every night since she was brought into existence. With a gentle chime, Tink settled onto the unruly mop—knowing that she would soon have to leave and find Leonard, but utterly thrilled that her beloved Peter appeared to be all right, and that she, for at least this moment, was home.