فصل 35

CHAPTER 35

THE NIGHT CARAVAN

THE BOYS AWAKENED to the sound of the cell door opening. Peter blinked his eyes open and saw at least a dozen guards gathered in the corridor. He looked out the window; it was still night.

“What’s happening?” whispered James.

“I don’t know,” said Peter as several of the guards entered the cell, shouting and gesturing for the boys to stand. One of them kicked the still-sleeping form of Tubby Ted.

“Ow!” he said, then “Ow!” again as the guard yanked him to his feet. “What are they doing? It’s dark out! Wh…OW!”

A clout on the ear silenced Ted, who was herded into the corridor along with the other boys. Peter exchanged concerned glances with Leonard Aster and Bakari, who, awakened by the noise, stood in their cell watching. Hook was also awake; as usual he brooded silently in the shadows of his cell.

The guards organized the boys into a line, then moved them forward to the monkey cell, where they stopped. A guard unlatched the cell door and another guard, looking none too happy, slipped inside the smelly cell, holding a stick with a loop of rope at the end of it. The monkeys screeched and leapt about, avoiding the guard. He seemed to be after a specific one, and with considerable effort, he finally managed to ensnare it, getting the loop around its body and then quickly pulling it taut. He carried the monkey, shrieking and squirming, out of the cell and got it into a cage, which was quickly closed. Two guards picked it up.

The little convoy—boys, guards, and caged monkey—moved forward a few more yards, then stopped again, this time at what appeared to be a locked storage room. Two of the guards went inside and emerged a minute later. Peter gasped when he saw what they were carrying: suits made of golden mesh.

Peter had seen this kind of suit twice before: the first time had been on Mollusk Island, when golden-garbed Starcatchers handled the starstuff that Peter and Molly had managed to rescue from the Others. The second time had been at Stonehenge—Leonard Aster had worn such a suit to protect himself from the same starstuff when he brought it to the Return. Peter knew the suits were for handling starstuff. But for whom? And more important: where?

The guards barked, and the parade started moving again, down the dungeon corridor and then out into the clear desert night. Just as Peter was about to step through the doorway, one of the guards tied a rope around his waist, knotting it tightly, then secured the other end around his own waist. Peter would not be flying anywhere.

The parade crossed the vast, empty courtyard, passing one of the odd-shaped metal towers, its sharp point thrusting toward the star-filled sky. A thought occurred to Peter, and he looked around to confirm it: there had been two such towers. Now one was gone.

But he had no time to ponder that mystery as they were going through a massive gate, and his attention was drawn to the sight awaiting them outside the palace compound. It was a strange caravan. At the front were four horses, each ridden by a soldier with a sword at his side. Behind them was a large open carriage, drawn by two horses. The carriage was opulently decorated, on its floor was a fabulously ornate carpet decorated in gold thread; on this carpet was a throne. And on this throne sat His Majesty King Zarboff the Third. Next to him was the large basket in which he kept his snake, Kundalini.

Behind the king’s carriage was a camel with a sort of platform strapped to its back; on this platform, secured by chains, was a large chest made of wood, with metal hinges and fasteners that gleamed yellow in the starlight. Peter assumed that they were gold and that the chest was lined with gold as well; the chest, he was sure, was designed to hold starstuff.

Behind the camel was a flatbed wagon drawn by four more horses. Most of the wagon bed was taken up by a large cage. The guards shoved the boys toward this cage and made them climb into it. Once Peter, the last to enter, was inside, the guard untied the rope around his waist and padlocked the cage shut. The monkey’s cage was placed on the back of the same wagon, along with the gold suits. The guards formed ranks behind the wagon. Some commands were shouted, and the caravan began moving.

The only sound on the deserted streets of Maknar was the clopping of horses hooves and the rumbling of wagon wheels. The boys stared out through their cage bars, watching the city give way to the open desert. Peter recognized the road; he’d been on it before. He kept his eyes trained forward, and after a short while he saw it—the pointed ears and massive head of the Jackal. Squinting, he saw another shape rising in the starry sky, perhaps a hundred yards beyond the Jackal—a sleek, sharp-pointed shape. He stared until he was sure of what it was—the tower that had stood with its twin in the palace courtyard. How had it been brought here? Peter wondered. And why?

The caravan reached the mouth of the Jackal and stopped. The boys stared fearfully into the gaping darkness between the huge teeth; the guards avoided looking at it. They waited several minutes, and then out of the blackness of the Jackal’s mouth came the even blacker form of Ombra. The horses snorted and danced uneasily; the monkey whimpered and cowered in its cage. Ombra glided silently to the front of the caravan and slithered into the royal carriage with Zarboff. The king waved his hand, and the caravan moved again, covering the short remaining distance to the place where the needle-shaped iron tower rose into the sky.

At the base of the tower were a dozen or so figures working by the light of lanterns hanging from poles in the sand. Among the figures, Peter recognized Slightly and the other slave boys.

“Keep the powder away from the lanterns!” a man shouted in heavily accented English. “Away from the lanterns!”

Beyond the tower, Peter saw three huge wagons hitched together into a train; these in turn were hitched to a team of eight horses. This, Peter realized, was how the tower had been hauled out here; he still had no idea why.

The caravan stopped. The guards unlocked the cage and gestured for Peter—and only Peter—to get out. As he climbed through the cage door, two of the guards grabbed his arms and lifted him out, gripping him painfully hard. He felt the desert air grow colder and turned to see Ombra gliding up with Zarboff trailing behind, and behind him two guards straining under the weight of the basket containing the king’s enormous snake.

Ombra stopped in front of Peter. “We will need your powers of flight,” he groaned. “So we are going to order the guards to release you. You will do exactly as we say. You will not attempt to escape.”

Zarboff stepped forward. “If you in any way disobey us, if for any reason you fail to return, I will put Kundalini into the cage with your friends.” He beckoned to the men carrying the basket. They set it on the sand next to the cage. As the boys stared in horror, Zarboff whistled his odd tune, and the massive head of Kundalini rose from the basket, its tongue flicking out as if tasting something.

“It would take him some time to eat them all,” Zarboff said. “I don’t know which would be worse—to be the first meal, or the last.” He laughed, enjoying the effect his words had on the boys in the cage, who, except for James, were now sobbing.

“Stop,” Peter said to Zarboff. This clearly surprised the king, who was unused to taking orders from anyone, let alone a boy. “I promise I won’t try to escape.”

Zarboff, angry, was about to say something about Peter’s tone, but Ombra cut him off.

“The boy understands the situation,” he groaned. “Come.”

Zarboff closed his mouth, but his expression told Peter that their discussion was not over.

They walked toward the tower, the guards following, carrying the monkey cage. As they drew close, Peter saw that the tower was standing next to wooden scaffolding, which went about two thirds of the way up. On the scaffolding were winches attached to ropes and pulleys, like a ship’s rigging. Clearly, this was how the tower had been raised upright. Peter saw that four large, rectangular metal plates had been attached to the base of the tower on what looked like hinges. There was a large opening between two of these plates. Slightly and the other slave boys were carrying buckets from a wagon to this opening. One by one, each boy dumped the contents of his bucket into the hole and then went back to the wagon for more.

Supervising this activity was a man with a high-pitched voice, shouting orders in an accent unfamiliar to Peter. The man was tall and very thin; he had white hair that stood out from his head like a cloud. His deep-set eyes, hidden by shadow, looked like holes drilled into his skull.

“Where is Albert?” he said, as Peter and the others approached. “Did you bring Albert?” If the man was in any way intimidated by Ombra or Zarboff, his voice did not betray it. “Ah!” he said, catching sight of the caged monkey. “Albert! Good! And this must be the flying boy.” He leaned close, studying Peter with a gaze so intense it made Peter look down. “It’s Peter, yes?”

Peter nodded.

“I am Doctor Viktor Glotz,” said the man. “You are going to find the starstuff Fall for us.”

“But…I don’t know how,” said Peter.

“I will tell you,” said Glotz. He pointed to the metal tower. “This,” he said proudly, “is a rocket. Do you know what a rocket is?”

Peter looked doubtfully at the tower. “Like fireworks?” he said.

Glotz snorted. “Fireworks,” he said, “are children’s playthings. They reach an altitude of a few hundred feet at most. This rocket, my rocket, can go, will go, high above Earth. Higher than the highest clouds.”

Peter looked even more doubtful, his eyes sweeping up the tall, obviously heavy tower.

“You do not believe me?” said Glotz, his voice getting louder. “You think it is impossible? That is what they said in Russia. They said Viktor Glotz was a madman. Fools! They will see! They will see who is a fool! They—”

“Dr. Glotz,” interrupted Ombra. “I presume your preparations are complete.”

“We are on schedule,” said Glotz, calming down. “We will launch”—he pulled out a pocket watch, squinting at it by the lantern light—“in two hours and twenty-six minutes, a few minutes before dawn.”

“And you’re certain it cannot be sooner?” said Ombra. “It cannot take place in darkness?”

“No,” said Glotz. “I have calculated and recalculated. If we want the Fall to occur near here, we must do it exactly according to the schedule. Otherwise, I can’t say where the starstuff will come down. It could be in Scotland again.”

Peter listened openmouthed. “You made that happen?” he blurted out. “You made the starstuff fall in Scotland?”

Glotz smiled. “Yes,” he said. “I made it fall in Scotland. And in a few hours, I will make it fall here.”

“But I thought…” said Peter, “I mean, the Starcatchers said nobody knew when, or where, or…”

“The Starcatchers,” said Glotz, his voice dripping contempt, “are fools. They have never understood what they were dealing with. For centuries they had access to power, unimaginable power, the power of the universe itself. And what did they do with it? They sent it back! They gave it away. Well, they had their opportunity, and now I have mine.” Glotz glanced at Ombra and Zarboff, then corrected himself: “I mean, we have ours. And we will not waste the opportunity.”

“What will you do with the starstuff?” said Peter.

Glotz smiled and said, “We will use it to get more.” Seeing Peter’s puzzled look, he pointed to the tower. “This rocket,” he said, “will carry a small amount of starstuff into the sky. You can see it up there, near the top.”

Peter looked up and saw that just below the place where the rocket began to taper to a point, there was a seam in the metal; light was shining through the seam, the yellow-gold light of starstuff.

“It is all we have left,” said Glotz. “And it is not much. But my calculations show that it will serve its purpose. Two purposes, actually. One, it will lift the rocket, with help from the fuel these boys are putting in it now.” He pointed to Slightly and the others, still methodically dumping their buckets into the opening.

“Then,” continued Glotz, “when the rocket reaches maximum altitude, Albert”—Glotz pointed to the monkey cage—“will pull the lever that opens the hatch, releasing the starstuff into the sky. That will cause a disruption. And that, in turn, will cause more starstuff to fall. Quite a large amount of starstuff, if my calculations are correct. And I am quite sure they are.” Glotz beamed, pleased with his genius.

Peter frowned. “Albert? The monkey will open the hatch?”

“Yes,” said Glotz, still beaming. “And he will steer the rocket! I have trained him both to navigate and operate the controls. We tried using humans, but they were unreliable.”

“What happens to the monkey after the starstuff is released?” said Peter.

Glotz waved his hand.

“We have more monkeys,” he said.

“But what—” Peter began.

“Enough,” interrupted the low wheeze of Ombra. “Dr. Glotz, you will complete your preparations. There must be no problems.”

“There will not be, Lord Ombra,” said Glotz. “I assure you of that.” He turned to Peter. “When we finish preparing the rocket,” he said, “I will give you your instructions.”

The remaining preparations took the better part of two hours. Under Glotz’s watchful eye, Slightly and the other slave boys finished loading the fuel. Next Glotz climbed the wooden scaffold with two of the boys. Using a winch, they hauled the cage containing Albert the monkey up to a platform next to a small hatchway near the top of the rocket, above the glowing starstuff. Glotz put the monkey inside, closed the hatch, then descended with the boys.

The soldiers then attached ropes to the scaffolding and used horses to drag it away from the rocket, which now stood alone. When they were finished, Glotz called, “Get the fuse!”

Slightly and the boy called Tootles went to the fuel wagon and returned carrying a coil of what looked like black rope. Glotz took this to the base of the rocket and carefully inserted one end into a small hole. Then he backed away, uncoiling the fuse, cutting it at a length of ten feet. Meanwhile, the soldiers moved all of the animals and wagons behind a sand dune. Peter stood near the cage that held his friends. None of the boys spoke.

The first faint hints of pink were now appearing in the eastern sky. Ombra conferred briefly with Glotz and Zarboff, then glided off in the direction of the Jackal. Peter knew he would not let daylight catch him outdoors. When he was gone, Glotz beckoned Peter over.

“In two minutes,” he said, “I will light the fuse. When I do, things will happen quickly, so you must be ready. The rocket will ascend. You will see bright lights in the sky. Then the disruption will occur, and the starstuff will fall. I do not know exactly where, but it will be close, within fifteen miles. You must fly to it, confirm the location, and return here immediately with directions, so we can retrieve it. Do you understand?”

“But how will I find it?” Peter said. “How will I know where it is?”

“You will know,” said Glotz, “just as your parents knew.”

Peter, stunned, took a staggering step back. “You knew my parents?” he said.

“Of course,” said Glotz. “They were here in Rundoon for years. You didn’t know that?”

“Where are they now?” said Peter. “Are they still alive?”

Glotz waved his hand dismissively, exactly as he had when talking about the monkeys.

“There is no time for talking,” he said. “It is almost time to light the fuse.”

Peter, his mind swirling with questions, watched as Glotz, with his pocket watch in one hand and a match in the other, squatted on the sand next to the fuse. He said something to himself in a strange-sounding language. Then he struck the match and touched it to the fuse. It flared to life, sending out a shower of sparks that crept toward the waiting rocket.

Glotz walked quickly away from the rocket, to where Peter was standing.

“Now, boy,” he said to Peter, “it is up to you.”