She reached her sister. ‘Luna,’ she breathed into her ear.
Luna did not stop singing. Stella reached out and grasped her hand. It was very cold. Luna gave a little gasp, stopped singing and opened her eyes.
‘Shhh. It’s me,’ breathed Stella. ‘I came to rescue you.’
‘Stella.’ Luna’s fingers gripped tightly.
‘Come on,’ whispered Stella.
‘I can’t go,’ whispered Luna. ‘If I stop singing, he wakes up. And if he’s hungry . . .’
The King of the Mountain shifted and opened an eye. It was black and gleaming, like a stagnant pool.
Stella dropped to the floor and crouched in the shadows. She held her breath, her heart thumping in her ears, and watched as the giant’s mouth opened, like a crack in a boulder. Pointed teeth glinted. He made a threatening, rumbling sound.
With a gasp, Luna started singing again. Stella waited. The giant’s eye closed. After a moment, his head slumped forward. He began to snore.
How could they escape? They could not hope to run. The young man looked too pale and ill, and surely the giant would catch them easily in two strides.
The air was thick. The creeping mist curled through the darkness. Stella shook her head. Her thoughts seemed to be slower than usual. With a jerk, she forced her eyes open. She needed to stay awake and think clearly. What could she do?
As soon as Luna stopped singing, the King of the Mountain would wake up.
It was impossible.
Then Stella remembered the musical box.
She pulled it out, opened it and took out all the things — the little doll, the owl feather, the photograph of her family and the tiny strip of paper — and pushed them into her pocket. She fitted the key into the little hole and wound it round and round.
Luna was watching. She nodded.
Stella turned the key as far as it would go. She touched the silver letters of her mother’s name, Patience, and the little silver moon and star. Then she looked at Luna and opened the musical box.
Tinkling notes poured out, echoing around the huge space, filling the air.
Luna stopped singing.
They watched the King of the Mountain. Stella held her breath. He did not move.
Luna gently took the harp from the harpist and laid it silently down. Stella put the open musical box on the floor beside it. They each took one of the harpist’s hands.
‘Come on,’ breathed Stella.
Together, they crept from the room, picking their way carefully between the bones. The harpist stumbled along between them, his eyes closed. They tiptoed through the door and along the length of the crystal room, then through the passageways, towards the stairs.
Stella looked over her shoulder. Nothing followed them.
They reached the stairs.
Behind them, the musical box played on.
Stella and Luna began to climb, supporting the harpist between them. One step and then the next. Up and up.
Below, faintly, they could hear the musical box playing.
They climbed on, past archways and columns. Something flapped and snickered. Stella held her breath.
Far below, the musical box began to slow down.
They climbed as fast as they could, up and up.
The musical box slowed, and slowed some more.
They heard one tinkling note. Another note. Like two drops of water falling. And then there was silence.
Stella could hear their footsteps on the stairs.
And her own heart beating.
A long moment passed.
Then, far below, a roar rumbled like thunder.
Footsteps echoed, making the ground shake.
The King of the Mountain was awake.
Twenty-Three
Stella and Luna scrambled up the stairs as fast as they could, pulling the harpist along between them.
‘Hurry!’ gasped Stella. She put her arm around the thin, pale man. He leaned against her, his head lolling.
Heavy footsteps shook the ground. The King of the Mountain roared. It sounded like a train rushing into a tunnel.
They climbed up and up, gasping for breath. They staggered towards the final stairs. The huge doors were in sight. Lantern light gleamed.
Ottilie was standing in the open doorway. She beckoned. ‘Quick!’ she shouted.
Shadowy creatures leaped and flapped through the darkness, snickering and screeching.
The fetch swooped down with a howl. Long fingers clawed at Stella’s hair, grasping her neck. She shrieked and struggled free. She pushed Luna and the harpist towards the doors.
The King of the Mountain reached the top of the stairs. He towered above them, impossibly tall. He roared. His huge hand swept down and snatched Stella up into the air. His mouth opened. It was like a cave. Rows of pointed teeth glinted like shards of ice. His cold breath reeked of dead things. Stella screamed and struggled.
Suddenly, there was a bloodthirsty yell from below.
The giant lurched and dropped Stella. She fell to the ground.
A figure stood over her and waved two swords, one in each hand. ‘Stella!’ It was Agapanthus. She wore a large iron helmet with a red feather. The fetch dived, howling. Agapanthus slashed one of the swords at it, making it screech and dart away. She flung the other sword at the King of the Mountain, grabbed Stella’s hand and pulled her to her feet.
‘Quick!’ shouted Joe. He also wore a helmet and wielded a huge axe with both hands. He lunged at the King of the Mountain’s feet with a yell. The giant stamped and roared. Joe darted away, turned and swung the axe again.
All around, the shadowy creatures chittered and howled.
Agapanthus dragged Stella through the doors. Luna was there, holding on to the harpist. She gasped in relief and clutched Stella’s arm.
Agapanthus screeched, ‘Joe!’ She waved her sword over her head. ‘Quick!’
Joe threw the axe at the giant, then turned and sprinted to the doors. He flung himself through.
The pale people from underground were standing ready. They put their shoulders to the doors and heaved. The huge doors moved, creaking, and slammed shut with an echoing clang. Ottilie and her mother stepped forward, put their hands on the doors and closed their eyes. There was a deep thud as the ancient lock fell into place.
From the other side, something crashed against the doors, making them shake. There was a thunderous roar. Rocks began to fall.
‘Run!’ shrieked Agapanthus and Joe together. Everyone dashed along the tunnel through the falling rubble. Stella gasped for breath, jostled by the crowd, stumbling over fallen stones. They raced out of the tunnel. With a tremendous crash, it collapsed behind them.
The earth shuddered. Rocks rolled down the slopes of the excavation. One of the huge brick pillars shifted, toppled and collapsed. Great slabs of brickwork and rocks and dirt plummeted down. Stella and Luna scrambled over fallen debris, clambering upwards, dragging the harpist between them. They pulled themselves up and up, scraping their hands and their legs.
Dim light filtered down from overhead. The air was full of dust. They struggled on, climbing over the rubble. At last, Stella glimpsed the sky. She scrambled up into the cold air. She pulled Luna with her, and they hauled up the harpist together.
Stella took a breath, staggered a couple of steps, and then collapsed.
‘Stella!’
She sneezed.
‘Stella! Are you all right?’ It was Joe’s voice. Stella opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, turning the clouds red and orange. She sat up and looked around.
She was in the middle of Museum Square. Beside her were Luna and the harpist. They looked dusty and bewildered. The pale people who had been underground were coughing and gasping and gazing up at the sky. Ottilie was standing nearby, smiling, with her arms wrapped tightly around her mother.
Agapanthus and Joe stood side by side, looking down at Stella and grinning. Joe pulled off his helmet and wiped the back of his hand acro
ss his forehead. ‘That was somethin’, weren’t it?’ he said. ‘Asparagus and me came to save you.’
‘We went up into the museum to get weapons,’ said Agapanthus. ‘Then we waited for ages for the Gabbro brothers to fall asleep. We were going to sneak up on them, bash them on the heads and tie them up. That was our plan. But then there was all this roaring and shouting coming from the tunnel, and the Gabbro brothers got scared, and they ran away. So we came in to rescue you.’
‘You were just in time,’ said Stella. ‘Thank you.’ She looked up at the sky. ‘It’s evening already.’
‘You were down there for hours. Didn’t you know?’
Stella shook her head in confusion.
‘Time goes different down there,’ whispered Luna.
‘This is my sister, Luna,’ said Stella. She reached out and took Luna’s hand. Their fingers twined together. ‘She was underground.’
Luna smiled shyly. She was shimmering a bit, half-invisible.
‘She’s exactly like you,’ said Agapanthus, looking from one to the other.
‘Except you can see right through her,’ said Joe, grinning. ‘That’s somethin’, that is.’
‘It’s utterly extraordinary,’ said Agapanthus.
Luna appeared properly. ‘I’m not used to bein’ seen. But I can do it, easy enough,’ she said.
‘She was down there for ages, singing for the King of the Mountain,’ explained Stella.
‘I had to keep singing. When I stopped, he woke up, and if he was hungry, he ate someone,’ said Luna. She shivered. ‘The fetch brought them from the dungeon, or from outside, and he just swallowed them right down. It was awful.’
‘He ate Mr Garnet, I think,’ said Stella. ‘I saw his goggles and his glove.’
Luna nodded.
‘Serves him right,’ said Agapanthus, frowning.
‘Yes,’ said Ottilie, sounding unexpectedly fierce. ‘He really was horrible.’
Stella turned to the harpist. ‘And this is —’ She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. She was sure she knew him. She was sure she had seen him before.
‘I reckon he’s our father,’ said Luna.
The harpist gave a weak, three-cornered smile. ‘No. You’re babies. Surely.’ He reached out and took Stella’s other hand. His fingers were thin and cold, but they gripped tightly, as if they would never let go. His voice was a whisper. ‘I can see it. You look just like your mother. You both do.’
‘I thought so,’ said Luna. ‘He’s been playin’ that harp down there, all this time. He’s been playin’ for ten years. He’s been keepin’ us safe.’
Twenty-Four
In the middle of Museum Square, where the Memorial Fountain had stood, was an enormous hole full of rubble. Water was seeping up from below, trickling across the cobblestones. Official-looking men in top hats, several policemen and a large number of curious onlookers arrived and stood around, talking and pointing and looking astonished.
The crowd grew. People stared at the thin, pale people who had come up from underground. An old woman suddenly gave a gasp, stumbled forward and embraced a young man. She held him close, crying. Another man knelt down and hugged a young girl. People were recognising their long-lost friends and family.
A large, smartly dressed gentleman in a silk top hat hurried through the crowd. He gave a loud laugh when he saw the old gentleman in the velvet coat, then burst into tears and pulled out a large handkerchief. He blew his nose with a sound like a trumpet.
An elderly man came briskly across the square. It was Mr Cornelius, with Nicholas the jackdaw perched on top of his hat. He stood and stared at the harpist for a moment. Then he said in a choking voice, ‘Finn. My boy. At last.’ The harpist stood up shakily, and Mr Cornelius stepped forward, put his arms around him and held him tight. ‘I waited for you,’ he said. He looked into his face and hugged him again.
The harpist said in a croaky whisper, ‘Grandfather, these are my children.’
‘Your children!’ Mr Cornelius turned to Stella. ‘When you came to see me, I felt something, but I was not sure. I’ve been hoping for so long, you see. And you found him. Thank you.’ He wiped a tear from his face and smiled. ‘Goodness. This is not like me at all. Well, my dears, I’m your grandfather. Your great-grandfather, rather.’ He reached out a hand each to Stella and Luna. On his hat, Nicholas flapped his wings and cackled.
The square was full of happy groups, and more people were hurrying in from the streets around to join them. The large gentleman was roaring with laughter. He gave a handful of coins to some boys, and they went scurrying away, coming back with bottles of lemonade and beer, and a fruit cake that was so large it took three of them to carry it.
Stella sat on the steps of the museum with Luna and Agapanthus and Joe, and her father and great-grandfather. Ottilie and her mother sat arm in arm, smiling.
Liza and Will arrived. Midnight the cat was riding on Liza’s shoulders, and the two little girls trotted along behind her.
‘Lize!’ said Joe, standing up and taking her hand.
‘Joe!’ She hugged him. ‘You’re safe. I was that worried. You were gone for hours. I thought somethin’ had happened to you.’
‘I’m prime,’ said Joe. ‘We went down underground.’ He guided Liza to the steps. ‘Sit here, next to Stella.’
‘Look at your cat,’ Liza said to Stella, smiling and stroking Midnight’s tail. ‘He digs his claws in when I’m about to walk into something, and he hisses at people to make ’em get out of the way.’
‘He’s your cat now,’ said Stella. ‘He knows he is.’
‘He fair bit a gentleman right on the nose, so he did, when he got too close,’ said Will, grinning.
From Liza’s shoulder, Midnight purred and eyed Nicholas in an interested manner.
Someone came past with a tray, handing out cake and bottles of lemonade.
Stella looked at the man she now knew was her father. He was sitting with his eyes closed and his pale face tilted towards the night sky. She studied the lines of his face. He looked thin and tired, but he was smiling.
Joe and Will went away and came back a bit later with an armful of blankets and a large newspaper parcel full of fried fish. They all ate the fish and watched the crowd growing. People were laughing and crying and talking. A hurdy-gurdy began to play, and little groups started to dance. Someone set off a firework, and it shot up into the sky with a bang and a whistle and a shower of coloured sparks. The crowd cheered.
Stella realised she was still wearing Liza’s coat. She began to take it off, but then remembered all the things in the pockets. She took out the little photograph and the wooden doll, the owl feather and the tiny strip of paper.
‘Look.’ She passed the owl feather to Luna and the photograph to their father.
In the other pocket of the coat, she found the pebbles she had picked up underground. She was about to fling them away when she saw how they glittered in the evening light. Red and green, sparkling like coloured flames.
‘Look at these!’ she gasped.
‘They’re flippin’ jewels!’ said Joe. ‘Rubies and emeralds.’
‘The size of culver eggs,’ said Luna.
There were eight of them. Stella turned them over and watched them sparkle.
‘Cor,’ said Will.
Stella smiled. She gave one of the jewels to Agapanthus and one to Ottilie. ‘To remember us,’ she said.
‘Fat walruses forever,’ said Agapanthus.
Ottilie laughed. ‘Thank you.’
Stella gave one each to Joe and Liza. She gave one to Will, who grinned, and one each to the two little girls. They looked at her with wide eyes.
‘Are you sure, Stella?’ Joe asked.
She nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘We’re rich. Look at this, Lize. We’re flippin’ rich, so we are. As rich as lords and ladies.’
There was one jewel left. ‘We can share it,’ Stella said to Luna.
Luna nodded. She was stroking t
he owl feather with her fingertip.
Stella sat back down beside her. ‘What happened to Mrs Spindleweed?’ she whispered.
‘She died,’ said Luna sadly. ‘The fetch came for me, and she tried to stop it. She fought it. She tried to save me. She was very brave. But she died.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
A tear trickled down Luna’s face, and she wiped it away with a corner of the blanket. ‘No crying, Tick. That’s what she said to me at the end. No crying.’
‘I saw it in my dream,’ said Stella.
‘I dreamed about you too.’
Stella took Luna’s hand. Their fingers twined together.
Their father was gazing at the photograph of their mother and the two babies. ‘This is how I remember her,’ he whispered, almost to himself. ‘I was playing the harp in the street, not far from here, and I saw her walk past with the other schoolgirls, and our eyes met. We fell in love. As easy as that.’ He smiled. ‘We were both eighteen. She was nearly finished with school. One night, she climbed out of the window, and we ran away together. We were so happy. We were going to see the world.’ He touched her face in the photograph with his finger. ‘But her family found us. Her sisters did not approve. And they took her away and hid her.’
Stella nodded. The Aunts would never have allowed their younger sister to run away with a street musician, however brave and good. They would have been horrified. Miss Garnet had written Run away with an Unacceptable Person under their mother’s image in the album. No wonder she had been expelled.
Her father went on, in a whisper, ‘I was desperate. I did not know where she was. I searched for months and months. And when I found her, I learned that she had two babies. Twins. Our children. I managed to send a message.’
‘Midnight. Crossroads. I will wait,’ said Stella. She unfolded the scrap of paper and showed him. ‘Look.’
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