The Smoking Hourglass

by Jennifer Bell

  ‘We can’t,’ Valian said. ‘You remember what Mr Punch told us: it’s our responsibility to keep the bag hidden, no matter what. If the Dirge found it—’

  ‘Evacuation wouldn’t work anyway,’ Granma Sylvie cut in. ‘The pyroaches would overwhelm Mr Punch before everyone was able to escape. It’s him we need to help, only we’ll need some more equipment.’ She patted Ethel’s shoulder. ‘We can’t fight pyroaches without putting out fires.’

  Ethel frowned at Granma Sylvie’s hand. ‘You sound strangely sure of that, Sylv … ’Ave you remembered something?’

  Granma Sylvie’s lips twitched into a smile. ‘It’s all come back, old friend,’ she said, tapping her temple. ‘Everything.’

  Ethel started. ‘What?’ She took a few steps closer. ‘Are you certain?’

  Granma Sylvie exhaled. ‘Oh, will you just come here?’ She threw her arms around Ethel, squeezing tightly.

  The shrill grate of pyroach wings suddenly made the shop walls tremble. Ethel’s face fell. ‘Better catch up later.’

  Granma Sylvie turned to Ivy, Seb and Valian. ‘You three go through the bag first. As soon as you reach the big top, go and find Mr Littlefair and Violet, and stay with them until this is over. Ethel and I will see what we can do to aid Mr Punch.’

  While Granma Sylvie went to help Ethel find an uncommon watering can, Valian lowered his voice. ‘Keep a lookout for Selena. The pyroaches won’t bother her – they only feed on living flesh.’

  Ivy took her yo-yo out of her satchel and stuffed it in her trouser pocket, ready to use. She listened in as Granma Sylvie and Ethel discussed their plans.

  ‘Pyroaches can smell you and see you, but they ’ave poor hearing,’ Ethel was saying.

  Granma Sylvie tucked a plastic spade – just like the ones the castleguards had used to fight the fire at the alehouse – into her belt. ‘Agreed. Staying quiet and hidden is our best line of defence.’

  Ivy took note of their advice. With Selena on their tail, she didn’t know when it might come in handy.

  Granma Sylvie fixed her long hair into a ponytail and smoothed down her blouse. ‘Ready?’ She laid the Sack of Stars on the floor between them all. ‘Good luck, everyone.’

  The air in the big top was humid and filled with panicked conversation. As Ivy got to her feet, she searched for Mr Littlefair and Violet. The majority of the uncommoners sat huddled in the centre of the sandy floor; some were busy constructing a barricade at the entrance using the heaviest of Mr Punch’s chests. Pyroaches still circled the tent, the roar making Ivy shudder.

  As she scanned the injured, her spirits fell. Casualties ranged from singed hair and minor burns to serious wounds. Young children were sobbing, hiding in the folds of their parents’ Hobsmatch.

  Ivy had never seen the traders of Lundinor look so vulnerable and helpless before. Her throat tightened as she glimpsed each anxious face. They were trapped, not only in the tent but in Lundinor itself – a gigantic cave now plagued by flesh-eating monsters.

  At the edge of the tent she spotted Alexander Brewster, his face scratched and bleeding. Violet and Mr Littlefair stood close by in a group of other Gauntlet traders.

  ‘There they are,’ Seb said. The Sack of Stars rustled on the floor behind them as Ethel scrambled out. ‘Let’s go.’

  They made their way across the tent towards Alexander.

  ‘Ivy?’ His eyes were watery. ‘My pa is outside – trapped in a building on the opposite side of the green. He’s got nothing to defend himself with.’

  Seb winced. ‘Isn’t there someone out there who can help?’

  ‘Everyone’s hiding.’ Alexander’s voice sounded resigned. ‘Here – I’ll show you.’

  They weaved their way through to a small section of tent wall that was dotted with golfball-sized holes. ‘They’re big enough to see through but too small to let a pyroach in,’ Alexander explained briefly.

  Ivy pushed her face against the purple canvas and peeked through the gap.

  Outside, the place looked like a deserted movie set. The dark streets were empty and the only flicker of movement came from an orange light that flashed across the ground as the pyroaches patrolled overhead.

  ‘Mr Punch is outside the main entrance,’ Alexander said. ‘My pa is on the right, in the hotel with the stained-glass windows. We’ve been staying there while the alehouse is being repaired.’ He paused. ‘He didn’t want to watch me in the Grivens contest; I think he’s still angry about the fire and that business with the photo frame.’

  Ivy spied Mr Punch in his red-and-black ringmaster’s coat, standing alone on the grass. In his hand was a closed black umbrella, dripping with water. Above his curly orange beard, his face was stiff. A cloud of pyroaches plunged towards him, but Mr Punch merely pointed his umbrella at them and opened it up. A barrage of icicles and raindrops shot out, slicing through the air and spearing pyroaches. The water droplets doused their fire and, weakened, they disappeared down the nearest drain.

  Drummond Brewster was more difficult to spot, but Ivy eventually glimpsed his red face and barrel chest in the window of a three-storey cottage across the green.

  ‘There must be some way to get to him,’ she said, drawing back. ‘Maybe we can distract the pyroaches …’

  As Alexander peered through the hole again, Seb lowered his voice. ‘Ivy, there are too many of them, and we’re their food.’

  ‘Yes, but pyroaches have bad hearing,’ she argued. ‘Perhaps if we’re quiet, we can sneak across without being noticed.’

  Valian chewed the suggestion over. ‘We’d have a better chance if we split up. Seb and I could create a diversion while you and Alexander fetch his dad.’

  After sharing their makeshift plan with Alexander, they found a spot behind a wall of cabinets where no one could see them, and Seb used his drumsticks to blast a hole in the soil under the tent. ‘I’ll fill it in once we’ve crawled through,’ he said. ‘We don’t want the pyroaches getting in.’

  Outside, the roar of the pyroach swarm was ferocious. The four of them dashed over the scorched grass and ducked down behind a smoking tree stump, staying as quiet as they could.

  ‘The pyroaches are just rounding the tent,’ Valian said, pointing. ‘Seb and I will try to lure them down there, away from the big top. That should give you enough time to reach your dad.’

  Alexander nodded. Seb’s knuckles were white as he clutched his drumsticks. ‘Wait here till you’re sure the pyroaches have seen us, Ivy. You don’t want to set off too soon.’

  Ivy hugged him. ‘Be careful.’ She watched as he and Valian raced out from behind the tree stump, sprinting towards a half-melted line of sky stop lockers.

  Ivy turned her attention back to the big top, trying not to think about the danger Valian and Seb were putting themselves in. She tensed when she saw Mr Punch. His face was weary and his appearance flicked between the red-haired ringmaster and the crooked-toothed old man.

  Other uncommoners wouldn’t be able to see the changes, but she understood exactly what it meant: he was getting weaker. If Mr Punch’s umbrella was anything like Ivy’s yo-yo or Seb’s drumsticks, you needed energy and focus to operate it, and Mr Punch’s were rapidly draining away. She didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep it up.

  ‘Mr Punch’s strength is faltering,’ she told Alexander. She thought of the families trapped inside the big top. ‘We have to help him.’

  Alexander blinked. ‘What about my pa?’

  ‘We’ll rescue him afterwards,’ Ivy promised, ‘but there are too many lives at risk in that tent. Mr Punch needs us.’

  ‘No!’ Alexander grabbed her arm. ‘We have to save my pa now. The pyroaches will soon run out of ale and get desperate.’

  Ivy was about to suggest they split up when something tugged at the back of her memory: Ethel had mentioned that no one inside the big top knew about the Dragon’s Breath Ale. ‘How do you know about the ale?’ she asked.

  Alexander’s face twitched. ‘It doesn’t matter.
We need to focus on my pa.’

  Ivy shook his hand off, overcome by an unsettling thought. ‘Alexander … did you have something to do with this?’

  His voice was bitter. ‘It wasn’t meant to happen this way. The vats were set to flood the sewers while I was in the stadium. I thought my pa would be in the East End, not here.’

  Ivy swayed on her feet as she absorbed his complete lack of guilt. ‘You released the pyroaches?’

  ‘My plans have never gone wrong before!’ he said defensively. ‘I make sure I take into account every eventuality – it’s what mixologists do. My pa was never in danger on the other occasions.’

  The other occasions …?

  Ivy went cold as she realized what he meant.

  ‘The smoking hourglass – it was you, wasn’t it? You started the fire at the alehouse. You killed those underguards at the memorial!’ She couldn’t believe he had fooled her into feeling sorry for him. ‘Why?’ she cried. ‘Why would you do that?’

  Alexander squeezed his hands into fists. ‘I only did what I had to do to prove myself worthy! Being invited into the Rasavatum is the greatest accolade a mixologist can receive. I had to prove I was good enough.’

  The Rasavatum … That was why Alexander had used the smoking hourglass – to attract their attention and win their favour.

  ‘I did it for my pa,’ he continued, gritting his teeth. ‘It’s the only way he’ll ever notice me.’ For a moment Ivy felt sorry for him, but then he added, ‘If people have to die, then so what? You have to make sacrifices to become great. I thought Mr Punch would know that and invite me in.’ He scowled. ‘I guess he isn’t the man I thought he was.’

  Ivy stiffened, wondering how Alexander had discovered that Mr Punch was in the Rasavatum. ‘Alexander, listen to me,’ she pleaded. ‘You can stop this before it gets any worse.’ She checked on Mr Punch, who was still floundering. ‘Help me fight the pyroaches.’

  ‘Fight them?’ Alexander jerked his head. ‘Why would I want to fight them?’ He produced something from his apron – a small plastic wand, the kind you used to blow bubbles – and stepped out from behind the tree stump.

  Ivy shot to her feet. ‘No – wait!’ She spied the glow of the pyroach swarm as it skirted the big top, heading towards them.

  But she needn’t have worried. Alexander ran towards the flaming mass holding the bubble wand to his mouth. As the creatures dived towards him, he formed a tiny O with his lips and puffed out his cheeks, blowing.

  A blast of fire shot from the wand, directing the pyroaches away from him. Ivy remained frozen with shock as Alexander leaped onto a smoking tree stump at the mouth of the Gauntlet, opposite Mr Punch. He had a confident look that Ivy had never seen before.

  ‘What do you think of my show?’ he asked, arms outstretched. ‘Is it not good enough for the Rasavatum?’

  Ivy couldn’t believe it – the gentle, meek boy she had first met … it had all been a facade. This was the real Alexander.

  Mr Punch looked horror-struck. ‘You have got it all wrong, Alexander,’ he cried. ‘The Rasavatum brew remedies that rebuild lives; they don’t destroy them like this. You must stop this madness!’

  ‘Madness?’ Alexander snorted. ‘Do you know how many pyroaches there are, surviving in the fiery places on earth? Hundreds of thousands! More than there are uncommoners in this whole stinking undermart; and they are free now because of ME! And the Rasavatum think that is madness?’

  ‘Alexander, listen!’ Mr Punch boomed, his patience clearly at an end. ‘The Rasavatum will never accept you. It’s over!’

  Alexander snarled in fury. He raised the bubble wand to his mouth, and this time an orb of fire the size of a double-decker bus emerged and shot towards the big top.

  ‘No!’ Ivy shouted, running into the open. If that fireball hit, it would burn a hole right through the big top, letting the pyroaches in.

  His expression grim, Mr Punch took hold of his umbrella in both hands and swung it towards the fire like a tennis racket. ‘Gah!’ he cried, his face straining. The gigantic fireball was repelled in a flash of steam. It jetted off towards the cave ceiling, where it soon fizzled away.

  As Mr Punch dropped to his knees, the pyroaches came thundering into sight over his shoulder. Ivy gripped her trusty yo-yo, wondering if she could use it somehow to trap them.

  ‘Hey, bug-brains!’ Valian shouted. ‘Over here!’

  Ivy turned to see him and Seb zooming about on uncommon mops, trying to lure the pyroaches towards the other side of the green. Ivy assumed they’d scavenged the mops from the damaged sky stop. She couldn’t believe Seb had found the courage to ride one on his own.

  ‘Tasty human flesh snack!’ he yelled. ‘Ready to eat!’

  The pyroaches clocked them instantly, and the whole horde turned.

  Ivy sprinted forward, reaching out with her whispering as she headed for Valian and her brother. She could sense the pyroaches approaching fast. ‘Seb!’ she shouted. He did an about-turn and caught her eye. ‘I’m going to try and trap them. Use your drumsticks to keep them contained.’

  Seb saw her yo-yo and nodded, steering his mop down towards the ground, while Valian remained in the air.

  Ivy threw her hand down, charging her yo-yo with power. After a few revolutions she shot it over her shoulder, using her whispering to help find her target. A huge tornado exploded out of it, advancing on the pyroach swarm.

  ‘Stop it!’ Alexander shouted. ‘You’re ruining everything!’ He jumped off his tree stump and marched in Ivy’s direction, bringing his bubble wand to his lips. Behind him, Ivy caught sight of Mr Punch struggling to his knees.

  Alexander took aim at Seb and Valian, and blew a stream of orange fire towards them. Valian sent his mop into a nose-dive, dodging clear of the flames, but on the ground Seb wasn’t fast enough to outrun them.

  Ivy screamed. ‘Seb!’

  The fire was seconds away from engulfing him when a dark-haired figure wearing a pale-pink tutu materialized out of thin air at Seb’s back.

  Judy …?

  She threw herself over Seb as if she was a fire-retardant blanket, forcing him to the ground. The flames coursed around them and then dissipated a hundred metres away, crackling in the grass.

  Ivy ran towards them as Valian landed on his mop. A huge black scorch mark surrounded Judy’s body. Slowly she peeled herself away from Seb. Ivy’s eyes watered with relief to see her brother stirring. Judy’s tutu had been burned to shreds and her roller skates were smoking.

  There was no time for conversation. As Ivy skidded to a halt beside Valian, she sensed the pyroaches approaching and turned just as they collided with her tornado. The impact sent shockwaves through the air. Ivy was driven back across the grass so hard that she left marks in the mud.

  The tornado whirled faster, dragging every pyroach inside it. It spun so rapidly that the creatures lost control and hurtled through the flames, crashing into one another.

  Seb stumbled dazedly to his feet. He caught sight of Judy and then the tornado, and managed to slide his drumsticks free. Steadying himself, he aimed a few beats at the maelstrom, pushing back any pyroach that managed to gather enough momentum to pull free.

  With the creatures temporarily contained, a flurry of people started dashing between buildings, trying to find better shelter. Ivy noticed a shiny-faced Drummond Brewster leave his hiding place and run out onto the green towards Alexander.

  However, Alexander’s attention was elsewhere. Glaring at Ivy, his face flushed with rage and he lifted his bubble wand to his lips.

  Ivy floundered around, looking for an escape. She couldn’t outrun a fireball.

  As Alexander forced air through the wand, Mr Punch charged him from behind. Too late, a flaming sphere the size of a small lorry erupted from the wand and headed not in Ivy’s direction but towards Drummond Brewster.

  Alexander jumped up and down, waving madly. ‘No! Pa! Run!’

  But there was nothing Drummond Brewster could do.

  I
vy looked away as the flames hit. When she turned back, Alexander was running towards a blackened heap on the scorched grass.

  A small group of people spilled out of the big top. Ethel hurried towards Mr Punch, while Granma Sylvie came running up to Ivy and the others.

  ‘The cyclone is dying,’ she cried, waving her hands. ‘Get back inside the tent, all of you. The pyroaches won’t be contained for much longer!’

  Ivy glimpsed the Sack of Stars in her hand and had an idea. ‘Granma, the bag – we can send the pyroaches through it.’

  Granma Sylvie’s eyes gleamed. She hesitated for a moment, then brought the bag to her lips and whispered something into the opening. She sprinted towards the pyroaches, lifting an arm above her head, and flung the bag into the centre of the flames.

  With a great roar, the tornado imploded, gathering in on itself like a dying star. All the pyroaches were dragged inside the bag – but, as they disappeared, the hessian caught fire and was reduced to cinders.

  Ivy sucked in a deep breath as the shock tingled through her.

  The Sack of Stars was gone.

  Granma Sylvie trod on the patch of soot where the bag had once been. ‘Well, that’s ruined one of Amos’s theories. The Great Uncommon Good can be destroyed, obviously.’ She sighed and pulled Ivy and Seb towards her in a hug. ‘Are you two OK?’

  ‘Some of the other traders ’ave gone to free the underguards,’ Ethel said, approaching them.

  Ivy saw a stream of uncommoners cautiously leaving the tent, still clutching each other tightly and glancing around.

  Ethel ruffled a hand through Ivy’s hair. ‘Well done, kid. That move with the yo-yo really got those beasts disorientated. Shame about the bag.’

  Ivy couldn’t believe it. One of the Great Uncommon Good – gone for ever. There were only four left now.

  From over by the big top they heard a cry. Alexander was being wrestled away from Mr Punch. His uncommon bubble wand had been taken off him.

  ‘I’m sorry about your father, Alexander,’ Mr Punch said sincerely. As he bowed his head, Ivy noticed that he was switching between the red-bearded ringmaster and the bespectacled, grey-haired shop assistant.