The Smoking Hourglass

by Jennifer Bell

  ‘Get off me!’ Alexander roared, struggling to break free. ‘This is all your fault!’ Then he pointed to Ivy and Seb. ‘And yours. You did this. All of you. You killed my pa!’

  There was so much pain in his voice. After everything he’d done, Ivy still felt sorry for him.

  Valian and Judy came running across the grass. The crowd emerging from the big top fell silent. Ivy noticed it parting, and into the gap strode …

  ‘Selena.’ A chill went down Ivy’s spine.

  ‘Stay close,’ Granma Sylvie said. ‘This isn’t over yet.’

  ‘Traders of Lundinor!’ Selena called, her voice as majestic as always. ‘I’m afraid I have some troubling news.’ She moved in a circle, catching the gaze of every trader. Her grey dress rippled like water. ‘This boy is not the true criminal among us, nor the true mastermind behind the pyroach attack.’ She swept towards Alexander and laid a hand on his shoulder. The burly gentleman who had been restraining him simply let go.

  Alexander looked as if he didn’t know whether he should make a run for it or wait to see if Selena revealed any more. He hesitated …

  ‘No need to fear, Alexander,’ Selena told him quietly. ‘Just cooperate and we can reveal who is really behind this.’

  Ivy studied her closely. There was a stiffness to her movements, as if she was trying very hard to remain calm.

  ‘Many of you may have noticed that I left the stadium earlier than planned,’ Selena continued, raising her voice. ‘This was because, shortly before the Grivens contest began, I received new evidence relating to a theft that I suffered many years ago. A powerful uncommon object was stolen from me; an item that would be dangerous in the wrong hands.’

  Amos’s journal, Ivy thought. That was what Selena was referring to. She considered the information it contained – all the secrets Amos had discovered about the Dirge and Selena’s involvement with them. Perhaps it wasn’t Amos Stirling whom Selena wanted destroyed in those archive photos; perhaps it was his journal.

  ‘I tracked down the object,’ Selena continued, ‘and found the thief.’ Her head snapped round and she pointed a bony, gloved finger at Ivy. ‘It was none other than your Grivens champion, Ivy Sparrow!’

  People started murmuring. Ivy saw frowning faces and shaking heads. A few were counting on fingers, trying to work out if Ivy was even old enough to be Selena’s thief. Alexander gave a smug smile but remained silent.

  Ivy folded her arms. Seb shifted his weight beside her, about to step to her defence …

  But someone much more unexpected got there first.

  ‘Lady Grimes!’ a voice called – so cold and sharp it sliced through the air. The throng parted for Inspector Smokehart. His uniform was shredded and scorched, and ash dusted his slick black hair. ‘Is this the item you’re referring to?’ In his gloved hand he was shaking Amos’s journal.

  Ivy nudged Granma Sylvie. ‘That’s where you sent it in the Sack of Stars? To Smokehart?’

  A wicked smile crept onto Granma Sylvie’s lips.

  ‘Inspector – that’s it!’ Selena cried, marching towards him. She reached for the journal, but Smokehart quickly withdrew it.

  ‘I’ve just conducted a very interesting interview with Jack-in-the-Green,’ he said. ‘He told us that he is an employee of yours.’

  Smokehart must have been questioning Jack-in-the-Green since his arrest at the Grivens contest. Their arrangement can’t have been that solid if he was willing to expose Selena.

  She laughed. ‘Jack-in-the-Green? Have you quite lost your senses, Inspector?’

  Smokehart rapped his fingers on the journal. ‘And then there was this notebook that appeared in my hands. We have a resident forensic mixologist expert at the station. He only managed to decipher a few pages, but that was all I needed.’

  Selena’s face twitched. She reached for the journal again. This time Smokehart grabbed her wrist with his free hand and tugged off her glove.

  The crowd gasped. The skin on Selena’s hand was yellow with pus and writhing with maggots.

  ‘All. These. Years,’ Smokehart growled, his dark glasses fixed on her rotting fingers. ‘Every order you gave me, every decision you made … You were never working for the uncommoners of Lundinor, were you? You were never working on the side of the law.’

  All the traders fell utterly silent. Ivy beamed at Granma Sylvie. She must have known that sending Smokehart the journal would have been enough to put Selena’s true allegiance in doubt.

  ‘Inspector, are you quite well? You’re not making sense.’ Selena looked over his shoulder at the troop of underguards. ‘Guards! Escort the inspector to the infirmary immediately; I fear he may be suffering from the pyroach attack.’

  She made another dive for Amos’s journal, but Smokehart threw the notebook to the nearest officer, who neatly caught it and stood there waiting. None of the other underguards moved. Smokehart drew his toilet brush from beneath his cloak. ‘Lady Selena Grimes, I’m arresting you for being a member of a banned guild, and for perpetrating murder, corruption and the betrayal of your fellow uncommoners in the service of that guild. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used against you in a court of GUT law.’

  Selena leaped back, her body tensed, as if she was about to pounce. She slid her ebony cane out of the folds of her silk dress and jabbed it in Smokehart’s direction, sending thorns splaying through the air towards him. He parried the strike with his toilet brush, frying the plants with charged blasts.

  Amid the commotion Ivy spotted Alexander slipping away.

  ‘He’s escaping!’ she shouted, but the fight between Selena and Smokehart had everyone rapt, and no one listened.

  Seb went up on tiptoe to peer over people’s hats. ‘That way …’ He grabbed the sleeve of Ivy’s tunic and pulled her through the crowd onto the Gauntlet. Alexander had disappeared behind a hedgerow, along with someone in a long black cloak. Ivy and Seb crept after them and stopped at the corner of a cottage. Alexander and the stranger were talking.

  ‘You have proved beyond any doubt that you are capable of great things,’ the stranger said in a hoarse voice. ‘The Rasavatum are fools not to accept you.’

  There was a sigh before Alexander replied, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘The Rasavatum are quite brilliant,’ the stranger replied. ‘But they will never be great. There is only one truly great guild.’ The back of Ivy’s neck prickled; that hoarse voice sounded strangely familiar.

  ‘You’re from … the Dirge?’ Alexander asked.

  Amos’s lightprint. That’s where Ivy had heard the voice before. The speaker was the same Monkshood she’d listened to in 1967.

  ‘A boy like you could easily win a place with us someday,’ Monkshood said. ‘You have already demonstrated rare talents, and now, I believe, you have something that could prove even more valuable.’

  ‘The journal,’ Alexander said gruffly. ‘You want me to tell you what I read inside it, don’t you?’

  Ivy covered her mouth. Alexander hadn’t hidden Amos’s journal to protect her at all – he’d taken it to read what was inside. His curiosity had probably been pricked when he saw the smoking hourglass.

  A loud boom shook the air. Ivy saw a flash of blue light over by the big top. ‘Granma Sylvie and Valian …’ She turned to leave, but then listened for Alexander and Monkshood again; they had disappeared. ‘Let’s go,’ she said urgently.

  Seb hesitated for only a moment before sprinting back through the crowd and skidding to a halt on the other side.

  Selena was holding Valian round the chest, her uncommon cane pointing at his neck. Its thorny brambles tightened around his throat. ‘Stay back,’ she spat, her voice full of venom. ‘Let me through.’ As she edged towards the Gauntlet, people hurried out of her path.

  Ivy tried to catch Valian’s eye, but there were too many people around.

  Smokehart, his uncommon toilet brush sparking in his hands, stepped towards Selena carefully. ‘There is nowhere to go, Lady
Grimes. No walls to walk through here. It’s just a one-way ticket to a ghoul hole for you.’

  ‘Never!’ Selena screamed, jerking the cane.

  Valian tensed. Ivy could see blood dripping down his neck.

  Mr Punch stepped forward. ‘There is another solution to this, Inspector,’ he said wearily, inching towards Selena. ‘One where no one gets hurt …’ His blue-green eyes picked out Ivy; she wondered what he was going to do. From under his ringmaster’s coat he produced a chestnut-brown violin. Ivy could sense it was uncommon.

  She listened closely. The voice inside the violin was screaming and sobbing in alternate beats – just like the voice that floated inside Selena. They sounded as if they were crying out to each other, as if they desperately wanted to be reunited, like two halves of the same coin.

  It was the violin – the one Selena had given Monkshood in 1967. It contained the other half of her soul.

  Mr Punch took a deep sigh. ‘Be at peace, Selena Grimes.’ He gently tossed the violin at her; it tumbled through the air, then suddenly sped towards her like an arrow. Both she and the violin exploded in a burst of light.

  As Ivy shielded her eyes from the blast, she sensed a voice dancing at the edge of her hearing. She couldn’t be sure, but she felt – just for a second – that the voice belonged to Selena, a complete Selena.

  The steps of the Great Cavern Memorial were covered with bunches of daffodils. Ivy saw uncommon ribbons writing messages of condolence through the blooms. Some of them spoke of the tragic loss of Drummond Brewster or the casualties of the pyroach attack, while others commemorated past victims of the Dirge.

  Ivy shivered. Up until a few days ago she’d never seen anyone die. Now, she’d witnessed not only Drummond Brewster’s passing but also the Departure of Selena Grimes.

  ‘They got the graffiti off, then,’ Seb said, staring at the empty space which had only recently been covered in garish purple paint.

  Ivy assumed Mr Punch had had something to do with it. If anyone was able to undo Alexander Brewster’s handiwork, it would be a member of the Rasavatum.

  Valian scanned the shell-shocked faces of the traders. People were muttering, their arms around each other’s shoulders. ‘Everyone feels guilty that they didn’t realize who Selena Grimes really was, that they let her control them for so long.’

  Ivy sighed in understanding. She still couldn’t believe the scale of Alexander’s deception; she was angry with herself for not seeing through it earlier. ‘What do you think everyone will do now?’

  ‘After the clean-up I suppose they’ll elect a new quartermaster for the Dead End,’ Valian said, ‘and things will return to normal.’

  ‘But the rest of the Dirge are still out there,’ Seb pointed out. ‘We’ve thwarted their plans twice now – they’re gonna be angrier and more dangerous than ever.’

  Ivy had a sinking feeling Seb was right, though she wasn’t sure what the three of them could do about it. With the Sack of Stars destroyed, they had no way to spy on the Dirge, and she and Seb were to return to school next week anyway.

  ‘I don’t think their numbers have reduced as much as we think they have,’ Valian said. ‘It was in all the papers this morning: a crooked sixpence appeared at Drummond Brewster’s funeral. I think Alexander’s joined the Dirge.’

  With Selena Departed, Ivy supposed there was an opening in the Fallen Guild for a new Wolfsbane. ‘I think we’ll see him again before this is all over,’ she warned.

  On the other side of the memorial a tall grey-haired gentleman came strolling towards them. His swirly blue-green eyes were familiar. Ivy elbowed the boys. ‘That’s Mr Punch.’

  He came to stand beside them and nodded at the memorial. ‘Remembering the past is not enough, of course. We must learn from it too.’

  ‘What happened to Selena …’ Ivy said quietly. ‘That’s going to change things now, isn’t it? The dead will know that in order to become one of the Departed, they must unite with the uncommon object that contains the other part of their soul.’ She remembered what Johnny Hands had said about accepting his existence for what it was. This new information would alter all that; it was going to stir things up in every undermart around the world.

  Mr Punch straightened. ‘It is a powerful revelation – of that there is no doubt. The Dirge kept it to themselves in order to manipulate others. I hid it to prevent chaos. I see now that it was never my secret to keep.’

  Ivy could hear the regret in his voice and considered how many other tough decisions he’d had to make over the years. How strong he was to admit his mistake, she thought.

  He smiled fondly down at the three of them. ‘Can I expect to see you back in Lundinor next season?’

  Ivy shared a nervous look with Seb and Valian. If we survive that long. They knew that the Dirge would have the three of them in their sights; they’d want revenge.

  As if reading her mind, Mr Punch added, ‘You know, it isn’t just the underguard that have been monitoring you over the past few months; a few friends of mine have been keeping an eye on you too. I will ask them to stay close this summer to make sure you’re safe. Also, I have something for each of you.’ He removed three objects from his jacket pockets: a small package wrapped in black cotton, which he gave to Seb; a gold envelope, which he passed to Valian; and a heavy, rectangular parcel covered in brown paper, which he deposited in Ivy’s hands.

  ‘For us?’ Ivy wasn’t expecting a gift.

  ‘You have proved to me that each of these is rightfully yours,’ Mr Punch told them, bowing his head. ‘Farewell, and good luck.’

  Seb unwrapped his black package. ‘They’re gloves,’ he said. ‘Drummer’s gloves. Cool.’ He tried one of them on, spreading his fingers.

  Valian and Ivy smirked at each other. ‘They’re a bit more than that, though, aren’t they?’ Valian remarked.

  ‘They’re from a quartermaster,’ Ivy added, hinting.

  ‘Wait, you mean … I’ve just taken the glove? I can trade now?’

  Ivy smiled. ‘It’s like Mr Punch said – you’ve proved that they’re rightfully yours.’ She was so proud of Seb. She recalled him riding that flying mop during the pyroach attack, facing his fears to save everyone in the big top. If anyone had earned the right to take the glove and become a proper uncommoner, it was him.

  Valian opened the gold envelope and pulled out a card. ‘OK … Weird.’ He flashed the front of the card to Ivy and Seb. It had a gold foil border and was embossed with the words:

  DEAR SIR,

  YOU ARE DULY INVITED TO

  FORWARD & RIFE’S GRAND GLOBE-TROTTING

  AUCTION OF UNCOMMON TREASURES

  NUBROOK

  THANKSGIVING

  Seb read it twice. ‘I don’t get it. Why has Mr Punch given you that?’

  Valian frowned. ‘I … don’t know. It’s strange though – I’ve seen that company name advertised before. Your phone has a map on it, right?’

  ‘Yeah. Here …’ Seb pulled it out of his pocket and tapped the screen a few times before handing it over. ‘What is it?’

  Valian slid his finger across the screen. ‘Forward and Rife – their posters were up in every undermart the Sack of Stars took me to when I asked it to find my sister.’

  ‘So do you think Rosie has something to do with this auction?’ Ivy asked.

  ‘It’s the only thing that connects each place.’ Valian studied the screen. ‘The undermarts I visited were here … here … here …’ He went still. ‘You two were right – there’s a pattern. They’re moving from east to west along every main undermart.’

  ‘It’s like the stops on a world tour,’ Seb mumbled.

  ‘Or a “Grand Globe-trotting Auction”,’ Ivy re-read from the invitation. ‘That must be why the Sack of Stars took you to a different place each time – Rosie was travelling.’ Hope bloomed within her; after all these years Valian might be on the verge of finding his sister.

  His eyes went glassy. ‘That’s where I have to go next,’ he said,
pointing to New York. ‘Nubrook undermart. It opens over Thanksgiving. That’s where I’m gonna find Rosie.’

  Seb put a hand on Valian’s shoulder. ‘That’s great! American Thanksgiving is in November, right?’

  Valian rubbed the back of his head. ‘Yeah, but I’ve been waiting over six years. What’s six months more?’

  Ivy hadn’t yet opened her parcel from Mr Punch. She tore off the brown paper. ‘Amos’s journal? But why has Mr Punch given me this?’

  ‘Maybe he wants you to read it,’ Valian suggested, passing her what was left of his flask of Raider’s Tonic. ‘Here – use this.’

  Ivy counted along to page forty-two and trickled the drink down the paper; a thick white vapour began seeping out. After the fumes had dissipated she flicked through the journal, glancing at the text on every page. There was too much information to take in at one sitting. She’d have to examine the journal properly to learn what Amos knew. Perhaps that was why Mr Punch had given it to her – so she could find out more about his work.

  She stopped abruptly when she spotted a short list, underlined and numbered.

  ‘It’s a list of the Great Uncommon Good!’ Seb and Valian peered over her shoulder to read it:

  Valian scowled. ‘The Sword of Wills and the Sands of Change are still out there, and you can bet five grade that the Dirge will be looking for them.’

  Seb stretched out his fingers in his new gloves. ‘Maybe if we can get hold of the objects first, we might be able to hide them from the Dirge, like we did with the Jar of Shadows?’

  ‘The Sands of Change are in Nubrook,’ Ivy read again, ‘the same undermart where Forward and Rife’s auction is taking place.’ She examined Seb’s phone, which was still in Valian’s hand. The map had zoomed in on a long, rectangular-shaped island … Manhattan. Ivy had never been to New York; she suspected that before the year was out, that would all change.

  The Cabbage Moon was quiet. Most of the other guests had gone home early after the shock of what had happened at the big top.