CHAPTER 12
THE OWL LABORATORY
As the night deepened, snow fell silently on the ruins of the Museum of Ancient Antiquities. Twisted and burnt museum exhibits, melted and waterlogged artefacts, mud and ash were rimmed white with snow.
‘It’s getting cold,’ said Elizabeth Horse. She shivered.
‘Perhaps I could… I could fetch a blanket for you?’ Stanley offered, eager to help.
‘I would be warmer if you stood a little closer.’ She smiled shyly, long eyelashes flicking.
Reginald smiled to himself as the two young horses got comfortable. Even though he was 74 years old he remembered with perfect clarity what it was like to be in love.
While Cecil Sloth explored the room at the end of the secret passage, Reginald pondered. There was no doubt owls had built the passage. They were depicted in the wall mosaic and the owl-sized secret door using an ingeniously concealed locking mechanism hidden in plain sight at the back of his office bespoke of owlish design too. The mosaic described by Cecil was more extensive and detailed than anything Reginald had seen in all his years as curator of the museum. It was hundreds of years old, having being made before the owls disappeared, and Cecil had described owls operating machines. More intriguing still, humans were watching the owls. Cecil had not seen any other animals, just owls and humans. He had said the humans seemed to be watching, curious or even a little afraid. Owls were by far the smartest of all species. Indeed, the House of Owl was thought to be even greater than the House of Human. If anyone could build a flying machine, they could. But humans were active right through the Machine Age, so perhaps it was they who had built rockets. Of course, they may have built them together before they were enemies, before the Owl Wars began.
‘Cecil!’ called out Reginald, his voice echoing down the long, straight passage.
There was no reply. It was getting late, probably after eleven o’clock.
‘He’s been in there a long time,’ said Elizabeth. Her back and the crown of her head was powered white with snow.
‘Cecil!’ called Reginald again.
‘I’m okay,’ came the distant reply. ‘Out in a minute or so.’
Soon they heard softly padding feet and the click of claws. The dancing firelight of Cecil’s torch preceded him down the passage. Cecil soon emerged from the secret door and handed the torch back to Elizabeth. He held in his claws a shiny, silver cylinder.
‘There’s an owl laboratory back there, but there’s not much of it left. Something exploded inside and there are pieces of machinery scattered all over the place. The roof’s collapsed in the middle and water’s got in. I’d say nobody’s been in there for hundreds of years.’
‘How do you know it belonged to the owls?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘This gave it away!’ Cecil held up a large feather. ‘And on the door at the end of the passage was an emblem: an oval shield with an owl above and waves beneath, like on the gate at Gateway Quay, like Port Isabel’s flag.’
Reginald knew it was an owl’s feather. He had studied owls all of his adult life. ‘That belonged to a female Barn Owl,’ he explained. ‘See the distinctive black stripes and how the feather grows lighter towards the tip.’
Everyone looked at the feather. Elizabeth had placed Cecil’s torch in a wall fixture so they had twice the light. Things didn’t seem quite as gloomy now that they were together and talking in the light of two torches.
‘Any sign of a big magnet or anything else that would create a strong magnetic field?’ Reginald asked.
Cecil moved away from the entrance. Ice was crusting in the dirty puddle of water under his paws. ‘No, nothing I recognised but there’s something more interesting. I think I saw the remains of a Golden Turtle.’
‘I thought they were just a legend,’ Stanley said.
‘Me too,’ Cecil replied. ‘But there was no doubt about it. There was a broken body and big golden shell that had been blown off, I think. Its body was hollowed out.’
‘The poor thing,’ said Elizabeth sadly.
‘Thing is right! But there’s no need to be sorry, Elizabeth. It was a machine, it was never alive.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Reginald.
‘No doubt about it. It had cogs and gears and other mechanical things still inside. The rest of it was scattered all over the lab. I touched its shell. It was hard and cold like metal. And from the way things were scattered, I think it was the turtle that blew up, and the lab with it,’ said Cecil, his face earnest.
‘So, the owls made mechanical turtles too,’ said Reginald, nodding his big head knowingly.
‘I don’t think they made it. I’ve seen the clever clocks and music machines the owls made. This was much more complicated. The bits I saw were like the organs from a living body, but they were made from metal and glass not flesh and tissue. I know the owls were clever but it looked like something from ancient times.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Reginald. ‘Maybe they were experimenting on it and it blew up. They were always experimenting. I heard a story years ago about a fisherman, a bear I think, who lost his boat when a Golden Turtle he’d caught blew up. Yet another owlish mystery to ponder, I’m afraid. What’s the silver cylinder you have there?’
‘I don’t know, but I think it opens at this end,’ said Cecil. ‘I think it’s supposed to twist open. The metal is like the stuff the Cylinder House… I mean the rocket, is made from. It’s old but hasn’t rusted. Shall I open it and see what’s inside?’
Clang, clang, clang. Someone was urgently ringing the town’s alarm bell as it had been rung when pirates had first been spotted off the coast.
Everyone turned to the noise.
‘Here we go again,’ said Reginald, sighing under his breath.
TO BE CONTINUED
Coming Soon:
THE POINT OF A SWORD
Book 5 of THE FAIRWEATHER CHRONICLES
Robots and Moon Rockets Page 12