The Queen and the Nobody Boy

by Barbara Else

  Hodie found a chair to huddle in. He was still wearing his cloak to hide Jasper’s present. He hadn’t had a chance to send the bird off to find the King. The chance might never come at all! He thought with as much brain as he could manage. He realised it wouldn’t take long before Prowdd’on remembered Hodie had said he knew where that wretched bag was and found a way to weasel around his empty promise.

  Allana wiped her eyes. “Hodie, you should take your cloak off when you’re inside.”

  Hodie ignored her and pretended to mope like a normal boy. For safety, for now, he buckled the bird into his satchel. He’d simply have to find somehow to send it away before Prowdd’on’s scientists examined Sibilla. Oh no … that awful Professor Glimp and the Madame-Professor – Hodie bet that when they learned Sibilla had been captured, they’d be rushing home to Um’Binnia as fast as possible.

  Hodie had made so many mistakes – mainly because he hadn’t known how important everyone thought that tatty bag was with its spanner and the blackened cup (and Murgott’s notebook). The only good thing was that Prowdd’on still didn’t have the bag. If only Hodie could examine it himself. If only he could know for sure that it held any Ties.

  His mother and Murgott were talking quietly with Dardy now, an earnest chat. Lu’nedda paced about and finally stopped beside Hodie’s chair.

  “Boy,” she said, “I knew you when you were a baby.”

  “Don’t bother to say I was cute,” Hodie said.

  “You shrieked like rat,” said Lu’nedda. “You threw up three times each day.”

  “I’m glad you hated me.” He didn’t bother to say he hated her too. It must be obvious.

  “But you didn’t betray me to Father,” said the Princessa. “And you are son of my best friend …”

  You’re her worst enemy, he thought.

  Lu’nedda’s eyebrows rose as if she knew what he was thinking. “Your mother saw how much I am alone without real friend.” Her mouth twisted. “Who can be true friend for girl and then woman whose father is Prowdd’on?”

  “My mother felt sorry for you,” Hodie muttered. “And you made a fuss when she should have escaped. You caused all this.”

  “I was still young. Why should I explain myself to another child now? Listen, if you can understand.” The Princessa’s eyes were angry and worried. “When Gree’sle realised your mother had sent Ties out of his grasp, I had to protect her. If he promise to keep her out of prison and not tell my Father she harboured The Ties, I promise to marry him when I am twenty-five. Twenty-five is when Um’Binnian princes and princessas have to marry, and twenty-five is coming fast for me. I like to keep promises if possible, but I do not like sneaky Gree’sle. My plan is to show my father that Gree’sle is greedy fool. I do not need husband of any kind, especially not greedy fool.”

  “What about Sibilla?” Hodie asked.

  “What about, indeed?” The Princessa glanced at Allana and Murgott. “I think tonight there is no choice but to make best of it. We have chance to be all friends together– your mother and Dardy, me and you. Corporal Murgott – I should say, Mister Murgott to protect him – will have dinner with us too.”

  She clapped her hands. Two servants ran in. They set the table with silver knives and forks and spoons, vast lacy napkins for wiping your fingers and chin. Lu’nedda made everyone wash their hands, and Allana told Lu’nedda to wash hers too. Then the Princessa sat at one end of the table in the best chair and gestured to Hodie.

  “You are son of famous wind-train hero Lord Fer’nan and beautiful foreigner Lady Allana. You are important person now, not Nobody Odd-job. Time to rest, to eat, be comfortable.” Lu’nedda gave him a rather sweet smile, which made his heart hurt. “Please, sit opposite me, in the other best chair.”

  His mother was looking at him too. A best chair. Son of a lord. Son of a hero. Son of a lady, and she’d been brave too. He realised his mother was still being extremely brave. Hodie folded his cloak over his satchel (with the bird inside) and set it under the chair. Although he didn’t want to, he sat down.

  With a large match, Lu’nedda lit the candle in the middle of the table. Servants carried in dish after huge dish. Big baked potatoes stuffed with cheese. Slices of fish in golden batter. Chicken drumsticks dripping with savoury sauce. Hodie couldn’t stop himself from staring at the food, or his mouth from watering. But he did make himself look through the candle flame at the Princessa and speak up.

  “What will Queen Sibilla have for dinner?”

  Lu’nedda’s mouth stretched at the corners in a smile that meant the smiler was not happy. “Queen Sibilla will be treated as Queen.”

  “Until she’s no more use to the Emperor,” muttered Murgott.

  Hodie risked nudging the Corporal with his new boots. He felt a return nudge. It was both nice and worrying that his only friend was someone who a few days ago had threatened to starve him. Murgott’s dark grin showed he had not forgotten his pirate past or his duty to the little Queen. He might not be bright, but he was bright enough and he’d learned to be steadfast. He might be gruff, but his first thought was always for Queen Sibilla. Hodie was glad the Corporal was on his side.

  “Good food,” said Murgott loudly. “Very suitable for the son of a lord and lady. Just think, for years he’s been eatin’ scraps on the back doorstep of the Grand Palace.”

  “It must be comfort that your son was looked after by brave man such as Mr Murgott on journey over Stones,” said Lu’nedda to Hodie’s mother.

  “My first duty is to the Queen,” said Murgott loudly.

  Lu’nedda nodded. “And tomorrow, we discuss our every duty. More potatoes? More fish? Another drumstick?”

  “You have very ordinary-sized chickens in Um’Binnia,” Hodie said.

  Lu’nedda’s mouth twitched. “And only two drumsticks on each one. Now, Um’Binnian Cabbage Pudding,” she said. “Spicy and sweet.”

  Hodie refused it. So did Murgott, though he chatted with Lu’nedda about the recipe and suggested that grated apple might improve it. Dardy simply pushed his food around the plate. He didn’t seem to have an appetite at all.

  “Now, boy will sleep in small room,” said Lu’nedda. “Mr Murgott and Dardy will sleep in even smaller room. You will find beds very comfortable, made with soft expensive silk-wool. Not like dirty lumpy mattress in hut behind very small Grand Palace.”

  Hodie caught Murgott’s eye. The Corporal winked, then pretended his eye was watering from candle smoke.

  “A good night’s sleep will make us all feel better,” said Lady Allana, though she didn’t look as if she believed it.

  A servant bowed to Hodie. “I will show young lord to his room.”

  Lord Hodie. Well, he was actually Lord Ro’lan, but Hodie liked Hodie better.

  Murgott’s eyes were on him. So were Dardy’s. Dardy seemed weary to death, his skin grey.

  Hodie bowed to Lu’nedda and his mother, followed the servant and closed the door quietly but firmly so Allana wouldn’t think she could come and tuck him in. He put himself to bed in new blue pyjamas.

  For the first time since he was two years old, he was in the same place as his mother. He had eaten two excellent meals in one day, with silver cutlery. He’d sat in one of the best chairs. Now he lay on a soft mattress and pillow. Yet, in a dim glow that came from the ceiling he felt more alone than ever in his life.

  Something scratched at his door. It opened, and Murgott spoke. “Company for you.”

  The squirrel pattered in and climbed on the end of Hodie’s bed. Murgott closed the door again. After some tiny sounds like squirrel-weeping and teeth-gnashing, the squirrel fell asleep under the tattered blanket of its own tail.

  ~

  28

  is it thievery or not?

  Hodie lay on the soft mattress in the dim night light. Pictures flickered in his head. If he liked, he could stay in U
m’Binnia. Fine clothes. Good food every day, hot or cold, however he wanted, whenever he wanted. His mother and Dardy, together with him. His mother could still be Lu’nedda’s friend.

  The squirrel let out a chitter as if it scented something on a breeze in a rodent dream. Other pictures slowly moved though Hodie’s thoughts. Hardly ever being allowed to see the sun, never feeling a gust of wind call him to run to the wharves and see steamships head into harbour or sail-boats billow over the waves. Never hunting in rock pools for crabs and anemones, never steering a trolley down a hill.

  Through all the other pictures in Hodie’s mind floated one of a twelve-year-old girl, and others of the possible first signs of newest magic. How terrible if magic were true and starting to show in Sibilla, and she never had the chance to let it grow stronger. But it didn’t matter if magic was true or not – the little Queen should still be allowed to return home, to be with her parents.

  He waited till he heard Lu’nedda and the others turn down the lamps and go to bed. In the handsome blue pyjamas, he creaked his door open and crept into the main room of the apartment. Among his mother’s tools on the work table was a small metal hook. The cabinet that held the drawstring bag had a gimcrack lock. Any odd-job boy could have it open in less than a second. Listening for the slightest movement from the other rooms, Hodie picked the lock. The bag almost flew into his hands. He fiddled the metal hook till the cabinet locked again.

  The squirrel raised its head and watched him smuggle the bag back into the little bedroom. Hodie sat on the bed. Somebody might wake and come in, so he arranged the cloak so that he could throw it at once over the bag if he needed to. He loosened the drawstring.

  The first thing his hand touched was Murgott’s notebook. He flicked it open in the shadows of the room. It hadn’t been transformed by being in the bag. The same poems, not very good ones. Hodie supposed that if you wrote poetry just for yourself it didn’t have to be much good, just be heart-felt. There were poems to Murgott’s mother, about wishing he had been a better son. There were several about being a pirate, and a few about the Fontanian Army – very stirring. One was to a baby girl who held the promise of the whole world in her tiny hands. The last one was about a majestic princess who was far above a lowly corporal … actually Hodie had seen this one before. It was very private. He didn’t want to chuckle at it. Well, really he wanted to roll on the bed and scream with laughter, but the general circumstances of the night were far too solemn. He stuffed the book into the bottom of the bag, because if Murgott saw him with it now, the circumstances could become far worse than horrible.

  Next Hodie pulled out the metal cup. It looked as it had always done, as if something heavy had trodden on it. Around the rim was faint curly carving, hard to see in the poor light. When he traced it with his fingers, black dust came off. It was impossible that the old cup could be a treasure. Hodie stuffed it back beside the book of heartfelt poems and wiped his hands on his pyjama jacket.

  He knew the spanner so well that he left it where it was. It was a spanner any workman would like in his kit. Anything he’d used it on had stayed truly fixed, so in that sense it was a treasure. But how could it help anyone ride a dragon-eagle?

  Last of all he pulled out the pouch of roundish things, the beads or pebbles. The pouch had faint curly markings on it too. The round things smelled of dust. They weren’t at all pretty. Could they be polished? There was enough to make a bracelet or to decorate a hat. He spilled them from hand to hand, then tipped them back into the pouch. One fell onto the coverlet. The squirrel sat up. Tck-tck!

  Could it be a nut? Hodie offered it to the squirrel. The squirrel stared, gave a whispery chrrr, backed away and curled right down beneath its tail. So, not a nut. Hodie began to put it back with the others, but a door opened somewhere in the apartment. It was probably just someone going to the bathroom, but Hodie shoved the bag under the cloak. He thrust the last round thing under his pillow and lay down as if he was asleep.

  ~

  29

  the most delicious

  of all breakfasts

  It turned out to be a real sleep, a very deep one. An ogre tapped on Hodie’s door. “Breakfast, Lord Hodie, is ready at once.”

  He hurried to dress. His leg didn’t hurt at all. He had fresh socks. Fresh vest and underpants. New clean trousers, new shirt (dark blue) with button-down pockets. He shoved his feet in those excellent boots.

  Breakfast looked as delicious as a princessa’s breakfast in a story. Hot toast. Large eggs. Strips of hot bacon. Marmalade and raspberry jam in lordly dishes. Orange juice so cold the jug was wet on the outside (as well as in).

  Allana watched Hodie as if she was starved, though it wasn’t of food. Lu’nedda eyed him as well. Dardy just picked at a slice of toast.

  Murgott concentrated on four slices of toast and three eggs. “Tuck in, boy,” he muttered. “An army marches on its stomach. So does a boy. Orright? Are you still with me?”

  “Orright,” Hodie muttered back. “You still with me?”

  Murgott gave a dark chuckle. “Some people’s tactics is to wait years and years for the right chance. Other people’s tactics is to have a good night’s sleep. Then your brain can suss out the situation, then you can start pushin’. Orright. I’m at the sussin’ stage.” With a little cough he looked at Lu’nedda. “Very good bacon. Excellent eggs. Most grateful, ma’am. Yes, I would appreciate the ogre pourin’ more coffee, thanks very much. Now, ma’am, can you tell me how this wonderful city is ventilated?”

  “I have other things to think about,” said Lu’nedda.

  Hodie tried to smile at his mother and the Princessa. “Can I sit outside – that is, on the balcony?” he asked.

  “We need to talk …” began Allana, but after another look at Hodie, she nodded. “Brush your teeth. Then put on your cloak.”

  ~

  An obedient son would certainly put on a cloak. But first, in his bedroom, Hodie whispered to the bird. “King Jasper, this is Hodie. I’m in Um’Binnia. I might have The Ties – well, it’s a cup and some other old junk. The Queen is captured. Murgott and I will try to get her out. I can’t promise. That’s all. Bye.”

  He stuffed the bag into his satchel, slung the satchel over his shoulder, then fastened the cloak over the lot, with the bird under an arm.

  An ogre came in to make the bed. It whisked up the pillow and thumped it with both fists. The last little nugget lay on the sheet – Hodie scooped it up and managed to pop it under the cloak into his top shirt pocket, which he buttoned safely.

  He’d have expected a princessa’s balcony to be perfect. Bits of rock were crumbling off, and scaly grey lichen grew in patches on the railing. There was no point in sitting here to get fresh air. He tried to feel the least little breath from outside the mountain city, wishing a breeze could whisk the place clean. Where was a chink through which the bird might fly out and find the sky? If the bird was magic, it should be able to pass through the rock wall. Or even to send messages through rock walls. Well, if anyone asked Hodie, he’d say a magic bird wouldn’t be made with screws and wires like this one, even though it sometimes felt warm and its chest swelled occasionally as if it breathed. It was just the mechanism. The bird simply had to do its job and find King Jasper.

  “Hey,” said a quiet voice nearby. Hodie glanced to the side, then down a little. Someone else leaned on the balcony of another apartment – the boy from the Zoo, the thumbs-up boy. He carried a sketch pad and pencil, and grinned from ear to ear – they had huge teeth in Um’Binnia.

  Hodie eased to the side of the balcony. “What?”

  “Are you really from Fontania?” mouthed the boy.

  Hodie nodded.

  The boy leaned over his balcony as far as possible and whispered. “Are you going to live here now?”

  Hodie wrinkled his forehead and shrugged.

  The boy wrinkled his forehead too as i
f he didn’t think it would be a great choice. “My name is O’sel.”

  The squirrel jumped on the rail and rubbed its face against Hodie’s sleeve.

  “Is that yours?” whispered O’sel.

  Hodie shook his head. “It belongs to itself. Like people should.”

  O’sel took one long breath, gave one short nod. “Is Allana your mother?”

  Hodie gave a very short nod.

  “She tells us stories. She’s not supposed to …” O’sel glanced over his shoulder, then whispered again. “Stories about outside!” He breathed the word as if it were pure magic.

  “How often do you get out of the mountain?” whispered Hodie.

  O’sel held his thumb and forefinger in a small pinch. “I visited farm once. I went nearly to edge of Great Salt Moat.”

  “Where’s the best way out?” Hodie held his breath.

  O’sel shook his head and took a step back. Hodie held up the bird – the metal glowed softly – and asked again with a silent shrug, an open palm.

  With one slow nod, O’sel pointed up and to the side – a narrow stair.

  The lamp near the stair flickered as if a thread of the sour city air stirred there. Hodie stroked the tiny metal feathers shaped by King Jasper. The bird’s fat little body was warm again, because Hodie had been holding it of course. He stroked the wings that hid the key that turned the mechanism and made the metal wings begin to whirr.

  He held the metal bird up again in both hands. It trembled, and for a moment Hodie let himself imagine that he, an ordinary boy, had been granted a moment of magic. He breathed so close to the bird that the metal misted. “Find King Jasper. Tell him where to find his sister and the missing dragon-eagle. Tell him he must hurry here and save them both or they will die.”

  ~

  The bird rose from Hodie’s hands into the cavern. It lurched, headed for the stairs where O’sel had pointed. A bit of squirrel fluff dropped off its tail, then the bird was gone.