by Jamie Smart
Still this didn’t stop the beast, now concealed inside a huge billowing cloud of smoke, crackling and sparkling like a thunderstorm as it reversed at speed towards Dev. He leapt out of the way and then ran alongside it, diving into the smoke, gripping onto the wheelbarrow, using all the strength he had left to haul himself up. He clawed over the hot, growling pump towards the wheel, reaching to pull Fervus out.
And as he did, he saw something up ahead.
Mina.
Her teddy bear tucked underneath her arm.
A carrot between her shaking hands.
6
The Great Hall
Twelve minutes later, Dev was being marched along the streets by a tight huddle of Guild members. Some held onto his arms, some his scarf, others carried broken bits of the Washtopus. Bastor led them all towards the Great Hall. They hauled Dev up each step, dragging him between its towering pillars, and through its large metal-studded doors.
The procession then came to a halt and pushed Dev to walk on alone.
Gingerly, he put one foot in front of the other. Bit his lip. Stared straight ahead. He walked towards the huge smouldering stone hearth at the darker end of the hall, stopping when he caught sight of the bear’s head mounted above it. Its mouth hanging open in a snarl. Its teeth, glistening in the low light.
He felt a chill across his arms. He looked to his right, at the line of shields across the wall, each bearing the sword and hammer emblem of the guild. And to his left, a line of tall windows, shuttered, sunlight creeping in around the edges.
A sharp cough. It was Santoro. He nodded Dev towards a large wooden chair in the middle of the room. Usually Dev would resist being told what to do by his brother, but not this time, not with this shivering unease in his belly, and so he dutifully trudged towards it. His feet squelched with every step. Loudly. Ominously. Echoing high up into the rafters. And then there were other footsteps shuffling in around him. Whispering. Helmets clonking together. Villagers, filling the shadows.
All keen to watch the show.
Dev sat. The whispering faded away. Not because it had stopped, but because his heartbeat was now the loudest noise in his ears.
‘All stand,’ a voice boomed. ‘All stand for me. The Mayor. All stand for the Mayor.’
Mayor Bumblebuss always reminded Dev of a slug. A huge, lolloping slug. His big lumpy body swayed from side to side as he barged through the crowd, his robes dragging behind him like a gross trail of slime. His ridiculously oversized, fur-edged helmet was studded with gems, which shone like large rolling eyeballs.
Dev shuddered.
The Mayor wheezed towards his table. He slammed down a thick pile of papers and sank into the throne behind it. His shoulders heaved with each and every laboured breath.
‘Shutters!’ he puffed, and Guild members either side yanked on two long cords hanging from the ceiling. A succession of shutters fwip-fwipped up, as daylight blazed in through the windows and suddenly, unfortunately, the full horror of the Mayor was there for all to see.
His bloodshot eyes, buried under the weight of two enormous fluffy white eyebrows. His nose, wide and swollen, like it had been stung by a hundred bees. His mouth, drooping at either side, with spittle shining in each corner. There was something monstrous about the Mayor’s face. Something that unnerved Dev to his core.
He gulped, clasping the arms of his chair.
The Mayor grabbed the large clock hanging from a chain around his neck, glanced at it, and sighed.
‘Tick, tick, tick, time waits for no one.’ The Mayor’s bushy white moustache billowed out with each word. ‘Let’s get this done. Ten minutes, nine if you plead guilty.’
He peered over his bee-stung nose at the loose papers below him.
‘Dev P. Everdew, of the noted Everdew family. One surviving parent. The other, well …’
He glanced up to the wall. There, beside the huge framed painting of himself, looking fine and splendid in his shiniest jewellery, was a smaller painting. This man wore a Mayor’s robes too, but his were thinner, more discreet. He smiled back at Dev with a warm, knowing smile. A smile that calmed Dev’s nerves, if only for a moment.
‘Hi, Dad,’ Dev whispered.
‘Your father’s not here, is he,’ the Mayor sniffed, haughtily. ‘And good, good that he isn’t, he wouldn’t want to see his son charged with destruction of property, goat stealing, reckless endangerment of life, irresponsible robot-building …’
‘I built the Washtopus to help!’ Dev mumbled.
The Mayor looked up from his papers. His eyes narrowed.
Dev sank a little further into his chair.
‘From what I understand, you actually built it to cover up your previous mistakes?’ A Guild member stepped forward holding a crate, from which the Mayor pulled out two cheese-soaked boots.
Dev wiggled his bare toes and took a deep breath.
‘Those … those were my fault, sure. But the Washtopus was working fine, it was a great idea, until the goat …’
‘Oh, are you blaming a GOAT?’ The Mayor snorted.
A loud bleat echoed up from amongst the crowd.
‘No! I mean, Fervus just wanted the carrots. Everyone seemed to have carrots …’
He paused. ‘Hang on. Why did everyone have carrots?’
In his mind, he replayed what had happened. The Washtopus. Ventillo, with her crate of carrots. Santoro, shuffling her away. Only this time, in his memory, he saw Santoro glancing back at him. Only for a second. But it was there. It was definitely there. A smirk.
Through that silly floppy hair of his.
‘Santoro did this,’ Dev gasped, then frowned, then his whole face fell into a furious stare at the ground. ‘Santoro did this. He must have taken the carrots and handed them out to Space Fleet!’
‘Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten about your brother.’ The Mayor nodded over to Santoro, who stood, arms folded, against the wall. ‘He should never have given you the chance to build this … “Washtopus”. He should have brought you to this court as soon as you fell out of the sky.’
The Mayor tugged at the ruffles on his sleeve. ‘No, your brother’s biggest crime here is compassion.’
‘WHAT?’ Dev cried.
The Mayor squinted at Santoro. ‘Why’s he even in the Guild? He looks so young.’
Bastor cleared his throat. ‘Youth Guild, sir. Top of his rank …’
‘I don’t much care, he’s still a child,’ the Mayor sniffed haughtily. ‘And he dropped his guard. This is a first strike on your record, laddo. One more and you’re out of the Guild.’
Santoro didn’t flinch.
‘Honestly,’ the Mayor turned back around to face Dev, ‘one brother causes all the trouble, the other just lets him get away with it. Disobedience must be in the blood. Percy, if you wouldn’t mind.’
Percy from the scrapyard stepped out, his heavy metallic helmet still squashing his face in on itself. He was holding Mina in his arms. She buried her face in her teddy, her hair dripping a trail of water across the floor. Her left arm wrapped in bandages.
‘Are you OK?’ Dev asked. ‘Mina, does it hurt?’
‘Don’t you say one word to her,’ Percy snarled, as he walked behind the Mayor’s table, perching Mina on the edge of it. She squeezed her red teddy bear, or at least, what was left of it, and stared glumly down at her boots.
‘But I … I pulled Fervus out of the Washtopus! Just in time!’ Dev cried.
‘Just in time to bump my little girl into the fountain,’ Percy spat. ‘Landed badly, didn’t she. My poor little girl. Soaking wet and crying her eyes out.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Dev felt a tightness in his throat. ‘Mina, I’m so, so sorry!’
The crowd began to chatter. The Mayor slammed his fists down on the table and let out a long, angry roar, wobbling all the rolls of fat under his chin.
‘While Santoro’s judgement in this may be questionable, ultimately it is you, Dev, who caused all the calamity, from beginning to end. And as such, it is you w
ho must pay for it.’
‘Throw him over The Wall. Into the Wildening.’ Percy leant forwards. ‘I’ll carry him there myself.’
A chuckle rattled out from somewhere deep inside the Mayor. ‘It’s not a bad idea,’ he mused. ‘At least for a day. Two days. It might show you where this silly curiosity of yours will get you.’
‘Over The Wall?’ Panic rose inside Dev’s chest.
The Mayor smiled, his cheeks pushing up so high that his eyes almost disappeared into the folds of his skin. ‘We’ll tie you by a rope, so you can’t go too far,’ he chuckled. ‘Give you a little bell to ring if anything starts eating you.’
‘You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you, Dev?’ Percy grinned. ‘About why we built The Wall? And what lies out there … in the Wildening?’
Dev folded his arms in a desperate effort to stop himself shaking.
‘No one goes beyond The Wall.’ His mother’s voice cut across the room. She marched out from the crowd, through the sunbeams, positioning herself between Dev and Percy. ‘Least of all my son!’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t be encouraging all his ridiculous ideas then.’ Percy gripped Mina even tighter. Then he lowered his voice to a growl. ‘Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s finding them in books.’
‘BOOKS?’ The Mayor wobbled with rage again. ‘We’ll have no BOOKS in Eden.’
Amy unclipped Limpy’s jar from her belt and showed it to the crowd. Limpy was fast asleep inside. ‘No books, no laws broken. Dev’s just curious about everything. This all happened because he was chasing a silly little bug.’
‘A FLEMBERBUG?’ Mayor Bumblebuss’s voice rattled through the bones of every person in the hall. ‘You mean, they’re here already?’
He rolled up his sleeve to reveal no less than three watches strapped along the length of his forearm. ‘Big day coming up,’ he blustered. ‘Big, big day. You know that as well as anyone, Amy. And with only … forty-five hours and fifteen minutes to prepare for the most important day in our calendar, Middle Eden marketplace still stinks of CHEESE.’
‘It’s more like a fragrance,’ Rosa Mildew offered.
The Mayor glared at her, and Rosa sank sheepishly back into the crowd.
‘The flember won’t wait for us to be ready.’ The Mayor puffed up his chest, stepping out from behind his table. ‘At the very moment when the flowers are in their fullest bloom, the grass is at its tallest, the Eden Tree is humming with life, do you think all that flember will give us a few extra minutes to hang our last bunting, or inflate our last balloon?’
Amy began to reply, but the Mayor shouted over her.
‘NO!’ he yelled. ‘We must be READY! This whole village must be decorated in celebration, turned blue with flags and confetti. Which is why we can’t allow for one excitable, STUPID little boy to smash through the middle of it, ruining the day for us all!’
‘But I love Flember Day,’ Dev protested. ‘I don’t want to rui—’
‘Forty-five hours and thirteen minutes now!’ The Mayor, cheeks flushed red, gripped his table and flung it over with a room-shaking crash. Papers whipped up into the air like autumn leaves. ‘I will not have you doing anything to endanger my Flember Day.’
‘Dev’s only ever trying to help!’
‘Well, he’s not. He’s ruining everything. As such, your boy is BANNED. BANNED from Flember Day!’ Mayor Bumblebuss’s whole body wobbled as he heaved himself out of his throne. ‘If he must stay in our village, then he will be banned from ruining anything else we hold dear!’
Zerigauld leant out, clutching at the Mayor’s robes.
‘Ere, what about my shop?’
‘And clean the old man’s shop,’ the Mayor huffed, pushing Zerigauld out of the way. ‘PROPERLY, this time.’
‘Banned from Flember Day?’ Dev whispered.
‘BANNED!’ the Mayor called again from outside.
The word echoed around Dev’s head.
Then it sank deep, deep down into the pit of his stomach.
7
Zerigauld Sourface’s Antique Shop
Dev stood in a puddle of water and cheese. It soaked into his boots, in through the cracks where the canisters had once been attached. It chilled his toes, a festering, damp sensation, gross and squelching around his feet.
He barely noticed. He could only stare at the cheese-covered antique shop, his limbs sapped of energy, his mind replaying events over, and over, and over again.
‘I just wanted to help,’ he whispered.
‘Yer daydreamin’ again.’ Zerigauld peered over his crooked wooden nose, his straggly eyebrow creasing in the middle, furrowing his little black eyes into a scowl. ‘Always been yer problem, too much of a dreamer.’
He thrust a large vase at Dev, splattering lumps of cheese down his vest.
‘Head full of ideas. None of ’em any good.’ Zerigauld smirked as he wiped his cheesy hands on Dev’s scarf.
Some of my ideas work, Dev thought.
Zerigauld leant in so close that Dev could see the thick waft of tobacco on his breath. ‘Yous be careful, lad. This village ’as been very good to you, and you’d do well to remember it. Why’s your cheeks bulgin’ like that?’
Dev couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He exhaled with a long, loud, ‘HOOOOOOOO’.
Zerigauld jerked back, arching his eyebrow suspiciously.
‘Yer a very weird boy, you know that. Very weird. But either way, you’ll ’ave to come inside. Still plenty for you to scrub.’
‘Inside?’ A smile fluttered across Dev’s lips as he stepped through the doorway. ‘You’ve never let me inside bef …’
He fell silent, and the world outside was gone.
Dev had walked into a room full of treasures.
The walls were hidden behind an endless maze of sloping shelves. Stacked upon them were cases and trunks of all shapes and sizes, each bolted shut with heavily rusted padlocks. Below, were cabinets filled with glass bottles. Then cabinets filled with fabrics, all rolled up and crammed in together. On top of these, a selection of stuffed animals positioned as if in the middle of a fight – a lurching vole, a recoiling biddleshrew, a cheering mouse. And piled up in front, around and between it all, a variety of vases, pots, clocks, picture frames, candlesticks and battered musical instruments.
In fact, so distracted was Dev by the objects in front of him, he almost didn’t see what was hanging above his head. A heart. A huge golden heart, bigger than he was. Suspended from the ceiling by chains. Catching the sunlight and beaming it onto every fleck of dust that drifted past.
‘NO YOU DON’T!’ Zerigauld snapped. ‘You keep yer eyes off of that ’eart. Not for yous, not for anyone. That ain’t for sale.’
‘Where did it come from?’
‘Forget you seen it. I’ll clean the cheese off it myself. You gots other things to be doin’.’
Zerigauld poked an old toothbrush into Dev’s hand and spun him around to face the other wall.
‘See all the teapots on these shelves?’ He clonked his fist against Dev’s head. ‘Well delicately – delicately – you scrubs the cheese off of each one, y’hear me? And when I comes to check, I don’t want to see no cheese on them, nor any cracks in them. Just one of these teapots is worth more than all the things you own in the world, y’understand?’
Dev quietly knelt down, picked up the first teapot and started to rub it with the toothbrush.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Zerigauld dragging a ladder across the floorboards. His twig-like legs wobbled onto each step until he was crouching just below the heart. He pulled a rag from his pocket, spat on it and began scrubbing his most prized possession.
With Zerigauld well enough distracted, Dev put the teapot back in its place and started to shuffle along on his bum. From the teapots to the jewellery boxes to the broken toys, then on to the pyramid of specimen jars. He gleefully peered inside each one, scratching at their worn labels. He thought it might be exciting to try and identify the mould-covered creatures in
side, but was a little disappointed when he did. They were the everyday caterpillars, moths and grass snakes of Eden village. Nothing he hadn’t collected himself.
And yet, through the jars, he noticed something unusual. A long, dirty red curtain, barely concealing an archway in the wall.
Dev’s curiosity spiked once more.
He checked again that Zerigauld was distracted and then set to work carefully pulling each jar away, reassembling them behind him, before shuffling under the curtain and inside the cold, dark archway. He clonked his helmet for a lightbulb, which plinked and fizzed, casting a little light against the narrow walls.
Either side of him, running up and over his head, were strange, thin tiles. No, not tiles. These bulged. They had markings on them. They were rough to the touch.
They slid out when he pulled on them.
He could barely form the word with his lips.
These were b …
They’re b …
‘Books!’ he finally squeaked.
Old books, new books, bits of books, huge books.
A cave of knowledge.
A FEAST for the brain.
He raised a trembling hand and ran his finger across their spines.
How to Make Nettle Jam … Techniques for Pig Wrestling … 591 Recipes for Cooking Rust-Beetles …
And then, two words that sent shivers across his skin.
8
Just Trying to Read a Book
The book was small, with a cracked blue cover. As Dev pulled it out, one of its rusting gold corners nicked against his thumb, drawing a thin line of blood. He didn’t notice. He was too busy holding the book as if it were a priceless artefact. For there, on its cover, was a large golden F, and those two thrilling words again.