Midnight Train

by Angie Sage

  The Jackal did not answer. In seconds the handcuffs were on and Bartlett was being marched out of the mews and off to the dungeons. She ended up in the cell next to Francina and Louie, where the smell of rancid sausages being fried in old fat mingled with the lingering aftertaste of the cookie and made her feel quite sick.

  The sausages, however, smelled very fine indeed to the Jackal. And so, just as the guards were about to dig in, they found that their supper was no longer their own.

  And the Jackal found they were remarkably hungry. Especially for sausages.

  Chapter 31

  Escape

  HAGOS COULD NOT GET THE sound of the Beguiler Bell out of his mind. It had been so strong, so definite, so much like his daughter. He just knew it must be ringing for her. Hagos felt frantic—he had to get to her. He had to. But first he must get past the Jackal outside the door.

  Hagos squared his shoulders. It would have to be a fight. Not wanting to wake Deela, who was sleeping in his little room, Hagos tiptoed over to the fire and picked up the poker. Pushing aside the thought of the Jackal’s razor-sharp fangs, he crept over to the big arched door that led out onto the stairs and flipped up the spy-hole cover to check exactly where the Jackal was.

  The landing was empty.

  Thinking that the Jackal had fallen asleep on duty and was lying across the threshold, Hagos opened the door just half an inch and, poker at the ready, he peered out. There was no Jackal. Not in the shadows, not sitting on the stairs, not even—he glanced anxiously up at the ceiling—lurking on the rafters. A small flicker of hope began to glow in Hagos’s heart. He crept out onto the landing and pulled the door closed with a gentle click. Then he set off down the steps on his mission to find his daughter.

  Zerra was sitting curled up in the archway of the Gold Tower, staring gloomily out at the empty Star Court. She was cold and miserable and she didn’t want to be a King’s Spy anymore. In fact, right now she would even rather be poking at bird poop. But wait, what was that shadow at the foot of the Iron Tower? Zerra got out her spyglass and almost laughed out loud—it was the Beguiler. At last there was someone to spy on. Reluctant to venture out—for she had already been chased by two Slicers that night—she watched the Beguiler creep into the archway of the Iron Tower. Zerra grinned. This was what being a spy was all about—catching people out when they thought no one was looking. It was, she realized, what she liked doing best in the whole world.

  Hagos was gazing at the rusted slab of the Iron Tower’s door. He was sad to see how decrepit it was. It had once been burnished to a beautiful sheen in those heady days when Enchantment was a blessing, not a curse. Hagos was still proud of what he had created. It was his contribution to civic life—a communal place of safety for Enchantments that had gone wrong and had to be kept securely out of the way. “Bad spell jail,” as Sol had called it.

  Hagos was also proud of the system he had devised for the deposits. A simple one-way valve in a tube at the top of the door—high enough to stop passing children from dropping their teddy bears in—had worked well. And unfortunately it still did. Only a few days previously he had been forced to watch Belamus throw the beautiful Tau into it. Hagos sighed. If only it were so easy to get the Tau out again. But the only way to do that was to open the door, which was highly dangerous, for who knew what lay behind it now? Hagos shuddered as he thought of Sol’s rapidly growing spider that he had so thoughtlessly dropped in one sunny afternoon. How big would that be now? Not to mention all those malevolent Night Wraiths. How powerful would they be now?

  Hagos tried to push these thoughts aside, but there was something he could not get rid of—the memory of Alex’s angry words the night before. They still echoed in his head: “Clean up your mess, Poppa!” He knew she was right, but how could he do that? He would have to have the Tau. Hagos pondered the implacable rusty slab of iron in front of him. Suppose, he thought, the Tau is just on the other side? All I have to do is open the door, grab it and go. How hard can that be? Once again, Alex’s words came back to him: “You have to try. You have to.”

  Hagos took a deep breath. Boo-boo—oops, no, he must remember, Alex—was right. He had to try. Especially since she had left him one of the keys to the door.

  Hands trembling at the thought of what he was about to do, Hagos took the codex from his pocket, flipped open the front cover and removed the hexagon with the number 7 on it. He balanced the feather-light shape on his palm and looked into its glimmering depths. He was going to do this. He was going to do it.

  Why doesn’t he do something? Zerra thought. She felt quite disappointed. She had hoped the Enchanter might do something really bad, but all he was doing was lurking in a doorway staring at his hand. She sighed. It would have to do. He wasn’t in his rooms like he should be, and surely that was enough to go tell the king and have a chance to warm up. But was it? The king could be very picky. Zerra decided to give it a few more minutes. Aha . . . the Enchanter was kneeling down and poking at the foot of the door. He was up to something—that was for sure.

  Hagos was searching for the silver locking plate at the foot of the door. The silver was badly tarnished and he could see nothing, but his fingers found its smoothness and felt the low-level buzz of Enchantment running through it. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage and pushed the hexagon against the circle of silver. At once he had heard the complex barrels in the lock turning and then their final kerrr-plick as they drew back the bolt. He got to his feet and pushed hard on the door. It did not move. He tried again. It still did not move. Suddenly Hagos remembered that—just to make things a little more difficult—the door always opened toward the person trying to go through. He grabbed the tiny handle on the edge of the locking plate and pulled. The door swung open, an ice-cold blast of air came pouring out, and Hagos pushed his way into the Iron Tower.

  Buffeted by the stream of freezing Wraith essence trying to escape, Hagos fell to his hands and knees, searching for the Tau. He felt as if he had fallen into a violent, stormy sea. Deafened by the howls of trapped Enchantments and pounded by a vortex of Wraiths funneling down from the top of the tower, he frantically swept his hands across the iron floor, hoping to find the familiar T shape of the Tau, but all his fingers could feel was the rough chill of the iron floor. And already he knew it was useless—there was no blue light to be seen, not even a glimmer. As he had feared, the Tau’s Enchantment had not survived its short time in the Iron Tower.

  Suddenly, something rough and very solid brushed against him, almost pushing him over. Hagos looked up to see eight little red lights staring down at him. He then saw the eight long, hairy legs attached to the little red lights. Sol’s spider! Hagos screamed, leaped up and threw himself back out through the door. As he struggled to close it, the spider wedged a powerful muscular leg into the gap and the door swung farther open. A trio of Night Wraiths took their chance and Hagos was sent flying backward and hit his head upon the archway. Shaken, he staggered to his feet and saw a stream of darkness tumbling by him, while the spider helpfully held the door open.

  Zerra watched the stream of darkness pour out from the Iron Tower with glee. Now she had something really exciting to tell the king. She raced up the red-carpeted stairs to the top of the Gold Tower, where, at the golden door emblazed with the winged crown, she punched the crow-pecked Jackal on the nose—Zerra could tell it was weak—and hurtled into the mirrored lobby. There she stopped and caught her breath, spooked for a brief moment by the group of wild-eyed kids who had gathered there until she remembered the creepy mirrors. And then she yelled, “King! King! The Beguiler has opened the Iron Tower!”

  From inside his rooms, Belamus heard Zerra’s shouts. Gingerly the king opened the mirrored door just wide enough to note that his useless, crow-pecked Jackal was kneeling on his best rug clutching his snout and his spy was now in his own private space yelling at him.

  “The Beguiler!” the spy was shouting. “He’s opened the Iron Tower and let bad stuff out. Look!” And then, wit
h no regard for his kingly dignity, the spy grabbed hold of his velvet night cloak and pulled him across to the royal window. And now she was yelling right into his ear, “There! Look down there!”

  Dumbfounded, Belamus did as he was told. Far below in Star Court, he saw a tide of darkness flowing across the cobbles, and within it he glimpsed two lines of little red eyes. Spider eyes, he thought. And then, realizing how high up he was, GIANT spider eyes.

  “What are you going to do?” Zerra asked him.

  King Belamus looked at her in confusion. “Do?” he asked.

  “You’re the king. Don’t you have to do something?” Zerra asked, genuinely puzzled.

  Belamus looked equally puzzled. There was silence and then he said, very quietly, “But I don’t know what to do.”

  Zerra stared at King Belamus, feeling very let down. If she were king, she’d know what to do. She was wondering whether to tell him that when there was another loud hammering upon the door. The king looked vaguely at it, as if he had forgotten what a door actually was. Exasperated, Zerra strode across the room and pulled it open.

  Hagos almost fell inside. Wild-eyed and shaking, he gasped, “Belamus. Something terrible has happened.” Then he noticed Zerra. “How did you get here?” he demanded.

  “Same way as you,” Zerra retorted. “Except faster, because I didn’t stop on the way to let all that stuff out of the Iron Tower like you did.”

  “You did what?” Belamus whispered, staring at Hagos.

  “I already told you what he did!” Zerra said, exasperated.

  “It was a mistake,” said Hagos. “A terrible mistake.”

  “Will it come up here?” Belamus asked anxiously.

  Hagos shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He went to the window and looked down. The Wraith mist was still pouring out, but it was keeping close to the ground and spreading outward. “We must open the city gates,” Hagos said. “If we let it out, I believe it will disperse.”

  “Well, go and let it out then,” Belamus said.

  Hagos gulped. “Yes. Okay. I’ll go and do it. Right away.”

  “My spy will help you,” said Belamus.

  “Me?” asked Zerra.

  “Yes, you!”

  Belamus turned to Hagos and looked him in the eye. “You will pay for this, RavenStarr.” And as Hagos left the room, he added under his breath, “With your life.”

  Chapter 32

  Wraith Flow

  HAGOS AND ZERRA STOOD IN the archway of the Gold Tower, unwilling to step out. Star Court was a swirling mass of dark mist, shot through with flashes of blue light. From deep inside the darkness came an eerie mix of shrieks, growls and moans. It gave both Zerra and Hagos severe goose bumps. As if aware of Hagos and Zerra’s intrusion, the outer edges of the Wraith flow broke away, and long tendrils—some with little yellow eyes shining deep within—came curling toward them.

  “Will it kill us?” Zerra whispered.

  “It could,” Hagos said. “There are some nasty Wraiths in there. Sticky things that won’t let you go once they touch you.”

  Zerra looked at Hagos in horror.

  “So we need to move slowly and try not to create a disturbance in the air. You might find this useful.” Keeping a watchful eye on the tendrils, which were steadily approaching, Hagos drew the codex from his pocket. He flipped it open, took out one of the hexagonal cards and handed it to Zerra.

  “This is one of Alex’s cards,” she said, puzzled.

  Hagos looked surprised. “How do you know?”

  Zerra shrugged. “I found them one day. Feels like ages ago. When we were home in Luma.”

  “Home? In Luma? With Alex?”

  “Yes. Stop looking at me like that. It’s weird.”

  “So you’re Mirram D’Arbo’s daughter? Her younger one?”

  “Yes. So what?”

  Hagos sighed and muttered to himself, “You win some, you lose some.”

  “What?” asked Zerra.

  “Never mind. Take this card. Hold it in your fist. Like this.” Hagos himself took a card and wrapped his fingers around it. “Now you say these words. Just read them from here.” Hagos showed the codex to Zerra.

  She looked at some tiny writing curled around in a circle. “What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

  “It’s an Enchantment. To encircle you. Keep you safe. You can read?”

  “Of course I can read,” Zerra said scornfully. “But it’s no use my saying your Beguiler stuff, because I’m not a stupid Beguiler.”

  “You’re clearly not stupid,” Hagos replied snappily. “So just read the words, will you?”

  And so Zerra read her first Enchantment. She whispered the words and felt the wafer-thin hexagonal card buzz in her palm. When she was finished she hurriedly handed it back to Hagos. He waved it away. “Keep it with you. It will protect the Enchantment.”

  Zerra put the card in her pocket. She noticed that the tendrils that had been reaching out to them had curled back into the main flow, which was, Zerra could not help but think, quite cool. She listened to Hagos muttering his own Enchantment and thought how strange it was to be standing beside a real, grown-up Beguiler. It was not what she had expected—he seemed to be taking care of her, which was most odd. Her thoughts were interrupted by Hagos saying in a low voice, “We must open the door into Gate Court so that the Wraiths flow into there. Then we get the gate guards to open the city gates.”

  “They won’t want to do that,” Zerra said.

  “They will when they see this heading for them,” Hagos said. “And now we must be brave. We’re going to have to walk through this stuff. Take my hand. We’re more powerful as one.”

  Warily—because at school much had been made of the slippery, cold reptilian touch of a Beguiler—Zerra took Hagos’s hand. To her surprise it felt warm and dry, and enfolded her smaller hand in a comforting way. Allowing herself to be led by Hagos, Zerra walked with him into the Wraith flow. At once her legs felt icy cold and the miasma rising up from it made her cough. But as she and Hagos waded down the southeast point of the star, a strange sensation overcame Zerra. It was as though the coiled snake of anger that lived inside her was slowly slipping away. She felt almost happy as she and Hagos moved along the darkened street and then took the small ginnel on the left that ran between the houses to Gate Court. At the end was a tall, narrow door identical to the one that led into Mews Court. Hagos pulled the lever in the wall, the door swung open and they tumbled out into Gate Court, right into the middle of the line of Jackal chariots. They left the door hanging open and, pursued by the snaking swirls of Wraiths, they ran toward the city gates.

  “Halt!” the gate guard yelled. Then, seeing the writhing mass of darkness that Hagos had brought with him, the guard faltered. “Who goes there?” he whispered.

  Hagos decided to own up to who he was. “Hagos RavenStarr, King’s Enchanter. You are commanded by the king to open the city gates.”

  The guard stared at Hagos, wild-eyed in his red Enchanter’s cloak. “But you’re the Enchanter!”

  “Yes. I just told you. Now open the gates and let this stuff out before it smothers us all!”

  But all the guard could manage in reply was a strangled cough—one of the Wraiths was coiling tightly up around his chest and looping around his neck. It was, Hagos recognized with a shock, his failed Constrictor Enchantment, the one that would have turned earthworms into giant boa constrictors. From the depths of his memory, Hagos managed to find the countermand incantation. The Constrictor Wraith weakened and Hagos steadied the choking gate guard. “Get up the steps to the top of the gate tower,” he told him. “You’ll be safe there.” Needing no encouragement, the spluttering man stumbled away.

  Hagos felt something jab him in the back. He wheeled around to find another guard—the night captain, no less—confronting him, her javelin pointing at his throat. “What is this?” she demanded.

  Hagos was about to reply when the night captain’s javelin dropped from her hand. He saw
that she was staring up at something behind him with a look of horror. Hagos wheeled around to see eight red eyes set deep in a round head attached to a scaly abdomen balanced on eight long and spectacularly hairy legs—all of which was advancing toward them.

  “By the king’s command!” Hagos yelled desperately. “Open the gates and let this out!”

  The sound of Hagos’s voice released the night captain from the hypnotic effect of the spider. She fumbled for the key she wore at her belt and, with the help of Hagos and Zerra, pulled the Rekadom city gates open.

  “Get up here,” said the night captain, beckoning Hagos and Zerra to follow her through an archway at the foot of one of the stone pillars on either side of the gates. She led them up the narrow steps within the pillar, where they joined the other gate guard on the observation platform on the top. And there the unlikely group of Enchanter, spy, night captain and gate guard watched a giant spider accompanied by its attendant Wraiths stalk out of the city and head off into the desert.

  They watched for three long hours while the entire contents of the Iron Tower swirled and whirled, screamed and moaned their way out of Rekadom and into the world beyond the city. With Zerra’s spyglass, they took turns watching the Wraith flow as it spread across the desert, every now and then seeing a brilliant flash of yellow light as it made contact with a Skorpas.

  Hagos sighed. What new terror had he let loose on the world now?

  When the last of the Wraith flow was gone, they climbed down and helped the night captain close the gates, and then Hagos found the courage to ask about the chariots that had arrived earlier. When the night captain described the prisoners, Hagos knew that neither could be Alex. His spirits sank—where was she?

  But Zerra laughed. “They sound just like Louie and Francina,” she said. “But it can’t be.”