Peter and the Secret of Rundoon

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  They were lucky to be alive. After watching Hook and the boys disappear into the churning, bubbling water, Smee and the others had clung to the overturned canoe, lifting their legs as high as they could, terrified that at any moment they, too, would be sucked below.

  Instead, the sea had quieted, and the canoe had drifted from the spot. The pirates had talked about swimming back to the beach where they had stolen the canoe, but they were not good swimmers, and this side of the island was crawling with red-painted, spear-carrying warriors. So they had clung to the canoe, hoping for the best. Their hopes were rewarded as the current carried them, slowly, around the north side of the island, bringing them close enough to a point where, with much flailing and sputtering, they were able to swim to shore.

  Now, on the beach, the other pirates were all looking at Smee. It bothered him, facing five and a half pairs of eyes (one of the men wore an eye patch).

  “What are you looking at?” Smee said.

  “We’re looking at you,” said one of the men, whose name was Hurky.

  “I can see you’re looking at me,” said Smee. “But why are you looking at me?”

  “We’re waitin’ for orders,” said Hurky.

  “Ah,” said Smee. He resumed gasping. Then he frowned. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Orders from who?”

  “From you,” said Hurky.

  Smee was so taken aback by this that he literally took a step back. “From me?” he sputtered. “I don’t give orders. Cap’n gives orders.”

  “Smee,” said Hurky. “If the cap’n is givin’ any orders right now, it’s to a fish. He’s gone, Smee. You was first mate. You’re next in line. You’re the actin’cap’n now. So we’re waitin’on your orders.”

  The other five men nodded in agreement and continued to stare expectantly at Smee. He could feel the weight of all eleven eyes. He rubbed his bare forehead with both hands. He was trying to think, but thinking was the one thing Smee had always found hardest to do. He had spent most of his life doing it as little as possible.

  “Cap’n Smee,” said a voice. Cap’n Smee. It sounded bizarre to Smee. He peeked out between his hands; he saw the voice had come from a man named Boggs.

  “What is it?” he said reluctantly.

  “I was thinking,” said Boggs, “that it might be a good idea to go to the fort.”

  “The fort?” said Smee.

  “Aye, Cap’n. The fort.”

  Smee frowned, thinking about it. “The fort,” he said.

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “We should go to the fort,” said Smee.

  “So that’s your order then, Cap’n?” said Hurky.

  “What is?” said Smee.

  “That we should go the fort,” said Hurky.

  “Yes,” said Smee. “I believe it is. Follow me, men.”

  He began walking. The men hesitated.

  “Cap’n Smee,” called Hurky.

  “What?” said Smee, stopping.

  “The fort is the other way.”

  “Ah,” said Smee. He turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.

  “Follow me, men,” he said again.

  And one by one, the men fell in behind, following Acting Captain Smee.

  CHAPTER 27

  A DESERT CONVERSATION

  LEONARD ASTER WAS GETTING used to the camel. Unlike a horse, it had a swaying, side-to-side gait that was surprisingly comfortable. And he was learning to control it, thanks to Tink, who could speak a little Camel.

  He says you’re pulling too hard on his nose, she told Leonard.

  “Please tell him I’m sorry,” said Leonard, easing up on the reins, which were attached to a wooden peg inserted into the camel’s nostrils. The camel emitted a snorting sound.

  He says thank you, said Tink. His name is Azerraf.

  “Please tell Azerraf he is welcome,” said Leonard.

  Bakari looked on in amusement.

  “I’ve never heard anyone speak so politely to a camel,” he said.

  “Well I certainly don’t want to irritate him,” said Leonard, smiling. “It’s a long way to the ground.”

  The two riders had said nothing of importance as they made their way out of the streets of Ashmar. Now they were east of the city on the desert road to the Rundoon border; Tink had been released from the confinement of the box, and the men felt it was safe to talk. Just in case, Bakari twisted in his saddle and looked back: in the distance, perhaps a mile behind, he saw two men, also on camels. Other than that, they were alone. Still, Bakari lowered his voice.

  “We have an informant in Zarboff’s palace,” he said. “A guard who detests Zarboff and will tell us what he sees in exchange for gold. He says the boy and his friends are being held in the palace dungeon.”

  “Is Peter all right?” said Leonard.

  “He was quite sick when he arrived, but he’s doing better. The palace doctor has been attending to him.”

  “Does our informant know why they want Peter?”

  “No. Only that they want to get him healthy soon. And that last night he was taken to visit a place in the desert near Maknar, a tomb called the Jackal.”

  “A tomb?”

  “Our man says it’s an evil place inhabited by living shadows.”

  Leonard was staring at Bakari. “Living shadows,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Bakari. “Like the one that attacked my group in Egypt, and you in England. Our man said one of these shadow creatures came to the palace to speak with Zarboff.”

  “What did they talk about?”

  “Our man couldn’t hear their conversation. But he did hear Zarboff address the shadow creature as Lord Ombra.”

  Leonard looked stunned. “He’s the one who followed us to England,” he said. “I thought he’d been destroyed at Stonehenge.”

  “Evidently not,” said Bakari. “According to our informant, it was this Ombra who brought the boy and the others from the island, on—this sounds odd, but our man insists it’s true—some kind of underwater ship.”

  Leonard nodded. “I’m aware of that ship,” he said. “We reached the island not long after it left.”

  “Do you have any idea why the Others and these shadow creatures have gone to so much trouble to get the boy?” said Bakari.

  “I’m afraid I do,” said Leonard. “I think they’re going to use him to locate the next starstuff Fall.”

  It was Bakari’s turn to look stunned. “How would he do that?”

  “I believe Peter has an unusual ability,” said Leonard. “I don’t know how it works, and I suspect he doesn’t know, either. But I believe it’s the same ability that his parents, or at least his father, had.” He told Bakari what Molly and George had learned in Oxford about the mysterious Mr. Pan, who had used newspaper notices to alert the Starcatchers about falling starstuff, until he and his wife had disappeared, leaving a son named Peter.

  “What do you think happened to them?” said Bakari.

  “I believe the Others got them and brought them here to Rundoon,” Leonard said. “I believe the Others used them to locate starstuff Falls. That’s why we stopped getting the warnings. That’s how the Others got to the Scotland Fall ahead of us.”

  “But you got that starstuff back,” said Bakari.

  “Precisely,” said Leonard. “It was a huge amount, and the Others wanted it very badly. Now, I believe, they intend to use Peter to get more.”

  “Why can’t they use his parents again?”

  “Something must have happened to them. In fact, it probably happened not long after the Scotland Fall, because the Others arranged to have Peter put on the boat that was supposed to bring that batch of starstuff to Rundoon. But that boat never got here—thanks to Peter and Molly. And now the Others are after more starstuff. They have something in mind, something big, something to do with these shadow creatures. Whatever it is, it’s why they brought Peter here, I’m sure of it. And it’s why we must get him out of there before the next starstuff Fall.”

/>   “It won’t be easy,” said Bakari. “The dungeon is deep inside the palace complex and heavily guarded.”

  “What about your inside man?”

  “He can get us through the main palace gate,” said Bakari. “But beyond that we’re on our own. It won’t be easy—Zarboff has guards everywhere.”

  I can get past the guards.

  “What did she say?” said Bakari.

  “Tink says she can get past the guards. I have no doubt she can. The trick will be for us to get past them and somehow get Peter out. We must find a way to do that. We can’t let him stay in there.”

  The two men rode on in silence, their thoughts on the difficult task facing them and their eyes on the desert road ahead.

  Neither of them noticed that what had been two camel riders behind them was now only one. And that the one was drawing steadily closer.

  CHAPTER 28

  JAMES’S PROMISE

  THE CLINK OF THE LOCK and the creak of the iron cell door woke James. He watched with half-open eyes as two guards shoved Peter into the dark cell. Peter slumped to the floor, his back against the wall. The other boys remained asleep.

  “Are you all right?” whispered James.

  “Yes,” whispered Peter. “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t sound fine to James. “Where did they take you?”

  “To that tomb thing Slightly talked about,” whispered Peter. “The Jackal.”

  “Why?”

  Peter started to answer, then stopped himself. He had more questions in his mind than answers. The one thing he did know was that if he didn’t help the Others find the starstuff, they said they would kill his friends. But he didn’t want to tell James that.

  “I don’t really know,” he said finally.

  “But what did…”

  “James,” said Peter, cutting his friend off, “I’m too tired to talk right now.”

  “All right,” said James, although it clearly wasn’t all right. “Good night, then.” He rolled sideways away from Peter, wrapping himself in his blanket.

  Peter lay down and pulled his own rough blanket around him. The two boys were just a few feet apart in the darkness. Minutes passed.

  “James,” whispered Peter.

  “What?”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you and the boys.”

  “I know you won’t, Peter. But can’t I help? Can’t I do something?”

  “Yes,” said Peter. “You can help by comforting the others if…”

  “If what? Peter, what’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know. But promise me you’ll be the leader, if you have to. You’ll watch after the others.”

  “I…promise,” whispered James.

  “Good. Now, it’s very late, and we need to sleep.”

  “All right,” said James.

  The cell fell silent. But neither James nor Peter slept.

  CHAPTER 29

  URGENT NEWS

  IN A HUGE, DOMED CHAMBER decorated with golden drapes, King Zarboff was soaking in a gleaming copper bathtub big enough to hold a horse. Zarboff, a substantial man who filled most of the tub, sloshed the foaming water over the edge when he moved. Four servant boys, including Slightly, stood by with jugs of hot water to keep the temperature exactly to the king’s liking. From time to time the boys glanced nervously toward a large straw basket at the foot of the tub; inside it was Kundalini, the king’s pet snake. The boys were all thinking of the time when one of the servants had poured a bit too much hot water into the king’s bath.…

  The bath-chamber door opened. A guard entered.

  “Your Highness King Zarboff the Third!” he said, giving the three-finger salute.

  “How dare you disturb my bath?” Zarboff snapped.

  “There’s a visitor to see you,” said the guard, his voice quavering, eyes darting to Kundalini’s wicker basket. “He claims to carry urgent news from the port of Ashmar.”

  “It had better be urgent,” growled Zarboff. “Send him in.” He waved his hand at the young servants, dismissing them.

  The boys followed the guard out. Slightly was last in line—but he didn’t leave the chamber. At the door, he glanced around quickly to make sure the king wasn’t looking, then ducked behind one of the enormous golden drapes.

  A few moments later the guard returned, followed by a man who showed signs of having ridden hard across the desert—his clothes full of sand and dust, his turban discolored by sweat and dirt.

  “Your Highness King Zarboff the Third!” he said, saluting. “My name is Jibran. I am the son of…”

  “I don’t care who you are,” said Zarboff, lathering his left foot. “What is your urgent news?”

  “A ship,” said Jibran. “It arrived in Ashmar this day.”

  “Many ships arrive in Ashmar.”

  “This ship carried Englishmen.”

  Zarboff paused while washing his toes and looked at Jibran. “How do you know this?”

  “I saw the ship, Your Excellency. I was there, in Ashmar. I have ridden here to bring you this news.”

  “What else?”

  “An Englishman disguised himself and left the ship, where he joined another—a man I recognized. His name is Bakari.”

  Zarboff’s foot splashed back into the tub. “Bakari? You are certain?

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “And where are they now, these men?”

  Jibran shifted nervously, swallowed, then said, “Your Highness, it is my understanding that this information is quite valuable. And as I am a poor man and have risked much to bring this news to Your Highness, I was wondering if there might be, that is, if Your Highness could possibly…”

  “You seek a reward,” interrupted Zarboff, his voice unusually soft.

  Emboldened by that softness, Jibran said, “It seems only right, Your Highness.”

  Zarboff stared at Jibran for several seconds. Then he smiled. This was also unusual.

  “All right, then,” he said. “You shall have your reward.” He gripped the sides of the tub and began to lift himself, shouting, “Towels!”

  Instantly, the servant boys, who had been waiting outside, scurried in carrying huge swatches of gold-dyed cotton. As they passed, Slightly ducked out from behind the drapes and joined them. They wrapped Zarboff in the towels and helped him fit his large, hairy feet into gold-embroidered slippers.

  “Guard!” bellowed Zarboff.

  “Yes, Your Highness!”

  “Fetch Lord Ombra,” said Zarboff.

  The guard went pale. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said. He turned and trotted from the chamber.

  Zarboff turned back to Jibran. “When Lord Ombra arrives, you will tell us all you know.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” said Jibran. “And…the reward?”

  “Oh yes,” said Zarboff, smiling again. “You will get exactly what you deserve.”

  CHAPTER 30

  FRANKLIN

  AS THEY NEARED THE HEART OF MAKNAR, Leonard and Bakari dismounted from their camels and led them by the reins through the crowded streets. Activity swirled around them: men and women shouting and bantering, bargaining for all manner of goods. The sweet smell of incense and the musky odor of burning rope filled the air. Rug merchants sat cross-legged next to their colorful wares, sucking on tubes that ran to bubbling hookahs from which tobacco smoke rose like gray rope. Barefoot children ran past in packs, laughing and chasing one another in a game as timeless as humanity itself.

  From just ahead came a mournful, haunting melody. A crowd was gathered around a snake charmer, who was playing a flutelike instrument, drawing a cobra from a wicker basket. The cobra swayed back and forth, apparently moving in time to the tune. Then it became motionless as the snake charmer leaned forward and, to gasps from the onlookers, kissed the top of the cobra’s head. The crowd applauded, some people tossing coins.

  The afternoon was turning into evening, although to Leonard, unused to the desert, the heat still felt brutal. Finally the sun w
inked good-bye on the horizon. As darkness fell, the streets began to empty. Leonard and Bakari found a deserted square, and Leonard, apparently speaking to the air, said, “All right, Tink.”

  It’s about time, said Tink, poking her head out of a fold in Leonard’s turban.

  Bakari pointed to a group of spires looming in the distance, turned reddish gold by the last rays of the sinking sun.

  “Zarboff’s palace,” he said.

  “How do we go in?” said Leonard.

  “Our man guards a door on the east wall,” said Bakari. “It’s near the palace kitchen. We’ll enter that way.”

  “All right, Tink,” said Leonard. “We’ll be near the kitchen. You need to find Peter, then come find us and lead us to him. Can you do that?”

  Of course I can, said Tink, and then she was flying, a streak of light in the night sky.

  “She thinks she can do anything,” said Leonard, watching the streak disappear over a building.

  “I hope she’s right,” said Bakari, as the two men began trudging toward the palace.

  Tink had seen only one city other than Maknar—London. The two places could not have been more different. London was clouds and rain and cold. Here, even in the dusk, she could feel the waves of heat wafting upward from the parched streets and sun-baked buildings.

  She sensed something hurtling toward her and veered sharply left. It was a swarm of huge dragonflies, nearly the size of Tink herself.

  Watch where you’re going! she chimed. They ignored her. This did not surprise Tink: most insects, in her experience, were very stupid.

  She resumed flying toward the palace now looming ahead, its towering walls elaborately decorated with mosaic depictions of epic battles. She swooped high over the near wall, unobserved by a guard in the watchtower directly below. The instant she was inside she felt it—an unmistakable flutter in her tiny heart…Peter.

  He was here. But where, exactly? The palace complex was enormous—dozens of buildings, hundreds of windows, and many, many rooms. Tink flew across a huge courtyard with two odd-looking, sharp-pointed towers. Ahead, she saw a line of gray doves standing on the peak of a steep-angled tile roof. Birds, at last.