And she must have traveled quite some distance, Alistair realized, if she lived to the east of the Winns. She would face a long journey home.
“Will you be all right?” he asked. “Have you very far to travel?”
“Don’t you worry,” she said dreamily. “I’ll have the murmur of the Winns below, guiding my feet toward home. And you—you have your scarf to guide you.”
12
Cornoliana
Alice swallowed, and felt the tip of the tall guard’s spear prick her throat.
“Name?”
“Rita,” Alice answered, a bit breathlessly. Had the Queen’s Guards seen the balloon? Had they failed in their mission already? She clasped her hands together to hide their trembling.
“What about you?” said a shorter, stouter guard, poking his spear at Alex’s belly.
“Do you mind?” Alex replied, swiping away the spear. “Don’t go poking me like I’m some common Gerandan.”
At first Alice was impressed by Alex’s unruffled demeanor, but the guard clearly wasn’t; indeed, he seemed to take offense at Alex’s insolent tone.
“I asked you a question,” snarled the guard, aiming the point of his spear at Alex’s heart now.
“R-Raz,” quavered Alice, “tell him your name.” Oh, why was her brother antagonizing the guards?
“Well I don’t need to tell him now, do I, sis?” said Alex. “You just did.” He turned back to the guard and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “So now you know.”
The guard, bristling at having his question repeatedly ignored, stamped his foot. “But you were meant to tell me,” he whined.
“Hold on there, Groodley.” The third guard, who appeared to be the leader of the trio, stepped forward. “Stand down, Longnose.”
The tall guard dropped his spear, and Alice instinctively rubbed her throat.
“So, Raz and Rita, I’m Captain Scorpio,” said the third guard. “How about we dispense with the spears, and you dispense with the attitude and show us your papers?”
Papers! Of course! Alice thrust the letter she was holding at Captain Scorpio. “Our papers burned in a fire,” she said. “But we’ve got this.”
The captain scanned the letter, nodding as he did so.
“What does it say, Captain?” Groodley had been trying but failing to read over Scorpio’s shoulder. “Shall we take them prisoner?” he asked hopefully.
“We most certainly shall not, Groodley,” the captain responded, folding the letter and handing it back to Alice. “These young orphans are two of our own. Their dad is a hero—killed by rebel Gerandans while serving in the Crankens. Now they’re on their way to Cornoliana to work in the palace.”
“You’re going to work in the palace?” Longnose shuddered. “Better you than me.”
“Is General Ashwover very fierce?” asked Alice.
“Oh no, the general’s harmless enough—it’s Lester you’ve got to watch out for.”
“Who’s Lester?” said Alex.
“He’s the general’s eyes and ears and right-hand mouse,” Captain Scorpio explained. “The general runs Gerander, but it’s Lester who runs the palace. And a more unpleasant mouse I’ve never come across,” he reflected.
“A friend of mine, Jackson Johnson, was a sentry at the palace,” said Groodley. “Lester once came into the mess hall and demanded to know why Jackson Johnson had spaghetti in his whiskers. When Jackson Johnson said he didn’t, Lester tipped a plate of spaghetti over his head and told Jackson Johnson never to contradict him.”
“Poor Jackson Johnson,” said Longnose, shaking his head in sympathy, but it seemed to Alice that the smirking Groodley found his friend’s misfortune rather entertaining.
“So these two are free to go then, Captain?” asked Groodley. He sounded disappointed.
“I don’t think so,” Captain Scorpio said, and Alice’s breath caught in her throat. Were they prisoners after all?
“The gates of Cornoliana are closed at sunset, and I don’t like the idea of you two wandering around in the dark,” Scorpio continued, turning to the two young mice. “Our camp isn’t far from the city walls. You can stay with us tonight, and we’ll take you to the east gate in the morning. How does that sound?”
“That sounds . . . very kind, thank you.” The one thing Alice hadn’t really expected from Sourians—and Queen’s Guards in particular—was to be treated with kindness.
“Are you hungry?” Captain Scorpio asked as he led the way through a line of cypress trees to the road. “Groodley, Longnose, who has some field rations to spare for our young friends here?”
“Not me,” said Groodley quickly.
“I do,” said Longnose. He shrugged his pack from his back and stooped to retrieve an orange and half a sandwich.
Alice took the orange and Alex the sandwich, and they set off down the road into the dying rays of the sun.
“Are we far from your camp?” Alice asked as the darkness closed in around them.
“A couple of hours’ walk. Why, are you scared of the dark, Rita?” The captain’s voice was teasing.
“N-no,” said Alice, though it was creepy in the twilight, with the bushes by the side of the road looming in unexpected shapes.
“We don’t usually have call to venture into these parts ourselves,” the captain remarked. “It’s mostly just farmland around here—but we were sent to investigate possible FIG activity.”
Alice gulped. “FIG?” she said, trying to sound both innocent and curious.
“Were you looking for fruit?” Alex asked through a mouthful of sandwich.
Scorpio laughed but his voice was serious when he said, “No, not the fruit—the Gerandan rebels.” He sighed. “Most Gerandans are grateful for our presence; they understand that their country is too poor and backward to survive without Sourian strength and organization. But there are always a few bad apples, I suppose. Anyway, it seems it was just a false alarm.”
Most Gerandans were grateful for the occupation? That couldn’t be true—and yet the kind captain sounded as if he really believed it.
As they walked on through the darkness, Alice continued to mull this over, along with the surprising information that the Queen’s Guards had been on the lookout for FIG activity. What kind of activity? Was it possible that there was another FIG operation underway in the same region? Yet both Tobias and FIG had mentioned the difficulty of transporting FIG operatives into Gerander secretly, so it was unlikely that there would be other FIG members so close by. But if there wasn’t another FIG operation going on, that meant the Sourians had been expecting her and Alex! The captain didn’t seem to suspect them, though. . . . Alice sighed. She wondered what her brother had made of it all. It was really very confusing.
Her confusion, she had to admit, was made worse by the fact that she was feeling bone tired. It was hard to believe that only that morning she had woken in Stetson, with no idea that she’d be in Gerander by nightfall.
Her brother, as usual, didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word tired. He was chatting happily with Groodley, whose attitude toward Raz from Tornley had completely changed once Alex started peppering him with questions about Gerandan food.
“Dirt,” Groodley was sniffing now. “It all tastes like dirt. The basic ingredients are all right, mind you—it’s just that the Gerandans have no talent for cooking whatsoever. If I were you, I’d try to make sure you get all your food from the soldiers’ mess when you’re at the palace. The army brings their own cooks, you know.”
At last Captain Scorpio pointed to a dull orange glow emanating from a hilltop and said, “There’s our camp,” and they trudged up the short steep slope to where three rows of tents stood.
Flaming torches posted every few meters lit their way as they walked between two rows of large, square white tents, their shadows flickering on the canvas. Mice were lounging around the tent flaps chatting. Some were playing board games and others were polishing their boots. They all saluted Captain Scorpio respectfully as
he passed, and he greeted many of the guards with a little joke or comment.
“Watch out for Boggles here,” he said, stopping near a group playing tiddlywinks and placing a hand on the shoulder of a plump gray mouse. “He wins so often I’d swear he has springs on his thumbs.”
“Is that a letter from home, Shirley?” he asked a slender mouse who was reading a letter with a crease of anxiety furrowing her brow. “I hope your husband’s broken tail is healing well.”
They went straight to the mess tent for a bowl of tomato soup. “Gerandan tomatoes,” Groodley said, “but Sourian soup, you see?” He smacked his lips. “That’s what makes it good.”
Finally, when Alice feared she was about to drop on her feet, Captain Scorpio said, “There’s a couple of spare cots in the sick bay—Longnose, why don’t you show them the way?”
And at long last she was in bed. Curling onto her side, she asked her brother, “Alex, remember what Captain Scorpio was saying about how they were investigating possible FIG activity? They were expecting activity right where we landed!”
“It’s just a coincidence,” Alex said, then yawned loudly. “He obviously didn’t suspect us or he would have arrested us. Besides, who could have told them? We didn’t even know we’d be landing in that field today until right before we took off, so it’s impossible that the Sourians could have known.”
“But what about the dirigible?” Alice asked. “Isn’t it strange that it just happened to be flying around in the same patch of sky that we were?”
“Another coincidence.” Alex’s voice was growing fainter. “Stop worrying, sis. Everything will be . . .” There was a long pause.
“Alex?” said Alice impatiently. “Everything will be what?”
But her brother was asleep.
As she stepped out of the tent the next morning, Alice could see why the soldiers had chosen this site to make their camp. Their position on the hilltop gave them a good view of the surrounding countryside. The hill seemed to be marooned in a sea of golden wheat, the feathery tips of the grain gleaming in the sun. Lines of tall, dark green cypress trees separated the fields from the road. Beyond the wheat fields were patches of gray-green interspersed with bursts of yellow and the occasional red dot of a farmhouse roof.
“Cornoliana’s on the other side of the plain.”
Alice turned, startled, to see Captain Scorpio.
“Once you’ve had some breakfast, Groodley and Longnose will accompany you to the city gate.”
“Thank you, Captain Scorpio,” said Alice.
“I’ve got two kids of my own back in Souris,” the captain replied. “Seeing the two of you alone in the world with no one to look out for you . . . It reminds me how lucky I am that my family is safe and well.” Once again Alice was struck by the kindness of the Sourian soldier—until he added, “And it makes me all the more determined to ensure that the Gerandans are kept in their place so no more good men like your father have to die in defense of our country.”
The way he said that Gerandans should be “kept in their place,” it was as if he didn’t understand that this was their own country! Was it possible for someone to be good and bad at the same time? Alice wondered.
They had a quick breakfast of fruit and yogurt, then the four mice set off across the golden plain. It was only a half-hour walk, and Groodley passed the time telling them more horror stories about the dreaded Lester. He told the stories with a certain relish, and it seemed to Alice that he hadn’t really forgiven them for being innocent Sourian orphans rather than evil FIG spies.
To stop herself becoming too frightened by his stories, Alice focused instead on her surroundings. As they left the fields of wheat behind, she saw that the patches of gray-green she’d noticed from the guards’ camp were olive groves, and the bursts of yellow were sunflowers, their heads tilted toward the sun. As they drew closer to the high castellated stone wall encircling Gerander’s capital, they passed through a series of market gardens. On either side of the road were neat squares of earth with rows of lettuce, and beans strung along wire and vines of plump red tomatoes.
Before long they were at the city’s east gate.
Longnose saluted the red-coated sentries and said, “Captain Scorpio sends his compliments and asks that you escort these two young mice to the palace gates.”
“They’re going to see Lester,” explained Groodley.
The two sentries saluted, and one replied, “Why would anyone want to see Festering Lester?”
Groodley chortled. “Festering Lester—good one.”
“Good luck,” said Longnose to Alex and Alice.
“You’ll need it!” added Groodley.
They turned and strode away.
“Well, come on then,” said the guard who’d referred to Festering Lester. “Better not keep Lester the Pester waiting.” She set off at a brisk pace, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be back soon, Pearce. Try to keep the rampaging hordes from the gates until then.” She sighed. “Guarding that gate is the world’s most boring job,” she said as she led Alex and Alice down a narrow street, “in the world’s most boring city.”
“It’s so old!” Alice exclaimed as they passed rustic stone buildings painted in faded shades of cream and ocher and topped with red-tiled roofs.
“Just goes to show how backward the Gerandans are,” sneered the guard on her left. “In Souris, if a building gets old we knock it down and build a new one.”
But Alice hadn’t meant it as an insult. She was enchanted by the tall, rickety buildings that seemed to lean in toward one another as if for support. Even the cobblestones were worn smooth, as if mice had been walking these streets for centuries. It occurred to her that her ancestors might have walked on these very stones.
They wound through a maze of cramped alleyways. At street level there were tiny shops: outside one, woven baskets were tacked to the wall and lined up along the window ledge; another had a collection of terra-cotta pots in all shapes and sizes arranged on either side of the doorway; a third had leather belts and bags strung in the window. A glimpse into a dark workshop revealed a mouse blowing glass through a long tube. And from the worn pillowcases and ragged towels draped on clotheslines high above the streets, it was obvious that the upper levels of these buildings were living quarters.
They came out into a wider street and Alice started to sense the grandeur of the city. The buildings here were larger and sturdier, with arcades at street level and porticos above the doors. Many had some kind of ornamentation carved in stone above the high arched windows. Then they rounded the corner into an enormous plaza and were confronted with the most beautiful building Alice had ever seen.
“Is this the palace?” she gasped. A pair of bronze doors divided into panels and adorned with various scenes stood almost as high as their old apartment block in Smiggins, with a smaller pair of wooden doors on either side. Above each door was a rose window of stained glass. The building was richly decorated in strips of pink, white, and green marble, which outlined a series of tall arched windows—with more stained glass—and square panels inlaid with intricate terra-cotta patterns. At the very top were a dozen or so niches, in which marble statues were just visible. Set back from the facade Alice could see an enormous red-tiled dome roof.
“The palace? Nah, that’s just the cathedral.” The guard looked at it critically. “It’s all right, I suppose. But the cathedral in Grouch is much bigger.” And with a sniff she dismissed the breathtaking building.
They hurried across the large square, past the cathedral, and along another elegant avenue. With all this beauty Cornoliana should have been a happy, vibrant place, but the mood on the streets was somber. Mice went about their business with their heads bowed and shrank from them as they passed. Alice saw a child cry out on seeing them, only to be swiftly hushed by his parents, as if they were afraid to draw attention to themselves. She couldn’t help but notice how thin they were, these sad-looking mice. There was no way any of them could be said to look gr
ateful. The only mice who appeared at ease, lingering in the cafés and gazing in shop windows, wore red coats. They seemed strangely unaware of the Gerandans, who moved through the streets of their own capital city like shadows.
At the end of the avenue they crossed a bridge over a shallow, fast-flowing river into another enormous square. An imposing building stretched along the full length of its far side.
“Right,” said the guard. “Cross the square and you’re at the palace gates. Give my love to Fester.” She sniggered unkindly then turned on her heel and marched away, the heels of her boots clattering loudly on the cobblestones.
“Ready?” said Alex, when the guard had gone. He sounded unusually nervous.
Alice swallowed. This was where their undercover operation really began. She tightened her grip on the letter in her hand. “Ready.” And she began to walk across the square.
13
Billy Mac
The tunnel ended in a hole they had to crawl through. It was raining when Alistair clambered out onto a long, deserted beach resounding to the roar and thud of crashing waves. He blinked in the light, which hurt his eyes, despite the dull gray of early evening. The sand was sodden and clung to his feet. It must have been raining for some time. Another crack in a mountain’s fold, Alistair thought, as he turned to look back at the sheer cliff rearing above them.
“Cobb should be over the headland to the south,” Slippers said. “And there’s bound to be a lot of Queen’s Guards so close to Atticus Island, so let’s take it nice and easy.”
A path led over the headland and they followed it in a stop-start fashion, Feast going on ahead to survey the terrain, beckoning them forward when he had ascertained the coast was clear. Although they didn’t have far to travel, it seemed to take a long time and involved much standing in puddles and hiding in wet bushes.
The houses of Cobb were huddled together beneath a big brooding sky, their backs to the gorse-studded hills encasing the town. Some of the buildings were whitewashed, others a faded brown stone the color of butterscotch. They all had steep red-tiled roofs, narrow chimneys sitting atop them like exclamation points, and small many-paned windows. In most houses a light was shining against the gloom, and they could see straight into parlors and kitchens.
The Song of the Winns Page 12