‘There’s more over here,’ said Vesta, from the other side of the dome.
Setting his wicker basket on the ledge, Rocco stuck his finger in. Trembling, he lifted his finger to his nose. Honeysuckle. What an odious smell.
He hadn’t thought to bring anything to scoop the dust with.
‘Vesta, come and help me tip it out.’ Taking turns, one held a wicker basket in place while the other raised the jar and poured in the dust. They mixed in the dropsy powder.
With both their baskets full, they flew over to help Iggy.
‘You came prepared,’ said Rocco, nodding at Rummy who was wearing his own kaffy, which Iggy had made from cutting the toe out of a sock.
‘I found these,’ said Vesta, dragging out the hoses attached to balloon pumps.
They each stored a length of hose and a balloon pump in their baskets. The floor below remained dark.
‘Wait here,’ said Rocco. He made a pass around the room. It was utterly deserted. The door behind the judges’ desk opened to an antechamber with a large shuttered window. If they needed to they could fly out, he thought as he returned into the main room.
‘Down here, behind the desk,’ he called up. Vesta and Iggy flew down. They lay down on the floor. Rummy started jabbering.
‘Keep her quiet,’ said Vesta.
‘She’s nervous,’ said Iggy.
‘Maybe she doesn’t like the smell,’ said Rocco.
Iggy adjusted Rummy’s kaffy, but the monkey continued to squawk. Iggy began picking through her fur. It was too dark to see anything small like a nit, but Rummy settled finally.
‘Feldspar won’t be able to find us up here,’ said Iggy.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll hear her,’ said Rocco.
* * *
The chimes of Avian Plaza were ringing midnight when the door to the Courthouse opened and closed. Rocco, Vesta and Iggy poked their heads above the judges’ desk. Feldspar was walking down an aisle.
‘Are you guys here?’
‘We’re up here!’ Rocco called softly.
Feldspar flew up to the desk. Sitting on her haunches, she stared down. ‘I forgot to tell you before. Magma’s in the palace. I just saw him now. He says to tell you he’s feeling much better, and he misses you.’
‘Magma!’ Iggy sat upright.
‘What did you tell him?’ Rocco got up so he could see Feldspar’s face.
‘I told him you were here to capture Harpia,’ said Feldspar.
‘Where’s Magma? Is he okay?’ Iggy jumped up to the top of the desk.
‘Harpia made him into a palace minionatro, as soon as he got back,’ said Feldspar.
‘Do you trust him?’ Rocco watched Feldspar’s face closely.
‘Of course,’ said Feldspar. ‘Magma’s how we get most of our food.’
‘What did you find out?’ asked Vesta.
‘Harpia’s locked in her rooms. No one sees her. The cook leaves her food by the door. You have to be very careful when you go in,’ said Feldspar, turning to Rocco. ‘The palace is full of Air Marshals. She makes them sleep there, not all of them, but most of them. She’s paranoid.’
Having delivered her promised bit of news, Feldspar flew off. As the door slammed shut again, Iggy sighed. ‘Oh! I do miss Magma.’
‘What do you think?’ said Rocco. He didn’t want to upset Iggy, but what if – what if Magma had already leaked the fact that they were there and planning to capture Harpia? Maybe he would trade that information for some kind of favour.
‘About Magma?’ asked Vesta.
Rocco nodded.
‘I’m sure he’s fine.’
Vesta wouldn’t look him in the face. She had doubts too, but she didn’t want to say them out loud in front of Iggy.
They stood at the door, peering out. The night was foggy. Swirls of mist clung to the ground. Pushing open the door, they crept out. They darted from one shadow to the next, every step taking them closer to the palace.
What had happened to Magma, anyway? Had he deliberately set out to find the Air Marshals on some misconceived notion that they’d just let him return to Krakatoan? Or had he been captured? Either way, he’d lost his wings. The Air Marshals hadn’t wasted any time in cutting them off.
With the city in such a turmoil, what sort of promise or gift could Magma expect from turning them in?
Arriving on the top step, they pushed the palace doors open. Inside the smell of honeysuckle was thick and overpoweringly sweet. It almost made Rocco retch. He pulled his kaffy over his nose.
The centre of the palace was an atrium, rising as a hollow space from the first floor to the shimmering gold dome at the very top.
There was no sign of Magma.
‘This way,’ whispered Vesta, turning into the palace’s southern wing. A plush red carpet ran along a wide hallway decorated with small tables pushed up against the wall. Dishes, dirty with remnants of food, were stacked on every table, and on the floor beneath.
Vesta and Iggy hovered by the first door. Rocco opened it and walked inside. The room was too dark to see anything at first. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the plumed helmet of a Krakatoan Air Marshal hanging on a pole at the end of the bed. His uniform was hanging there, too. In the bed, stretched out on his back, lay the Air Marshal himself.
Drawing out the balloon pump, Rocco came near the bed. With the pump in his hand, he was about to give it a squeeze. A light flickered.
Rocco dropped to his knees. Peering under the bed, he saw a second Air Marshal sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Reaching as far under as he dared, he gave the pump a strong clamp. A powdery mist sprayed out. It wafted across the Air Marshal’s head, drifting down to settle on his face and the surrounding pillow.
The Air Marshal’s bioluminescent wings grew dim.
Holding the pump, Rocco stood up and gave two more squirts to the Air Marshal on the bed. The Air Marshal groaned and rolled over, swinging his arm very near Rocco’s head. Rocco jerked back as the Air Marshal reached up to scratch his nose.
Rocco fled to the door. Behind him the Air Marshal sneezed. As he pulled the door shut, the Air Marshal sat up. Staring blankly at Rocco, he flopped back to his pillow with a muffled grunt.
‘That was close!’ whispered Rocco, out in the hall again.
Rocco, Vesta and Iggy entered the next three rooms. Hardly a minute had elapsed before Rocco and Vesta were again in the hall. They watched Iggy’s door.
‘Where is he?’ asked Vesta.
Pushing the door open slightly, Vesta and Rocco looked in. Iggy was walking around the room with Rummy on his shoulder. The room was saturated with dust. It swirled around Iggy’s head as he pumped the balloon and pumped again.
‘Pssst!’
Iggy came out, rubbing his eyes.
‘Just spray it once or twice in the Air Marshal’s face,’ said Vesta.
‘I did that,’ said Iggy.
‘But you’re going to run out.’
Iggy nodded, still rubbing his eyes.
Dusting three rooms at a time, they came to the end of the hall.
‘Mine’s not working anymore,’ said Iggy.
Rocco squeezed the pump. Nothing came out.
Vesta flipped the lid of Iggy’s basket open. ‘It’s empty.’
‘You sprayed it all?’
‘What are we going to do now?’ asked Vesta, continuing to stare into the empty bottom of Iggy’s basket. She gave Iggy an angry look.
‘I thought I was doing it right,’ said Iggy.
‘We could just give him some of ours,’ said Rocco.
‘But there’s at least another floor of rooms. We’ll run out,’ said Vesta.
They returned outside. This time, two Air Marshals were on the wall. Not walking, but standing together talking. Sticking to the shadows, Rocco, Vesta and Iggy ran down the steps. Would they make it to the courthouse without being spotted?
Across the courtyard again, they darted through the mist. They slipped inside.
&n
bsp; ‘I’m sorry,’ said Iggy. ‘I took the kaffy off because I was about to sneeze. I pulled it back again, but my head got into a snooze and I couldn’t think straight. Maybe I should have said.’
Working quickly, they refilled Iggy’s basket, tipping in some of their own mixture that included the dropsy.
‘Do you think it’s strong enough?’ asked Vesta.
‘It’s diluted for sure, but what else can we do?’ said Rocco.
twenty-six
Harpia’s palace
Half running, they passed once more by the small tables with dirty dishes. Every door on the first floor remained shut. At the end of the hall was a broad marble stairwell with a scrolling railing. They climbed the steps. Halfway up, an Air Marshal appeared at the top.
He looked at them like they were wolves. He lumbered down.
Rocco was first. His mind spirit was whirling. He’d tell him they were cleaning the palace. That was a good story. But what about their wings, full of mud? How would they explain that?
‘What’s all this?’ The Air Marshal nodded at the basket on his back. Next, his eyes moved to their dirt-covered feathers.
‘Laundry,’ said Rocco. It sounded lame. The vein in his neck started pumping again.
The Air Marshal leaned down to pull the lid of the basket open, or so Rocco thought. Instead, when the Air Marshal’s face came close, he seized Rocco’s arm.
‘You three are coming with–‘
The Air Marshal didn’t finish his sentence. He slumped down to the step. Vesta hovered above. She’d squirted the dust mixture into the Air Marshal’s face.
‘Again!’ cried Iggy.
Pouf. Pouf.
His arm now free, Rocco shoved hard. The Air Marshal fell sideways. His head fell crookedly; his legs splayed open.
‘He’s asleep.’
Rocco grabbed the Air Marshal under the arms. ‘Get his feet. We can’t leave him here.’
‘Leave him,’ said a voice from the top of the stairs.
Magma, dressed in red robes, was standing at the top. He was alone, not holding anything that looked like a weapon.
‘What do you want?’ It sounded hard, but Magma had run off on them.
‘I – want to help,’ said Magma. As he spoke he pushed the Air Marshal up against the wall. Running back up the stairs, he returned a moment later with a half full wine cup. Spilling the wine on the front of the Air Marshal’s jacket, he set the cup on its side by the Air Marshal’s foot.
‘There. Now, come.’
He was trying to make amends, but did that mean he was trustworthy?
Rocco followed Magma to the top. Magma walked farther down the hall. Where was he leading them? He disappeared into a small room with a chair and a table, a waiting room of some kind. When they were all inside, Magma closed the door.
Iggy hurled himself at Magma. ‘You’re okay! Magma! You’re okay! We were ever so worried.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…’ With his arms around Iggy, Magma began to weep. ‘You were right. I shouldn’t have left, but I was out of my mind with the pain in my head. I didn’t mean to leave you in a lurch. It was awful what I did. Can you ever forgive me?’
‘We forgive you, Magma,’ said Iggy.
Vesta stepped forward. ‘It’s okay, Magma,’ she said, giving him a solid hug. ‘You’re alive. We’re happy to see you.’
Magma leaving when he did, it had made the rest of the mission that much harder.
‘What about you, Rocco? Do you forgive me too?’
Magma looked smaller without his wings. He’d never fly again.
Rocco embraced Magma. ‘You’re alive. That’s a good thing.’
Vesta explained the plan.
Nodding, Magma said, ‘I’ll help, just tell me what to do.’ He opened the door to the inner room. Rows of beds, all with sleeping Air Marshals, lined the walls. While Magma kept watched, they went in and sprayed every one of them.
‘Harpia made all the Krakatoan Air Marshals sleep here. The Gabbro warriors are bedded down in the Air Marshals’ Roosting Hall,’ explained Magma on their way out.
Magma led them into other single rooms on the same floor. Twice Rocco heard Rummy jabbering away in the next room. Both times, he hurried over only to find Rummy and Iggy wrestling an Air Marshal, once on the floor and the second time on the bed.
Pouf. Pouf. Rocco pumped the balloon. The Air Marshal didn’t know what hit him.
‘If you can’t control Rummy, leave her with Magma,’ said Rocco.
‘Okay!’
Soon the second floor was done, and Magma was leading them to Harpia’s quarters.
‘Wait here.’ A moment later Magma returned with a skeleton key and three finely crafted swords. His hands were shaking as he passed them over.
‘She’s in a foul mood. Be careful.’ He nodded at a set of doors across the open atrium.
‘This is it,’ said Rocco when they reached the door. ‘There’s three of us. We can do this.’
Vesta and Iggy nodded.
They peered in through the keyhole. The room was dark. Vesta unlocked the door. The room was large with an extremely high ceiling. A table took up much of the room. Rocco had seen it before, but only from outside, on the balcony. Surmounted over the table, the crested eagles hung, their talons as long as the claws of a bear.
Rocco’s heels hit the top of the table. He’d forgotten about the chandelier. Harpia – if indeed it was Harpia – was sitting, hunched over at the far end.
Her head flipped up. She hadn’t heard them come in. She was drunk. At least she was clutching a cup.
Rocco strode toward her. Harpia’s eyes became dark. She reached up to steady her crown. She was sitting in the same seat she had occupied on the night of the dinner party.
‘How dare you –’ she hissed. Still seated, she pushed away the bones, feathers and dishes that were piled around the tabletop. ‘You’ve come back, stinking thieves!’
With another long stride, Rocco brought his sword up so that it was level with Harpia’s face. Why wasn’t she getting up? Did she think they weren’t capable of capturing her?
‘You’re not the rightful queen of Krakatoan,’ said Rocco. ‘Belarica is queen. She’s kind and good, and you are not. In the name of Belarica, we’re here to apprehend you.’
Harpia threw her head back. She began to laugh. ‘You? A mudrock from the plains, and your two half-fledged accomplices? You’ve come here to put on a show, like a trio of peacocks?’ She waved a hand at Vesta and Iggy who were standing behind Rocco on the tabletop.
Harpia was mocking them.
Rocco ran the last few strides. As he neared the end of the table, Harpia rose up. Robe and sleeves billowing, she flew to the wall behind her. Yanking a sword off a decorative shield on the wall, she whirled around, teeth flashing and eyes all liquid again.
‘Stinking mudrock! You dare to come in here and treat me like a common criminal. I will have your head, personally on the end of this sword!’
The vitriol in her voice was like a cold hard hand seizing his spine. No, he wasn’t paralyzed, he was moving forward. He struck at Harpia.
‘Is that your best strike.’ With a laugh, Harpia fell back.
Clang. Clang. He lunged again. She was faster than she’d been a moment ago. They rose to the top of the ceiling. He was forcing her into battle whether she liked it or not.
As they passed the balcony doors, Harpia turned her head and shrieked. Surely it was too far for the Gabbroans to hear? They were sleeping way on the other side of the city.
‘It’s them, the Air Marshals from the wall,’ Vesta shouted.
‘Get them,’ yelled Rocco.
Vesta had opened the doors. She and Iggy were hiding on either side of the frame, swords drawn.
‘Thief! Dirty mudrock! Stinking vile!’ Harpia twirled, hitting the wall and flipping. For a moment it looked as if her neck might snap.
‘You stole Cristobalite’s wings!’ Rocco shouted. ‘You stole Magma’s wi
ngs! You robbed them of their dignity, of their right to fly! You’re the thief!’
The Air Marshals flew in. Vesta and Iggy struck the first blow. One of the Air Marshals hit the floor, already dead. Vesta and Iggy circled around the second.
Magma was holding Rummy’s hand down on the floor. ‘What should I do?’ he hollered up.
‘Filth! Dirt! Dung of the Plains!’ Harpia’s voice was shrill.
He’d been trying to at least mark her arm, but she was fast, sneaky in the way she moved. She was at least as good as Vesta.
‘I saw you!’ Rocco continued, timing his words to the strikes of his sword. ‘You convicted Cristobalite by day, and ate his wings at night. You’re supposed to look after your citizens, not make them suffer! You’re not fit to be queen!’
Harpia’s face contorted. Was she going to start talking gibberish?
‘Magma! Open the basket, and pump! You saw how we did it. Cover your face first.’ In his bird eye vision Rocco saw Vesta and Iggy pull their kaffies over their noses.
‘You’re a speck, a drop of spittle. You hold no rank. Not even a citizen.’ Harpia’s face was dark with fury.
Magma stood looking at the baskets at the foot of the table.
‘Open them!’ Rocco shouted again.
Magma lifted the lid of a basket. Extracting a balloon, he gave it a tentative squeeze. He quickly pulled his tunic over his nose.
A puff of dust flared out.
Rocco’s feet hit the wall. He arched his back, flipping over. Down on the table he stomped. In a single fluid move, he sprang, squarely striking Harpia on the arm.
She flinched.
Now he had her attention.
He ran at the wall. Harpia was doing the same on the other side. They flipped together, crossing swords over the table.
Clang. Clang.
Magma was pumping but he was so far away, the dust wasn’t lifting.
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