by Allan Jones
The others ran up to him.
“I’m so sorry,” said Jack. “Did you bang your head?”
“Unhand me, sir! I know the smell of chickens when I see it.”
They helped the woozy hare to his feet. Then Trundle noticed what Ishmael had hit his head on. It was a low pillar of ice set in the very middle of the ravine—and the impact had cracked it open from top to bottom.
“Look what he found!” gasped Trundle, pulling chunks of ice away.
The pillar of ice was quite hollow. Seated on a small stone plinth within it was the lovely and elegant Crown of Ice. And carved into the stone plinth were the words:
I, RAMALAMA, PUT THIS HERE TILL THE COMING OF THE ABSENT ORACLE. WHY NOT?
Esmeralda reached in and picked up the crown. “Ooh!” she said. “Chilly!”
At that moment, the llamas arrived in the ravine. They took one look at the inscription, and then, before Trundle knew what was happening, all four of the adventurers were lifted shoulder high by the cheering creatures and carried in triumph down through the snow and back to the monastery.
Trundle and the others were borne all the way to the throne room of the high lama. It was a magnificent chamber with soaring white walls and high, arched windows and cascading banners of yellow and red silk. The high lama sat in front of them on his jeweled throne. He was an elderly fellow with kindly eyes and a long, straggly white beard. Jubilant monks crowded around them, chanting a greeting song for the return of the Absent Oracle. It really was a major celebration!
Esmeralda stood in the center, somewhat tongue-tied at all the attention, but looking quite pleased with herself at the same time. It took her and the others a little while to explain to the high lama the reason why they wanted the crown. He listened with a benevolent expression on his friendly old face as they told him about pirates and wicked aunts and the difficulties they had encountered with thirsty vampire bats.
“The Fates would not have brought you here if they had not intended for you to win the Crown of Ice,” the high lama announced, once they had finished their tale.
“So you don’t mind us taking it away?” Trundle asked.
“The words of the blessed Ramalama are quite clear,” said the high lama, leaning down from his lofty throne. “The oracle has returned, and you may take the crown with you. And to make your journey easier, I will dispatch a few of my monks down to the jungles to retrieve your skyboat and to repair it and to fill it with new provisions.”
“Excellent!” said Esmeralda. “And as soon as that’s done, we’ll be off, if you don’t mind.”
The high lama lifted a hoof. “Only three of you may depart with the crown,” he announced. “The Absent Oracle must stay forever within the precincts of the monastery.”
“Oh,” gasped Esmeralda, going pale. “I’m not so sure about that …”
“It is foretold thus,” said the high lama. “But fear not, Esmeralda Lightfoot, your companion will be treated most reverently when he sits upon his glorious cushion.”
“That’s all very well, but—” She paused, looking puzzled. “My companion? What do you mean, my companion? I’m the oracle, aren’t I?”
“It is another,” said the high lama.
Trundle had a sinking feeling. If awkward things were going to happen, they generally happened to him. Kind as the monks were, and much as he admired their monastery, he didn’t much fancy spending the rest of his life sitting on that little stone seat, cushion or no cushion.
“So who is the oracle?” asked Jack.
“The Absent Oracle is this worthy hare,” announced the high lama.
“Strike me puce and pepper me with pomegranates!” exclaimed Ishmael, his ears spinning. “Who’d a-thought it?”
For the next few hours, the monastery was a whirl of activity. Ishmael was whisked away while Trundle and Esmeralda and Jack were fed and given long, hot baths and generally very well looked after. At first Esmeralda was a bit miffed not to have been the Absent Oracle after all, but she quickly rallied around and saw the bright side of things.
The ceremony of the inauguration of the Absent Oracle took place at dusk that evening, but in the meantime, several rather encouraging things happened. The Thief in the Night was rescued. Artisans and carpenters scurried all over the wrecked vessel, and by the time they had finished, the trim little craft was looking better than ever; in place of its lost sails, they were given sails of purple silk, which looked very splendid indeed. And once it was retrieved from the bats, the biscuit tin containing the Crown of Fire was safely replaced under the stern seat.
As if that wasn’t enough to have the three friends cheering from the rafters, the llamas presented Jack with a wonderful new rebec and bow. Of course he thanked them by writing a quick paean of praise to their kindness and perspicacity, which seemed to go over very well.
At last the time for Ishmael’s inauguration arrived. Scores of monks lined the route to the wall where the seat of the Absent Oracle rested. Wingnut stood with Trundle and the others as they waited for the Absent Oracle to appear. Their ex-guide was in good form, grinning from ear to ear and with the pockets of his shorts bulging with gifts given to him by the monks as a reward for his part in the return of the oracle.
“It just as my cousin Threejob always say!” he chortled cheerfully. “Good deeds are their own reward, but getting a reward for good deeds is better still. Why not?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Esmeralda. “Ah, here he comes. Gosh, just look at our Ishmael! Isn’t he a sight for sore eyes?”
The old hare came pacing along between two rows of lamas, his skinny body lost under billowing purple robes, his ears squished down by a high purple hat. To the call of trumpets and the beating of gongs, Ishmael March, the Absent Oracle of Spyre, took his seat.
A hush came down over the crowd.
“Thus is the bottom of the Perpetual Oracle placed upon the Cushion of Prophecy!” cried the high lama. “O wise and foresighted oracle, speak that we shall be enlightened!”
“Radishes, rascals, and clocks always come in threes,” declared Ishmael.
“Oh, heck,” mumbled Esmeralda, putting a paw over her eyes.
But the effect on the lamas was quite extraordinary. Muttering together, they gathered in groups all along the wall, obviously debating the meaning of Ishmael’s comment.
“Well, if they go for that kind of thing,” Jack said with a grin, “old Ishmael should keep them happy for years to come!”
“Absolutely,” agreed Esmeralda. “And I think it’s about time we were off. The Crown of Fire is stowed away safe and sound. And the lamas have given us a special box to keep the Crown of Ice in so it won’t melt.” She patted Wingnut on the back. “You’ve been a good pal, Wingnut,” she said. “We couldn’t have managed it without you.”
“No problem!” Wingnut grinned. “I’ll get free meals for a long time with the tales I can tell. Why not?”
“I hate to break the mood,” said Trundle. “But did anyone notice there wasn’t a clue with the Crown of Ice?” He looked inquiringly from Jack to Esmeralda. “I mean to say—where do we go next?”
“Spoons to the left of me, spoons to the right, onward into the rhubarb tart!” said a familiar voice. While the lamas were pondering his recent pronouncement, Ishmael had left his seat and come up behind them, smiling widely and seemingly delighted with his new office.
“Hello, Mr. Oracle,” said Esmeralda. “I don’t suppose you have any words of wisdom that will tell us where to look for the Crown of Wood?”
Ishmael’s smile widened. “This vision has been sent to me, courtesy of the seat of the Perpetual Oracle,” he said, his eyes glazing over. “You must travel to the distant and sinister island of Hammerland and seek for the Crown of Wood among the steam moles.”
They gaped at him. “That actually sounded halfway sensible,” gasped Jack. “Ishmael? Are you sure about this? Hammerland? The steam moles?”
“Cauliflower cheese, cauliflo
wer cheese!” warbled the hare. “It’s good for your nose and it’s good for your knees!” And so saying, he turned and went prancing back to his little seat.
“Do you know where Hammerland is?” Trundle asked his friends.
“Oh, I know where it is, all right,” Jack said darkly. “That’s not the problem.”
“So what is the problem?” asked Esmeralda.
“The steam moles are the problem,” said Jack. “They don’t like visitors to their homeland, not at all they don’t.” He rubbed his snout. “But they aren’t the only obstacle,” he added. “Between here and Hammerland lie the Sargasso Skies—and no one has ever found a way through that foul and rotting mire.”
“Well, then,” said Esmeralda, tucking one arm into Trundle’s and one arm into Jack’s. “I’d say we’ve got our work cut out for us!” She gave a carefree laugh. “Come along, you two! Last one aboard the Thief in the Night is a parboiled pilchard!”
And with that, she towed the two of them off to their spirited little skyboat and to further adventures through the vast Sundered Lands!
About the Author and Illustrator
ALLAN JONES is the author of numerous fantasy books for both children and teens. He lives in London, England. www.allanfrewinjones.com
GARY CHALK is an illustrator and model maker. He lives in France.
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Credits
Cover art © 2012 by John Avon
Cover design by Sylvie Le Floc’h
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used to advance the fictional narrative. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
The Ice Gate of Spyre
Text copyright © 2012 by Allan Jones
Illustrations copyright © 2012 by Gary Chalk
First published in 2011 in Great Britain by Hodder Children’s Books, an imprint of Hachette Children’s Books. First published in 2012 in the United States by Greenwillow Books.
The right of Allan Jones to be identified as the author and Gary Chalk as the illustrator of this work has been asserted by them.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jones, Allan Frewin, (date).
The Ice Gate of Spyre / by Allan Jones ; [illustrated by] Gary Chalk.—1st ed.
p. cm.—(The six crowns ; [4])
Summary: Trundle’s quest for the Crown of Ice leads him and his crew to the sacred island of Spyre where, according to legend, only the Oracle can find the crown, and Esmeralda Lightfoot is convinced she is the chosen one.
ISBN 978-0-06-200633-2 (hardback)
EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062098429
[1. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 2. Prophecies—Fiction. 3. Badgers—Fiction. 4. Hedgehogs—Fiction. 5. Animals—Fiction.]
I. Chalk, Gary, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.J67795Ice 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2012022888
12 13 14 15 16 CG/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 First Edition
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