by Paul Stewart
‘Rook Barkwater!’
Rook groaned. Steadying himself, he slid the treatise back into place and turned slowly round. That was when he first realized how high up he was. With all the violent dipping and swaying of the lectern when he’d first boarded, the brake-lever must have shifted, for the chain securing the lectern had completely unwound. Now he was trapped, far up in the air on the buoyant lectern, which was floating higher from the Blackwood Bridge than any of the others. It was no wonder he’d been spotted. Rook peered down and swallowed unhappily. Why did it have to be Ledmus Squinx who had done the spotting?
A fastidious, flabby individual with small pink eyes and bushy side-whiskers, Squinx was one of the library’s various under-professors. He was unpopular, and with good reason – for Ledmus Squinx was both overbearing and vain. He liked order, and he liked comfort and – as he’d grown older – he’d also discovered a distinct aptitude for throwing his (increasing) weight around.
‘Will you get down here, now!’ he bellowed. Rook stared down at the portly, red-faced individual. His hands were on his hips; his lips were sneering. They both knew that Rook couldn’t get down without the under-professor’s help.
‘I – I can’t, sir.’
‘Then you shouldn’t be up there in the first place, should you?’ said Squinx triumphantly. Rook hung his head. ‘Should you?’ he rasped.
‘N-no, sir,’ said Rook.
‘No, sir!’ Squinx barked back. ‘You should not. Do you know how many rules and regulations you have broken, Rook?’ He raised his left hand and began counting off the fingers. ‘One, the buoyant lecterns are not to be used in the hours between lights-out and the tilderhorn call. Two, the buoyant lecterns are not to be used unless another is present to operate the winch. Three, under no circumstances whatsoever,’ he hissed, speaking each word slowly and clearly, ‘is an under-librarian ever to board a buoyant lectern.’ He smiled unpleasantly. ‘Do I need to go on?’
‘No, sir,’ said Rook. ‘Sorry sir, but—’
‘Be still,’ Squinx snapped. He turned his attention to the winch-wheel, which he turned round and round – puffing noisily as he did so – until the buoyant lectern was once again level with the mounting platform. ‘Now, get out,’ he ordered.
Rook stepped onto the Blackwood Bridge. Squinx seized him by both arms and pushed his face so close that their noses were almost touching.
‘I will not tolerate such disobedience,’ he thundered. ‘Such insubordination. Such a flagrant disregard for the rules.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Your behaviour, Rook, has been totally unacceptable. How dare you even think of reading the library treatises! They are not for the likes of you.’ He spat out the words with contempt. ‘You! A mere under-librarian!’
‘But … but, sir—’
‘Silence!’ Squinx shrieked. ‘First I catch you flouting the library’s most serious rules, and now you have the bare-faced cheek to answer back! Is there no end to your audacity? I’ll have you sent to a punishment cell. I’ll have you clapped in irons and flogged. I’ll—’
‘Is there some problem, Squinx?’ a frail yet imperious voice interjected.
The under-professor turned. Rook looked up. It was Alquix Venvax, the ageing librarian professor. He pushed his glasses up his nose with a bony finger and peered at the under-professor.
‘Problem, Squinx?’ he repeated.
‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ said Squinx, puffing out his chest.
Alquix nodded. ‘I’m glad to hear it, Squinx. Very glad.’ He paused. ‘Though something troubles me.’
‘Sir?’ said Squinx.
‘Yes, something I thought I overheard,’ said Alquix. ‘Something about imprisonment cells and being clapped in irons. And … what was it? Ah, yes, being flogged!’
Squinx’s flabby face turned from red to purple and beads of sweat began oozing from every pore. ‘I … I … I …’ he blustered.
The professor smiled. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, Squinx that, as an under-professor, you are in no position to hand out punishments.’ He scratched at his right ear thoughtfully. ‘Indeed, I believe that attempting to do so is itself a punishable offence …’
‘I … I … that is, I didn’t intend …’ Squinx mumbled feverishly, and Rook had to bite into his lower lip to prevent himself from smiling. It was wonderful to see the bullying under-professor squirm.
‘But, sir,’ Squinx protested indignantly as he gathered his thoughts. ‘He has broken rule after rule after rule.’ His voice grew more confident. ‘I caught him up on a buoyant lectern, reading, no less. He was reading an academic treatise. He—’
Alquix turned on Rook. ‘You were doing what?’ he said. ‘Well, this puts a totally different complexion on the matter, doesn’t it? Reading indeed!’ He turned back to the now smugly beaming under-professor. ‘I’ll deal with this, Squinx. You may go.’
As the portly Ledmus Squinx waddled off, Rook waited nervously for Alquix to return his attention to him. The professor had seemed genuinely angry. This was unusual and Rook wondered whether, this time, he had gone too far. When the professor did finally turn to face him, however, his eyes were twinkling.
‘Rook! Rook!’ he said. ‘Reading treatises again, eh? What are we going to do with you?’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Rook. ‘It’s just that—’
‘I know, Rook, I know,’ the professor interrupted. ‘The thirst for knowledge is a powerful force. But in future …’ He paused and shook his head earnestly. Rook held his breath. ‘In future,’ he repeated, ‘just don’t get caught!’
He chuckled. Rook laughed too. The next moment the professor’s face grew serious once more.
‘You shouldn’t be here anyway,’ he said. ‘The buoyant lecterns are closed. Had you forgotten that the Announcement Ceremony is to take place today?’
Just then the tilderhorns echoed round the cavernous chamber. It was seven hours.
‘Oh, no,’ Rook groaned. ‘It’s Felix’s big day, and I promised to help him get ready. I mustn’t let him down.’
‘Calm down, Rook,’ the professor said. ‘If I know Felix Lodd, he’ll still be fast asleep in his hammock.’
‘Precisely!’ said Rook. ‘I said I’d wake him!’
‘Did you now?’ said the professor, smiling kindly. ‘Go, then,’ he said. ‘If you hurry, you should both make it back here in time.’
‘Thank you, Professor,’ said Rook as he scurried back across the bridge.
‘Oh, and Rook!’ the professor called after him. ‘While you’re about it, smarten yourself up a bit, lad.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Rook called back. ‘And thank you, sir.’
He left the Storm Chamber, ducked down and darted back into the narrow pipe. As the darkness wrapped itself around him once again, his mood also darkened.
The memory of his nightmare came back to him: the snarls of woodwolves and the cries of slave-takers. And the terrible, terrible feeling of being alone …
And with Felix gone, he’d be alone again. A small, guilty thought crept into his mind. What if Felix isn’t picked? What if he oversleeps and …
‘No!’ Rook slapped a fist to his temple. ‘No! Felix is my friend!’
ushing past the thick hammelhornskin door-hanging, Rook entered the sleeping chamber. Unlike the damp, spartan under-librarians’ dormitory, the room was warm and cosy, for Felix Lodd enjoyed all the comforts of a senior apprentice. There was a wood-burning stove in the corner, woven hangings on the wall and straw matting on the floor. The tilderhorns trumpeted the last wake-up call as Rook approached the quilted hammock with its plump pillows and warm fleece blankets.
Rook stared down at his friend. He looked so contented, so carefree and, judging by the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if he were having a pleasant dream. It seemed almost a shame to wake him.
‘Felix,’ said Rook urgently. He shook him by the shoulders. ‘Felix, get up.’
Felix’s eyes snapped open. ‘What? What?’ He p
eered up. ‘Rook, is that you?’ He smiled and stretched lazily. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s late, Felix—’ Rook began.
‘I was having the most amazing dream,’ Felix interrupted him. ‘I was flying, Rook. Flying above the Deepwoods! Just imagine! Flying up there in the clean, clear air! It was such an incredible feeling – swooping this way and that, skimming the tops of the trees … Until I hit turbulence and went into a tailspin.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘That must have been when you woke me up.’
Rook shook his head. ‘You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?’ he said.
Felix yawned. ‘Forgotten what?’ he said.
‘What day it is today! It’s the Announcement Ceremony’
Felix sprang out of the hammock, scattering pillows and cushions, and upending a small ornate lamp. ‘The Announcement Ceremony!’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought it was tomorrow.’ He looked round the sleeping chamber. ‘Curse this stupid place!’ he thundered, pulling his robes from the heavy leadwood chest beneath the hammock. ‘There’s no dawn, no dusk. How can anyone keep track of the time down here?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Rook assured him. ‘The last tilderhorn has only just sounded. If we hurry we can still make it to the Lufwood Bridge before the Professor of Darkness begins the oath – although all the best places will be taken.’
‘I don’t care if they are,’ said Felix, fumbling to unknot his formal sash. ‘The Announcement Ceremony can’t come too soon for me. I’m dying to get out of this rain-soaked sewer and feel the wind on my face, to breathe in clean, fresh air …’
‘Let me,’ said Rook, taking the sash from his friend and deftly unknotting it. He handed it back to Felix, who was now struggling into the heavy robes of a senior apprentice.
Rook smiled sadly. This was the last time he would be able to help his friend out of some scrape or other – for today, the Professor of Darkness was bound to announce that Felix Lodd would be sent off to Lake Landing to complete his studies. There, Felix would have to look after himself; making sure that his work was submitted on time, that his robes were clean and mended, and that he didn’t oversleep on important occasions. He wouldn’t have Rook to look after him.
Then again, he’d soon make friends out there in the Free Glades because, wherever he went and whatever he did, Felix couldn’t help being popular and the centre of attention. Just like his sister before him, Felix was about to set off on a great adventure and make a name for himself up there in the world of fresh air and sunlight. And he, Rook, would be left alone.
Felix tied the sash around his waist and stood back. Rook looked him up and down. It never failed to amaze him! Just a few minutes earlier, Felix had been snoring his head off. Now he stood before him looking magnificent in his ceremonial robes, as if he had taken hours, not minutes, preparing.
‘How do I look?’ he said.
Rook smiled. ‘You’ll do,’ he said.
‘Earth and Sky be praised!’ said Felix. He picked up two lanterns, handing one to Rook. ‘Right, then. Let’s get to the Lufwood Bridge. They’ll be expecting me.’
‘Quiet, Felix! I’m trying to listen.’ Rook stepped closer to the tunnel entrance he’d stopped beside and motioned Felix to be still with a flap of his hand. ‘I thought I heard something,’ he whispered. He raised his lantern and pointed down the narrow, dripping pipe to his right. ‘In there.’
Felix came closer. His eyes narrowed. ‘Do you think it’s a’ – he mouthed the word – ‘muglump?’
‘It sounded like one to me,’ Rook replied softly.
Felix nodded. That was good enough for him. Rook was second to none when it came to identifying the numerous parasites and predators that lurked in the network of sewers. He drew his sword and, pushing Rook firmly to one side, advanced into the pipe.
‘But, Felix …’ said Rook as, head down, he trotted after him. ‘What about the ceremony?’
‘It’ll just have to wait,’ Felix told him. ‘This is more important.’ He continued along the pipe, pausing at the first fork he came to and listening, before storming on.
Rook struggled to keep up. ‘Wait a moment,’ he panted, as Felix took a third turning. ‘Felix—’
‘Shut up, Rook!’ Felix hissed. ‘If a muglump has broken into our sewers from Screetown, then none of us are safe.’
‘Couldn’t we just report it and leave it to the sewer patrols?’ said Rook.
‘Sewer patrols?’ said Felix, and snorted. ‘That useless bunch can’t even keep the rats at bay, let alone a fully grown muglump on a blood-hunt.’
‘But—’
‘Ssh!’ He stopped at a junction where five tunnels intersected, and crouched down. It was cold, dank. All around, the air echoed with the sound of dripping water. ‘There it is,’ Felix whispered the next moment.
Rook cocked his head to one side. Yes, he could hear it, too – the soft, whistling hiss of the creature’s breathing and the squelch-squelch-squelch of its paw-pads. It sounded like a large one.
Lantern raised, Felix followed the noises into the tunnel opposite and continued. Rook followed him. He was trembling nervously. What if Felix was right? What if it was on a blood-hunt?
Although they could be vicious when cornered, the muglumps which infested the Undertown sewers were generally less aggressive than their Mire cousins. Perhaps it was due to the lack of direct sunlight. Or perhaps, the change in their diet – the piebald rats they now feasted on were both plumper and more plentiful than the bony oozefish of the Mire. Whatever. As a rule, the sewer-muglumps kept themselves to themselves. But every once in a while, one of their number would develop an insatiable appetite for blood that would draw it into the main sewers in search of larger prey. A blood-hunt. Stories of the havoc such muglumps could wreak were legion amongst the scholars.
‘This way,’ said Felix grimly as he turned abruptly right. ‘I can smell it.’
‘But Felix,’ Rook protested. ‘This tunnel, it’s …’
Felix ignored him. The muglump was near, he was sure. It was time to close in. At a trot now, with his sword out in front of him like a bayonet, he charged down the tunnel. He was going to rid the sewers of this foul creature that had developed a taste for librarian blood once and for all.
Rook did his best to keep up. Raising his head, he saw that Felix had almost reached the end of the tunnel.
‘Felix, be careful!’ he shouted. ‘It’s a dead—Aargh!’ he cried as his foot slipped, his ankle turned and he came crashing down to the floor of the tunnel. ‘—end,’ he muttered.
He pulled himself up. ‘Felix?’ he called. Then a second time, louder, ‘Felix!’ Still nothing. ‘Felix, what’s—’
‘It must be here somewhere!’ came Felix’s voice, frustration turning to anger in his voice.
‘Felix?’ Rook shouted. ‘Hang on! I’m coming …’ Limping slightly, he hurried on as fast as he could. His breath came in puffy clouds. Water dripped down his neck. He pulled his dagger from its sheath. ‘Felix, are you all right?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Dead end,’ said Felix. His voice was flat. ‘Where did it go?’
Rook reached the end of the tunnel and looked into the cistern it had led to. Felix was standing at the far side, his back turned away.
‘FELIX! WATCH OUT!’ Rook bellowed. ‘ABOVE YOU!’
Felix spun round. He looked up into the shadows above his head and found himself staring into the yellow eyes and slavering crimson mouth of the muglump.
It was huge – with a swollen belly, a long, whiplash tail and six thick-set limbs. It was standing on the ceiling, its body tensed, its rapier claws glinting.
‘Come on, then, you hideous monstrosity,’ Felix challenged it through clenched teeth.
The creature’s nasal-flaps fluttered as it sniffed at the air and a long glistening tongue licked round its lips. Its eyes narrowed. It drew back, ready to pounce.
Felix brandished his sword menacingly. ‘Guard the exit, Rook,’ he said. ‘This one isn’t going to escape.’
Rook too
k up a position at the end of the pipe. He gripped his dagger tenaciously – although he couldn’t help wondering how much use it would be against the muglump’s thirty terrible blades if the creature did turn on him.
Eyeing Felix’s sword warily the muglump retreated. Walking slowly backwards, it crossed the ceiling – squelch, squelch, squelch. Rook swallowed nervously. It was heading for the exit pipe; it was heading for him.
‘It’s all right, Rook,’ Felix reassured him. ‘I’ll get it. Just keep your nerve, and—’
Just then the muglump flipped down from the ceiling, twisted in mid air and landed on the ground directly in front of Rook. It glared at him, nasal-flaps rasping loudly, and snorted with fury.
Felix bounded across the cistern, his sword slicing through the air. Rook raised his dagger and held his ground – only to be batted aside the next instant by a mighty blow from the creature’s whiplash tail. He fell heavily to the ground. The muglump bowled past him and into the tunnel.
‘Don’t let it get away!’ Felix yelled.
Rook pulled himself up and sent the dagger flying through the air after the retreating muglump. With a rasping crunch, the gleaming blade severed the long, prehensile tail in one curving slash and embedded itself at the top of the creature’s right hind-leg.
The muglump froze, and howled with agonizing pain. Then it turned, and Rook felt the creature’s furious gaze burning into him.
‘Well done, Rook,’ came Felix’s voice from behind him. ‘Now move out of the way, and let me finish the job off.’
Wounded it may have been, but the muglump seemed no slower on five legs than on six. Before Felix had gone a dozen strides, the muglump had reached the end of the tunnel and disappeared.
‘This time you’ve got away!’ Felix roared after it. ‘Next time you will not be so lucky! That, my evil friend, I guarantee!’
Rook poked at the severed tail with his boot. The question was, when would that ‘next time’ be? After all, Felix was about to be sent off to Lake Landing, where blood-crazed muglumps would be the last thing on his mind.