The Curse of the Gloamglozer (3 page)

‘Calm yourself, Digit,’ said Welma, tugging it closer and stroking its trembling neck and shoulders. ‘Come on, now. Quieten down.’

But the lemkin would not quieten down, and when Welma tried to hold it in her lap, it scratched at her legs and slapped her face with its prehensile tail, so hard that it left an angry white weal on her cheek.

‘
Aargh!
’ she cried out in pain, and let go of the end of the leash.

The lemkin leapt to the floor and bounded towards the door, its large eyes narrowed and mottled blue fur bristling.

‘Digit!’ called Maris, dashing after it. ‘You naughty thing, you. Come back here.’

‘
Waa-iiii – kha-kha-kha-kha
,’ the lemkin shrieked back.

‘Come back!’ Maris demanded again, angry now. ‘At
once
!’ She glanced round at her father anxiously. He'd never approved of her keeping a pet in the palace, and the last thing she wanted to do was give him an excuse to get rid of it. But oddly, he didn't seem to mind what was going on – in fact, it didn't look as if he'd even noticed.

And then Maris saw why. On the other side of the tall, glass balcony-doors, a mighty sky pirate ship was slowly descending from the sky. Its sails fluttered, its brasswork gleamed in the golden light of the setting sun. It was magnificent. What was more, from the curve and carvings of its shiny polished bow, she recognized it as the
Galerider
.

As she continued to watch, the sky pirate ship dropped anchor. The next moment, a gangplank was lowered onto the balustrade, and the
Galerider
's elegant captain descended.

Maris's heart sank.

Not that she had anything against the sky pirate captain – in fact of all her father's friends, Wind Jackal was probably her

favourite. Uncle Windy, she'd once called him. He was funny – and sometimes he would do magic tricks for her. No, it wasn't Wind Jackal she was disappointed with, but her father – and herself, of course, for being so stupid!

When Linius had entered the room earlier that afternoon, unannounced and out of the blue, Maris had been so happy to see him that she hadn't questioned his reasons for coming. She'd simply assumed he wanted to spend some time with his daughter.

She now knew that she'd been wrong, and she remembered how distracted he'd been; forever checking the time and glancing out of the windows. He hadn't come to see her at all. He'd simply been waiting to keep an appointment with one of his Deepwoods friends.

‘
WAA-iiii – kha-kha
…’

‘Digit!’ Maris cried in a sudden fury. ‘Will you be quiet!’

‘…
kha-kha
…’

Welma lunged forwards and swiped at the screeching, scratching creature, knocking it firmly away from the door. Maris seized the end of the leash and wrapped it round and round her hand. At the same instant, the door opened and the angular head of the spindlebug looked round furtively.

‘I've brought the master's cordial,’ he began, ‘together with…’

‘
YAAOOOW!
’ the lemkin howled with a mixture of pain, rage and frustration.

Tweezel paused. ‘Wh… where is the young mistress's little pet?’ he asked breathlessly.

‘You're quite safe,’ said Welma. The spindlebug noticed the furious lemkin writhing in Maris's grasp and winced. Welma smiled. ‘Shame on you, a great big spindlebug frightened by a little wood-lemkin.’

‘I … that is …’ Tweezel's antennae quivered uneasily. ‘A new message came for the master, the Most High Ac…’

‘Yes, yes, get on with it!’ said Welma impatiently. The old spindlebug could be painfully slow at times.

‘The message comes from Wind Jackal, captain of the sky pirate ship,
Galerider
.’ Tweezel cleared his throat. ‘He regrets that unforeseen circumstances have delayed him, but hopes to arrive no later than two hours after the time I originally informed the master would be the time of his official appointment…’

‘As usual, you're too late,’ said Welma, interrupting him for a second time. She nodded towards the now open balcony-doors, where Linius Pallitax was warmly
greeting Wind Jackal behind the flapping white curtains. ‘I dare say the captain will be able to deliver his own message,’ she added sniffily.

‘This is most irregular,’ the spindlebug muttered miserably. ‘I haven't announced him yet…’

‘Oh, well, never mind,’ said Welma, who had never found the glassy creature's behaviour anything less than bizarre. ‘But I'd go if I were you,’ she added, ‘before Digit breaks free again.’ The lemkin screeched, louder than ever. Tweezel drew back his head and Welma closed the door. ‘Ridiculous creature,’ she laughed. ‘Haven't announced him, indeed! Why, Wind Jackal is the master's oldest friend. Now, Maris,’ she said, turning to her charge, ‘hurry up and clear everything away. Your father's got work to attend to.’

But Maris was not listening. Idly stroking the now purring lemkin under its chin, she was staring out on to the balcony where a third person had joined her father and Captain Wind Jackal. Although dressed up in sky pirate gear, with a longcoat and parawings, he was a mere youth – little older than Maris herself judging by his height and build.

Yet when he caught her gazing at him, the look he returned with his deep, dark eyes was sky-wise beyond his thirteen or so years. To her horror, Maris realized she was blushing.

· CHAPTER TWO ·

QUINT

‘I
t has been a long while, Linius,’ said Wind Jackal as he pumped the Most High Academe's hand up and down. ‘Too long,’ he added. ‘I noticed you were limping.’

‘Oh, a little accident, no more,’ said Linius. ‘It's on the mend.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Wind Jackal. He looked round to inspect his ornate surroundings and nodded appreciatively. ‘Sky-fortune has clearly shone down upon you.’

‘You, too, Wind Jackal,’ said Linius, nodding at the
Galerider
which hovered above them. ‘That's certainly a magnificent vessel.’

‘Sails from the costliest woodspider-silk,’ the sky pirate captain confirmed. ‘And the finest lufwood timber that money can buy.’ He shook his head. ‘Mind you, the whole sky ship could do with an overhaul. You wouldn't believe what we've been through on our journey here. Storms, gales, turbulent fog – and then the most almighty sky battle you could possibly imagine! It was us against the
Great Sky Whale
.’

‘The
Great Sky Whale
,’ Linius murmured. Such matters as sky battles seemed far removed from his life of study and research – yet even
he
had heard of the
Great Sky Whale
. The slave-ship's terrible reputation went before it.

‘We were lucky to escape with our lives,’ said Wind Jackal. ‘Eh, Quint?’

From her hiding-place behind the billowing curtains, Maris watched as the youth stepped forward. He looked so horribly sure of himself, and when he spoke his voice was big and confident.

‘But we did escape, Father,’ he said, his dark eyes flashing gleefully. ‘And with enough black diamonds to pay for the
Galerider
to be overhauled a hundred times over!’

‘Well said, lad,’ Wind Jackal laughed, clapping his son on his shoulder. He turned to Linius, and tapped his prominent nose conspiratorially. ‘That accursed Leagues-master, Marl Mankroyd, got more than he bargained for, I can tell you. He'll think twice before trying to ambush Wind Jackal the sky pirate captain again.’

Quint chuckled throatily. ‘That is, if he ever makes it back to Undertown at all.’

Wind Jackal looked back at Linius. ‘He had a little “accident” with his flight-rock,’ he explained. ‘It got chilled and…’

‘Hurtled upwards into open sky,’ Linius completed for him. ‘Why, you wily old skycur!’ he said, and embraced his old friend a second time. ‘I see you haven't changed a bit. Welcome to the Palace of Shadows – to you, Wind Jackal, and to you, too, Quint.’

Maris watched the youth touch his heart with his left hand and lower his head respectfully.

‘So, Quint, my lad,’ Linius went on, ‘you were three years old when I last saw you. How old are you now? Twelve? Thirteen?’

Quint raised his head. ‘Seventeen next year,’ he announced.

‘Wishing your life away again, Quint?’ said Wind Jackal, and cuffed his son lightly round the head. ‘He's fourteen,’ he said.

Maris stifled a snigger.

‘But it's true,’ said Quint, a little sulkily. ‘I'll be fifteen later this year and sixteen next year, at which time I shall enter my seventeenth year and…’

‘I see young Quint here has quite a head for creative counting,’ said Linius, amused. He looked the youth up and down.

‘So, tell me, Linius,’ said Wind Jackal, his face growing more serious. ‘Why such an urgent summons, eh? What's on your mind?’

Linius smiled. ‘All in good time, old friend,’ he said, and called back through the open doors to his daughter. ‘Maris? Are you still there in the balcony-chamber?’

Heart racing, Maris scampered from the curtain and over to the table where the half-finished mosaic lay. ‘Y… yes, Father,’ she called back, hoping he wouldn't hear how breathless she was.

‘Come here, then, child!’ said Linius. ‘You haven't yet greeted Wind Jackal.’

With her head down, Maris left the shadow-filled room and stepped out onto the balcony. She smiled at Wind Jackal.

‘Sky above!’ the sky pirate captain gasped as he moved towards her. ‘Who is this tall and elegant vision before me? Surely it can't be Maris.‘ He placed his finger under her chin, and tipped her head upwards. ‘Can it?’

Maris beamed. ‘It
is
me,’ she said.

Wind Jackal shook his head in disbelief. ‘But it's not possible,’ he said, then added, ‘though there's
one
way to find out. My little Maris always kept a single gold piece in her ear.’ He reached forwards and grazed her cheek with his hand. ‘And here it is!’ he announced. ‘It
must
be Maris.’

He slipped the coin into her hand.

‘Thank you,’ Maris whispered shyly. She was beginning to feel self-conscious being the centre of attention, particularly with Wind Jackal's son, Quint, staring at her so intently. ‘I didn't … I mean, I wasn't
expecting …’ She looked down at the gold piece.