The Flight of Dragons (18 page)

“Because that’s what’s going to happen.” Globula tilted her head to one side and smiled a mocking smile. “Much better for little batty Saturday to go NOW!”

Saturday reeled back, her hands over her ears. “Leave me alone! I never did nothing to you!”

Conducta gave Saturday’s hair a vicious tweak. “You’re a Mousewater!”

Globula came even closer. “A horrid,
horrid
Mousewater. Run away, Saturday Mousewater — run away!”

And she gave Saturday such a hard slap that the girl found herself half skidding, half falling along the corridor. With an effort she stayed on her feet and ran as fast as she could to the front door of the palace. Wrenching it open, she staggered out into the sunlight.

M
arcus and Gracie, slipping through the door of the old stables, found themselves in a tall, dusty building. It was full of outdated coaches and outmoded carriages and a pile of broken wheels that reached nearly to the ceiling. There were windows set high in the stone walls, but they were covered in cobwebs and the light was dim. As Gracie’s eyes grew accustomed to the shadowy gloom, she found she could see iron mangers fixed below the windows and could make out the remains of the stalls where the dragons were kept.

“Look!” Marcus whispered as he pointed to a heap of soot swept into a dark corner. “Do you think that’s left from when the dragons breathed fire?”

Great-Uncle Alvin gave a derisive snort. “They knew better than to breathe fire in their own home. That’ll be from when the crowds broke in after the dragons had been driven away. Set fire to the place, they did. If it hadn’t been stone, it would’ve burned to the ground.”

Marcus, aware that the elderly bat was still regarding him with disapproval, did his best to look meek, but there was something he needed to know. “Could the egg have gotten burned in the fire?”

“Of course not. Dear me!” Alvin fanned himself with his wing. “What
do
they teach you at school these days? A dragon’s egg can be dropped into an inferno, and it’ll come to no harm. Enjoy it, more like. And before you ask, young man, I checked this stable from top to bottom once the fire was out, and I didn’t see a single sign of any egg.”

“Then why are we here?” Marcus wanted to know.

Gracie felt it was time to intervene. “We’ve got to start somewhere. Perhaps one of the stones was loose, and Lumiere hid the egg behind it. . . .”

“Or maybe there never was an egg at all.”

Marcus sounded gloomy, and Gracie looked at him in surprise. “What’s the matter?”

The prince rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. It seemed so easy before we got here. But look at it!” He gestured at a moldering pile of leather and the clutter of harnesses beyond. “There’s just so much stuff, and it’s all been dumped since the dragons left. And the floor’s solid stone slabs.” He stamped his foot to demonstrate his point. “I thought it might have been floorboards —”

“Marcus!” Gracie stood very still. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Marcus asked, puzzled.

“It sounded hollow!”

Marcus went pale, then sank to his knees. Carefully, he felt around with his fingers while Gracie pushed away the layers of dust, old leaves, and grit. “I can feel an edge. If I can just get my fingers under it, I might be able to shift it . . . but it’s really heavy.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Great-Uncle Alvin warned, but neither Marcus nor Gracie was listening.

“Let me help.” Gracie knelt beside Marcus, and between them they managed to heave a broken section of stone up from the floor.

The bat fluttered down to look. “Nothing,” he said. “Knew there wouldn’t be.”

“Bother.” Marcus was about to let the segment of stone drop when Gracie stopped him.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “Oh — I do wish it wasn’t so dark!”

“I’ve got some matches somewhere,” Marcus told her, and holding the slab up with one hand, he dug in his pockets with the other. “Here.”

Gracie took the battered box and struck a match. The light flared, and for a moment it was clear that under the stone slab was a carefully scooped hole, a hole lined with moss so old that when Gracie gently touched it with her finger, it crumbled into black dust. “Can you see the shape?” she said breathlessly. “It’s exactly the shape of an egg!”

“But the egg’s gone,” Great-Uncle Alvin said as the match went out. “So that’s not a lot of use.”

Gracie stood up as Marcus dropped the stone back into place. “But it
is
useful! The egg was here — I
know
it was. My fingers feel . . . I don’t know how to describe it. Tingly. So someone must have moved it.”

“Maybe the dragon boy took it away,” Marcus wondered.

But Gracie took no notice. She was standing with her hands clasped together and her head on one side as if she was listening to a secret message. “Oh . . .” she whispered. “Of course! The archway . . .”

Great-Uncle Alvin and Marcus stared at her. She was quivering with excitement. “Don’t you remember? I nearly fell over when we ran through. I felt that same tingling feeling then, only much much stronger. It made me feel almost dizzy, it was so strong — but I didn’t know what it meant —”

“Come on!” Marcus was already at the door. “Let’s go!” He peered cautiously out into the yard. “Lucky they can’t see us here from the palace. None of the windows faces this way, and the main drive’s on the other side.”

It took them only seconds to retrace their steps. As they drew close to the archway, Gracie felt tingles run through her entire body. “It’s there,” she whispered. “I’m sure it is.”

Marcus was already pushing and shoving at the blocks of stone. “How could it be hidden here? Do you think one of these pulls out?”

Gracie didn’t immediately answer. She was standing underneath the arch with her eyes shut. After a moment she said, “It’s so odd. I know it’s here somewhere, but I can’t place it. The tingles seem to come from all around me.”

“But we’ve got to find it.” Marcus scrubbed at his hair in frustration. “Can you tell if it’s on one side more than the other?”

Gracie opened her eyes again. “No. At least —” She stopped midsentence. “What’s happening down there? Look! Near the tree where we tied the ponies. The bushes are shaking . . . Oh! It’s GUBBLE!”

Gubble emerged, brushed the remains of a bird’s nest off his head, and stomped steadily on.

Gracie waved encouragement, while Marcus picked up a stone and began to tap and chip at the arch.

The troll came puffing up to join them. “Not heavens no. Niven’s Knowe,” he remarked in the manner of someone finishing a conversation that had been going on for some time. “Gubble help prince.” And he walked straight into the left-hand pillar — which wobbled, shook, then collapsed with a rumble and a loud crash.

The openmouthed Gracie and Marcus were left staring at the remains. Underneath the wreckage lay an egg — dull green, and in no way spectacular, but neither could take their eyes off it.

“Pick it up, Trueheart,” Great-Uncle Alvin whispered. “Pick it up.”

Gracie bent down and carefully lifted the egg from the rubble. It felt cold and was heavier than she had expected. She stroked it with her fingers as Marcus exclaimed, “We’ve found it! We’ve actually found it!”

“Yes,” Gracie said. “Great-Uncle Alvin, can I ask you something?”

Alvin didn’t answer. He was leaning forward and listening intently to something neither Gracie nor Marcus could hear. “Alf! He needs help!”

“Alf? Where?” Marcus could see no sign of the little bat. Gracie didn’t look up. She was still staring at the egg in her arms.

“Quick!” Uncle Alvin flapped his wings furiously. “Quick! Come on, Trueheart! He’s in trouble! In the yard!” He zigzagged away as fast as his ancient wings would allow, and Marcus hurried after him. Gracie, after tying her cloak tightly around her so the egg was held close to her heart, followed as fast as she could.

Gubble watched them go, then bent to inspect the rubble. “Egg,” he murmured. “Egg sandwiches. Good Gubble. Gracie pleased.” And he turned his attention to the other stone pillar.

They found Alf crawling across the cobbles, his wings dragging, and his fur matted. “Danger!” he gasped. “Terrible danger!” As Marcus and Gracie crouched down beside him, he waved a claw toward the palace. “There’s a horrible bird and there’s a hideous THING in the palace kitchen, and there’s something
dreadful
going on, and do you know what, Miss Gracie?”

“Oh, Alf!” Gracie scooped him up. “What happened?”

Alf trembled in her hands. “In the kitchen . . . this huge white thing! With white eyes! It’s evil, Miss Gracie, it really really is. And it knows about the dragon’s egg, and it wants it because dragons’ eggs make you more evil, and, Miss Gracie, it knows you’re looking for it! That horrible bird was watching us under the trees!”

Marcus stood up. His face was as white as chalk, and he swallowed hard before he spoke. “That’s my fault. It was me who said about the dragon’s egg. I’m going to the palace right this minute. I’m going to find the thing in the kitchen and get rid of it, or at least try to stop it from getting any farther. Gracie, you take the egg and get away from here as fast as you can. And . . .” He swallowed again. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry —”

“Hold the heroics, kid.” Marlon swooped into view in a leisurely curve designed to conceal the excessive speed at which he had traveled since leaving the House of the Ancient Crones. “Uncle Marlon’s back in the action. And here’s a suggestion. Go for cunning. Deviousness. Walk straight in and you could walk into big trouble.”

Gracie looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Need to check what’s going on,” Marlon said. “The crones have spotted evil. Evil, big-time. Give me five, and I’ll be right back.
No problemo!
”

Marcus watched as the bat zigzagged away. He was truly ashamed of himself, and he desperately wanted toshow Gracie that he could put things right by launching himself into the thick of the danger, but he was also aware that this could be bravado rather than bravery. He hesitated, then said, “You know what, Gracie? I’ve absolutely
got
to go and see for myself. It’ll be all right — when Terty and I were little, we were always playing spies. We used to watch the formal dinners and laugh our heads off. I promise I won’t be seen.”

Gracie gave him her most luminous smile. “You mean,
we
won’t be seen. I’m coming with you.”

“Don’t know what Unc’ll say.” Alf, perched on an upturned flowerpot, was recovering fast. He smiled smugly as Gracie and Marcus ran toward the palace. “I knew she’d go with him. True love ’n’ all that.”

Great-Uncle Alvin snorted. “Love, nothing. What about that egg? She’s putting it in danger! And that,” he added rather more thoughtfully, “isn’t at all like a Trueheart. Hmm . . .”

He and Alf looked at each other. No word was spoken, but seconds later they were flying after Marcus and Gracie.

When Marlon made his way back five minutes later, eager to report on the twins and Mercy Grinder, he found the yard deserted. Soaring up into the sky to get a better aerial view, he was rewarded with the sight of a headless Gubble sitting among the remains of the now totally demolished stone archway. “Leave ’em for five minutes and they lose their heads,” Marlon remarked to himself. “Hang on! What’s he got there?” And he increased his speed.