The Lightning Key (19 page)

T
he Great Cortado and Doctor Tau-Tau, villain-in-chief and fool-in-a-fez, sweated and snored in their no-star lodgings, sleeping away the afternoon heat. They had given the smallest coin they could find to a boy whom they found loitering in the street outside, and asked him to wake them before sundown. The boy had reported straight back to Baltinglass of Araby, who had given him twenty times as much to make sure that he woke them as late as possible. Now as they slumbered in their itchy beds three camels padded quietly past their window, bearing on their backs a Song Angel, a blind adventurer and the boy whose head Cortado believed would be
boxed and safely packed in his saddlebag.

Miles had agreed with Nura upon a story that would bring the Great Cortado and Doctor Tau-Tau to Larde in search of the grave of the Egg's creator, where they could be arrested by none other than Sergeant Bramley. Miles had explained to Nura that the sergeant was familiar with both men and was sure to oblige without the need for explanations and evidence, two things in which he was not a great believer in the first place.

Now Miles and his companions were headed for Wa'il, where their camels could be watered and they could have a short rest before resuming their journey well before Cortado and Tau-Tau had even set out from Kagu. The prospect of a long camel ride had lost much of its appeal, but Miles had not forgotten that he was leader of the expedition, and he made it his business to keep up his spirits and those of his companions.

They reached Wa'il as the sun began to sink behind the bluffs. They had no difficulty finding Captain Tripoli's house. Their camels remembered the cool stables and the fine feed they had been given on their previous visit, and almost broke into a trot as they made their way unerringly through the narrow lanes.

They were greeted warmly by Dassin, who told them that the captain had left the day before to repay his debt to Kadin al Arfam. He had taken Temzi and two of his sons with him, and to Miles's disappointment they were not expected back until the following day. A supper was quickly laid out in the courtyard, and they sat down to eat while their camels were being tended. Miles was impatient to get back on the road, and he had to make an effort to be polite. As they finished their meal one of Captain Tripoli's younger daughters came into the courtyard, giving Baltinglass a nervous sidelong glance as she approached her mother.

“The Hiccup Man is outside,” she told Dassin. “He says he knew Mr. Baltinglass before he was dead.”

Baltinglass paused, a mouthful of food halfway to his mouth. “Am I dead?” he said.

“The dead do not have such an appetite, Baltinglass effendi,” said Dassin. She seemed mildly irritated at the news of their uninvited guest.

“Didn't think so,” said Baltinglass, “but when you get to my age it's as well to check now and then.”

“Who is the Hiccup Man?” asked Little.

“He lives in a cave on the edge of town,” said Dassin. “He calls himself an inventor. He is always busy with some new contraption. There are sometimes
explosions, but he is harmless enough.”

“Harmless in-hic-deed,” said the Hiccup Man, letting himself in without waiting for further introduction. He was a gangly man with bird's-nest hair, and he peered about the yard through a pair of wire-framed spectacles. He spotted Baltinglass at once and marched over toward him, hand extended, like a clockwork stork. “Baltin-hic-glass!” he said. “I heard a rumor you had passed through here, but I didn't hic-believe it! I've taken you for dead these many years.” He showed his buff-colored teeth in a crooked smile. “You won't re-hic-member me, Baltinglass. I joined an ill-fated expedition of yours many years ago, when I was just a boy of six-hic-teen, working for the local paper.”

Baltinglass sat upright, and his jaw dropped slightly. “Tenniel?” he croaked. “Of course I remember, but I lost you to a sandstorm. I've had your death on my conscience all these years.”

“I was lost for a long time, but I survived,” said the Hiccup Man. “The people here took me in and they were good to me. When the time came to hic-leave I got half a day's ride along the track; then I turned and came back. There was noth-hic I wanted that I didn't already have, and I've lived here ever since.”

Dassin brought a clean cup for Tenniel and
poured him a coffee. “Sit,” she said.

“It's good to hear your voice again, boy,” said Baltinglass. “I don't mind telling you that you drove me up the wall on that journey, but that's nothing to the sleepless nights you've given me since you've been dead.”

The Hiccup Man hic-laughed. His hair, his clothes, even his skin were a uniformly sandy color, as though he were gradually turning into the stuff of his adopted home. “I'm no more dead-hic than you are, Baltinglass, but I'm hardly a boy either.”

“Do you have hiccups all the time?” asked Little.

“I've had hic-hiccups ever since the afore-hic-mentioned sandstorm. Xaali the healer says a bad spirit entered me while I was lost in the storm, but it's hic-lodged so deep she can't flush it out.” He leaned forward and spoke in a loud whisper. “You've arrived at the perfect time, Baltinglass. I've been working on a fabulous contraption—a machine that can fly! I'd be delighted to give you a demonstration after supper.”

“No time, I'm afraid,” said Baltinglass. “We'll be leaving as soon as our camels have been plumped up and dusted. This young adventurer, Miles Wednesday, is on an urgent mission and we need to get going as soon as possible.”

The Hiccup Man turned to Miles, his eyes glinting. “Then perhaps I can shorten your journey!” he said. “My fly-hic-ing machine will go faster than any camel, with the right following wind and a high-hic-hoctane fuel and a little luck.”

“You can save your breath, Tenniel,” said Baltinglass. “We came down from our last sky jaunt in flames. I'm lucky to be talking to you without barbecue sauce on, boy.”

“Well, of course, a camel-hic ride is far
safer
—,” began Tenniel, but Miles interrupted him.

“How much faster?”

“Oh . . .” The Hiccup Man grinned, scratching his sandy hair. “Three times?”

“And it could carry all of us?” asked Little, her eyes shining.

“Without a doubt,” said Tenniel, looking like his doubts were being quietly smothered. “The design is based on the drawings of Leonardo da Vinci, with some modifications of my own. It's pure hic-genius. I'll just need to add a couple of extra seats.”

“How long would that take?” asked Miles.

“I can have her fueled and refitted in an hour, at hic-most,” said Tenniel.

Miles looked at his companions. He could see Little's thoughts were already headed skyward, but
Baltinglass was muttering darkly to himself from inside a plume of hookah smoke. “We'll take a look,” said Miles, “and see what we think.”

“By all hic-means, do!” said Tenniel. “You won't be disappointed.”

They thanked Dassin for their supper and said their good-byes, and Dassin promised that Temzi would look after the camels if they did not come back for them. They set off on foot for the Hiccup Man's cave, keeping a sharp lookout for any sign of Cortado, Tau-Tau and Nura on the road, although they did not expect to see them for some time yet. Tenniel stalked ahead enthusiastically, jerking with each hiccup as if one of his cogs were missing a tooth. Miles carried the singed duffel bag over his shoulder. Something sharp poked into his back, but he did not want to spend time rearranging the contents, so he shifted the bag to a more comfortable position. The heat had left the evening air and a cool breeze blew, bringing the scent of distant rain and the sound of cicadas, chirping their washboard songs to the evening stars.

B
altinglass of Araby, once-bitten and fly-shy, stumped along beside Miles, his cane measuring out his temper on the dusty road. “You sure you're not making a big mistake, Master Miles?” he said quietly. “It doesn't sound like Tenniel has a reputation for mechanical genius. We'll be lucky to get off the ground, never mind flying three times faster than a camel ride.”

“It's not the speed I'm thinking of,” said Miles. “It's the sea crossing. We can't take the same ship as Cortado and Tau-Tau, and we certainly can't wait a week for the next one.”

“Stowing away was good enough for me when I
was a boy,” grumbled Baltinglass.

“We can't risk it,” said Miles. “If Cortado were to see any of us alive there's no knowing what he'd do to Nura.” Thunder rolled on the horizon, and Miles saw an unaccustomed anxiety in the old man's face. “I'm sure it'll be all right,” said Miles. “The design is Leonardo da Vinci's, remember?”

They took a narrow path that wound up from the main track toward the Hiccup Man's cave. The entrance was a natural arch in the rock face, and inside the cave it was surprisingly cool and airy. Tenniel lit an assortment of lamps that were suspended from the ceiling, and the cave was bathed in a warm yellow light.

Standing in the center of the floor, surrounded by a jumble of wood, wire and metal, stood Tenniel's contraption. It was indeed a sight to behold. There was a pyramid-shaped wooden frame like the skeleton of a tepee, topped by an enormous conical screw, while mounted on the spars of the frame were four canvas bat wings attached to a series of pulleys and cables that issued from a squat engine inside the frame. The whole structure was built on a concave circular platform like a giant saucer, onto which a pair of rickety wooden chairs had been bolted. Miles let out his breath in a whoosh at the
sight of the machine.

“Describe the thing to me, boy,” said Baltinglass.

“How long have you got?” said Miles.

The Hiccup Man produced a large book with yellowed pages and held it out for Miles to examine. The pages were covered in diagrams and spidery brown writing that Miles recognized from the entry on Leonardo da Vinci in Lady Partridge's encyclopedias. There was a machine with many pulleys and four narrow wings sticking out at an angle, and another that featured the large conical screw that stood on top of Tenniel's frame. In both drawings men were sketched inside the frame, where the engine stood in the Hiccup Man's contraption. The men in the sketches were hard at work pedaling or cranking to provide power for their machines.

“Of course, I have combined-hic a couple of the original designs, and introduced the modern adaptation of an engine,” said Tenniel, “but essentially she is da Vinci's ornithopter brought to hic-life. Isn't she a beauty?”

“Will she fit through the door?” asked Miles.

“Certainly,” said Tenniel. “She's measured to the millimeter.”

“Never mind that,” said Baltinglass. “Does it look like it will fly?”

Miles glanced at Tenniel, who was looking at him expectantly. “Well . . .,” he said, “it doesn't look like it was made to do anything else.”

“I've hic-tested two smaller models with only a fifty percent crash rate,” said Tenniel proudly.

“Where's the one that didn't crash?” asked Miles, wondering if there would be time for a brief demonstration.

“Ah,” said Tenniel, “I'm afraid that one blew up before-hic it left the ground, but I've made a modification that should prevent that from happening again.” He smiled at Baltinglass. “Don't worry, old friend. In an hour or so we'll all be soaring through the air.”

“That's what I'm afraid of,” muttered Baltinglass. He commandeered Tenniel's hammock and settled himself for a nap while the inventor set to work fitting an extra pair of seats. Miles and Little sat at the mouth of the cave, watching the faint shine of stars between the stars, and keeping an eye on the road. From the cave behind them came a muffled metallic ringing, like a saucepan hitting a kneecap, followed by an interval of frantic sawing, all punctuated by a steady stream of hiccups. Around midnight they saw three camels approaching, and they warned Tenniel to douse the lights and keep silent
as the Great Cortado and his traveling companions passed by. Miles was sure he saw Nura glance over in his direction, as though she knew he was there in the darkness of the cave mouth.

“What happens when we go back, Miles?” asked Little quietly, when they had passed out of sight among the houses.

“Nura will bring the Great Cortado and Tau-Tau to Larde, where she can tip off Sergeant Bramley to arrest them,” said Miles. “The Great Cortado will be sent straight back to the secure hospital. As for Tau-Tau, I suppose he'll end up in prison for a while.”

“And your father?” asked Little.

“Nura promised she would help me to restore him if she could.”

Little looked at Miles, and he smiled back. He did not tell her how slim his grandmother had thought his chances of success. “We'll have to stop off at Hell's Teeth on the way to Larde,” he said.

“Where the Fir Bolg live?” asked Little. “Why?”

“My grandmother says the Tiger's Egg can't be unlocked until the promise my mother made is kept.”

“Did she tell you how that could be done?”

Miles shook his head. “I'll just have to try to work it out as I go along. I don't have any choice if I'm to
bring my father back.”

“Will Nura help you with that too?”

Miles shook his head again. “Nura has to bring Cortado and Tau-Tau to Larde. There's no way she could stop at Hell's Teeth without arousing their suspicion. This is one we'll have to figure out on our own.”

Little was silent for a while as she drew spirals in the sand with a stick; then she said, “I'm worried about Silverpoint. He was nowhere to be seen at the Council. He wasn't with Bluehart either the last couple of times he came for you.”

“That's a good thing, isn't it?” said Miles.

“Not if he's supposed to be with him.”

A rumble of distant thunder came faintly on the breeze. “Maybe he's just busy,” said Miles.

There was a grinding cough from the cave as the engine burst into life. Baltinglass woke with a start.

“Hic!” said Tenniel in delight. “The sound of genius! Help me hic-wheel her out onto the launchpad.”

They paved the soft sand with an assortment of planks and wheeled the flying machine out under the stars, her folded wings just scraping the arch of the cave mouth. The engine ran smoothly except for the occasional hiccup, which made Tenniel beam
at it with fatherly affection. He wound a winch here and hauled on a cable there, and the four enormous bat wings unfolded slowly against the sky.

“Now all she needs is a name,” said Tenniel. He produced a dusty long-necked bottle of beer from a nook at the back of the cave. “I have a short list,” he said. He straightened out a piece of crumpled paper and perched a monocle in one eye. Miles looked at the ungainly machine, at the laboring pistons, the tangle of cables and the creaking frame. He cleared his throat loudly and said, “I think Little should choose a name.”

“You do?” said Tenniel. He looked momentarily disappointed; then he smiled broadly and handed Little the beer bottle. “Of course-hic. I am forgetting my manners. As the youngest person and the only lady-hic present, would you care to do the honors?”

Little thought for a moment. “I have a name for her, but you'd better get aboard first,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” asked Tenniel.

“Because it's a cloud name, and once I've named her she will want to fly,” said Little. She looked at the brown bottle and wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to drink this stuff?”

The Hiccup Man laughed. “I can see you haven't
made a hic-habit of launching vessels,” he said. “It's supposed to be champagne, but that's rather hard to come by. You smash the bottle on the bow, which would be”—he pointed to a spot on the rim of the machine's circular base—“there, I suppose.”

The rest of the crew climbed aboard, and Little raised the bottle. She opened her mouth and sang a name for the flying machine. It was a name that billowed and glowed like the ivory clouds of summer, and made everyone who heard it feel lighter than air. No one aboard could hope to repeat it, but it gave such a lift to the crossbred contraption that Little barely had time to smash the beer bottle and clamber aboard herself before the great wings had begun to beat the air and the enormous spinning screw had lifted the machine from the ground, creating a circular sandstorm on the launchpad beneath.

“What kind of a hic-name is that?” asked Tenniel, beside himself with delight to be airborne and still in one piece.

“It means . . . ‘runaway cloud,'” said Little, “more or less.”

As they rose slowly and noisily into the night Miles looked down to see the slim figure of Temzi running toward them on the sandy road. She came
to a standstill at the sight of them, her mouth open in surprise as she watched the ascent of Tenniel's fabulous contraption. Miles leaned out and waved at her, wondering if she had returned early in the hope of seeing him. He watched her as she waved back, her eyes shining in the darkness of her face, until she was swallowed by the distance and the pale desert sands.