The Queen and the Nobody Boy (4 page)

The last of sunset faded from the clouds. The little Queen shivered again and pulled on her jacket. Hodie put his on too, and passed her the blanket. “You'd better have this.”

It smelled of oil from the odd jobs, with an ancient whiff of elephant. But she wrapped it round herself and lay with her back against a tree. He settled down as well, but had to move a bit so he wasn't lying on yet another rusty bar from an old carriage.

Suddenly the Queen sat up. “What about you? We'll share the blanket.”

“It would be very rude of anyone to hog the only blanket from the Queen,” he said.

She gave a tiny laugh. “But I'm allowed to hog the blanket? The wind is getting up. It's ridiculous not to share.”

He felt very uncomfortable, but shuffled beside her. She wrapped the blanket more or less around them both.

“We must look like a condiment set,” she said.

“A what?” he asked.

“Salt and pepper shakers,” she told him.

“Oh. Yes.” That had made him seem stupid. He knew about such things, even though he'd never used them.

“How are the blisters?” he asked after a while.

“They don't hurt when I'm not walking,” she said.

“That's the way with blisters,” Hodie said.

He was tired after the long day. The wind wasn't really cold, more like something breathing now and then to remind him it was there. The night deepened. The river growled and muttered over rocks. From the Stones of Beyond he heard a distant howl that sounded mechanical. It must be a wind-train approaching the Depot. The Emperor would get on it, if the Um'Binnians hadn't set off on one already. Hodie bet Queen Sibilla hadn't thought of that. He grinned to himself. She'd realise tomorrow how hopeless it was to try to catch up with his mother's stuff.

Around the tree, the wind still blew like something breathing. He heard the Queen swallow hard, and realised that, like him, she wasn't asleep – and she was trying not to cry.

He shifted to give her more blanket. “It's all right. We're safe tonight.”

“It's not that …” She gave a really juicy sniff. “But it is so awful everyone expecting me to do something special. I'm really ordinary, like you … oh, that didn't come out right.” She covered her head with the blanket and shook with sobs.

This was far too embarrassing. Hodie scrabbled to his feet and walked around the tree to settle down with just his jacket.

He didn't expect to doze. For a while his head felt gritty and cross. But then he opened his eyes and the first glimmer of dawn showed over the Stones. High up in the tree, the leaves were rustling.

“What's that?” whispered the little Queen on the other side of the trunk.

“A bird, probably.” Hodie scrambled round to her and opened his satchel. “Here. A stale potato from your own banquet.”

“Thank you.” Her hands were dirty. Her cap was askew. She looked very ordinary now.

The potato he chose was floury and tasteless. Hers couldn't be nice either. But she ate without complaining, then put on her shoes. He stole a look – the blisters seemed better.

The sky was clear and the sun began to warm them. Wind rattled small bare branches through the grove, and above them the leaves kept rustling. Down below, The Torrent looked peaceful.

“You know about the Bridge of course,” he said.

She looked torn between scorn and a chuckle. “It goes from one side of the river to the other. You thought that I'd give up before we got here.”

It was clear she didn't know about the Bridge and still thought she could catch up with the Emperor. All right, Hodie wouldn't argue. He'd simply show her. He'd race down to the Bridge ahead of her, put one foot on it, and she'd realise how dangerous it was. Then they'd set off back to the crossroads. She could hitch home alone from there on another steam-cart.

He licked the last crumbs from his fingers, stood up and stumbled for a moment over one of those half-buried rusty bars. Sibilla stuffed her hair back into the cap.

“Um,” Hodie said. “If you want to, you know, go to the bathroom, why don't you go behind that bush?”

Sibilla muttered thank you and hurried off. He rolled up the blanket. But she came back before he'd strapped it to his satchel. Blast.

Above his head, leaves rustled again, just on one limb.

“Is something up there?” Sibilla reached to grab a branch.

“Don't!” said Hodie.

“Why not?” She hoisted herself up and clung to the trunk.

“You might fall,” he said.

“I just want to see.” Her trousers snagged. “You come up too.” Her feet disappeared into the leaves.

“Stuff's dropping in my eyes,” he called. “Come down!”

She laughed. “Are you scared?”

“Of course not!” His voice came out so sharp it must be obvious he was fibbing.

There was more rustling and this time a squawk. “It's a strange bird,” called the Queen. “Ouch …” There was a ripping sound. “It's very tame, it isn't moving … I've got it. Hodie, it's made of metal.”

She slithered down, hands scratched and clothes torn, and held out something shiny. The bird's head was round like an owl's, with dark eyes. Its tail feathers were like spikes, some of them bent.

Hodie stared. “I saw King Jasper making that. I didn't think it would actually fly – and it got this far!”

“He said he was making me a present …” She turned it in her hands.

Hodie felt relief swell in his chest. “The King put a lot of work into that. Some of it's gold. You'd better take it home before it gets broken.”

The bird squawked again, then chirped. Queen Sibilla held it to her ear. Hodie heard a few words, faint and garbled. Then there was a soft whirring as if it caught its metal breath.

“There,” Hodie said. “It told you to go home.”

Her eyes sparked with mischief. “It said that you were a bit timid of the Bridge. Race you across!”

She grabbed her bag and started running.

~

The bird had said nothing of the sort! Hodie looked around for something that might help, wrenched one of those rusty metal bars out of the dirt, and hurtled after her.

Loose stones skidded under his boot, but he righted himself and reached the road. Ahead was a squawk – the metal bird was flying above the Queen's shoulder.

Hodie pounded on.
But can't you sneak across quietly?
he had asked his father.
No
, Dardy had answered
. You have to run for it. Run for your life
.

He slipped again but found his balance. The little Queen had nearly reached the first set of iron pillars. Now Hodie was near enough to see tiny spikes of metal on the planks. Sibilla set foot on the Bridge, and a loud yell came from underneath. It was the bridge-troll.

The river churned and frothed as the troll lurched to the machinery on the far side. “Oi! Say me the password!” It grabbed the levers.

Sibilla hesitated – good, Hodie would catch her in time, he might not need to use the metal bar after all. But then she tossed her head and started across.

There was a shriek of steel. The metal spikes along the planks shot up. The Queen screamed and dodged. The troll heaved on the levers to make the spikes jab up and down.

Hodie reached the pillars and ran on. A spike scratched his calf. He nearly dropped the metal bar, juggled it, and had to leap because another spike stabbed up.

Ahead, the little Queen scrambled and dodged too, screaming. Three spikes jabbed for him at the same time – somehow, he jumped them all. At last he saw a gap between the planks, and jammed the metal bar down into it as hard as he could. With a terrible screech, the machinery stopped.

Hodie leaned on the railing, chest heaving. Blood dripped into his boot. The little Queen was half way across, hands on her hips.

The troll kept tugging the levers. “You break the mechi-nism!”

The little Queen's voice rang out. “All we want to do is walk across! You don't have permission to stop us!”

“The Um'Binnians put him there,” called Hodie.

“Bad boy break mechi-nism!” The troll waded back into the river, tugging its hair and grumbling louder.

“One side of the river is Fontania,” Sibilla shouted down to it. “But nobody owns the river, and nobody owns the Stones of Beyond. There is an agreement that we share the Stones with Um'Binnia!”

“But they don't want to share! They don't let everybody in!” Hodie limped towards her. “And Fontania has never done a thing about it.”

“Because we don't like arguments!” Sibilla cried.

“You're arguing now!” he yelled.

Sibilla stuck her chin out. “If Emperor Prowdd'on says he owns this bridge, he's wrong.”

“There was nearly a war because Fontania won't stand up for itself,” Hodie shouted. “Um'Binnia thinks it can own everything because it's so much bigger.”

The troll let out a roar. “I just does what I is paid for! Even if I isn't paid much!” It disappeared from sight, but Hodie heard furious splashing. Then, to his horror, he saw the troll's fingers gripping the edge of the planks. It was starting to climb.

Hodie had a quick look at the cut on his leg – not very deep. If he could grab the Queen and haul her back into Fontania … But the troll's foot heaved up onto the railing. With a desperate groan it pulled the other leg up, rolled over with a thump that shook the Bridge, and stretched across to yank out the metal bar.

“Run!” Hodie tried to shove the Queen. She wouldn't budge.

Hodie saw the metal bird dive sharply. There was a squawk, a peck, a yell. The troll clapped a hand to the top of its (very ugly) head, toppled back over the rail and sank completely.

Sibilla walked on to the end of the Bridge. Ahead of her were the Stones.

Spluttering, the troll surfaced, clambered onto the river bank and started wringing out its shirt tails. “Bad boys with hard hearts!” it roared. “One big bad boy, one little one.”

Hodie's leg hurt, but he ran to catch up with the Queen. “Stop,” he panted. “Go back …”

“Wasn't that interesting?” She settled her cap. “The bird saved you.”

Hodie wanted to burst with rage. “Stop!”

This time she did. “I suppose the bird was really saving me. It saved us both.”

He took a deep breath. “You say you're not really a Queen, that you're ordinary.” She nodded. “But you spoke to the troll as if you were a Queen.” She nodded again. He was so angry the words nearly jammed up. “You can't have it both ways. Just go home to your mother and brother. Leave me alone.”

Sibilla's chin stuck out. Her gold pendant glinted. “Hodie, I know you want your things back, you don't have to pretend. But the Um'Binnians will never listen to you. I'm behaving like a Queen because it will help.”

She set off again.

“If it makes you feel better,” she called over her shoulder, “let's just say we happen to be travelling in the same direction.”

~

The little Queen strode in the dust towards a grove of stunted trees. The bird squawked and whirred after her.

Hodie limped back to the river to rinse the cut on his leg. The troll was still snivelling, and Hodie felt sorry for it. The cut wasn't deep, but he pulled one of the spare socks out of his satchel and tied it round the wound. Maybe he should have offered the spares to the Queen. She couldn't like having to wear yesterday's ones all stiff with goo and blood. Lady Helen would be furious when the Queen returned so filthy, dressed like a boy. That was one reason Hodie was very happy to have no parents – no scolding. And now he didn't have to listen to any more from Corporal Murgott.

He stood up. The little Queen was out of sight. The metal bird was no protection for her – it was just an interesting gift, bound to smash itself on a rock before too long.

One more hour
, Hodie thought,
one more, she'll be ready to cross back home, and this time the troll won't stop us
.

Hodie hurried past a few skimpy, leafless trees, up a gravel path between walls of rock. Ahead, he saw the bird crash-land in the dirt and Sibilla marching on. The bird whirred up again.

Back over Fontania, the sun still sparkled. But here the sky was grey, like the bathwater those times Mrs Emily made Hodie come and use the servants' bathroom and clean himself properly. He reached a rise in the dwindling path. Ahead lay the Stones – a desert of canyons and craters and grey boulders. Nobody owned them, as the Queen had said, and who would want to? Here and there stood leafless trees (grey) and little plants (grey) like the fuzz when the older soldiers hadn't shaved for several days.

Panting and limping, he caught up with the Queen. “Your Majesty,” he began.

“Please,” she said, “use my name. I'll use yours. Hodie.”

“Er. Sibilla.” He nearly choked on it. “You see, this is the situation.”

“What is?” she asked.

“Well,” said Hodie, “I know you used to day-dream when you should have been listening to your tutors.”

Her jaw firmed as if she might whack him, but she didn't stop walking.

“The thing is,” he continued softly, “we should be quiet.”

“Why?” she asked.

“There are things around …”

“Yes, rocks,” she said. “And more rocks. Look over there, stones and rubble.”

He had to keep his temper. “No – I've heard there are rabbits that aren't the soft and cuddly sort.”

“Where?” she asked.

“In the Stones,” he said.

“I mean, where did you hear about them?” She was hobbling, and it was clear she felt impatient.

This could be awkward. “I listened underneath your schoolroom window.”

She stared at him. “You got free lessons?”

In the circumstances, what was wrong with that? “You can see it as payment for the odd jobs.”

She blushed. “I'm also helping you get back whatever the Um'Binnians took from your hut.”

He settled his satchel on the other shoulder. “Look, it was just some old stuff of my mother's. And Murgott's poetry, by accident.”

“What! Why?” She nearly tripped over the metal bird having one of its rests.

“Because I shouted at the Emperor, I think. When … you know … the squirrel …” He glanced at her warily.

Sibilla's eyes filled with tears. She cleared her throat. She had that look that meant someone's going to try changing the subject. “I remember your father, and the elephant. He let me ride on it when I was small. Then he was very good at all the odd jobs. I'm sorry he didn't get paid.”

“Thank you,” said Hodie.

There was a moment when she didn't say anything. Then –

“Your mother's stuff. No wonder you want it back.”

He shrugged, clenched his jaw and hiked on.

“What was she like?” Sibilla asked.

He'd never been asked before. It came as a shock. He stopped walking. “I don't remember.”

“Nothing? What about the colour of her hair?”

He had no idea. Even if he could have said – his throat choked again.

The sun was hidden by low clouds that streamed in the wind. Here and there were signs of travellers: a horseshoe, a mangled glove, a few bones. Hodie hoped they were only lunch bones left by humans. The metal bird still circled over the Queen's head, squawking now and then. “Ho-ome. Quee-een, ho-ome!”

The further they walked, the more upset Hodie felt and the more he actually missed Dardy.

The sides of the canyon grew steeper. As they struggled past a small crater, whispery crackles sounded from an oily puddle in its depths. The path kept on rising. Hodie looked up and saw grey fuzzy movement – with luck, it was only bushes in the wind. Then the canyon seemed to end in a tumble of rocks.

“This is it,” Hodie said. “Wrong turning. We have to go back.”

“For goodness' sake, you give up easily.” The little Queen started to clamber over.

“Come back!” But it was no good. She was scrambling on, and he had to follow.

Around a huge boulder, a steep slope of pebbles led down to a shallow valley. Deep canyons rayed out in all directions. Dust spiralled and ghosted. In the middle of the valley was a long low building – the Depot. The Um'Binnian crest blazed on its side: a yellow sunburst with a purple coronet. At one end of a wooden platform were pulleys and hoists – Hodie supposed they must be to lift the wind-trains up to catch the gale. Two carriages waited, but no engine.

His heart felt sore on Sibilla's account. She looked frightened, and he understood why. The Um'Binnians had extraordinary machines. King Jasper would never make anything big enough to match them, though it was no wonder he wanted to try. The thing was, if the world had such amazing machines, what was the point of magic? What was the point in being Queen of Fontania?

~