“You’ve got to turn the boots off!” she shouted, but he stumbled and was gone again.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” she said. Her patience had reached its end. She pushed herself to her feet, marched up to the door, and hammered her fist against it. “Open up!”

  “This is harassment!” a woman’s voice replied to a backdrop of crashes and rattling.

  Suzy tried the door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. “I’m coming in.”

  She had expected the house to be a shabby, one-room hovel. Instead, it was a shabby, one-room hovel filled to the rafters with treasure. It was everywhere. Chests and strongboxes overflowing with gold were piled up in the corners, the floor was a collage of silk carpets, oil paintings were stacked three deep against the walls, and the small kitchen table in the middle of the room was lost beneath mounds of jewelry. Suzy stared at it all in disbelief. She had never seen so much wealth before.

  “Shut the door behind you!” snapped Mrs. Janssen. “We don’t want the whole Union to see this.” She was as drab and scrawny as her husband, with a head of dirty-blond hair, pinched features, and a tattered gray work smock. She also wore a string of pearls, several gold bracelets, and a crown.

  Suzy looked at them both in confusion. “What on earth’s going on here?” she said.

  She was interrupted by yet another loud pop, and Frederick materialized in front of her, caked in mud and trailing pond weed.

  “Heeeelp!” he wailed.

  Before he had time to move, Suzy lunged at him and caught his legs. Holding him securely, she switched off the boots. He collapsed to the floor, breathless.

  “Thanks,” he said. “That was horrible! I thought it was never going to end.”

  “Serves you right for rushing off without me,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so. Where are we?” He looked around in disbelief. “Mom? Dad? What happened here?”

  “We redecorated,” said his mother.

  He ignored her, turning in a slow circle, trying to process everything he was seeing. “Where did all this come from?”

  “Maybe we can afford a few more luxuries now that we don’t have to feed and clothe you all the time.”

  “You were a terrible drain on our resources,” his father added.

  “A few luxuries?” said Frederick, picking a string of pearls off the table. “The fruit bowl’s full of diamonds. There’s a bucket full of Wolfhaven ducats on the milking stool over there. And is that an original Van Peebles?” He pointed to one of the portraits stacked against the wall.

  “Your mother and I might not know much about art,” said his father, “but we know what we like.”

  Frederick deflated. “Are these things all stolen?”

  His mother made a very good show of looking affronted. “How dare you! We didn’t steal any of this. Not a single coin!”

  “It’s true!” said Mr. Janssen. “We’re innocent!”

  Frederick gave Suzy a questioning look, but all she could do was shrug in response. “I have no idea,” she said.

  Frederick chewed his lip as he turned in a circle, taking it all in. “I think I believe them,” he said, sounding as though he could hardly believe it himself. “There’s stuff here from galleries and bank vaults all over the Union. There’s no way they could have stolen it all.”

  “You see?” said his mother. “Now he thinks we lack ability. Whatever we do, it’s never good enough for him.”

  Suzy ignored her. “Are you saying somebody else stole it all and left it here?”

  “They must have,” said Frederick. “But who? And why?”

  Realization struck them both simultaneously. “Mr. Brown!” they chorused. Mr. and Mrs. Janssen both flinched at the name.

  “I remember now,” Suzy said. “When I was hiding in the junkyard, I heard the troll remind Mr. Brown that he’d done other robberies for him in the past and that they’d all gone smoothly.” She looked around at the piles of treasure. “Very smoothly.”

  “You can’t prove anything,” said Mr. Janssen, although the look of guilt on his face was proof enough for Suzy. He and his wife both shrank back from Frederick as he rounded on them.

  “How did this happen?” Frederick demanded. His voice was clipped and forceful. “Of all the places in the Union, why did Mr. Brown choose this one as his storehouse? And why did you let him?”

  “I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” said his father. “But if a dangerous criminal dropped out of the sky into the middle of your farm one day, and demanded you provide safe haven for his ill-gotten loot in return for a share of the profits, what would you say?”

  Frederick blinked in astonishment. “I’d say no!”

  Mr. Janssen seemed taken aback. “Then perhaps we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” he said.

  Suzy’s impatience boiled over. “We need to find Mr. Brown before he can destroy Trollville,” she said. “He’s drilling for treasure in a cavern somewhere underneath the city. Has he mentioned anything, anything at all, about where it might be?”

  “He never tells us anything,” said Mrs. Janssen.

  “Except to threaten to cut all our toes off if any of his treasure ever goes missing,” added Mr. Janssen. “He’s very particular about that.”

  Frederick fumed. “I can’t believe you two!” he said. “Is there nothing you won’t do to help yourselves?”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” his mother shot back. “Strutting around the Union in your fancy suit with your fancy job. Too good for the likes of us now, are you?”

  “I never said that, Mom.”

  “You’ve always thought it, though,” she said. “Your father and I have spent all our lives scrabbling through cow muck to make ends meet. And for years we had to do it with you looking down your nose at us.”

  “That’s not true,” Frederick mumbled, but without much conviction.

  “Yes it is,” said Mr. Janssen. “You left us for the Ivory Tower without a second glance, and now look at you. Some big librarian. And what have we got to show for it?”

  “We don’t want to spend the rest of our lives in this shack,” said Mrs. Janssen. “So excuse us for not turning down every opportunity that comes along.”

  “Look, if you don’t know where Mr. Brown is, when is he coming back?”

  “How should we know?” said Mr. Janssen.

  He was about to say something else when he was interrupted by a high-pitched whine from outside. They both went pale.

  “It’s them!” said Frederick’s father.

  The whine grew louder, until Suzy recognized it as the sound of engines. “You mean Mr. Brown’s here?” she said. “Now?”

  Frederick’s parents stripped themselves of the jewelry they had been wearing.

  “Hide!” said Mrs. Janssen. “He doesn’t allow visitors!”

  “Don’t worry,” said Suzy, crossing to the door. “People are always happy to see a postie.”

  Searchlights lanced down from the sky as she and Frederick stepped out into the yard. Suzy shielded her eyes against the glare and looked up to see a large, sleek black shape hovering over the farm. It looked a bit like a gigantic bat, but the down blast of its turbines told her it was some sort of aircraft. A hatch opened in its belly, and a rope unspooled from inside. A moment later, the gray-skinned troll Suzy had encountered in the scrapyard rappelled down it, landing with a splash in the center of the farmyard. “You again!” he exclaimed, looking nervously from Suzy to Frederick. Once again, Suzy was struck by the impression that she knew this troll from somewhere.

  “It’s not our fault!” said Frederick’s father, appearing in the doorway. “We tried to get rid of them!”

  “They’re here to steal your treasure!” said Frederick’s mother. She grabbed Frederick by the arm and thrust him toward the troll. “We apprehended them for you.”

  “Mom!” gasped Frederick in disbelief.

  The troll advanced, pulling a rod of pitted metal from his work belt: a troll wand. Suzy swallowed a lump of apprehension.

  “We’re not here to steal anything,” she said. “We just want to stop you from destroying Trollville.”

  The troll frowned and gestured with his wand at Suzy and Frederick. “How did you find this place?”

  “I was born here,” said Frederick. “These people are my parents.”

  “Pull the other one,” said the troll.

  “We’ve never seen this boy before in our lives,” said his father. “But we do happen to know he’s the Chief Librarian of the Ivory Tower. He’d make a very valuable hostage!”

  “Yes!” added Mrs. Janssen. “But we want ten percent of any ransom paid.”

  Both Frederick and Suzy looked at them in disgust. The troll, meanwhile, dragged a hand down his face. “Look, I’ve had a long day. I really don’t have time for this right now.”

  “Then leave them to me,” said a low voice that sent a chill of fear through Suzy. It came from above her, and she looked up, straight into the blazing amber eyes of Mr. Brown.

  He squatted on the edge of the roof like a gargoyle, the rest of his face hidden in the shadow of his hood. Suzy felt that same sense of calm she had experienced in the scrapyard start seeping through her body, but this time she was prepared. She tore her gaze away, and the sensation vanished.

  “Don’t look him in the eyes,” she warned Frederick.

  With a hiss of impatience, Mr. Brown leaped from the roof, twisting in the air above her head and landing neatly beside the troll. “Leave them to me, Reggie,” he said. “Go into the barn and find the milking machine. Strip it for all the parts you need.”

  Reggie nodded and jogged away.

  “Oi!” Mr. Janssen shouted after him. “That milking machine’s private property! You can’t just start dismantling it.”

  “Quiet!” said Mr. Brown. He raised a hand and rubbed his talons together. They made a noise like knives being sharpened. “You shouldn’t have come here, Postie.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop you from reactivating that drill,” Suzy said.

  “Is that what this is about?” He sounded surprised. “And what’s Trollville worth to you?”

  Fear was starting to tug at her thoughts, but the answer stood out clear and simple in her mind. “Everything,” she replied. And the moment the word had left her mouth, she knew it was true. This was what her life was about now: learning everything The Knowledge had to teach her, and then putting it into practice out on the rails with Wilmot and her friends. Exploring the Union. Being a postie. Trollville had just become her second home.

  Mr. Brown’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’m sorry,” he said. “Because it’s nothing to me but an obstacle. Just like you.”

  Keep him talking! The thought popped into her head. As long as he’s talking, he isn’t attacking. “You like hiding inside that hood and fake names,” she said. “Why don’t you show yourself for once?”

  Mr. Brown chuckled. “Do you think I’m scared?”

  “That,” she replied. “Or you might just be really ugly.”

  The great eyes burned more fiercely, and a furious hiss escaped from the hood. Frederick’s parents retreated inside and slammed the door, and Suzy felt the fear clamp down hard around her lungs. She had taken it too far.

  “Ugly?” Mr. Brown’s cloak billowed outward as he spread his wings. “Me, Egolius Tenebrae, master criminal, ugly?” He tore off his cloak and hood, and cast them aside.

  Egolius Tenebrae, thought Suzy as she stared at him in amazement. So that’s his real name. Tenebrae’s body was that of a man, dressed in a loose-fitting white shirt, blue jerkin, breeches, and boots. His wings sprouted from behind his shoulders, which sloped up directly into a dome-shaped head covered in short golden feathers.

  Lamp-like eyes were set in a flat face. A pair of tufted ears stuck up like horns from his scalp, and a short curved hook of a beak jutted out in place of a mouth.

  “Does this look ugly to you?” he demanded.

  Suzy realized her mouth was hanging open, and shut it. “You’re part owl,” she said flatly.

  “I am magnificent!” Tenebrae retorted. “And I will be the last thing you ever see.” He leveled his talons at Suzy’s throat and, with a sweep of his wings, sprang toward her.

  14

  HEAD IN THE CLOUDS

  Suzy saw the wickedly sharp points of Tenebrae’s talons cutting through the air toward her. She jumped back but collided with the side of the farmhouse. Tenebrae kept coming, his aim never wavering. Suzy shut her eyes.

  There was a thud, and a cry of frustration. A second later, when she realized she was still alive, she opened her eyes and saw Tenebrae sprawled in the mud at her feet. Frederick was on top of him, trying to pin his arms to the ground.

  “Run, Suzy!” he shouted.

  Her instinct told her to obey, but something deeper urged her forward, and she threw herself on top of Tenebrae, joining the fight for control of his arms.

  For a second, it seemed that she and Frederick would prevail, but Tenebrae bucked underneath them and unfurled his wings, throwing them both off. A second later, he was back on his feet again. He swiped at Frederick, who leaped clear but slipped in the mud and went down heavily.

  Tenebrae pirouetted until he was facing Suzy again. “Your pet bear isn’t here to save you this time,” he said, and leaped forward, slashing with his talons at her heart. She just had time to bring her satchel up before the claws struck home, piercing the leather and burying themselves in the thick cover of The Knowledge inside. The blow knocked her backward, but she was saved from falling by Tenebrae, who tightened his hold on the satchel.

  “Can you fly, Postie?” Tenebrae asked. He shot a hand out and seized her by the wrist. “A hundred-foot drop should put an end to your meddling.”

  Suzy fought to free herself, but her feet left the mud with a wet sucking noise as Tenebrae beat his wings and dragged her into the air.

  “Let me go!” she shouted, beating at his claws with her free hand.

  “I intend to,” he snarled back.

  Suzy kicked and flailed, trying to make herself as difficult as possible to carry, but it was a losing battle. Inch by inch, Tenebrae was hauling her skyward.

  Panic scraped across the inside of Suzy’s ribs like a knife edge when the toes of her right boot caught against something and her ascent jolted to a stop. She looked down in surprise and laughed with relief when she saw that she had hooked her foot under the eaves of the farmhouse roof. Tenebrae saw it, too, and hissed with displeasure.

  “You can’t win,” he said, beating his wings harder. “Look into my eyes and I’ll make sure your final moments are peaceful.”

  Suzy wanted to punch him square in the beak but couldn’t free herself from his grip. She glared up at him, straining against him with every muscle. And that’s when she saw Rayleigh’s balloon sweep in over the roof of the barn.

  It came in fast and low, as though borne on the teeth of a gale, and the basket splashed down a few yards away. Rayleigh vaulted over the side, brandishing his thermometer.

  “My masterwork!” he shouted. “I know it’s here somewhere. I demand that someone hand it over immediately!”

  Suzy felt the pressure on her arm lessen as Tenebrae looked between her and Rayleigh, his head swiveling right round on his shoulders in the process. Then he released his grip, and she fell with a wet splat into the mud of the yard. Tenebrae alighted beside her and, before she could escape, pinned her to the ground with the heel of his boot. “I’ll deal with you in a moment,” he said, turning his focus on Rayleigh. Suzy saw the Cloudwright slow, then stagger to a stop. The hand holding the thermometer dropped to his side, and she knew that he was in the grip of whatever power Tenebrae held in the depths of those huge eyes.

  “Wake up, Cloudwright!” she shouted, but he was insensible to her. Tenebrae raised one clawed hand free of the satchel and held it high in the air, ready to strike down at Suzy’s throat. A short distance away, she saw Reggie, his arms laden with lengths of copper pipe, fighting to reach the rope hanging from the aircraft while Frederick clung to his legs. She was about to lose everything.

  She kicked at the ground with her heels, trying to wriggle free of Tenebrae, but her boots just slid in the wet mud.

  The boots …

  A wild idea formed from the maelstrom of her thoughts. If it didn’t work, it might tear her in two. But if it did?

  Raising her feet free of the mud, she brought the heel of her right boot down on the shin of her left, and then her left heel down on the shin of her right. She felt the activation buttons click on.

  “You put up a good fight, Postie,” he said, his eyes still on Rayleigh. “But you’re too far down the food chain to beat me.”

  Suzy didn’t reply. She just gritted her teeth, dug her heels into the mud, and pushed.

  She felt that strange rush of matter as reality shifted about her again, and then she was lying on her back in a muddy field, thankfully devoid of cows.

  She made a noise that was part laugh of triumph, part sob of relief, and sat up. The power buttons on both boots were glowing green—she hadn’t been certain that they’d work if she was lying down, but here she was. She knew she couldn’t stay here, though.

  She switched the boots off and got to her feet. Then she fell into a fighting crouch and gripped the strap of her satchel in both hands, swinging it like a club. It was reassuringly heavy. She switched the boots back on, shut her eyes, and pictured the farmyard as she had seen it just a few seconds earlier.

  When she was certain she had it, she leaped forward, across three leagues of space, and landed neatly back in the yard. She swung her satchel hard.

  As she had predicted, Tenebrae was stalking toward Rayleigh, who still stood immobilized. That meant that Tenebrae had his back to her when she landed and never saw the satchel coming. It caught him on the side of the head with enough force to lift him off his feet.

  He performed a sideways somersault and landed full length in the mud.

  Freed from his mesmeric charm, Rayleigh recovered his wits and trained his thermometer on the fallen creature. “Dare to move, and I’ll fry you with enough lightning to power a city,” he said.

 

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