The Great Brain Robbery, page 9
“Wow,” they both said in unison.
The navigation room took up the whole of the cab’s second floor. A long row of windows, made of little diamond panes with old, wobbly glass in them, wrapped around the front and side walls, giving a panoramic view of the valley outside. The rear wall, meanwhile, was lined from floor to ceiling with hundreds of pigeonholes, each containing a tightly wound canvas scroll, their ends capped and labeled.
“Are these maps?” asked Suzy.
“Of course,” said Frederick. “We’ve got something like it in the geography section of the Ivory Tower. Only ours is much bigger, obviously. You unroll them and read them on this.” He thumped the heavy wooden table that sat in the middle of the room. It had brass clips at all four corners, presumably to hold the maps flat.
Suzy stepped around the table and looked out the window. The Belle’s boiler and chimney were in front of them, the rock face rushed past immediately to their right, and to the left she could see across the ravine to the bizarre storm cloud.
An antique telescope stood on a tripod in front of the windows, and Suzy let Frederick maneuver it into position while she took up one of several pairs of binoculars that rested on the windowsill and trained it on the cloud.
They were almost parallel with it now, and she realized just how big it was. Gold-and-pink lightning reached down to scorch the tip of the peak beneath it, and again she saw the dark shape writhing in its center. She caught her breath in shock. She couldn’t be certain, but it looked like there was more than one shape in the cloud. She got the impression of long, snakelike bodies coiling and rolling together.
“This is incredible!” said Frederick, his eye to the telescope. “They’re fighting!”
“What are?” she said.
Before he could answer, the cloud emitted a dazzling flash, followed by a clap of thunder loud enough to make the windows rattle. Suzy fought to keep the binoculars in focus as the cloud broke open and something emerged.
“Dragons!” said Frederick.
Suzy’s mouth dropped open. The dragon looked like one of the paper ones her class had made for the Chinese New Year celebrations in school. Its head was broad and square, surrounded by a mane of golden fur, but its body was long and serpentine. It had no wings but seemed to swim through the air, the azure scales of its body winking in the light. It opened its mouth and belched a cloud of steam and lightning, accompanied by a low roll of thunder. It rose into the sky above the ravine, pawing at the air with its birdlike claws.
A few seconds later, a second dragon emerged from the cloud. Its scales were red and its mane bright green, and it had clearly come off worse in the fight. Blood ran from several wounds in its side, and it limped away through the sky before finally dropping out of sight behind one of the nearby peaks.
“Dragons are real!” said Suzy, as much to herself as to Frederick.
“Of course they are,” said Frederick. “But they’re rare. And these are thunder dragons, which are rarer still.”
Suzy focused on the spot at which the red dragon had vanished and felt a surge of concern. “You mean they’re endangered? Shouldn’t we do something to help that red one? It looked hurt.”
“It would fry us before we got close,” said Frederick. “And they’re always fighting. They’re very territorial. Besides, if they didn’t fight, we wouldn’t be here.”
She lowered the binoculars and gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that any minute now we should see … aha! Here they come!” He pointed, and Suzy saw that a flock of brightly colored shapes had appeared in the air some way off over the jungle. They couldn’t be birds—they were too big and oddly shaped. She trained the binoculars on them.
“They’re flying machines!” she said. There were about twenty of them, of all shapes and types. Some were little more than hang gliders, while others reminded Suzy of the sort of contraptions Leonardo da Vinci had designed: pedal-powered craft with flapping canvas wings and corkscrew propellers. She saw a miniature dirigible, an old-fashioned biplane, and even someone with a jet pack like King Amylum’s. And they were all heading toward the cloud in which the dragons had been fighting. “Who are they?”
“The Cloudwrights,” said Frederick. “Look at them go!”
“Those are the people we’re here to see?” She watched the fleet of craft with renewed interest. One of those pilots might hold the key to stopping the drill and saving Trollville.
Sensing the approaching fleet, the blue dragon twisted in the air, bringing its great shaggy head around to face them. Its maw opened, and Suzy shut her eyes, not wanting to see the destruction that followed. The flash of lightning from the creature’s mouth was so bright that she saw it through her eyelids.
But at a cheer from Frederick, she looked again and saw the aircraft had all scattered like birds, wheeling and banking as the dragon spat a second bolt of lightning after them, and a third. The shots came close, but the aircraft danced clear. The dragon roared in frustration.
Then the craft were past it, making straight for the cloud, which was already beginning to dissipate, going ragged at the edges. In quick succession, they dived into its heart from all directions, bursting in and out of it in a flurry of banking turns.
“What are they doing?” asked Suzy.
“Collecting the spellcloud,” said Frederick, his eye still to the telescope. “The dragons make it when they fight. It’s the main ingredient in the Cloudwrights’ magic.”
The dragon roared again and swung back toward the cloud, but then the Express rounded a bend in the ravine, and the vista was swept from their sight.
Suzy gave a strangled cry of frustration. “Will they be all right?”
“I don’t know,” said Frederick. “It’s a dangerous business.”
This did absolutely nothing to allay her fears. Their investigations wouldn’t get very far if the person they were looking for had just been eaten by a dragon.
Ahead of them, the valley widened before splitting into two and flowing around a conical hill that rose, shaggy and green with vegetation, from the surging waters. Cloud Forge stood on its summit like a jeweled crown—a star-shaped fortress whose tangerine-colored walls glinted in the sun, while peaked roofs of blue and gold tiles poked up above the parapet.
“It looks beautiful,” she said.
“It really does,” said Frederick, who looked equally captivated. “I can’t wait!”
The Express slowed to an easy pace as a small station came into view up ahead. It was built into the side of the ravine and had the same blue roof and thick orange walls as Cloud Forge itself.
“Come on,” said Suzy. “This is our stop.”
She raced him down the stairs, double-checking the contents of her satchel as she went. I wish Wilmot was here to see this, she thought. I wonder if he’s made it out of Trollville yet.
“Here we are,” Stonker announced, bringing the train to a halt at the platform. “We’ll park up in a short-stay siding and wait for you to get back.”
Ursel concurred with a nod. The fur of her paws was already starting to take on a yellowish tint, Suzy noticed. She tried to give them both a brave smile as she and Frederick stepped out onto the gangway, but her mind was itching again. Something felt wrong.
Maybe it was Wilmot’s absence, or maybe it was the cloying heat that smothered her as she climbed down to the platform. Judging by the look on his face, Frederick was feeling it, too. After a moment’s thought, it finally came to her.
“Where are my socks?” she said, stopping to pull the hem of her trousers up. Her ankles were bare.
“Mine too,” said Frederick. “They’re gone.”
“I did warn you,” said Stonker, leaning out the front door. “We’re not sure where they disappear to, but we’ve started carrying an emergency supply. Here.” He produced two balled-up pairs of long woolen socks and tossed them down. “I’ll make some adjustments to the controls while you’re gone and see if I can’t fix it.”
They found a bench and pulled the new socks on, while a small crowd of waiting passengers and station porters gathered to admire the Express.
“Nice to see you out on the rails again!” one of them called as Suzy and Frederick headed for the exit, where a simple rope bridge connected the station to Cloud Forge.
“Thank you,” she replied. “Come rain, shine, or meteor shower, the Impossible Postal Express will deliver!” The crowd rewarded her with some polite applause, and she left the station with a spring in her step. I’ve been waiting months to say that, she thought.
9
CRASH LANDING
The rope bridge connecting the station to Cloud Forge was strung high above the foaming torrent at the bottom of the valley. Suzy looked down through the slats and watched a couple of bright red birds sail past beneath her. It’s a good thing I’m not scared of heights, she thought. Nevertheless, she found she was gripping the sides of the bridge so hard that the rope burned her palms.
Frederick clearly had no such reservations and was bounding ahead, pausing every few seconds to turn back and chivy her along.
Cloud Forge loomed ahead of them, two arms of its star-shaped fortifications spread wide as if in welcome. From this close distance, Suzy realized that the walls were clad from top to bottom in glazed tiles, each with an intricate pattern of geometric shapes picked out in orange and umber and white. Some sort of cloister ran along the battlements—a series of open-fronted archways beneath a sloping roof.
Suzy was halfway across the bridge when she chanced to look back along the valley in the direction from which the Express had come and saw dark shapes moving against the sun. She squinted, fearful that it might be a dragon, but the shapes were too small and numerous. “Frederick!” she cried. “It’s them! The Cloudwrights are back!”
The aircraft came wheeling up the valley, looping and rolling in triumph. There was no urgency to their flight anymore, no dragon in pursuit, and as far as Suzy could tell, every one of them had made it back safely.
“This is perfect!” called Frederick as the craft began circling Cloud Forge. “We can be there when they arrive.”
He took off at a run toward the open gateway that stood at the far end of the bridge, but Suzy lingered, watching one craft after another peel off from the great wheeling flock and alight neatly inside the archways above the walls.
They’re hangars! she thought.
She had taken a few steps along the bridge in pursuit of Frederick when a high-pitched whine reached her from farther down the valley. She looked and saw that not all the aircraft had returned after all—a hang glider with a propeller mounted on top was still struggling homeward. The whine came from its engine, which trailed smoke, and Suzy could see a scorched hole in the fabric wing. She stopped and watched in horrified fascination as the hang glider dropped and climbed, stalled and shook, fighting hard for every few feet of altitude it could manage.
She was so fascinated, it took her a moment to realize that the hang glider was heading straight for her. “Look out!” she cried, waving her arms in warning.
The pilot, just visible as a yellow crash helmet and a pair of goggles, didn’t seem to notice. They were too busy fighting to maintain control. As they drew closer, Suzy saw a large glass jar hanging from a strap beneath the pilot’s body. Then the hang glider was upon her, and she threw herself flat, pressing her face against the wooden slats.
She felt the rush of air tug at her hair and clothes as the hang glider whistled overhead. Then something heavy struck the bridge, making it rock alarmingly from side to side. Suzy gripped the slats and screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to look down. Had the hang glider struck the bridge? Was the whole thing going to collapse?
After a few seconds, the rocking subsided, and she realized the whine of the hang glider’s engine had risen in pitch. She looked up and saw it climbing rapidly, in an uncontrolled spin, up and over the walls of Cloud Forge. The engine coughed and died, and the hang glider hung suspended for an instant, pointing at the zenith. Then gravity took over, and it plunged out of sight into the heart of the fortress.
Suzy heard the dull crunch of the impact, and then the shouting and screaming began. A cloud of dust billowed out the open gates, and Frederick plunged headlong into it without looking back.
Suzy got to her feet, shaken but glad to be unharmed. She was about to follow Frederick when something bumped against her heel, and she looked down to see the jar that the hang glider pilot had been carrying. It must have come loose, or perhaps been jettisoned, as the hang glider had passed overhead.
She picked the jar up. It was heavy, about a foot and a half tall and sealed with a large cork. She held it up to the sun and examined the white mist that swirled inside it. Colorful sparks of energy danced through it like fireflies, and she realized she had seen this before.
Spellcloud.
Tucking the jar under her arm and fighting to keep her balance, she ran along the bridge toward the gates. Somewhere inside the fortress was the Cloudwright who might hold the key to saving Trollville. She just had to find them.
* * *
The heart of Cloud Forge was a large oval courtyard, three stories tall and ringed with brightly painted shop fronts. Suzy found it in chaos.
It was full of people and creatures in clothes as fine as any she had seen at the royal reception. Some of them ran in a headlong panic, shouting for attention and crashing into one another, while others huddled nervously together, staring in helpless confusion at the wreck of the hang glider, which lay like a broken kite on the flagstones. Suzy could barely bring herself to look at it—it had clearly been a bad crash.
A second, smaller crowd surrounded it, already hard at work on freeing the pilot. They wore an odd assortment of work clothes, from aprons to hairnets and even, in one case, a welding mask. The shop staff, Suzy guessed. She saw Frederick among them and hurried over.
“Are they all right?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. His cheeks were flushed from running and the effort of helping to roll the still-smoking engine to one side.
“Cirrus! Cirrus, can you hear me?” A young human man with a trio of tape measures draped around his shoulders was down on his hands and knees, trying to wriggle underneath the ragged canvas sail.
The engine was rolled away, and the staff finally succeeded in lifting the broken sail. A woman sprang to her feet from beneath it. She was tall, with dark skin and an athletic build. She wore muted yellow flying leathers and matching crash helmet, which she removed to reveal a closely cropped fuzz of tight curls. She pulled her goggles up onto her forehead and looked around.
“Cirrus!” said the young man. “Are you hurt?”
“Never mind me,” Cirrus said firmly. “What about my catch?” She pushed through the crowd, heading for the gates.
“Excuse me,” said Suzy, stepping into her path. “Do you mean this?” She held up the jar of spellcloud.
Cirrus stopped, and her whole face lit up in a delighted smile, revealing perfect, gleaming teeth. “I do!” she said, and bent at the waist until her eyes were level with Suzy’s. “Thank you.” She accepted the jar and turned it over in her hands, checking it closely. “I’m sorry I buzzed you on the bridge.”
“Buzzed me?” said Suzy, who felt both energized and intimidated by this woman.
“The near miss,” said Cirrus. “My engine was giving out, so I had to ditch my catch if I was ever going to be light enough to make it back.” Satisfied that the jar was intact, she gave it a kiss and straightened. “I didn’t really think it would make it in one piece.”
“I’m amazed you made it in one piece,” said Frederick, appearing at her side. “That was quite a crash.”
They all regarded the ruined hang glider. “Yeah, I think I’m going to need a new rig,” said Cirrus. Then she brightened and slapped the side of the jar. “And thanks to this, I’ll be able to upgrade.”
“So this stuff is spellcloud?” said Suzy.
“Grade A and dragon-fresh,” said Cirrus. “Thank you for not stealing it.”
Suzy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I would never do that!” she said.
Cirrus gave an apologetic smile. “Don’t take it personally,” she said. “But this stuff’s very valuable.”
Suzy pulled herself up to her full height and did her best to look dignified. “You can always trust a postie.”
“This is why I’m in charge of customer service,” said the young man with the tape measures, who inserted himself into the middle of the group. He had a look of studied patience on his face, although there was no disguising the warmth in his eyes when he looked at Cirrus.
“Oh, hello, Jasper,” said Cirrus. “You two? This is Jasper, my apprentice and seamster. He fixes things.”
“Except hang gliders,” said Jasper flatly. “Although given the number she gets through, perhaps it’s time I started.”
“It was worth it, though, Jasp,” said Cirrus, holding the jar aloft like a trophy. “Look! Ten full quarts of the good stuff. Right from the heart of the cloud!”
Jasper’s deadpan expression slipped a little, allowing a faint smile through. “I must admit, that is impressive.”
“What exactly do you do with it?” asked Suzy, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“Earn a living,” said Cirrus. “I owe you one.”
Suzy knew it was probably just an offhand comment, but she jumped on it before Cirrus could turn to leave. “Actually, there is something you might be able to do for us,” she said.
Cirrus paused. “Sure. Fire away.”
“We’re looking for a Cloudwright but we don’t have a name. Maybe you could help us track him down?” She did her best to look hopeful.
“No problem,” Cirrus beamed. “I know everyone worth knowing. Follow me.”
She set off across the courtyard with a confident stride, and the crowd parted around her like water. “Thanks for your help, everyone,” she said as she went. “Can someone clear the mess up?”
