Beyond the Knock Knock Door (15 page)

It punched the blockade harder this time, as did the third. When the fourth and fifth crashed against the walls with less energy, the marines listened, counted the time between following impacts, then gingerly pushed open a top-hatch into the rain.

From their vantage point on the crown, they surveyed the wreckage. To the left of them, houses on the nearest island drained with floodwaters and cafe tables slid from roofs where a barricade had been torn from its chains. A shaky jetty collapsed into the sea as follow-up waves pounded the shoreline with planks, seaweed and filth. A horse-and-cart bolted through the streets without its rider, and the first few doors cracked open as the brave wondered if their city was safe.

Luke sagged against the edge until a marine grabbed him in a bear hug.

‘My friend! You've saved Pacifico!'

The city faced a new threat two mornings later. It wasn't a freak storm or more giant waves, but bleary-eyed nobles in their silk dressing gowns. From their balconies, they shouted and shook their fists at hundreds of Scorned workmen, who scaled rooftops shouldering loads of new tiles or set about sawing planks for the new jetty. When the only answer was more hammering, the lords and ladies – looking anything but prim – slammed their French doors, promised to petition the Prime Minister then crawled back into bed.

Several islands away, Michael sweltered in the morning heat as he waited by the Grand Canal with Samantha and Luke. Around them, a large crowd had gathered, taking holo-photos or calling out the Gold Knight's name. He felt exposed without his hood but, thankfully, today he wasn't the main attraction. Just like him, they expected the arrival of somebody far more important.

The marine sergeant ordered his young soldiers to rope off the tourists as the goodwill evaporated and feet grew sore. Two quick-thinking harlequins – a green and a yellow – eased the tension by staging an impromptu show. They juggled throwing pins, the contents of a woman's handbag and a trio of hapless turtles before distant cheers stole away their audience. Four white stallions adorned with starfish clomped towards the canal, pulling a sea snail carriage coated in gold. Michael felt his chest hitch as they reined to a stop, a door opened and Queen Oriana waved to her people.

‘Show off,' Samantha whispered into Luke's ear. Then, glimpsing inside the carriage, she asked, ‘So do you think it turns into a pumpkin after midnight?'

‘I don't know about pumpkins,' he said, ‘but look at Mikey's face – it's definitely turning beetroot!'

Their brother blushed as Queen Oriana accepted his arm and alighted from the carriage. She wore a clownfish dress with high shoulders and seams that bristled with white and orange threads. A diamond necklace rested across her small bosom, and her purple hair bloomed upwards under a conch tiara. The five small amethysts freckling each cheek caught the sun as she smiled. It was clear to all who was the fairest in this land.

‘Thank you kindly,' she said, waving for silence. ‘But it is not I who should accept your praise today, but our dear friend, Agent Luke of the Star Ranger Corp, whose quick thinking this week saved all our lives.'

The people roared their approval as she lifted his hand in victory. She stepped aside and let him bask in the moment as they chanted his name. Bewildered, Samantha shook her head: if Michael was the colour of beetroot, then Luke was turning plum. ‘And I'm going bananas,' she said.

Michael led Queen Oriana to her royal ferry before joining her at the bow. Luke and Samantha were shown the stern of the black and gold boat, while the captain, crew and marines kept their own company in the central cabin.

‘Sit,' the young queen said to Michael, patting the dozens of velvet cushions beside her. ‘Let us enjoy a morning free of politics and the worries of state.'

‘Thank you, Your Majesty.'

‘And please, Sir Michael,' she smiled, ‘now that we are away from my court, call me Oriana. Even royals seek to be treated as friends.'

He blushed. ‘Okay, but as long as you just call me Michael.'

Shouting children chased the royal ferry along the Grand Canal until they reached a footbridge. Oriana waved them goodbye as her party chugged on.

‘You look a little pale,' she said, noticing him close his eyes. ‘Are you ill?'

‘Boats and I don't get along,' he said, squeezing a cushion. ‘My dad took me fishing once when I was seven. He rocked the sides to scare me as a joke. Except I fell in and drank half the river.'

She pursed a smile. ‘Well, Michael, if the captain
dares shake this boat, you and I shall both fall into the canal, and come sunset he will be hanging from the gallows.'

Michael was horrified until she gently laughed. Soon, he joined in.

More people cheered from windows as the ferry navigated a bend. ‘Long live Her Majesty! Long live Queen Oriana!'

She waved back then savoured the smells of thyme, rosemary, oregano and basil wafting from balcony gardens. Schools of emperor red snapper, little spinefoots and scissortail sergeants drifted around them, as did a baby stingray and a pair of pineapple fish. Even a nosy seahorse hovered above her outstretched glove, fluttering its little fins.

‘Do all your fish fly?' he asked.

‘Yours do not?'

‘No, they swim.'

‘But how do they breathe?'

‘Through slots behind their heads called gills. I don't know how they work, but they help extract oxygen from the water.'

The seahorse flew away. She blinked. ‘How strange. All those colourful creatures hidden for no one to see.'

‘I guess so. I've never thought about it that way.'

A sunfish lazed by, soaking up the heat. It looked at them then rolled over on its belly. ‘Where are all your birds then?' he asked.

‘You've seen a bird?' she asked, grabbing his arm.

‘Of course. Thousands of them.'

‘Please, describe one for me.'

He did something better. He opened his journal and drew parrots, eagles, owls, pigeons, penguins, emus and even the hawk that nested above his apartment. With each new picture, her eyes grew wider, like a child hearing her favourite fairytale.

‘Our world once had such beautiful creatures,' she said, the excitement fading from her voice. ‘That was until they were stolen and held for ransom, which we refused to pay. As punishment, they've never been seen again.'

‘Stolen? Every single one? How?'

She glanced at Samantha, who was thumping Luke with her hat in retaliation for hitting her with a cushion. ‘It's best you ask your companion,' Oriana said. ‘The way of the pirate is foreign to me.'

He saw the ostrich feathers on his sister's hat and under stood why many Pacificans snarled when she walked by.

Flotsam and jetsam slapped against the walls of the Grand Canal and grew thicker as the captain carefully entered the harbour. In the shadow of the royal watchtowers, barges cleaned up the destruction left behind by the gigantic waves, while pumps continued draining still-flooded islands.

‘We are fortunate no lives were lost,' she said, spotting a red gown rippling on the surface. ‘One-fifth of our gondolas are sunk; many houses are damaged; part of the water supply has been compromised; and the
western eateries will need demolishing, but we shall rebuild. Repairing people's trust may take more time, however.'

Beside the moored cruise liners, tourists berated staff about stranding them during the emergency. Meanwhile, business was still business, and gaggles of new visitors disembarked, eager to explore the destruction.

Queen Oriana glanced down at the sound of tearing paper. Michael pulled a page from his journal, ripped it into a square and began folding. ‘For you,' he said, presenting her with the finished gift.

‘What is it?'

‘An origami crane. It's a bird that lives on my world.'

‘You come from Origami?'

‘No.' He smiled. ‘Origami is the art of paper-folding, see? I learnt it at school.'

She held it in her smooth glove until a sharp breeze gave it flight. She caught it again and laughed, the ten amethysts flashing on her cheeks. ‘Thank you. Thank you, kindly.'

On the other side of the cabin, Luke snickered. ‘Did you see that? Mikey's in
love
.'

‘He can't be in love,' Samantha said. ‘He's only twelve.'

‘
Hello
, you're twelve and in love with Rajan Sudhakar.'

‘Am not. And I never was, thank you very much. I pretended to be nice to him so I could copy his maths exam.'

‘He copied yours! And you both failed!'

‘Whatever. Anyway, Smarty Pants, how could I date a boy with less facial hair than me?'

At the bow, Oriana and Michael turned at the wild laughter. ‘Your companions seem to be in good humour,' she said.

‘Yes, and that's what worries me.'

The ferry headed for a northern island clearly different from the others. Devoid of buildings except for an enormous mansion, it was landscaped with thousands of rose bushes as well as hedge mazes, rotundas, statues and jets of water shaped like tunnels to walk under. ‘The royal retreat,' she explained. ‘I must beg your indulgence on its size. The main house only has twenty-seven guestrooms.'

As they powered towards the Island of Roses, they passed waterbuses, buoys, dolphins, gondolas, windsurfers and giant amphitheatres. A trio of elegant blue spaceships shaped like vertical boomerangs hummed overhead before splashing down into port.

‘Pardon the late notice,' she said, sliding a party invitation from her sleeve. ‘I was unsure as to how long you'd be in our company.'

Holographic fireworks exploded from the invitation's middle before fizzing into the number 300. ‘Please, be my honoured guest,' she added. ‘My lineage has sat on Pacifico's throne for three centuries now, and the city wishes to honour my forebears with a week-long celebration.' She looked away with a flutter of nervousness. ‘I was hoping – I mean – I'd be grateful
if you'd also honour me by escorting me to the royal ball.'

Their eyes met. He couldn't breathe. The prettiest girl in all Pacifico had asked
him
out? ‘Absolutely!' he answered. Then, realising he sounded too excited, he said, ‘Thank you, Your Majesty. It should be a lot of fun.'

Samantha fell back into the cushions and groaned. ‘Oh no. What trouble is he getting us into now?'

‘Do you think they'll kiss?' Luke said, staring. ‘I wonder if she kisses like toffee.'

‘Toffee? What are you babbling about?'

‘Eddie Reynolds says kissing girls is like touching warm toffee.'

She gawped at him. ‘Eddie Reynolds thinks cheese comes from cow boogers.'

‘Well, how would you know it doesn't feel like toffee, Miss I-Don't-Love-Rajan-Sudhakar?'

‘I just do, okay? And stop being such a
boy
. Remember why we agreed to get on this dumb boat in the first place: to ask Queen Purple Hair about Knock-Knock Doors.'

‘Maybe it's like caramel fudge. Justin Jones thinks so.'

Samantha's anguished cry caught Michael's attention. He looked to his brother, who made silly smooching signs, then to his sister, who pointed at Oriana and drew a door in the air. Thankfully, the shudder of the ferry docking at the jetty gave him an excuse to turn away.

The crew secured the boat while Oriana led Michael into the gardens of the Island of Roses. Samantha and Luke followed them when two footmen rushed from the mansion bearing urgent news.

‘Your Majesty, forgive us. May we speak?'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘What troubles you?'

‘There's been an accident.'

The Queen rushed past the mansion to the opposite shore, where all the workers had gathered. Scuttled in the shallows lay a capsized yacht. When Oriana saw its name,
The Duchess of Northumberland
, she clapped her hands over her mouth and backed away.

‘We've searched the entire island, Your Majesty,' the footman said. ‘I'm afraid we cannot find any sign of your friend.'

Sobbing, Oriana fled to the mansion, Michael dashing after her.

‘What's so special about
The Duchess of Northumberland
?' Samantha asked.

‘Sir, it's Lady Isabelle's boat,' the footman answered. ‘She must have been lost in the storm.'

A sole church bell mourned deep and low from the capital. A minute later, another answered it from an outer island, then a third. Shortly, ninety bells tolled before there was silence once more.

Tourists faded from the city as the sky changed from blue to pink to purple. Pacificans sat in parlour rooms and raised toasts to Lady Isabelle. Nobles lost
their appetites for feasts. Flags hung at half-mast. And marine patrols scoured the shores out of thoroughness rather than hope.

Michael broke the strange calm. He sprinted from the docks, crossed the royal bridge, hiked up the giant stairway, then searched the palace for the head servant. Pointed in the right direction, Michael spiralled up four floors to a domed observatory overlooking the city. Standing on a balcony surrounded by marble angels and saints, Queen Oriana stirred and glanced over her shoulder. She was dressed in a new orange-pink outfit with tiger stripes and spines similar to a lionfish. He tried entering, but two pikes scissored in front of him.

‘Let him pass,' she said to the Royal Marines. ‘He comes in peace.'

Michael didn't wait. He pulled off his helmet then navigated through the telescopes, harps, mandolins and baby grand piano to join her. ‘Oriana, are you okay?'

Tears rimmed her eyes as she grimaced. Her lavender hair matched the shade of evening falling across the terracotta roofs. ‘I could do with your courage.'

Gingerly, he removed his gauntlet and placed a hand on her shoulder. He feared it was the wrong thing to do – he being a commoner and all – but it felt right. She warmed at his touch, placed her own gloved hand over his then leant her cheek against them both.