Fair Wind to Widdershins (3 page)

“Are you
sure
we lost them?” Trundle asked for probably the fiftieth time in the past few days.

Esmeralda Lightfoot sighed and rolled her eyes. “Trundle,” she said, “you’re a good fellow, but you’re such a worrywart! I told you—there’s no way the
Iron Pig
could have followed us here.”

“She’s right,” added Jack Nimble, giving Trundle an encouraging grin. “We outran them salty bilge rats, sure and certain.”

Trundle eyed the traveling minstrel uneasily. Jack was always optimistic. Trundle found it hard to trust someone who constantly looked on the bright side. It wasn’t natural.

Esmeralda gave Trundle an encouraging pat on the back. “Have some faith,” she said. “Have I ever let you down?”

Trundle gazed at her. “You dragged me from my home and almost got me killed by a mob of rampaging pirates,” he reminded her. “Then you hauled me off to the mines of Drune, where I was chased from teatime till breakfast by an angry mob, almost carved into slices by a demented bosun, nearly squished flat by a cave-in, and then all but blown to smithereens by blackpowder.”

“All true,” Esmeralda admitted. “But it was the prophetic Badger Blocks that set everything in motion. You know that. And we did find the Crystal Crown.”

“Yes, we did,” Trundle conceded.

“And there
was
a clue with the crown to help us find the next one.”

“There was a
key
,” said Trundle. “As to whether it’s a clue…”

“It is,” insisted Esmeralda. “Trust me!”

“If you say so.”

“And on top of that, we freed the slaves from the mines,” Esmeralda added.

“That you did!” said Jack. “And right glad I am of it, I can tell you! All that dust and grime—it was playing havoc with my vocal cords!” He coughed and thumped his chest. “But I can feel them improving by the hour!”

“And did I get us away from Grizzletusk?” Esmeralda continued. “And did I navigate safely through the Goills? And did I bring us here on the very day that Aunt Millie and the Roamany caravans will be arriving?” She beamed at him. “Look around you, Trundle! This is a lovely place. Relax! Enjoy yourself! Everything is fine. Nothing can possibly go wrong!”

Trundle took a long, deep breath. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was fretting over nothing. He returned his gaze to his plate and took a large bite of his cheese sandwich.

“I say!” announced Jack, pointing up into the sky. “What’s
that
?”

Trundle almost choked. “What’s what?” he coughed, staring up in alarm. “
Pirates
?”

“No,” said Jack. “That! Or rather—
them
!”

A murmur of excited voices was rising up all around them as other people looked to see what was approaching.

Trundle peered upward, shading his eyes with one paw. He let out a breath of relief. He couldn’t quite make out the new arrival, but it certainly wasn’t the
Iron Pig
.

At first it looked like a string of dark pearls, threading its way across the high sky. Then, as it snaked and looped down between the bubbling white clouds, it looked more like a collection of matchboxes tied together.

And finally, as the procession swooped and dived right over the rooftops of Tentercombe, Trundle saw with a thrill of delight and excitement that it was a linked line of colorful Roamany caravans, drawn along by a windship with crimson sails. The caravans shone with reds and greens and blues and yellows, their sides picked out with scrolls of painted woodwork and covered with swirling patterns and designs and big, bold lettering. And instead of wheels, Trundle saw that all the Roamany caravans had long wrought-iron skids.

Roamany men and women and children hung from open doors and windows, shouting and blowing trumpets and throwing down confetti and waving to the crowds that had come out onto the streets to greet them.

Trundle and Jack and Esmeralda ran into the middle of the street and cheered and waved and jumped up and down with glee as the glorious caravans circled overhead.

The string of caravans performed a long loop over the high street, then went sweeping away, descending into a wide meadow before coming to a slow, sliding halt while the people of Port Tentercombe went racing off to greet the exotic newcomers.

“Let’s go!” yelled Esmeralda, almost bowling Trundle over as she whizzed past him. “We have to get to Aunt Millie straightaway. She’ll help us work out where the next crown is—no problems!”

Trundle and Jack looked at each other for a moment, then chased after her.

After everything he had been told, Trundle was rather looking forward to meeting Esmeralda’s famous aunt.

“W
ell! This is something like, I must say!” declared Jack, grinning like a piano. “I haven’t been to a Roamany fair in years!”

“Wonderful!” Trundle gasped. “It’s absolutely wonderful!”

No sooner had the line of caravans come to a graceful curving halt than their doors were flung wide and their sides burst open and, as if by magic, the meadow was suddenly filled with colorful pavilions and sideshows and fairground booths and tents and attractions. The air rang to the sound of pipe organs and flutes and drums and tambourines and voices calling and laughter and the smells of toffee apples and candyfloss and boiled sweets.

Trundle saw Esmeralda in among the crowd, racing from booth to booth, from sideshow to sideshow, leaping about and shrieking for joy and flinging her arms around the necks of the brightly dressed Roamany folk, as though intent on hugging every single one of them. It was clear from their reactions that they were overjoyed to see her, too. And no wonder: the last time they had laid eyes on her was when she was being dragged away by marauding pirates. Trundle guessed that most people kidnapped by pirates never came home again, ever.

But then most people weren’t quite as resourceful as Esmeralda Lightfoot.

Jack linked his arm with Trundle’s, and the two of them stepped out into the riotous fairground. As they strolled among the attractions, cheery voices rose up all around them.

“Try your luck, my bonny young fellows!”

“Three throws for a sunder!”

“Roll up, roll up! You have a lucky look about you, my lads! Throw a hoop and win a prize!”

“Popcorn! Buttered or salted or smothered in honey!”

“Your fortune told—only two sunders!”

“Genuine sharks’ teeth from the dark lagoons of Gnashenchopper’s Reef! They’ll bring you good luck!”

Trundle gaped at the alluring signs that adorned the sides of many caravans.

Hattie Hoptoad, purveyor of potions,

lotions, balsams and balms, salves and

spells and ointments and charms.

Come inside, cross my palm.

It might do you good—it’ll do you no harm!

Glockspindle the Magnificent. Watch him

perform the Dark Magicks from Before

the Dawn of Time! Only five sunders.

Kids half price.

Barkers and shills shouted above the general cacophony.

“Ladeez an’ genn’lemen, boyz ’n’ girls! See monsters and freaks beyond the imagination! Observe the awesome Shellyphant, last in a line of giant clams from the dried-up ocean bed of Rint! Converse with the astonishing Speaking Potato of Scrunge! Marvel at the uncanny Vegetable Lamb! Behold the terrible Crocoduck! Dare you enter Professor Tapwindle’s Emporium of Frightfulness?”

“Aha!” Jack declared, suddenly towing Trundle off at right angles. “Here’s the very place I need!”

Trundle saw a tall gold-colored caravan with what looked like organ pipes sticking up out of the roof. The caravan was decorated all over with musical staves and liberally sprinkled with crotchets and quavers and minims and breves and semibreves. Rollicking, rolling organ music was bellowing out of the open door. The side of the caravan had been let down and a striped awning put up, and set out on display were an astonishing array of musical instruments.

Trundle looked at a sign that hung next to the door.

Handmade Musical Instruments for

Sale or Hire! Come and Test Our Wares.

We have: Bladderpipes, Cornamuses,

Crumhorns, Gemshorns, Hurdy-Gurdies,

Psalteries, Pipes and Tabors, Racketts,

Rebecs, Sackbuts, Serpents, Shawms,

Viols, and Zinks. Beautiful Tones.

Satisfaction Guaranteed.

Jack moved among the weird-looking musical instruments, lovingly stroking them and plucking at them and tapping them.

“I need a new rebec,” he explained to Trundle.

“How can you afford to buy one?” Trundle asked.

Jack grinned. “When you spend your life on the road, you learn a trick or two,” he said, stooping to remove a shoe. He gave the heel a quick twist, and a handful of gold sunders spilled into his paw. He winked at Trundle. “For emergencies.”

He turned to the sales mongoose. “I’d like to try a few rebecs, please, my good fellow,” he said, then turned to give Trundle another wink. “This might take a while.”

“Fair enough,” Trundle replied, wanting to find Esmeralda. “I’ll see you later.”

He left Jack with a bow in one hand and a stringed instrument in the other, his head tilted to one side as he sawed away in a flurry of merry music.

Trundle eventually came across Esmeralda chatting animatedly to an elderly beaver.

“Oh, Trundle! There you are,” she said. “This is Pounceman Donk. Pounceman, this is my friend Trundle Boldoak.”

Trundle solemnly shook hands with the old beaver. “Very pleased to meet you, sir.”

“And you, too, young fellow my lad,” said the beaver. “Esmeralda has been telling me about your intention to gather the Six Crowns of the Badger Lords.” He nodded. “A noble enterprise,” he said. “But one thing you should know to help you on your quest. If you walk far enough in any direction, you’ll end up meeting yourself coming back again. Remember that, and you won’t go far wrong.”

“Oh,” said Trundle. “Yes. Thank you.” He glanced at Esmeralda, who was smiling behind her paw. “I’m sure that will be really helpful.”

“Come on, Trundle, let’s go and find Aunt Millie,” Esmeralda said, pulling him away.

“What was all
that
about?” Trundle murmured once they were out of earshot.

“Oh, take no notice of Pounceman,” Esmeralda said. “He’s always saying stuff like that. No one knows what any of it means.”

Millie Rose Thorne’s caravan wasn’t hard to locate. It was big and dark blue and painted with stars and moons and beaming suns. Seven steps led to the high door, over which hung an impressive sign.

Millie Rose Thorne. Queen of all the

Roamany Folk. Oracle, Diviner, Clairvoyant,

and Fortune-teller. See Your Future, for

Good or Ill, in a Reading from the Ancient

and Magical Badger Blocks!

Enter if You Dare!

A shiver ran up and down Trundle’s spine as he stood at the foot of the seven steps, each one a different color of the rainbow. If the tingling in his prickles was anything to go by, this caravan was simply stiff with magic.