Rocco's Wings (24 page)

Catacombs, Feldspar

Rocco, Vesta, Iggy and Rummy came to the end of the tunnel. The larger tunnel running crossways held a broad trench with a trickle of water.

‘Vesta?’ said a voice.

Rocco squinted into the shapeless grey. The voice had been small and timid. He stepped forward. Small grey faces peered out of the gloom. Before he could say anything, Vesta and Iggy were running ahead, racing toward a half dozen small urvogels dressed in filthy rags.

‘Feldspar! You’re alive! Feldspar!’ Vesta cried as she flung her arms around the leader of the small urvogel troupe.

‘Vesta! You came back!’ Feldspar’s slender face was barely recognizable. Suddenly everyone was embracing, and asking if they could hold Rummy.

Feldspar explained. ‘As soon as the fighting started we came down here. Everything’s in a mess up top. Our trials never happened, except Scoria didn’t make it. Air Marshals killed her on the palace steps. Look. I’m wearing her gold earrings.’

Pulling a chain out of her tunic, Feldspar displayed the two gold rings.

Rocco had barely known Scoria – hadn’t even heard her name until now – but he felt the air in his lungs go flat.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Scoria was just trying to get out of the way. She was running and the Air Marshals shot her. Guess they thought she was a rebel.’

‘We try not to go up top very often,’ continued Feldspar. ‘We wouldn’t go up at all but we need food. Everything’s gone from Singhurvogel Hall, but the palace cooks are still feeding Harpia and the warriors.’

‘So Harpia’s in the palace?’ asked Rocco.

‘We haven’t seen her since all this started,’ said Feldspar. ‘The palace minionatros say she’s in a very bad mood. She’s locked in her rooms, but her windows are open. We heard she flies in and out at night, watching how the battle is going.’

‘But no one fights at night,’ said Vesta.

Feldspar shrugged. As she had been talking, the size of her ragged troupe had steadily been growing. Rocco now counted fifteen white robes dressed in clothing that was little more than rags.

‘We’re on our way to the Bathhouse. Can you show us the way?’ Vesta threw Rocco a sidelong glance.

It hardly mattered how they got there, so long as they arrived.

‘Sure,’ said Feldspar.

With Feldspar leading the way, they set off again, walking along the catwalk at the side of the trench. ‘This used to be full of water, but the rebels shut it off. No more water from Mount Zetna.’

They passed from one tunnel into another. It was a maze. Vesta would never have led them through it, thought Rocco as they made yet another turn. All the tunnels looked the same.

Every few hundred metres they passed a ladder going up to a hole in the ceiling. When they came to the fifth or sixth ladder (Rocco had lost count), Feldspar stopped. She climbed up and threw open the top.

Everyone followed her up. The Bathhouse lights and fire were out. The pools were filled with water, but the air was stale.

‘I’ll find you later in the Courthouse. I’ll see if I can find out something more about Harpia’s whereabouts,’ said Feldspar as she and her troupe disappeared back into the trapdoor.

Rocco entered the small room with the stacks of clean robes. Removing his tunic and leggings, he dressed again. While Vesta and Iggy were finding clothes, Rocco returned to the area marked
‘Minionatros’ Corner.’
He lifted the lid of a large wicker basket, intending to throw his old clothes in to hide them. The basket had leather shoulder straps. He’d seen minionatros carrying such baskets on their backs, shopping in Merchant’s Alley, or carrying bed linen in and out of Roosting Hall.

Dumping the contents on the floor, Rocco slid the basket onto his back. It was a tight fit with his wings on either side, but it could work.

‘Look,’ he said to Vesta as she emerged in clean white robes.

Vesta emptied another basket and pulled it on and they found a third for Iggy, who lifted a chattering Rummy into the basket before slinging his arms into the straps.

Rocco stood at the door, peering out at the drizzling rain. The paths were empty. They proceeded out. Krakatoan, once so beautiful with the flower beds and borders so clearly defined, had fallen into decay. Leaves and rubble covered the stones and footpaths. The fields, which the minionatros had kept clipped to a precise stubble, were long and unkempt.

With Rocco leading, the three walked in single file, heads down and hunched against the rain. Avian Plaza was empty, so they ventured across it. Rocco held his breath, waiting for an angry shout as they climbed the steps of the Courthouse. They reached the door. Rocco pushed it open, and they crept in.

Rocco had not entered the Courthouse since the day of the trials. His chest tightened and his breathing quickened as he looked around at the empty seats and the gloom beneath the judges’ desk. Cristobalite hadn’t really screamed, but now the air screamed silently for him.

A window in the top of the dome was open, permitting a small ray of light into the otherwise darkened room.

‘Come on,’ said Rocco. He retrieved his kaffy from inside his flying belt and put it on. Vesta and Iggy did the same. With their baskets strapped to their backs, they flew up.

The dome of the Courthouse was striking with its intricate paintings of urvogels flying against a blue sky full of puffy white clouds. Rocco opened another of the windows at the bottom of the dome. A few more rays of weak light filtered in and threw into relief the painted knobs attached to cupboard doors. Rocco pulled one, and a door swung open. A large glass jar full of white powder stood inside.

‘There’s more over here,’ said Vesta, from the other side of the dome.

Setting his wicker basket on the ledge, Rocco stuck his finger in. Trembling, he lifted his finger to his nose.
Honeysuckle
. What an odious smell.

He hadn’t thought to bring anything to scoop the dust with.

‘Vesta, come and help me tip it out.’ Taking turns, one held a wicker basket in place while the other raised the jar and poured in the dust. They mixed in the dropsy powder.

With both their baskets full, they flew over to help Iggy.

‘You came prepared,’ said Rocco, nodding at Rummy who was wearing his own kaffy, which Iggy had made from cutting the toe out of a sock.

‘I found these,’ said Vesta, dragging out the hoses attached to balloon pumps.

They each stored a length of hose and a balloon pump in their baskets. The floor below remained dark.

‘Wait here,’ said Rocco. He made a pass around the room. It was utterly deserted. The door behind the judges’ desk opened to an antechamber with a large shuttered window. If they needed to they could fly out, he thought as he returned into the main room.

‘Down here, behind the desk,’ he called up. Vesta and Iggy flew down. They lay down on the floor. Rummy started jabbering.

‘Keep her quiet,’ said Vesta.

‘She’s nervous,’ said Iggy.

‘Maybe she doesn’t like the smell,’ said Rocco.

Iggy adjusted Rummy’s kaffy, but the monkey continued to squawk. Iggy began picking through her fur. It was too dark to see anything small like a nit, but Rummy settled finally.

‘Feldspar won’t be able to find us up here,’ said Iggy.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll hear her,’ said Rocco.

* * *

The chimes of Avian Plaza were ringing midnight when the door to the Courthouse opened and closed. Rocco, Vesta and Iggy poked their heads above the judges’ desk. Feldspar was walking down an aisle.

‘Are you guys here?’

‘We’re up here!’ Rocco called softly.

Feldspar flew up to the desk. Sitting on her haunches, she stared down. ‘I forgot to tell you before. Magma’s in the palace. I just saw him now. He says to tell you he’s feeling much better, and he misses you.’

‘Magma!’ Iggy sat upright.

‘What did you tell him?’ Rocco got up so he could see Feldspar’s face.

‘I told him you were here to capture Harpia,’ said Feldspar.

‘Where’s Magma? Is he okay?’ Iggy jumped up to the top of the desk.

‘Harpia made him into a palace minionatro, as soon as he got back,’ said Feldspar.

‘Do you trust him?’ Rocco watched Feldspar’s face closely.

‘Of course,’ said Feldspar. ‘Magma’s how we get most of our food.’

‘What did you find out?’ asked Vesta.

‘Harpia’s locked in her rooms. No one sees her. The cook leaves her food by the door. You have to be very careful when you go in,’ said Feldspar, turning to Rocco. ‘The palace is full of Air Marshals. She makes them sleep there, not all of them, but most of them. She’s paranoid.’

Having delivered her promised bit of news, Feldspar flew off. As the door slammed shut again, Iggy sighed. ‘Oh! I do miss Magma.’

‘What do you think?’ said Rocco. He didn’t want to upset Iggy, but what if – what if Magma had already leaked the fact that they were there and planning to capture Harpia? Maybe he would trade that information for some kind of favour.

‘About Magma?’ asked Vesta.

Rocco nodded.

‘I’m sure he’s fine.’

Vesta wouldn’t look him in the face. She had doubts too, but she didn’t want to say them out loud in front of Iggy.

They stood at the door, peering out. The night was foggy. Swirls of mist clung to the ground. Pushing open the door, they crept out. They darted from one shadow to the next, every step taking them closer to the palace.

What had happened to Magma, anyway? Had he deliberately set out to find the Air Marshals on some misconceived notion that they’d just let him return to Krakatoan? Or had he been captured? Either way, he’d lost his wings. The Air Marshals hadn’t wasted any time in cutting them off.

With the city in such a turmoil, what sort of promise or gift could Magma expect from turning them in?

Arriving on the top step, they pushed the palace doors open. Inside the smell of honeysuckle was thick and overpoweringly sweet. It almost made Rocco retch. He pulled his kaffy over his nose.

The centre of the palace was an atrium, rising as a hollow space from the first floor to the shimmering gold dome at the very top.

There was no sign of Magma.

‘This way,’ whispered Vesta, turning into the palace’s southern wing. A plush red carpet ran along a wide hallway decorated with small tables pushed up against the wall. Dishes, dirty with remnants of food, were stacked on every table, and on the floor beneath.

Vesta and Iggy hovered by the first door. Rocco opened it and walked inside. The room was too dark to see anything at first. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the plumed helmet of a Krakatoan Air Marshal hanging on a pole at the end of the bed. His uniform was hanging there, too. In the bed, stretched out on his back, lay the Air Marshal himself.

Drawing out the balloon pump, Rocco came near the bed. With the pump in his hand, he was about to give it a squeeze. A light flickered.

Rocco dropped to his knees. Peering under the bed, he saw a second Air Marshal sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Reaching as far under as he dared, he gave the pump a strong clamp. A powdery mist sprayed out. It wafted across the Air Marshal’s head, drifting down to settle on his face and the surrounding pillow.

The Air Marshal’s bioluminescent wings grew dim.

Holding the pump, Rocco stood up and gave two more squirts to the Air Marshal on the bed. The Air Marshal groaned and rolled over, swinging his arm very near Rocco’s head. Rocco jerked back as the Air Marshal reached up to scratch his nose.

Rocco fled to the door. Behind him the Air Marshal sneezed. As he pulled the door shut, the Air Marshal sat up. Staring blankly at Rocco, he flopped back to his pillow with a muffled grunt.

‘That was close!’ whispered Rocco, out in the hall again.

Rocco, Vesta and Iggy entered the next three rooms. Hardly a minute had elapsed before Rocco and Vesta were again in the hall. They watched Iggy’s door.

‘Where is he?’ asked Vesta.

Pushing the door open slightly, Vesta and Rocco looked in. Iggy was walking around the room with Rummy on his shoulder. The room was saturated with dust. It swirled around Iggy’s head as he pumped the balloon and pumped again.

‘Pssst!’

Iggy came out, rubbing his eyes.

‘Just spray it once or twice in the Air Marshal’s face,’ said Vesta.

‘I did that,’ said Iggy.

‘But you’re going to run out.’

Iggy nodded, still rubbing his eyes.

Dusting three rooms at a time, they came to the end of the hall.

‘Mine’s not working anymore,’ said Iggy.

Rocco squeezed the pump. Nothing came out.

Vesta flipped the lid of Iggy’s basket open. ‘It’s empty.’

‘You sprayed it all?’

‘What are we going to do now?’ asked Vesta, continuing to stare into the empty bottom of Iggy’s basket. She gave Iggy an angry look.

‘I thought I was doing it right,’ said Iggy.

‘We could just give him some of ours,’ said Rocco.

‘But there’s at least another floor of rooms. We’ll run out,’ said Vesta.

They returned outside. This time, two Air Marshals were on the wall. Not walking, but standing together talking. Sticking to the shadows, Rocco, Vesta and Iggy ran down the steps. Would they make it to the courthouse without being spotted?