Sargasso Skies (8 page)

T
he opera house shook to the rafters from the rapturous and unending applause of the steam moles. The opera was over and done, but the ecstatic audience would not let the players leave the stage. Five times the curtain had risen and fallen; five times Count Leopold and his performers had joined hands and bowed as the steam moles had cheered and cheered, showering them with an absolute storm of black roses.

And still the clapping and howling and yells of “Bravo” and “Encore” had forced yet another curtain call.

Grinning from ear to ear, and applauding as loudly as anyone, Trundle basked quietly in reflected glory. It would have been nice, he thought, to have been invited up onstage to take his own bow . . . but like Jack had said, backroom boys never get to stand in the limelight. That was just the way things were.

But would the applause never end?

 

Finally, after so long a time that Trundle's paws ached and his ears were ringing, the ovation began to fade away.

Count Leopold leaned toward them from the stage. “You must up here coming be!” he shouted. “We are for those who helpful have been, a celebration having! Come, Ermintruda—come also, my spiky little chap. Join us! Join us!”

“Esmeralda!” shouted Esmeralda. “How many more times?” But she grabbed Trundle by the arm and dragged him up onto the crowded stage.

“But we have to steal leather coats and mingle with the steam moles,” Trundle reminded her.

“Plenty of time for that!” Esmeralda declared. “I'm not missing out on a party!”

And what a party it was! Everyone was there—the worker animals, the performers, every single member of the orchestra—all talking loudly at the same time and congratulating one another and leaping up and down around the count while he smiled and bowed and said thank you in his roundabout and upside-down kind of way.

“Thank you I do!” he said over and over. “My heart's bottom you all thank!”

And then Jack struck up a cheery dance tune on his rebec and several other members of the orchestra joined in, and soon an impromptu dance was taking place, all the animals twining in and around one another, albino and captive, Hernswick Hounds and performers arm in arm with Trundle and Esmeralda.

“This is more like it!” croaked Hopper, whirling past Trundle and Esmeralda with Sheila the stoat in his arms. “Music you can shake a leg to!”

And much as he had enjoyed the opera, Trundle couldn't help but agree with him.

 

It was not until some time later that Trundle staggered out of the heaving throng to take a quick breather. He sat on the edge of the stage, panting for breath. He mopped his brow and gazed out over the empty auditorium. Through the open front doors of the opera house, he saw the last of the steam mole windships chugging off.

“No!” he groaned. “Oh, no!”

Not a single steam mole was left in the opera house. They had been so engrossed in the festivities, they had totally missed their chance to slip away.

He got to his feet and went in search of Esmeralda.

Before he found her, the count stopped the music and called for quiet.

“I have an announcement!” he boomed as the people gathered around him. “I know some of you here against your will were kept. And for that I me apologize! But for high art, must sacrifices made have to be! Without your help, willing or unwilling, not have this done I could. But a great success have been we! And this say I to you now—for any of you who with the opera to stay wish, will I a warm welcome extend! And payment will I you also give!”

There was a general gasp and a murmur of surprised voices.

Count Leopold spread his great paws again. “But for those who rather home go would—then take you my blessings with you!” He wiped a tear from his eye. “I will ever your grateful friend be!”

There was some cheering and quite a lot of overlapping conversations as the newly liberated workers discussed their options. Trundle got the impression from what he could hear that although most wanted to go home, a few seemed happy to stay on.

Esmeralda came strolling up. “Well, that was a great party, wasn't it?” she said. “Did you see those albinos dance? They might seem a bit subdued and standoffish to begin with, but they're real party animals once you get to know them.” She frowned. “And why do you have a face on you like a torn omelet, Trundle?”

“The steam moles have all gone,” he informed her.

“Oh, rats!” she said. “We'll have to think of a different way of getting to Hammerland. Perhaps under cover of darkness, we can fly the
Thief in the Night
over there?”

“Perhaps,” Trundle said, unconvinced. “But . . .” He was interrupted by one of the performers—an elderly beaver, who had played the part of the king of the noble bears.

“Ah, my dear little chap,” hooted the beaver. “Just the very fellow! Would you be a dear and put these things away in the props room for me?” And so saying, he bundled his crown and his orb and scepter into Trundle's arms and flounced off to chat with the count and some other cast members.

“What a nerve!” declared Trundle.

“Oh, let's just get rid of them,” said Esmeralda. She frowned at the crown. “Look at that!” she exclaimed crossly. “He's torn the silver paper off a couple of the prongs!”

Trundle looked at the brown prongs revealed by the stripped-back silver foil. “This crown is made of wood!” He snorted. “And the way things are going, this is the only wooden crown we're going to get our hands on!”

They found the props master and asked him where the King's adornments should be put.

“The crown goes in a box on the second shelf at the back of the props room,” they were told. “In among some other things that we salvaged off a wrecked old wind galleon. You can't miss the box—it has the words
Five of Six
engraved on the lid.”

“Thanks,” said Trundle, leading the way off the stage and through the wings to the props room.

“Um . . . Trundle . . . ,” Esmeralda said as she trotted along after him, plucking at his tunic.

“What is it now?” Trundle snapped tetchily. “Some brilliant new scheme for getting us into Hammerland? A giant catapult to fire us there, perhaps?”

“
Five of Six
!” yelled Esmeralda. “The box has
Five of Six
written on it! And the props master said they found it on an old wind galleon! Doesn't that ring any bells with you, Trundle?”

“Not particularly,” said Trundle as he passed between the racks of stage clothes and came to the row of shelves at the back of the room.

“Oh, you witless hedgehog!” gasped Esmeralda. “There are times when I really despair of you!”

“If you say so,” grumbled Trundle, still out of sorts that they had missed their best chance of getting to Hammerland.

“Where do you think that crown you are holding comes from, Trundle?” asked Esmeralda, barely keeping her temper with him. “
Originally
, I mean?”

“How should I know?” muttered Trundle. He spotted the wooden box with
Five of Six
engraved on the lid. With a disgruntled grunt, he opened the box. A brown and cracked square of parchment was glued inside the lid.

He glanced at it without much interest, but went suddenly rigid to the very tips of his prickles, his eyes as round as the Bear King's orb.

This is what he read:

 

Ye players of the ancient game

Who plot y'r course with might and main

Shall all the crowns unite again

Among the stones of Trembling Plain.

Then ye who would the badgers' cause abet

Fly swift and true toward Sunsett.

 

“Th-th-this
here
is the Crown of Wood?” Trundle gabbled, staring at the silver-coated crown in his paws. “The real thing? The actual Crown of Wood we're looking for?”

“The penny drops at last!” said Esmeralda, chuckling. “Yes, Trundle my lad! This here is the ancient Crown of Wood from the prophecy.”

“We had it with us all along?” groaned Trundle.

“It looks like it.”

With shaking paws, Trundle stripped away the rest of the silver foil, revealing a plain but really rather elegant wooden crown

“Hello, you fellows,” said Jack. “I've been looking all over for you.” He smiled uneasily at them. “I have something I need to tell you . . . something rather . . .” His eyes almost popped out as he saw the Crown of Wood, the box, and the scrap of brown parchment with the clue on it.

“Is . . . is . . . that . . . what I think . . . it is . . . ?” he gasped, quite taken aback.

“It is!” Trundle laughed. “Would you believe it?”

“Well, no, not really,” said Jack. “That's marvelous!”

“Do you have any idea what the clue might mean, Jack?” Esmeralda asked.

Jack looked more closely at the parchment and shook his head. “Sorry, I don't,” he said. “I'd guess that Trembling Plain must be a place somewhere. And ‘Sunsett' is spelled with two Ts at the end—which might be significant, or might not.”

“We should go back to Widdershins and show it to Percy,” said Trundle. “If anyone can explain the rhyme, I'm betting he can! After all, he helped us find the Crown of Iron.”

“And he's looking after two of the crowns for us,” added Esmeralda. “So we ought to go see him anyway. Widdershins ho, my lads! Trundle, pop the crown in its box and we'll slip away before anyone realizes we've gone!” She grinned widely. “All aboard the
Thief in the Night
!”

“Um, listen, you fellows,” Jack said, looking awkward. “The thing is, I was rather intending to stay on with the count for a while.” He looked appealingly at them. “If that's okay with you fellows, of course. I don't want to let anyone down.” He gave them a weak grin. “You don't mind, do you? I mean, questing with you chaps has been marvelous, truly it has—but at heart I'll always be a musician, you know.”

Trundle and Esmeralda looked at each other, shocked and dismayed by their friend's announcement.

“Of . . . of course we don't mind,” gulped Esmeralda at last.

“A chap's got to do what a chap's got to do,” added Trundle. “We quite understand!”

“And after all,” Jack said, with a tear in his eye, “that Badger Block prophecy only mentioned the Lamplighter and the Princess in Darkness. It didn't say anything about a traveling troubadour.”

“Listen,” Esmeralda said, her voice choking. “I'm not a big one for long good-byes. Let's just shake paws right here and now, and then we'll go.”

But Jack wasn't having any of that. He hugged them both until they could hardly breathe.

“Best of luck,” he said, wiping tears out of his eyes. “And we'll meet again one day—I'm certain of it!”

With that, he turned and walked quickly away.

Trundle blew his nose loudly.

“Well,” said Esmeralda. “That's that, then!” She wiped her sleeve across her snout. “Looks like it's just you and me again, Trun! Let's get out of here.”

A few minutes later, they were aboard the
Thief in the Night
.

Esmeralda was at the tiller. The sails were up and billowing. Trundle loosened the mooring ropes. The little skyboat bobbed and the sails caught the wind.

“Bye, Jack,” murmured Trundle as the skyboat skipped away. “Goodbye, my friend!”

With a heavy sigh, he turned his eyes away from the opera house.

“Cheer up, Trun,” said Esmeralda, her eyes shining with excitement. “Don't you realize what this means? We're off in search of the very last crown! The quest is almost over!”

A smile touched the corner of Trundle's snout. “And then we can go home!” he said. “But . . . do you know something, Es? I'm not at all sure I
want
to go home!”