Secrets of the Dragon Tomb (9 page)

To make matters worse, when I led Mama and Papa up to Freddie's room, the sword had disappeared.

“You can still see the hole in the ceiling,” Putty said, but that only made Mama have another fit of hysterics.

Finally, the carriages began to pull away, carrying the partygoers home. Mama and Papa stood by the door, seeing them off. Poor Mama looked like she might swoon at any moment. She leaned heavily on Papa's arm. Out on the lawn, Jane was walking with a young man. I couldn't see his face—he was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and he held his head dipped, as though he were listening to her—but there was something familiar about the way he walked. He was probably one of Jane's suitors. I'd met most of them, but they never seemed worth remembering. They were basically all the same: young, rich, handsome, and as dumb as a brick wall.

The door clicked open behind me. I turned away from the window just in time to see Freddie slip in.

“Sir Titus Dane was here,” he said.

It wasn't really a question, but I nodded anyway.

“What did he want?” Freddie asked.

“He said you'd stolen a map from him,” I said. “He wanted it back.”

Freddie peered out the window at the disappearing guests. “Perhaps I
should
have stolen it.” He looked back at me. “That's not what happened. I found the map on his desk when I went for a tutorial. I didn't steal it. I copied it. I thought he wouldn't realize, but he must have been watching me. Obviously, he became suspicious and followed me when I returned to Mars.”

“Obviously,” I said.

Freddie raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you want to copy his map?” I said.

He sighed. “I can't tell you that, Edward. I really wish I could, but I can't.”

The last of the carriages disappeared. Mama sagged back against Papa. Jane and her admirer had disappeared.

“How convenient,” I said. “Why would Sir Titus want your copy if he's got his own?”

“So I won't have it, of course.”

Freddie glanced out the window as Papa helped Mama up the steps, into the house. “At least he's gone now. I followed him into town. He had chartered an airship, and I watched him board it. After you pushed him out the window, he must have decided it wasn't safe to stay around, in case someone believed your story.”

“You'd better be telling me the truth,” I said. Something occurred to me. “Sir Titus was carrying a sword when he attacked us, but when we came back up, it wasn't there.”

Freddie gave a lopsided grin. “Ah. That was me, I'm afraid. I disposed of it.”

“You did
what
?” I said. “Why would you do that? You made me look like a liar. Everyone would have believed me if you'd just left it alone.”

“And then what?” Freddie said. “People would have started asking questions.”

I shook my head, so disgusted I could barely look at him. I'd thought he was an idiot, but he was something much worse. “That's all you're worried about, isn't it? That people would work out what you're up to.”

“No!” Freddie said. “You're wrong. Sir Titus is a dangerous man. He wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who got in his way. Your family would be in danger. Do you want to involve them in this?”

“You've already involved them!” I shouted. “They're already in danger. You brought all this to our house.”

“I know.” Freddie's head drooped. “Forgive me. I never intended to.”

I swung away to gaze out the window. Below me, the gardens were quiet and empty.

When I managed to calm myself, I said, “What is this map? Can you tell me that much? And why did you need Papa's water abacus?”

“Figured that out, did you?” Freddie said. “The map shows the location of an undiscovered dragon tomb. If Sir Titus can find it, he'll be able to restore his reputation and make a fortune from the technology hidden within. But the map is indecipherable. All I can tell is that the tomb is somewhere in the Lunae Planum.” He shrugged. “It's a big desert. If your father's water abacus could decipher the ideograms, we'd know exactly where the tomb was.”

“And then what?” I said. “You want to excavate it yourself? Make your own fortune from a stolen map, just like Sir Titus? I don't mean to be rude, Freddie, but you haven't got it in you.”

He smiled ruefully. “No. It's not that.” Then he stopped, frowning.

“What's wrong?” I said.

He held up his hand, tipping his head to one side, listening. “It's too quiet. Your parents and your sisters have come in from the lawn, but I can't hear them.”

He was right. There wasn't a sound from downstairs. My family is not the quietest family on Mars. Between Putty, Mama, and Jane, the house was normally in an uproar. After the disaster of the garden party, Mama should have been causing a scene. There should have been shrieks and swoons. Instead, there was silence.

“You said Sir Titus had gone,” I said.

“You think Sir Titus works alone?” Freddie shook his head. “I don't like this. Stay here. Lock the door.”

“No chance. I'm coming with you.”

He looked at me for a moment. “Your choice. But keep quiet.”

He cracked the bedroom door open. I still couldn't hear anything. I peered down the corridor. No one was in sight. Maybe that was why it was quiet. Maybe they were in a different part of the house, like the scullery or the basement.

Yeah, because Mama
loved
hanging out there.

“Follow me,” Freddie whispered. Gripping his walking stick, he led the way down the corridor. He held up his hand as he reached the balustrade above the main stairs. A moment later, he was back, shaking his head. He raised a finger for silence.

“What is it?” I hissed as soon as we were away from the stairs.

“Someone's down there,” Freddie said. “We'll take the servants' stairs.”

“Don't we want there to be someone down there?” I said. “I mean, we were worried when we couldn't hear anyone. Now you're worried that you can?”

“The voice I heard wasn't anyone in your family. Trust me. I'd recognize them. This was someone else.”

I remembered Jane walking with a man on the lawn. “Maybe it was one of Jane's suitors.”

“Maybe,” Freddie said.

The servants' staircase was narrow and poorly lit. We paused at the top, letting our eyes adjust, then Freddie started down, holding his walking stick before him like a sword.

My heart thumped loudly in my chest. My hands were getting sweaty. I wiped them nervously on my waistcoat. I'd always wanted to be a spy. But spies didn't react like this. Not in their own houses. I clenched my hands to stop them from shaking. Freddie threw me a glance, but he didn't say anything.

The door at the bottom was ajar. Light from the corridor filtered through the crack. I peeked through, but I couldn't see anyone. The hinges were well oiled, and the door opened without noise. Freddie leaned down until his lips were next to my ear.

“The voice came from the drawing room. Do you think you can get around the outside and come in through the conservatory?”

“I don't have a key,” I replied. “It'll be locked.”

Freddie pressed a metal key into my hand.

“Does everyone else have one of these?” I said.

“I borrowed it,” Freddie said. “When you get around, I want you to open the door to the drawing room as loudly as you can. That'll distract whoever is in there. That's when I'll make my move.”

I looked at him skeptically. “What if there's more than one of them?”

He winked, then without another word, slipped out. I glowered after him.

The back door was unlocked. Beyond Mama's herb garden, the Martian wilderness tangled around the columns of red rock. I could just make out the pillar Freddie had crashed his cycle-copter into yesterday. No one seemed to be watching.

I eased myself out.

The conservatory ran the length of the house. Its high, curved glass roof, supported by steel arches, reached to the second floor of the house. Vines and thick leaves pressed against the inside of the glass, forming an impenetrable wall of green and red. The key screeched horribly in the lock.

I slipped out of the warm sun into the humid shade of the conservatory. Tall Martian trees arched over me. Hover flowers from the slopes of Olympus Mons drifted between branches. A pair of wrestler-palms grunted and creaked as they attempted to throw each other to the ground. Thick wig-trees cast deep shadows. Papa's mechanical spiders scurried around, trimming back the fast-growing plants and pulling away fallen leaves. The constant ticking of their legs on glass and over leaves was enough of a background noise to cover the sounds I was making.

I crept through the conservatory, ducking automatically to avoid the lunging serpent oak.

The conservatory opened into the garden room. A few wicker-seated chairs leaned against one wall, and a small table stood in front of the fireplace. All I had to do was sneak across the room, making sure the floorboards didn't creak, then fling the door open.

I rolled my shoulders and dried my hands on my waistcoat again.

Captain W. A. Masters wouldn't delay.

I could do this. It was time to save my family. It was time to be a hero.

I stepped into the doorway.

And something sharp pricked the back of my neck.

 

8

Destroyed

“Don't make a sound,” a voice whispered in my ear. “Don't even breathe.”

I stopped dead. The point of a knife scraped across my skin. A trickle of warm blood mingled with my drying sweat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the tall native Martian we'd chased last night.

“Good,” he breathed. “Now, slowly, let's go.” With his free hand, he pushed me.

My mind whirred like a spinning cog. The native Martian must have been waiting in the conservatory, and I'd walked right past him. How could I have been so stupid?

Now there would be no one to cause a distraction, no one to give Freddie the moment he needed to try to set everyone free. The man's knife followed me as I took a reluctant step. He shoved my shoulder again.

Each time he pushed, there was a split second when the knife left my neck.

“Don't even think it,” the Martian whispered.

I stiffened.

“I can read your mind, boy,” the Martian said.

“No, you can't!” I said. He couldn't, could he? I'd never heard of native Martians reading minds.

He chuckled softly. “I won't hesitate to kill you if you try anything. You think you're fast? I'm faster. Ask yourself, boy, do you want to die?”

I shivered. I didn't want to die. Not here. Not now. Not so uselessly. Feeling like I was betraying Freddie and my family, I let the man push me into the drawing room.

Most of my family was seated on a couple of chaise longues, but Jane was standing near one wall. Frog-face was next to her, holding a knife to her neck. There was a purple bruise on the side of his head where Putty had hit him with a branch last night. All the color had gone out of Jane's face, and she was swaying, as though she might faint at any moment. Putty looked rebellious and angry. Papa looked lost.

Frog-face and the Martian weren't alone anymore. A third man was with them. I looked across at him and blinked. Was he wearing a mask?

No. He wasn't
wearing
it. It was
part
of him. It was made of metal and fastened into his face with clamps like claws or insect legs. They dug deep into his flesh, stretching his face as tightly as if someone had grabbed it in a fist and pulled. Just looking at it made me feel sick.

The Martian chuckled. “That's Apprentice. Cause trouble and he might just give you a little kiss.”

Apprentice said nothing. His breath hissed through a narrow grille in the front of his mask. He was wearing a long coat even though it was hot. The coat had round metal buttons as wide as golf balls stitched all over it. It hung heavily from his shoulders and swung ponderously when he moved.

The Martian shoved me again.

“Found this one sneaking about,” he said to Frog-face in a low voice. “Thought he might be more comfortable with his family. Little lost duckling.”

I glared at him, and he chuckled again, his eyes fixed on a point several inches above my head. For some reason, the fact he wouldn't look me in the eyes bothered me almost as much as the metal mask that had ruined Apprentice's face.

“Where's Frederick Winchester?” Frog-face asked. “And don't pretend he's not here. We know he is.”

“He decided to take a walk,” I said loudly, hoping Freddie would hear me through the door. “He said he had a headache.”

“Keep your voice down,” the Martian said, jabbing me with his knife. I winced as it cut into my skin again.

“Leave him alone!” Papa said.

Frog-face took a step and smacked Papa across the face with the back of his hand. Papa's head rocked back, and his glasses went flying.

“What do we do?” the Martian asked. “Wait for Winchester to show up?”

“No,” Frog-face said. “We can't afford to wait. We've got enough hostages, and Winchester is an idiot. He'll be no danger. Apprentice.” He nodded at the third man. “You look for Winchester. When you find him, kill him. Then come back and cover this lot.”

This time, Apprentice did speak, but I couldn't work out what he was saying. Instead of words, the mask let out a series of loud clicks. Immediately, the buttons on his coat split and lifted away in a whir of metallic wings. In moments, a cloud of clockwork beetles surrounded him, their sharp pincers glittering in the gaslight. Jane screamed. Mama clutched Papa's hand in a white-knuckled grip.

Apprentice strode to the drawing room door, and the clockwork beetles rushed ahead of him. I bit my lip as he pulled the door open, but the corridor was empty. Apprentice and his swarm slipped out. I hoped Freddie had found somewhere good to hide.