The Dragon's Tooth Part 28

Pushing off the floor, Llewellyn Douglas dropped into the shark pool.

Cyrus looked at his sister, widened his eyes, and shook his head. "He's crazy."

Antigone shrugged. "I don't know. He's pretty unappetizing. He might be fine." She jerked her thumb at the door. "Want to go now, or wait and watch?"

"Now," said Cyrus. "Quick. If he gets chomped, I'll have to jump in."

eighteen.

ZOO.

CYRUS AND ANTIGONE stood in a long hall lined with metal doors. The stairs hadn't been long, but they led to a tangle of hallways. Cyrus and Antigone and a moping Dennis had been wandering for a while, dead-ending in storage rooms full of dry grain or tools or sc.r.a.p metal cut away from cages.

Dennis had been no help at all.

The floor was grimy, and lightbulbs dotted the ceiling in both directions-only a few of them working. Cyrus scanned the filthy floor and then glanced at the bottom of his bare foot. It looked like it was layered in axle grease.

Antigone pointed down the hallway. "I think we've been down there." She turned around. "But that looks familiar, too."

"It's all the same," Cyrus said. "Maybe the old guy was wrong. There's not a way up out of here."

"Not an option," said Antigone. "I'm not getting back in the water with any sharks." She groaned, shifting uncomfortably. "I hate wet clothes. These pants are starting to chafe, and my feet are blistering."

"Take off your boots," Cyrus said, wiggling his toes and kicking a rotting rag against the wall. "Bare feet are so much better in a place like this."

Antigone turned to Dennis. The drenched porter was carrying his cape in a wad beneath his arm, and he still hadn't untied his crushed bowler hat. He was leaning against a wall, staring at absolutely nothing.

"Dennis," Antigone said. "Please, tell us about this place. You might not think you know anything, but you definitely know more than we do. Anything? Have you heard anything, read anything, dreamed anything?"

"They're going to fire me," Dennis said. "Sterling doesn't need to kill me. I'll be thrown out of Ashtown. Where will I go?"

"Why would you be thrown out?" Cyrus asked. "Sterling's the one who'll be in trouble."

Dennis shook his head. "Who will they believe? Dennis Gilly, failed Acolyte, failed porter? Or Benjamin Sterling? Everyone loves him. He's been the cook for-I don't know how long-since he lost his legs. Greeves will think I'm crazy."

"Well," said Antigone. "We'll tell him you're not crazy."

"How do you know?" Dennis asked. "Maybe I am." He sighed. "I'm not like you two. I had to go into the service corps and now I'll even lose my bed in the porter's dorm. I don't have any family. Where will I go? What state is around Ashtown?"

"Wisconsin," said Cyrus.

"I'll be out in Wisconsin. What do they do in Wisconsin? Nothing I'm good at, I'm sure."

Antigone stepped in front of the damp porter. "Cyrus and I think you're great, Dennis. Don't we, Cy?"

"Sure," said Cyrus.

Dennis looked up and shook his head. "You're both 1914 Acolytes. I wouldn't have made the 1969 standards ... even if I could have afforded the dues. I just wanted to sail. Who cares about Latin?"

"Not me," said Cyrus. "Not at all."

Antigone nodded at her brother and slowly rolled her hands for him to go on.

Cyrus smiled. "Hey," he said. "How would you like to be a Polygoner, Dennis?"

Antigone dropped her hands, surprised.

Cyrus continued. "If you get kicked out, you can stay with us. We'll hide you. But if you don't get kicked out, you can still be a Polygoner."

Dennis looked at Antigone. She smiled. He turned back to Cyrus.

"Really? Are you just trying to get me to feel better? Are you making something up?"

Cyrus shook his head. "We're not making it up." He slapped the boxing monkey on his leather shoulder. "That's our symbol or logo or whatever. But there are only two Polygoners right now. Three if we count Nolan. We need more."

"What do I have to do?"

"Well." Cyrus grinned. "You have to help us, and that will mean doing whatever we say."

"Cyrus ..." Antigone's voice was all warning.

"There are other rules, too," Cyrus said quickly. "But we can explain those later."

Dennis straightened. "Do you really think I'm good enough?"

Cyrus laughed. "What do you think, Tigs? Is he good enough?"

"Dennis Gilly," Antigone said. "You just swam with a shark. How many people do you know who have done that?"

Dennis thought for a moment. "You two and Mr. Douglas."

"Right," said Cyrus. "You're as good as we are. And you like to sail? Are you good at it?"

Dennis nodded solemnly.

"Good," said Cyrus. "Then you can be our sailing tutor, too."

"Mr. Cyrus-"

Cyrus shook his head. "Don't ever call me that again. If you do, we'll kick you out."

Dennis nodded seriously. "Right. I won't. What do Polygoners do?"

"Whatever needs to be done," said Cyrus.

"And right now," Antigone said, "we need to find a way out of here."

Dennis looked in both directions. "But I've never-"

Cyrus raised his hands, and Dennis's mouth clicked shut. "This is the first test, Dennis. We're not going to help you."

Nodding slowly, Dennis squinted down the hall, and then turned and moved to the first metal door. He opened it and walked in.

Gasping, he staggered back out. "Stuff," he said. "Rotting stuff." He pointed down the hall. "I think we should go that way."

"Don't think, Dennis," Cyrus said. "Do. We're following you."

The porter threw his wet cape against the wall. "Wait here," he said, and strode down the hallway, opening doors.

"Cyrus," Antigone whispered. "You're evil."

"What are you talking about? Look at him! He just turned into Napoleon."

"Yeah, but what will he do when he finds out that there's no club? It'll break his heart."

"He won't find out, because there is a club-maybe a gang or a full-on league. And we're in charge. Well, technically I'm in charge, but you can be the secretary or something."

"Yeah," said Antigone. "Sure. That'll happen."

"Treasurer?" Cyrus asked. "Or do you want to be the Avengel, like Greeves? You can enforce my proclamations. Or you can just be the mascot. Your call."

"Copresident."

"Ha." Cyrus eyed his sister. "A second ago, you were denying that the league existed, and now you want to muscle in on my leadership?"

"Shut up, Rus, or I'll drop the 'co.' "

"Hey!" Dennis yelled. "I've found a way ... somewhere."

When Cyrus and Antigone reached him, Dennis was beaming with pride beside an open rusty door. Ancient hay bales had been stacked on one side of the room. On the far wall, a ladder ran straight up to a trapdoor in the ceiling.

"I'll bet it goes up to the feeding rooms behind the cages," Dennis said. He scurried up the ladder and lifted the trap. "At least, I think so. It's a little dark."

"Okay," Cyrus said. "Hop down, Dennis. We'll check it out."

Dennis stared at him. "No. You said this was a test. There are rules. You can't trick me. I always follow rules."

Cyrus opened his mouth and then shut it. He had nothing to say. Dennis climbed up, wriggled through the trapdoor, and let it bang behind him.

"Terrific," said Antigone. "Dennis always follows rules, and you are now his rule book. Pull the plug now, Cy."

"Pull the plug on this new, amazing Dennis?" Cyrus shook his head and moved out of the way. "Go ahead. Ladies first."

Antigone climbed the ladder, and Cyrus climbed behind her. With each step, leather water dripped out of her boots and onto Cyrus's head.

When she reached the top, she threw open the trap and climbed through.

When Cyrus reached the top, he stuck his head up and into pure reek.

"Oh ..." He groaned, gagging.

"Get up here, Cy. Plug your nose. I think Dennis pa.s.sed out."

The room was extremely dim, but Cyrus could just make out his sister's shape. The only light was seeping in through the seams around a heavy door and a smaller, square hatch set into it at head height.

Cyrus stood up and covered his nose. "Did an elephant die? I can taste it."

"It smells like skunk plus last year's fish," Antigone said. She nudged Dennis's crumpled shape with her toe. "What do we do with him?"

"What do we do with us?" Cyrus asked.

"No! Leon, down!" A boy's shout echoed through the darkness. "Down!"

A bubbling bellow drowned out the voice. A second later, the floor shook with a crash. Birds shrieked. Unknown animals whooped with excitement.

Cyrus and Antigone jumped to the light-outlined door. Cyrus found a bolt and jerked it back with a loud crack. The heavy metal door swung open into a cage.

The two of them stepped through onto a dry floor dusted with old straw. The walls on each side were gray stone. In front, thick iron bars separated them from a bright and immensely large room lined with cages.

Cyrus walked to the bars and pressed his face between them. Antigone squeezed beside him. The foul-smelling zoo was beautiful, but battered. Marble floors were smeared with filth. Cracked stone columns grew into steel girders, which peaked in Gothic arches, carrying a paned mountain range of skylights that ran the length of the room.

The place was alive with daylight.

Cages lined the walls and mezzanines, but Cyrus didn't look to see how many were full. His eyes were on an armored white shape attempting to run down the middle of the room. It looked part astronaut and part white fire hydrant, rocking forward on thick, awkward limbs.

Chasing it, clattering and clawing, grunting and snapping, was a turtle the size of a van. A tail that looked like a whole crocodile dragged behind it. Clawed, elephant-size feet thumped beneath it, and its long, rocking, spiny sh.e.l.l was the size of a smaller car all by itself.

"Leon!" the white shape shouted, hopping slowly. "Stop!"

The turtle stretched out a wrinkly, scaled head that would have been big on a buffalo and opened a mouth large enough to swallow pumpkins. Its neck sprang forward, and its mouth snapped shut around the white shape's head. It clamped and reclamped, while thick white legs kicked and thick white arms flailed. Then, lifting the shape up off the ground by its head, it began shaking its prey from side to side, banging legs against its spined sh.e.l.l.

"Hey!" Antigone yelled. "Over here! Come over here!"

"What are you doing?" Cyrus asked. He reached for his sister's mouth.

But Leon the turtle had already heard. The thick white chew toy clattered to the floor.

"We have bars," Antigone said. "We'll be fine."

Cyrus looked at the iron in his hands, and then he looked at the turtle as it flared its lopsided nostrils and stepped toward them.