The Last Of The Sky Pirates Part 1

The Last of the Sky Pirates.

Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell.

For William, Joseph, Anna, Katy and Jack.

*ar far away, jutting out into the emptiness beyond, like the figurehead of a mighty stone ship, is the Edge. A great river a" the Edgewater a" pours down endlessly from the overhanging rock. It was not always so. Fifty years earlier, almost to the day, the river ground to a halt.

This was no random occurrence, but rather a pre-ordained event a" for the stopping of the river heralded the arrival of the Mother Storm which, once every five or six millennia, would roar in from Open Sky to seed the Edge with new life.

With the Anchor Chain severed and the floating city of Sanctaphrax lost, the Mother Storm swept on to Riverrise. There, she discharged her vast reserves of energy, rejuvenating the river and sowing her precious seeds of new life.

The Edgewater flowed once more. Riverrise blossomed. A new Sanctaphrax rock was born. Yet all was far from well on the Edge, for a terrible pestilence was already spreading out from the Stone Gardens.

Stone-sickness, it was called. It was a name that was all too soon on everyoneas lips.

It halted new growth in the Stone Gardens where, for centuries, buoyant rocks had sprouted and grown; rocks that had become the flight-rocks of league ships and sky pirate vessels, enabling them to fly. It pa.s.sed from sky ship to sky ship, causing the flight-rocks of the leaguesmen and sky pirates alike to decay, lose buoyancy and plummet from the sky. It even attacked the great floating rock upon which New Sanctaphrax was being built, causing it to crumble and sink.

Some claimed that the Mother Storm had brought the terrible sickness with her from Open Sky. Some maintained that Cloud Wolf a" the valiant sky pirate captain who had perished inside the Mother Storm a" had somehow infected her. Others insisted, with just as much conviction, that there was no connection between the arrival of the Mother Storm and the outbreak, but that stone-sickness was a punishment on those Edge-dwellers who had refused to give up their evil ways.

In short, no-one knew for sure. Only one thing was certain. Stone-sickness meant that life on the Edge would never be the same again.

The league ships were grounded. Sky-trade was at an end. With Undertown and New Sanctaphrax now cut off, the usurper Vox Verlix a" the erstwhile cloudwatcher who had ousted the new Most High Academe of New Sanctaphrax a" commissioned the building of the Great Mire Road to connect the twin cities to the Deepwoods. In order to complete the project he enlisted the help of both the fearsome shrykes and the Librarian Academics a" a union of earth-scholars and disillusioned sky-scholars who had joined their ranks. The consequences were far-reaching.

In the Deepwoods permanent settlements began to spring up for the first time: the Eastern Roost of the shrykes, the Foundry Glade and the Goblin Nations, and far, far to the north-west, between the Silver Pastures and the Hundred Lakes, the Free Glades. In the Mire, a new settlement sprang up overnight, when the sky pirates scuttled all their sky ships together.

Meanwhile, back in Undertown and New Sanctaphrax, despite an uneasy temporary truce, the rift between the sky-scholar Guardians of Night and the Librarian Academics became greater than ever.

The Guardians of Night maintained that the answer to stone-sickness lay in the healing power of storms, believing that Midnightas Spike a" at the top of the Sanctaphrax Tower of Night a" would attract the electrical energy of pa.s.sing storms and destroy the terrible pestilence. The Librarian Academics, on the other hand, believed not only that the cure must lie somewhere far out in the Deepwoods, but that, if struck, Midnightas Spike would cause more harm than good.

As the years pa.s.sed, the Guardians got the upper hand. Led by the notoriously brutal Most High Guardian, Orbix Xaxis, they imposed their will, manipulating the leagues, enslaving the Undertowners and driving the Librarian Academics, literally, underground a" for the sewers of Undertown became their new refuge.

It is down here, in the dark, dank, dripping underground chambers, that an una.s.suming, yet adventurous, young under-librarian lives. He is thirteen. He is an orphan. When no-one is around, he likes nothing better than to sit at one of the many floating sumpwood desks and bury his head in a treatise-scroll a" even though this is strictly forbidden to someone of his lowly status.

He a.s.sumes, wrongly, that no-one has ever seen him. However, his disobedience has been both noticed and noted. What is more, it is to have repercussions that no-one could ever have predicted.

The Deepwoods, the Stone Gardens, the Edgewater River. Undertown and Sanctaphrax. Names on a map.

Yet behind each name lie a thousand tales a" tales that have been recorded in ancient scrolls, tales that have been pa.s.sed down the generations by word of mouth a" tales which even now are being told.

What follows is but one of those tales.

he young under-librarian awoke drenched in sweat. From all around, echoing down the tunnels of the Undertown sewers, came the sound of the piebald ratsa shrill dawn chorus. How they knew the sun was rising over Undertown, high above them, was a mystery to Rook Barkwater. But they did know, and Rook was grateful to be awake. The other nineteen under-librarians in the small sleeping chamber twitched and stirred in their hammocks, but slept on. It would be another couple of hours before the tilderhorns sounded. Until then Rook had the sewers to himself.

He slipped out of the hammock, dressed quickly and stole across the cold floor. The oil lamp fixed to the damp, mossy wall flickered as he pa.s.sed by. In the furthest hammock Millwist muttered in his sleep. Rook froze. It wouldnat do to be caught.

aFor Skyas sake, donat wake up,a Rook whispered as Millwist scratched his nose. Then, with a small cry of anger or alarm, the youth rolled onto his side a" and fell still.

Rook crept out of the chamber and into the gloom of the narrow corridor outside. The air was cold and clammy. His boots splashed in the puddles on the floor and water dripped down his neck.

When it rained in Undertown, the underground tunnels and pipes filled with water, and the librarian-scholars fought to keep it out of the network of sewers they called home. But still it seeped through the walls and dripped from every ceiling. It hissed on the wall lamps, sometimes extinguishing a flame completely. It fell on mattresses, on blankets, on weapons, clothes a" and on the librarian-scholars themselves.

Rook shivered. The dream still echoed in his head. First came the wolves a" always the wolves. White-collared. Bristling and baying. Their terrible yellow eyes flashing in the dark forest a His father was shouting for him to hide; his mother was screaming. He didnat know what to do. He was running this way, that way. Everywhere were flashing yellow eyes and the sharp, barked commands of the slave-takers.

Rook swallowed hard. It was a nightmare, but what came next was worse; far worse.

He was alone now in the dark woods. The howling of the slaversa wolf pack was receding into the distance. The slave-takers had gone a" and taken his mother and father with them. Rook would never see them again. He was four years old, alone in the vastness of the Deepwoods a" and something was coming towards him. Something huge a And then a Then head woken up, drenched in sweat, with the shrill sounds of piebald rats in his ears. Just like the time before a" and the time before that. The nightmare would return every few weeks, always the same and for as far back as he could remember.

Rook took the left fork at the end of the corridor and went immediately left again; then, fifty strides further on, he turned sharp right into the opening to a low, narrow pipe.

Newcomers to the sewers were forever getting lost in the perplexing labyrinth of pipes and tunnels. But not Rook Barkwater. He knew every cistern, every chamber, every channel. He knew that the pipe he was in was a short cut to the Great Storm Chamber Library a" and that even though he had grown tall since he first discovered it, and now had to stoop and stumble his way along, it was still the quickest route.

Emerging at the far end, Rook looked round furtively. To his right, the broad Main Tunnel disappeared back into shadows. It was, he was pleased to see, deserted. To his left, it ended with a great, ornate arch, on the other side of which lay the chamber itself.

Rook took a step forwards and, as the cavernous library chamber opened up before him, his heart fluttered. No matter that he had seen it almost every day for the best part of a decade, the place never failed to amaze him.

The air was warm from the wood-burners, and wafted round in a gentle breeze by hundreds of softly fluttering wind-turners. The buoyant lecterns a" which housed the vast library of precious barkscrolls and bound treatises a" gently bobbed in their aflocksa, straining at the chains which secured them to the magnificent Blackwood Bridge below. The ornately carved bridge spanned the great, vaulted chamber, linking the two sides of the Grand Central Tunnel. Beside it was the older Lufwood Bridge and numerous gantries; below, the flowing waters of this, the largest of Undertownas sewers.

Rook stood for a moment at the entrance to the chamber, feeling the warmth seep into his bones. No dripping water or leaks of any kind were permitted here; nothing that could harm the precious library that so many earth-scholars had died to establish and protect.

The words of the ageing librarian, Alquix Venvax, came back to Rook. aRemember, my lad,a he would say, athis great library of ours represents just a fraction of the knowledge that lies out there in the Deepwoods. But it is precious. Never forget, Rook, that there are those who hate librarian academics and mistrust earth-scholarship; those who betrayed us and persecuted us, who blame us for stone-sickness and have forced us to seek refuge down here, far from the light of the sun. For every treatise produced, one librarian has suffered to write it, while another has died defending it. But we shall not give up. Librarian Knights elect will continue to travel to the Deepwoods, to gather invaluable information and increase our knowledge of the Edge. One day, my lad, it will be your turn.a Rook crept out of the tunnel and onto the Blackwood Bridge, keeping his head down behind the bal.u.s.trade. There was someone on the adjacent bridge, which was unusual for so early in the morning a" and though it was probably just a lugtroll there to clean, Rook didnat want to take any chances.

Unconsciously, yet unavoidably, he counted off the mooring winch-rings as he pa.s.sed. It was something every under-librarian did automatically, for those who made an error about which buoyant lectern was at the end of which chain did not last long in the Great Storm Chamber.

Rookas experience led him unerringly to the seventeenth lectern, where he knew head find one treatise in particular. A Study of Banderbearsa Behaviour in Their Natural Habitat, it was called. Of all the countless leatherbound works in the library, this one was special; special for a very simple reason.

Rook Barkwater owed his life to the treatise, and he could never forget it.

Having checked that the lugtroll was definitely not spying on him, Rook gripped the winch-wheel and began turning it slowly round. Link by link, the chain wound its way round the central axle and the buoyant sumpwood lectern came lower. When it was at the same level as the mounting platform, Rook ratcheted the brake-lever across, and climbed aboard.

aCareful!a he whispered nervously, as the lectern dipped and swayed. He sat himself down on the bench and gripped the desk firmly. The last thing he wanted to do was keel over backwards and fall into the sluggish water of the underground river. At this time of day, there were no raft-hands to drag him out a" and he was a hopeless swimmer.

The honey-coloured wood felt warm and silky to the touch. In the warm, dry conditions of the library chamber a well-seasoned piece of sumpwood timber was twice as light as air. However, as with all timbers of the first order of buoyant wood, the minutest shift in temperature or humidity could destabilize the timber a" and so the sumpwood lecterns bobbed and jittered constantly, making sitting at one for any length of time an art in itself.

aStop wobbling about, you stupid thing,a Rook told the lectern sternly. He shifted his position on the bench. The violent lurching eased. aThatas better,a he said. aNow, just hold still while I aa Squinting into the bright spherical light above the lectern, Rook reached up and pulled a large, bound volume from the uppermost shelf of the floating lectern. It was the one about banderbears. As he laid the treatise out on the desk before him, he felt a familiar surge of excitement, tinged with just a hint of fear. He opened it up at random.

His head bowed forwards. His eyes narrowed in concentration. No longer was he sitting at a floating lectern, in a vaulted chamber, deep down underground a Instead, Rook was up there a" in the open, in the vast, mysterious Deepwoods, with no walls, no tunnels and no ceiling but the sky itself. The air was cool and filled with the sound of bird-cry and rodent-screech a He turned his attention to the treatise. The yodelled communication cry, he read, is meant for one specific banderbear alone. None, not even those who may be nearer, will answer a call intended for another. In this respect it is as if a name had been used. However, because, throughout my treatise-voyage, I never managed to get close enough to one to fully decipher the language, it is impossible to know for sure.

Rook looked up. He could hear in his head the banderbear yodel, almost as if he had once heard one for himself a One matter appears certain. It seems to be impossible for any banderbear to deceive any other about his/her ident.i.ty. It is perhaps this fact that makes banderbears such solitary animals. Since their individuality cannot come from anonymity in a crowd, it must come from isolation from that crowd.

The further my travels take me a Rook looked up from the neat script for a second time and stared into mid air. aThe further my travels take me aa The words thrilled him. How he would love to explore the endless Deepwoods for himself, to spend time with banderbears, to hear their plaintive yodelling by the light of the full moon a And then it struck him.

Of course! he thought, and smiled bitterly. Today wasnat just any old day. It was the day of the Announcement Ceremony, when three apprentice librarians would be selected to complete their education far off in the Deepwoods, at Lake Landing.

Rook wanted so, so much to be selected himself a" but he knew that, despite Alquix Venvaxas encouraging words, this would never happen. He was a foundling, a n.o.body. Head been discovered, lost and alone, wandering through the Deepwoods, by the great Varis Lodd a" or so head been told. Varis, daughter of the High Librarian, Fenbrus Lodd, was the author of the treatise Rook now held in his hands.

If she hadnat been out in the Deepwoods studying banderbears, she would never have stumbled across the abandoned child with no real memories a" apart from his name, and a recurring nightmare of slave-takers and wolves and a Yes, Rook Barkwater did indeed owe his life to this particular bound treatise.

Varis Lodd had brought him back to the sewers of Undertown along with her treatise on banderbears, and left him here to be raised by the librarian-scholars. The old librarian professor, Alquix Venvax, had befriended the sad, lonely little boy and done what he could, but Rook was well aware that an orphan with no family connections would never be more than an under-librarian. His lot was to remain down in the great library chamber, tending the buoyant lecterns and serving the professors and their apprentices.

Unlike Felix. Rook smiled to himself. If he couldnat go to Lake Landing, then at least Felix could.

Felix Lodd was Varis Loddas baby brother a" though he wasnat much of a baby any more. He was tall for his age, powerfully-built and athletic. Quick to smile and slow to anger, what he lacked in brains, he made up for in the size of his heart.

Felix was an apprentice and had made up his mind to look after the small orphan his sister had found. Rook sometimes thought Felix felt guilty that his beloved sister, whom he idolized, had simply left Rook with the librarian-scholars to fend for himself. It didnat matter. They were friends, best friends. Felix fought the apprentices who tried to bully Rook, and Rook helped Felix with those studies the older boy found difficult. Together they made a strong team. And now all the hard work was about to pay off, for Felix was one of the favourites to be picked to go to Lake Landing and complete his education. Rook felt so proud. One day, he might even be sitting at this lectern with Felixas treatise in his hand.

He picked up the volume and was just reaching up to return it to the high shelf when a bellowing voice echoed angrily round the great chamber.

aYou, there!a Rook froze. Surely he couldnat have been spotted. Not today. Whoever it was must be shouting at that lugtroll on the Lufwood Bridge.

aRook Barkwater!a Rook groaned. Steadying himself, he slid the treatise back into place and turned slowly round. That was when he first realized how high up he was. With all the violent dipping and swaying of the lectern when head first boarded, the brake-lever must have shifted, for the chain securing the lectern had completely unwound. Now he was trapped, far up in the air on the buoyant lectern, which was floating higher from the Blackwood Bridge than any of the others. It was no wonder head been spotted. Rook peered down and swallowed unhappily. Why did it have to be Ledmus Squinx who had done the spotting?

A fastidious, flabby individual with small pink eyes and bushy side-whiskers, Squinx was one of the libraryas various under-professors. He was unpopular, and with good reason a" for Ledmus Squinx was both overbearing and vain. He liked order, and he liked comfort and a" as head grown older a" head also discovered a distinct apt.i.tude for throwing his (increasing) weight around.

aWill you get down here, now!a he bellowed. Rook stared down at the portly, red-faced individual. His hands were on his hips; his lips were sneering. They both knew that Rook couldnat get down without the under-professoras help.

aI a" I canat, sir.a aThen you shouldnat be up there in the first place, should you?a said Squinx triumphantly. Rook hung his head. aShould you?a he rasped.

aN-no, sir,a said Rook.

aNo, sir!a Squinx barked back. aYou should not. Do you know how many rules and regulations you have broken, Rook?a He raised his left hand and began counting off the fingers. aOne, the buoyant lecterns are not to be used in the hours between lights-out and the tilderhorn call. Two, the buoyant lecterns are not to be used unless another is present to operate the winch. Three, under no circ.u.mstances whatsoever,a he hissed, speaking each word slowly and clearly, ais an under-librarian ever to board a buoyant lectern.a He smiled unpleasantly. aDo I need to go on?a aNo, sir,a said Rook. aSorry sir, buta"a aBe still,a Squinx snapped. He turned his attention to the winch-wheel, which he turned round and round a" puffing noisily as he did so a" until the buoyant lectern was once again level with the mounting platform. aNow, get out,a he ordered.

Rook stepped onto the Blackwood Bridge. Squinx seized him by both arms and pushed his face so close that their noses were almost touching.

aI will not tolerate such disobedience,a he thundered. aSuch insubordination. Such a flagrant disregard for the rules.a He took a deep breath. aYour behaviour, Rook, has been totally unacceptable. How dare you even think of reading the library treatises! They are not for the likes of you.a He spat out the words with contempt. aYou! A mere under-librarian!a aBut a but, sira"a aSilence!a Squinx shrieked. aFirst I catch you flouting the libraryas most serious rules, and now you have the bare-faced cheek to answer back! Is there no end to your audacity? Iall have you sent to a punishment cell. Iall have you clapped in irons and flogged. Ialla"a aIs there some problem, Squinx?a a frail yet imperious voice interjected.

The under-professor turned. Rook looked up. It was Alquix Venvax, the ageing librarian professor. He pushed his gla.s.ses up his nose with a bony finger and peered at the under-professor.

aProblem, Squinx?a he repeated.

aNothing I canat handle,a said Squinx, puffing out his chest.

Alquix nodded. aIam glad to hear it, Squinx. Very glad.a He paused. aThough something troubles me.a aSir?a said Squinx.

aYes, something I thought I overheard,a said Alquix. aSomething about imprisonment cells and being clapped in irons. And a what was it? Ah, yes, being flogged!a Squinxas flabby face turned from red to purple and beads of sweat began oozing from every pore. aI a I a I aa he bl.u.s.tered.

The professor smiled. aIam sure I donat have to remind you, Squinx that, as an under-professor, you are in no position to hand out punishments.a He scratched at his right ear thoughtfully. aIndeed, I believe that attempting to do so is itself a punishable offence aa aI a I a that is, I didnat intend aa Squinx mumbled feverishly, and Rook had to bite into his lower lip to prevent himself from smiling. It was wonderful to see the bullying under-professor squirm.

aBut, sir,a Squinx protested indignantly as he gathered his thoughts. aHe has broken rule after rule after rule.a His voice grew more confident. aI caught him up on a buoyant lectern, reading, no less. He was reading an academic treatise. Hea"a Alquix turned on Rook. aYou were doing what?a he said. aWell, this puts a totally different complexion on the matter, doesnat it? Reading indeed!a He turned back to the now smugly beaming under-professor. aIall deal with this, Squinx. You may go.a As the portly Ledmus Squinx waddled off, Rook waited nervously for Alquix to return his attention to him. The professor had seemed genuinely angry. This was unusual and Rook wondered whether, this time, he had gone too far. When the professor did finally turn to face him, however, his eyes were twinkling.

aRook! Rook!a he said. aReading treatises again, eh? What are we going to do with you?a aIam sorry, sir,a said Rook. aItas just thata"a aI know, Rook, I know,a the professor interrupted. aThe thirst for knowledge is a powerful force. But in future aa He paused and shook his head earnestly. Rook held his breath. aIn future,a he repeated, ajust donat get caught!a He chuckled. Rook laughed too. The next moment the professoras face grew serious once more.

aYou shouldnat be here anyway,a he said. aThe buoyant lecterns are closed. Had you forgotten that the Announcement Ceremony is to take place today?a Just then the tilderhorns echoed round the cavernous chamber. It was seven hours.

aOh, no,a Rook groaned. aItas Felixas big day, and I promised to help him get ready. I mustnat let him down.a aCalm down, Rook,a the professor said. aIf I know Felix Lodd, heall still be fast asleep in his hammock.a aPrecisely!a said Rook. aI said Iad wake him!a aDid you now?a said the professor, smiling kindly. aGo, then,a he said. aIf you hurry, you should both make it back here in time.a aThank you, Professor,a said Rook as he scurried back across the bridge.

aOh, and Rook!a the professor called after him. aWhile youare about it, smarten yourself up a bit, lad.a aYes, sir,a Rook called back. aAnd thank you, sir.a He left the Storm Chamber, ducked down and darted back into the narrow pipe. As the darkness wrapped itself around him once again, his mood also darkened.

The memory of his nightmare came back to him: the snarls of woodwolves and the cries of slave-takers. And the terrible, terrible feeling of being alone a And with Felix gone, head be alone again. A small, guilty thought crept into his mind. What if Felix isnat picked? What if he oversleeps and a aNo!a Rook slapped a fist to his temple. aNo! Felix is my friend!a ushing past the thick hammelhornskin door-hanging, Rook entered the sleeping chamber. Unlike the damp, spartan under-librariansa dormitory, the room was warm and cosy, for Felix Lodd enjoyed all the comforts of a senior apprentice. There was a wood-burning stove in the corner, woven hangings on the wall and straw matting on the floor. The tilderhorns trumpeted the last wake-up call as Rook approached the quilted hammock with its plump pillows and warm fleece blankets.

Rook stared down at his friend. He looked so contented, so carefree and, judging by the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if he were having a pleasant dream. It seemed almost a shame to wake him.

aFelix,a said Rook urgently. He shook him by the shoulders. aFelix, get up.a Felixas eyes snapped open. aWhat? What?a He peered up. aRook, is that you?a He smiled and stretched lazily. aWhat time is it?a aItas late, Felixa"a Rook began.

aI was having the most amazing dream,a Felix interrupted him. aI was flying, Rook. Flying above the Deepwoods! Just imagine! Flying up there in the clean, clear air! It was such an incredible feeling a" swooping this way and that, skimming the tops of the trees a Until I hit turbulence and went into a tailspin.a His eyes narrowed. aThat must have been when you woke me up.a Rook shook his head. aYouave forgotten, havenat you?a he said.

Felix yawned. aForgotten what?a he said.

aWhat day it is today! Itas the Announcement Ceremonya Felix sprang out of the hammock, scattering pillows and cushions, and upending a small ornate lamp. aThe Announcement Ceremony!a he exclaimed. aI thought it was tomorrow.a He looked round the sleeping chamber. aCurse this stupid place!a he thundered, pulling his robes from the heavy leadwood chest beneath the hammock. aThereas no dawn, no dusk. How can anyone keep track of the time down here?a aDonat worry,a Rook a.s.sured him. aThe last tilderhorn has only just sounded. If we hurry we can still make it to the Lufwood Bridge before the Professor of Darkness begins the oath a" although all the best places will be taken.a aI donat care if they are,a said Felix, fumbling to unknot his formal sash. aThe Announcement Ceremony canat come too soon for me. Iam dying to get out of this rain-soaked sewer and feel the wind on my face, to breathe in clean, fresh air aa aLet me,a said Rook, taking the sash from his friend and deftly unknotting it. He handed it back to Felix, who was now struggling into the heavy robes of a senior apprentice.

Rook smiled sadly. This was the last time he would be able to help his friend out of some sc.r.a.pe or other a" for today, the Professor of Darkness was bound to announce that Felix Lodd would be sent off to Lake Landing to complete his studies. There, Felix would have to look after himself; making sure that his work was submitted on time, that his robes were clean and mended, and that he didnat oversleep on important occasions. He wouldnat have Rook to look after him.

Then again, head soon make friends out there in the Free Glades because, wherever he went and whatever he did, Felix couldnat help being popular and the centre of attention. Just like his sister before him, Felix was about to set off on a great adventure and make a name for himself up there in the world of fresh air and sunlight. And he, Rook, would be left alone.

Felix tied the sash around his waist and stood back. Rook looked him up and down. It never failed to amaze him! Just a few minutes earlier, Felix had been snoring his head off. Now he stood before him looking magnificent in his ceremonial robes, as if he had taken hours, not minutes, preparing.

aHow do I look?a he said.

Rook smiled. aYouall do,a he said.

aEarth and Sky be praised!a said Felix. He picked up two lanterns, handing one to Rook. aRight, then. Letas get to the Lufwood Bridge. Theyall be expecting me.a aQuiet, Felix! Iam trying to listen.a Rook stepped closer to the tunnel entrance head stopped beside and motioned Felix to be still with a flap of his hand. aI thought I heard something,a he whispered. He raised his lantern and pointed down the narrow, dripping pipe to his right. aIn there.a Felix came closer. His eyes narrowed. aDo you think itas aa a" he mouthed the word a" amuglump?a aIt sounded like one to me,a Rook replied softly.

Felix nodded. That was good enough for him. Rook was second to none when it came to identifying the numerous parasites and predators that lurked in the network of sewers. He drew his sword and, pushing Rook firmly to one side, advanced into the pipe.

aBut, Felix aa said Rook as, head down, he trotted after him. aWhat about the ceremony?a aItall just have to wait,a Felix told him. aThis is more important.a He continued along the pipe, pausing at the first fork he came to and listening, before storming on.

Rook struggled to keep up. aWait a moment,a he panted, as Felix took a third turning. aFelixa"a aShut up, Rook!a Felix hissed. aIf a muglump has broken into our sewers from Screetown, then none of us are safe.a aCouldnat we just report it and leave it to the sewer patrols?a said Rook.

aSewer patrols?a said Felix, and snorted. aThat useless bunch canat even keep the rats at bay, let alone a fully grown muglump on a blood-hunt.a aButa"a a.s.sh!a He stopped at a junction where five tunnels intersected, and crouched down. It was cold, dank. All around, the air echoed with the sound of dripping water. aThere it is,a Felix whispered the next moment.

Rook c.o.c.ked his head to one side. Yes, he could hear it, too a" the soft, whistling hiss of the creatureas breathing and the squelch-squelch-squelch of its paw-pads. It sounded like a large one.

Lantern raised, Felix followed the noises into the tunnel opposite and continued. Rook followed him. He was trembling nervously. What if Felix was right? What if it was on a blood-hunt?

Although they could be vicious when cornered, the muglumps which infested the Undertown sewers were generally less aggressive than their Mire cousins. Perhaps it was due to the lack of direct sunlight. Or perhaps, the change in their diet a" the piebald rats they now feasted on were both plumper and more plentiful than the bony oozefish of the Mire. Whatever. As a rule, the sewer-muglumps kept themselves to themselves. But every once in a while, one of their number would develop an insatiable appet.i.te for blood that would draw it into the main sewers in search of larger prey. A blood-hunt. Stories of the havoc such muglumps could wreak were legion amongst the scholars.

aThis way,a said Felix grimly as he turned abruptly right. aI can smell it.a aBut Felix,a Rook protested. aThis tunnel, itas aa Felix ignored him. The muglump was near, he was sure. It was time to close in. At a trot now, with his sword out in front of him like a bayonet, he charged down the tunnel. He was going to rid the sewers of this foul creature that had developed a taste for librarian blood once and for all.

Rook did his best to keep up. Raising his head, he saw that Felix had almost reached the end of the tunnel.

aFelix, be careful!a he shouted. aItas a deada"Aargh!a he cried as his foot slipped, his ankle turned and he came crashing down to the floor of the tunnel. aa"end,a he muttered.

He pulled himself up. aFelix?a he called. Then a second time, louder, aFelix!a Still nothing. aFelix, whatasa"a aIt must be here somewhere!a came Felixas voice, frustration turning to anger in his voice.

aFelix?a Rook shouted. aHang on! Iam coming aa Limping slightly, he hurried on as fast as he could. His breath came in puffy clouds. Water dripped down his neck. He pulled his dagger from its sheath. aFelix, are you all right?a he asked anxiously. aDead end,a said Felix. His voice was flat. aWhere did it go?a Rook reached the end of the tunnel and looked into the cistern it had led to. Felix was standing at the far side, his back turned away.