Moonflight, page 2
Nimble-Quick took a deep breath. ‘Ready.’
Three …
Two …
One …
Tilbury released the hook.
There was a moment of silence, then a gigantic …
PING!
… and Nimble-Quick shot like an arrow, into the air.
Higher and higher and higher went Nimble-Quick. Her paws were pressed against her sides, but as soon as she reached the top of her arc of trajectory, she spread her arms outwards, and the bird-suit’s wings opened wide.
And she flew.
‘It’s worked,’ yelled Tilbury.
‘Woohoo!’ called Nimble-Quick, soaring away from him.
He expected his sister to glide down to the pile of sacking, but the bird-suit caught a draught of air that wafted through the grilles at the top of the basement window, and Nimble-Quick soared on and on, past the soft landing, over the workshop counters and then down, down, down.
Tilbury heard a shriek of panic and he saw Nimble-Quick flapping like an injured bird before she dropped out of sight.
There was a yowl and a screech and then deathly hush, as Marmalade Paws streaked across the floor.
‘Nimble-Quick!’ called Tilbury, running to the place where she had come down. ‘Are you all right?’
There was no answer. Nimble-Quick lay on her back, her eyes staring upwards.
‘No, no, no, no, no!’ shrieked Tilbury. ‘Nimble-Quick, say something!’
But Nimble-Quick wasn’t moving at all.
CHAPTER THREE
The Shape of a Feather
‘Oh, Nimble-Quick!’ wailed Tilbury. ‘Don’t be dead. This is all my fault.’
But when he bent down to his sister, a huge grin spread across her face.
‘Nimble-Quick? Are you OK?’ he said.
Nimble-Quick turned to look at him. ‘Oh, Tilbury. That was the most wonderful feeling in the world. I flew! I really flew!’
‘You’re not hurt?’ said Tilbury. ‘You missed the soft landing I put out for you.’
Nimble-Quick got to her feet and rubbed her bottom. ‘Luckily I landed on Marmalade’s tummy instead. I gave him quite a shock.’
‘We mustn’t tell Mother,’ whispered Tilbury.
Nimble-Quick took Tilbury by the paws. ‘Definitely not. She would stop us at once. Oh, Tilbury. Come on.’ Her whiskers quivered in excitement. ‘Flying is the most wonderful feeling in the whole wide world. I want to do it all over again.’
Tilbury spent the morning catapulting Nimble-Quick into the air. Each time, Tilbury made small adjustments to the tension on the rubber band so that he could predict Nimble-Quick’s landing.
Nimble-Quick found that she could steer herself with her tail, and also soften her landing by back-beating her arms at the last moment. She even learned that she could land on her feet rather than in a crumpled heap in the sacking and sawdust that Tilbury had laid out for her.
‘It really is the most peculiar thing,’ said Nimble-Quick, ‘but if I angle my paws in such a way, I can feel the air catch under the wing to lift me upwards.’
Tilbury’s whiskers quivered with excitement. ‘With a few more adjustments, I think we may discover the secret of flight.’
Nimble-Quick’s eyes shone. ‘You must have a go. You have to feel what it is to be a bird.’
Tilbury shook his head. ‘Ma says I’ve got weak bones and a weak heart. I don’t think I would survive such excitement.’
‘Have a go,’ pleaded Nimble-Quick. She slipped out of the bird-suit and pulled on her woollen smock, passing the suit to Tilbury.
Tilbury ran his little paws across the fine silk and shook his head. ‘It’s too big for me anyway,’ he said. He sighed. ‘Imagine if Bartholomew had left his plans for the Silk Wing. I wonder how he flew from the ground without a catapult to help.’
‘How do birds do it?’ said Nimble-Quick. ‘Some of them are heavier than us, but they fly.’
‘They’ve got wings,’ said Tilbury.
‘I know,’ said Nimble-Quick. ‘But just now I had wings, but I couldn’t take off from the ground, I could only glide.’
Tilbury opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Nimble-Quick had a point. He didn’t know the answer to her question, and his mind began to spin and spin. Maybe if he studied the birds, the answer would hold the secret to the makings of the Silk Wing.
‘Come on,’ said Nimble-Quick. ‘I’m starving, and Ma will be worrying where we are.’
Tilbury pushed his catapult invention under a workbench and glanced across the floor. Marmalade Paws had curled up in an old wicker basket, keeping well away from Tilbury and Nimble-Quick, just in case another flying rat should land on his tummy.
Tilbury followed Nimble-Quick back to the fireplace, where he picked up one of the old crow’s feathers. It was a long primary feather from the tip of a wing, and totally covered in soot, but Tilbury held it in his teeth as he scrambled back up the chimney to the attic rooms.
‘There you are,’ said Ma. She looked at the musty feather that Tilbury carried. ‘Don’t go bringing that thing into our home.’ She closed her eyes at the memory of the marauding crow that had taken some of her children. ‘Take it away, Tilbury.’
Tilbury took it to his favourite place by the attic window where he loved to sit and watch the world. He was sheltered by a cardboard box so that passing crows and gulls couldn’t spy him there. He held the crow’s feather in front of him and studied it. It was so light, yet strong, and Tilbury marvelled that a bird could grow such a beautiful, intricate, yet simple piece of engineering. But it couldn’t be just that it was light that helped birds to fly. He turned the feather over in his paws and noticed the feather didn’t lie flat but was curved. He gently blew on the feather and noticed how the feather strained to lift from his paw, as if it wanted to rise into the air. Maybe the shape of the feather was important to flight too. And Tilbury’s curious mind began thinking about the flow of air over the curved surface of the feather, and his imagination began to soar.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Cursed Night
‘I’ve brought snacks,’ said Nimble-Quick joining him.
Tilbury sniffed. ‘Mmm! Smoked Cheddar, my favourite.’
Pa was a cheese merchant, and he collected and sold his cheeses at the monthly market, and so their stores of food always included cheeses of all sorts. Sometimes the ripest Camembert stank out the attic rooms. Aunt Swinney would often complain about the stink and keep a large clothes peg to put over her nose just to make a point.
From Tilbury’s viewpoint at the attic window, he and Nimble-Quick could see up the Thames towards the sprawling city of London. Tilbury’s family, and his aunts and uncles and cousins, were Dockland Rats that lived at Tilbury Docks. The river connected them to the other Dockland Rats upriver, past Canary Wharf and Tower Hamlets all the way to Walton-on-Thames. The Dockland Rats had grown with the ever-expanding city of London throughout the centuries. Once a month, after a full moon, they traded their wares with each other on the shoreline of the Thames at low tide. Food, drink and clothes were bartered on the riverbanks. But above all else, Dockland Rats coveted jewels and precious stones for their hoardings, for a rat’s standing and influence could be measured by the size and quality of their jewel collection. The trading ships that came to the Docklands provided rich pickings for jewels to be acquired from the human world.
Nimble-Quick sighed. ‘There’s such a big world out there, and I can’t wait to explore. I’ve only been as far as Tower Bridge with Ma and Pa to the markets. Oh, I’d love to ride the London Eye. Imagine having a swim in the Serpentine or seeing the horses at Buckingham Palace.’
Little Tilbury stayed silent, for he felt his heart ache whenever Nimble-Quick spoke about leaving Tilbury Docks. He and Nimble-Quick were six months old, and when a ratling reached a year of age, he or she would set out on a full moon to seek their fortune. But Tilbury knew he would never leave the chandlery at Tilbury Docks. Ma said he would not live long in the outside world where there were dangers at every corner.
‘You should come to the next market,’ said Nimble-Quick. ‘You’d love the cheeses, the fruits, the fine clothes. Why, last time we saw a travelling flea circus, called The Plague. And, oh …’ she paused. ‘You’d love the jewels. Ma said she wants an emerald for our hoarding, but Pa says he’d have to sell a year’s cheese to buy it. He says he’ll trade his Spanish cheese for a piece of turquoise stone instead.’
Tilbury listened to Nimble-Quick rattle off the precious stones and jewels she wanted to buy. All Dockland Rats kept their jewel hoardings safe, but the most precious gems of all were protected by the Elders in the Tower of London, high in the dusty attic rooms.
‘Pa says he’s seen the Morning Star,’ said Nimble-Quick. ‘He said he saw it when he delivered his vintage cheese hamper to the Elders.’
The Morning Star was a big diamond that had been captured by a rat many years ago from one of the many trader sailing ships from the Far Shores. The Elders kept other gems too, from the Sacred Heart, a large ruby, to the Summer Sky, a small, perfectly cut sapphire. It was the Elders who held the old knowledge and the Elders who ruled with wisdom and justice over the Dockland Rats.
But little Tilbury held no fascination for jewels or sparkly things. They did not excite his curious mind that yearned to find out how the world fitted together and how things worked.
But there was one exception, one jewel that he did want to know about.
It was a jewel that fascinated and connected all the Dockland Rats.
A black diamond.
The Cursed Night.
It was a diamond that had been seized by the Great Bartholomew on his travels to the Far Shores.
It was held within a gilded cage beneath the Tilbury Docks, a cage so intricately designed by Bartholomew himself that no rat since had been able to open it.
The cage was only exposed for one hour either side of the lowest of low tides, showing the mysterious black diamond inside.
The Cursed Night held both a curse and a prophecy.
And it was said, that to look into the cut surface of the diamond was to look into the deepest darkest reaches of your soul.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Gilded Cage
‘Imagine seeing the Cursed Night,’ said Tilbury. He frowned. ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to see the actual diamond.’ He shuddered at the thought of seeing deep into his soul. ‘But I’d like to see the Gilded Cage.’
Nimble-Quick took his paw. ‘The black diamond holds the curse inside it.’
Tilbury shivered. The curse had hung like a storm cloud over the Dockland Rats ever since Bartholomew had taken the diamond one moonlit night and brought it back from the Far Shores. Legend told that the diamond cursed anyone who desired it. Its magic could summon enemies and turn friend to foe. Rats would fight for it and die for it. Its evil shadow cast such greed and treachery that it could darken even the kindest of hearts. It was said that the one who desired and possessed it held power over all. Bartholomew had bitterly regretted bringing the Cursed Night back to the Docklands, and so he had made an elaborate gilded metal cage of puzzle-locks to keep the diamond safe within, so that no one could possess it for themselves.
‘I’ve heard Ma and Pa say the curse is getting stronger, pulling evil closer,’ whispered Nimble-Quick. ‘They say our enemies are gathering. They seek the diamond too.’
‘But we have no enemies,’ squeaked Tilbury. ‘Do we?’
Nimble-Quick pulled Tilbury closer. ‘Oh, Tilbury, there is much talk at the market that the Underground Rats have been seen in daylight.’
Tilbury clutched his tail. ‘But the Underground Rats were banished to the Everdark long ago, for trying to steal the Elders’ gemstones.’
‘They are getting bolder,’ said Nimble-Quick gravely. ‘They have been seen in the outside world. They are drawn to the power of the black diamond too. There is darkness inside the diamond. It’s rising like the tide.’
Tilbury felt his chest tighten. ‘But the Cursed Night is safe inside the Gilded Cage. Isn’t it?’
‘It still has the power to curse us,’ whispered Nimble-Quick. ‘Pa says a wave of its evil is washing over the city. Only last month three rats from Millwall Dock were so busy fighting over a diamond ring they found in the mud that they didn’t hear a loose dog. It killed them all. And don’t forget, Cousin Jak’s wife was driven so insane with greed that she saved her jewel hoardings instead of her ratlings when their home flooded in Tobacco Dock.’
Tilbury clutched his paws together. Cousin Jak had lived alone since that terrible day. ‘But the prophecy says there will come a warrior rat to open the cage and return the diamond to the Far Shores. Only then will we be released from the curse.’
Nimble-Quick nodded. ‘Bartholomew’s design must be ever so clever if no rat has been able to open it in two hundred years.’
Tilbury sighed. ‘I’d love to see it.’ His paws twitched at the thought of seeing something made by Bartholomew himself.
Nimble-Quick was silent for a while, staring out of the window. Then she turned to him and lowered her voice. ‘I’ve seen it,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve seen the Gilded Cage.’
Tilbury turned to her. It wasn’t like Nimble-Quick to tell lies, but she could tell a good story and embellish the truth. ‘When have you seen it?’ he asked. ‘We’re not allowed to see it until we’re a year old, and Pa says the only way into the Great Hall is along the mud of the shoreline at low tide to get beneath the old wharf.’
‘I’ve seen it,’ whispered Nimble-Quick. ‘I’ve been in the Great Hall. The walls are green and dripping in slime, and the Gilded Cage is embedded in a stone pillar.’ She leaned forward. ‘I’ve seen it with my own eyes.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Tilbury, shuffling away from her. ‘The Keeper guards the entrance at low tide. You wouldn’t get past the Keeper.’
But Nimble-Quick crept towards him. ‘I’ve found another way in.’
‘Impossible,’ whispered Tilbury.
‘I have,’ said Nimble-Quick. ‘There’s a drain from the basement that leads beneath the wharf. And there are rotten wooden slats where you can see into the Great Hall. Candles burn in glass bottles that hang from the ceiling, and the Gilded Cage gleams with gold.’
‘Really?’ said Tilbury.
‘Really!’ said Nimble-Quick, her eyes shining.
Tilbury grasped Nimble-Quick’s paws. ‘Oh, Nimble-Quick. Tell me what it’s like,’ he urged. His mind spun with the excitement of hearing about one of Bartholomew’s greatest inventions.
‘You have to come with me,’ she said.
Tilbury shook his head. ‘And leave the chandlery? Oh, Nimble-Quick, Ma says I would surely die. You must tell me all about it. Describe it for me.’
Ma’s voice rang out. ‘NIMBLE-QUICK! TILBURY! Where are you?’
Tilbury’s little heart sank, for the answer he so desperately wanted to hear would have to wait.
CHAPTER SIX
The Secret of Flight
‘NIMBLE-QUICK! TILBURY!’
Ma found them next to the attic window. ‘There you are. Come on, Nimble-Quick. It’s foraging time.’ She passed Nimble-Quick her travelling cloak and sack. ‘There’s a new delicatessen that’s opened, and Pa thinks he knows a way in. He has his eyes on a piece of Bitto Storico, a cheese made from the milk of cows that graze the pastures of one single valley in Italy.’
Nimble-Quick pulled on the brown coat. It was unlike Ma’s other dazzling needlework creations. It was unremarkable, and that is exactly what it was intended to be. For a rat in a travelling cloak goes unseen by human eyes. Rats can pass as shadows, as windblown paper or swirls of dust, and indeed never be seen at all by the human world.
Ma turned to Tilbury. ‘We’ll be back after sundown,’ she said. ‘Aunt Swinney and Uncle Tubs will be around if you need anything.’
Tilbury nodded, but he had no intention of going to see his aunt and uncle. Last time he went, Aunt Swinney had made Tilbury sweep the floors and tidy the beds, and all for a mouldy crust of bread. He curled up beneath his box by the window and stared out. Gulls were wheeling high against the crisp blue winter sky. He could hear their mewling calls. Their feathers looked impossibly white and bright in the strong sunshine. Then, far, far below, he could see his family spreading out across the dock on their foraging trip, tiny scurrying dots keeping to the dark shadows.
He sighed. He was used to being alone, but Nimble-Quick’s description of the Gilded Cage in the Great Hall tugged at him. There would come a time, when Nimble-Quick reached a year of age, when she would go with all the year-old ratlings to see the Cursed Night at the Darkening Ceremony.
The Darkening Ceremony was an age-old tradition. Before leaving home, each young rat was given the chance to try to open the Gilded Cage, to see if they were the warrior rat that would release the Cursed Night. Some rats believed the Gilded Cage would never be opened. But the ceremony gave a chance to dress up in finery, eat and drink with friends and pay respects to the Elders who protected the prophecy. It was also a rite of passage for each young rat to say goodbye to their family as they ventured out on their own.
Tilbury sighed again and crawled from his box to stand at the window and press his face to the glass. This was the closest he would come to being outside. He closed his eyes and felt the coldness of the world beyond the chandlery press against his cheek.
The big wide world was waiting for Nimble-Quick, but not for him.
THUMP!
Tilbury’s eyes snapped open. A huge herring gull had spied him and landed at the window ledge outside and was pecking at the glass, trying to get him.
Close up, it was much bigger than Tilbury had imagined. All feathers, beak and great big feet. It fixed Tilbury with its bright yellow eye, hitting its beak repeatedly at the window.
