A few seconds later, Peg caught up to him. “Good work,” she gasped. She took his hand and pulled him down a sludge shoot. “Now, let’s get to the mines—I’ll bet Sir Tode and Simon are halfway to the deserts by now.”
As it happened, Simon and Sir Tode were exactly where we last left them: atop the tower, flying over a horde of deadly apes. Only now the apes were trying to murder them. “It’s a ruddy raven!” LongClaw roared upon spotting the intruders. “Slaughter it!” His guards instantly dropped what they were doing and rushed to attack. Simon flew this way and that, trying his best to dodge the assault.
“Higher! Fly HIGHER!” cried Sir Tode, who was dangling from the bird’s talons.
“I cannot carry you any longer,” Simon squawked. “It is time you fight!” He loosed his grip and sent the knight hurtling into a pile of nets aboard the airship. “You ready the sails, Sir Tode! I’ll free the moorings!” The bird flew into the open furnace and emerged a moment later with both talons full of hot coals. The pain was incredible, but Simon did not falter. He circled around the deck, dropping the fire on the three apes holding anchor. Two of the beasts howled, releasing their ropes to swat embers from their eyes. The third ape held his rope fast and slid right off the platform as the flying machine took to the skies.
The ship had been liberated, but there were still the pilots to contend with. Simon swooped aboard the basket, talons out. Though strong, the guards were unaccustomed to aerial combat, and every time they swiped at the raven, he zipped between their clumsy paws. “Sir Tode! It is time!” he cawed, flapping backward to avoid attack.
“Righto!” the knight hollered. “Just one moment!” He had gotten his rear hoof caught in the pile of netting and couldn’t pull himself free—not that he was sure he wanted to. He watched in awe as Simon battled two bloodthirsty apes at once. Even without the benefit of a beak, the raven had managed to temporarily blind one and fell the other. But then, a third ape (who had been holding fast to his anchor rope all this time) hoisted himself over the edge of the basket.
“There’s one behind you!” Sir Tode shouted, too late.
The ape snatched Simon and pinned his wings back to restrain him. “Don’t know about you louts, but I’m feelin’ peckish,” he said with a hungry laugh. The other two apes staggered to their feet and joined the fun.
“Sir Tode!” the bird gave a desperate squawk. “NOW!”
The knight was too scared to answer. He was too scared to think. He was too scared to breathe. He could only do one thing—act! He sprung from the nets and galloped across the basket at full speed. “Tally-hooooooooo!” He leapt into the air, assaulting the apes with four hooves and all his heart. The beasts were caught so off guard that they stumbled backward, flipping right over the edge of the basket and into the abyss.
“Good riddance!” the knight shouted. It took him a moment to realize that one of the creatures still had Simon in his grip. Without hesitating, Sir Tode grabbed a knife in his teeth and hurled it overboard. His aim was true, and the weapon’s handle smacked squarely against the ape’s head. “Who’s there?!” the creature snarled, reaching up to check for blood. In doing so he let go of Simon, who immediately flapped to safety. The three apes spat and screamed and cursed until at last their voices were swallowed by the chasm forever.
“Did you see that, Simon?!” Sir Tode was trembling all over. “I did it! I slew a monster! Three of them!”
The old bird nodded. “You fought bravely. I owe you my life.”
The knight looked down at the raven’s talons, which had been seared by the embers. Smoke still wafted from the charred flesh. “Will you be all right?” he said.
“I will heal. Ravens are coal-born beasts. They do not burn as easily as most living things.” Even now, his talons, though ravaged, were flexing with their usual strength. “Now, if you would take the helm, Sir Tode. It is time for me to see my brothers once more.”
When Peter and Peg reached the mines, they found the digging machine in high gear. Every slave in the kingdom had been reassigned to mining duty. The running-wheels that powered the machine were all stuffed to capacity, with more than ten children inside each one. With every step, the children pushed the massive drill deeper into the rocky wall. Peter strained to hear Lillian or the others amidst the noise, but it was impossible from this height.
“Faster, you maggots!” a guard shouted below, snapping his whip at the nearest batch of slaves. “I better see you running . . . ’ less you want my pet here to catch up with you!” He slackened the leash in his hand and his sea serpent lunged toward the closest cage, snapping at the children’s ankles. The terrified slaves raced to escape its deadly jaws, but of course went nowhere.
Peter listened to the scene with interest—it sounded like the sea serpents had somehow managed to widen the moat and could now almost reach the back wall of the cavern. The rest of the floor was covered in puddles, which he could hear splash every time the apes moved. “Do you see water flowing in from anywhere?” he whispered to Peg.
The girl stared through the darkness. Sure enough, there was a thin trickle of water running down either side of the drill. “It’s coming from the clockwork beast,” she said, astonished. “But how can water flow from rock?”
Peter listened to the sea serpents swimming back and forth along their ever-increasing shore, shrieking and hissing. The sound made his whole body tense up. Even if he could free all the slaves, those monsters were blocking the only exit. It was drown or be gobbled. If only Peg’s idea were possible, he thought to himself. If only we could call Frederick. But no, the only path to the ocean was on the other side of that drill.
Or was it? Peter recalled something Sir Tode had said about the king finding cracks in the foundation—cracks big enough for sea monsters. “That’s it!” he said with a sudden burst of excitement. The next moment he was on his feet, digging through his bag.
Peg stood with him. “What’s it?”
“I think I have a plan to beat those serpents.” He handed her his burgle-sack, which contained the goblet of slug lard. “You’ll need to grease the locks alone for a while. But stay close—I might have to borrow your hands for something.”
“You’ve already got hands! What are you doing?”
He opened his palm, revealing a pair of shiny, black eyes. “I’m going for a swim.”
s
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
FISHING for a FRIEND
Peter knew that the moat would lead him to Frederick; the only question was whether he could find him in time. Reaching the water was simple enough—the apes were too busy whipping slaves (and the slaves were too busy being whipped) to notice much of anything. The sea serpents, however, detected him straightaway. As soon as Peter came close, they sensed his footsteps. Fast as a flicker, two creatures burst from the water, snapping and lunging for him.
Scared as he was, Peter remained still—he knew that any sudden movement might attract more serpents, which might in turn attract the attention of the guards. The boy hoped with everything in him that the iron leashes would hold fast; in order for his plan to work, he would have to touch one of the creatures . . . and survive. He reached out his hand and took a careful step closer. Then another. He could practically taste the rank, fishy breath steaming out from their mouths. He took another step. His hair flapped as a tongue lashed through the air. “Easy, girl,” he whispered, extending his fingers. “I just want to pet you is all.”
Three more serpents had been attracted by the commotion, and now five horrible heads strained against their leashes, trying to gobble the greatest thief who ever lived. Peter knew he had only moments before the apes noticed. He took another step. He thought his head would explode from the chorus of high-pitched shrieks. He reached his hand closer.
“Ow!” He jerked his hand back. A serpent’s tooth had nicked the tip of his middle finger. “That wasn’t so hard,” he said with a weak smile. His nerves were starting to get the best of him, and he was trembling
all over. Peter reached into his pocket with his uninjured hand and pulled out the black Fantastic Eyes. He took a deep breath and popped them into his sockets.
Princess Peg was confused and frustrated. She had waited ten years to be reunited with her long-lost brother . . . only to be abandoned by him a few moments later. Peter had given no explanation beyond some nonsense about “going for a swim,” and before she could respond, he had swung himself over the ledge and out of sight. Now Peg was alone with nothing but an old bag, a box of eyes, and a goblet of slug lard. She stared at these objects, caught between resentment and awe. Her brother made everything look so effortless. “Well, I told him I wanted to help free the kids,” she said, slinging the burgle-sack over one shoulder. “Looks like I’ve got my chance.”
Peg’s first problem was in reaching the children. The moat water had by now cut her off from the clockwork beast, which meant she would have to wade across without the guards or sea serpents noticing. She looked down to the cavern floor and saw that Peter was already at the edge of the moat, doing something with one of the serpents—if only sneaking about was as easy for her.
The princess thought over all the things her brother had told her about the art of thieving. She recalled him talking about a thief in the Just Deserts whose “knack” allowed him to dress up like other people. Peg knew she couldn’t make an ape costume, but perhaps she could make a costume that resembled something else in the cavern? She peered over the ledge, searching the shadows for anything that might provide a suitable disguise. By this time, the apes had all carried the boat parts aboveground for assembly, but Peg spotted a few supplies that had been left behind. She smiled to herself, realizing that these might provide just the cover she needed to reach the children.
Peg eyed the narrow stone path leading to the base of the mines. One of the advantages of never bathing was that Peg’s skin was absolutely caked with dirt. Experience had taught her that if she kept her eyes and mouth closed, she could blend almost perfectly into her background. This ability to hide in plain sight had saved her more than once from passing guards . . . only this time she would have to employ the technique while moving.
What if she tripped and tumbled right over the edge? She took a deep breath and reminded herself that this was how her brother lived his entire life—and if he could do it, so could she. Placing one hand against the slick wall, she closed her eyes and took a first, terrifying step . . . rather, she took a terrifying shuffle. Afraid of tripping on a loose pebble, she slid her feet along the dirt, careful not to lose contact with the ground. She felt her way down one step and then another, until at last she was standing on level ground near the shore of the moat.
When Peg opened her eyes again, she saw at once why the stray planks and barrels had not made it aboveground: these unlucky pieces had been close enough for the sea serpents to reach—as a result, they all had giant, splintery bites taken out of them.
Peg checked the water and was relieved to see that the sea serpents were presently preoccupied with attacking each other. She tiptoed through the wreckage, looking for something that might serve her needs. She soon found an overturned powder cask whose lid had a hole smashed through it. She salvaged a lid from a nearby cask and made sure it would fit. Peg then crawled into the barrel and pulled the lid over the top. Inside the cask, she was again blind, even though her eyes were now open. “Let’s just hope those sea serpents aren’t hungry,” she said and leaned her body against the curved wall, rolling the barrel toward the water.
Peter almost instantly concluded that being a sea serpent was far more fun than being a beetle, sparrow, or for that matter, a little boy. There was the initial difficulty of rolling himself into the water, but after that, things felt right as reason. Though he was still blind, Peter’s scales afforded him a new kind of “sight” underwater. Vibrations tickled his whole body—it was as though his entire length were a single finger, sensing the currents all around him. He could hear wonderfully, and he was able to direct himself by listening to echoes off the moat walls.
There was, of course, the complication of having a dozen other sea serpents trying to eat him. They were clearly territorial monsters and did not take kindly to Peter’s appearance in their moat. When he finally managed to flop himself into the water, every one of the serpents lunged straight for him. Luckily, the underground moat was so narrow that they created a bit of a logjam. Peter also had the advantage of not being leashed to an ape; this allowed him to wriggle his way past the knot of creatures without serious harm.
Sir Tode’s instinct about the fissure had been correct. Peter soon found a saltwater current flowing from a crevice in the rock floor. He wriggled through the crack and into open waters.
After some bobbing and much bruising, Peg had managed to float her cask across the moat. The sea serpents—which she had feared might attack her—had been too distracted by something else in the water to pay her any mind. When the princess finally rolled onto shore and extracted herself from the barrel, she was met by a chorus of familiar voices.
“Your Majesty!” Scrape, Giggle, Marbles, and Timothy exclaimed as one. They were together in a single wheel, huddled around Lillian, who looked haggard but happy. Peg ran to meet her friends, taking care to keep out of view of the apes standing guard.
“You gotta break us out of here,” Scrape said. “The apes got us working without naps or anything.”
Peg knew that naps were the least of their worries. In a few short hours the ocean would be coming to drown them all. “Don’t worry,” she reassured them. “Peter’s going to help you escape.”
“I can’t wait to see him,” Marbles said with a sigh.
“Me neither,” Giggle said with her own sigh. The two girls both had faraway looks and had slowed their pace considerably.
Scrape rolled his eyes. “If he’s such a big hero, why’d he send the princess to do all the hard work for him?” The boy began walking more quickly, which forced the others in the wheel to keep up with him.
“He’s got a plan,” Peg said, wishing that she knew more herself. She thought of the last time she saw her brother; he was standing near the edge of the water reaching out to touch a sea serpent. “It has something to do with the moat . . . and the sea serpents.”
“You mean those underwater monsters?” Scrape stopped, causing a pileup behind him. “Did the plan involve being eaten whole?”
At this suggestion, Giggle’s face turned crimson. “Take that back,” she said. “Say he’s alive!”
“Oh, boo-hoo!” he taunted, singing, “Giggle and Peter, sitting in a—”
“Scrape,” Lillian cut him off. “You know I won’t abide slander in my cage. If you’re going to talk like that, then you can march your shackles and your attitude right out of this slave wheel.”
As much as Scrape enjoyed the idea of having a mother, he was starting to find the reality a little less fun. “Fine!” he grumbled, pulling up his chain. “I didn’t want a stupid mother anyway.”
“Hey!” Timothy grabbed his collar. “Don’t you call my mum stupid!”
“Get your hands off me.” Scrape shoved him backward. “And she is too stupid! All the grown-ups are dumb as doorknobs!”
Within seconds, the two of them were in an all-out brawl, rolling across the wheel, turning the contraption with alarming speed. The other children inside had to run just to keep from tumbling over. Lillian tried her best to pry them apart while Giggle simply trotted alongside them, bawling, “Say he’s alive!”
Peg looked anxiously around her. The apes were going to hear them, and if that happened, they might see that one of the children had no chains . . . and was a fugitive princess. “Please?” she begged her friends. “The guards will hear you!”
“Ugly booger-sniffer!”
“Big dumb dummy-head!”
“Say he’s alive right now!”
Peg tried slowing the cage from the outside, but she only got her hands knocked away. She tried issuing a Royal Decree for
them to stop, but they only got louder. She had to find a way to draw their attention. Without thinking, she reached into the burgle-sack and removed the box of Fantastic Eyes. “Hey, look! A magic box!” She opened the lid and thrust it between them.
The children stopped quarreling, and the wheel ground to a halt.
“Are those . . . eyeballs?” Timothy said, looking a little ill.
Peg knew she was supposed to keep the Fantastic Eyes a secret, but this had been an emergency. “These eyes are the royal birthright of my twin brother, Prince NoName.” She closed the lid and put the box away. “They belong to Peter Nimble.”
The group looked at her, dumbstruck. It seemed impossible. She went on. “Now, you can either bicker and die or listen to me and get saved. There is a lot more at risk than just our lives. I would explain everything to you, but I honestly don’t fully understand it myself.” The princess stared at each one of them with her dazzling emerald-green eyes. “I just need you all to trust me.”
There was a long silence. The girls were the first to speak. “We’ll do anything for Prince Peter,” they said with embarrassing synchronicity. “For both of you!” they quickly added.
“Peter rescued my mum,” Timothy said, clutching Lillian’s hand. “Count me in.”
Peg looked to Scrape. The boy sighed, hands thrust in his pockets. “I don’t know about Peter, but I’ll do whatever the princess wants. Especially if it means getting out of these chains.”
Peg smiled. “Thank you all.” She took the goblet from the bag. “I’m going to be passing around a cup of slug lard. I need each of you to take a bit in your fingers and rub it inside the lock on your shackles. I know it smells bad, but it’s the only way we can get all the locks open before . . .” She didn’t know whether it was smart to tell them about the danger of drowning. “Before breakfast.”