Back in Dover, Caphiera the Cold clutched her arm and cursed the end of the tunnel angrily. She had thought the mortals’ attempts to escape her icy trap quite comical, until that last gunshot had sliced into her arm.
Caphiera waited in the silence, squinting in the dimness to make sure her handiwork had finished off the despicable lot. From behind her she heard someone on the stairs call out.
“I am here, Dieter,” she answered.
“We had no luck at the orphanage, mistress. I’m afraid they might be on to us.”
“Oh, they are on to you,” said Caphiera, her eyes still focused on the ice in front of her. She snapped her fingers, and above her head three icicles grew from the ceiling and cast a light along the expanse of the tunnel.
She heard Magus’s servant come down the next few steps and gasp. “What happened to the boy?” he asked.
“He was overcome by my beauty,” Caphiera replied drolly “You and your wife will need to dispose of him the same way you did with the girl.”
“Yes, mistress,” said Dieter. Then the man noticed what the sorceress was looking at. “What’s beyond that ice?” he asked.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” she said, and with a wave of her hand, the wall evaporated. Caphiera shrieked. She had expected to find corpses, but to her astonishment, there were only the rock wall and some old bones jutting out. Gone was any sign of the mortals she’d cornered.
The sorceress cursed anew and charged down the tunnel, her silver boots making an awful racket. She stopped when she got to the end, and searched the corners of the cavern, but no trace of them remained.
With venomous fury she whirled around, studying the walls with suspicion. Dieter stood shivering by the stairs. Caphiera thought he might flee in terror, and she rather hoped he would, as she’d like nothing better than a good opportunity to vent her anger. Still, she thought that Magus might find the killing of his servant offensive, and as her brother was known to carry a grudge, she held herself in check … though just barely.
Instead, she stomped back down the tunnel, past Dieter and the frozen boy, and up the stairs to inspect the stones covering the entrance. She walked carefully around them, pulling at the weeds and vines. Finally, at the back of the primitive structure, she revealed a bit of writing in the rune script of her people. Her wretched blue lips pulled down in a deep frown as she read the words. “As I suspected,” she said, and spat into the dirt. Her spittle, however, fell as liquid, never forming an icicle. “Bah!” she screeched, noticing that even now she was feeling weaker. “Come, Dieter!” she yelled, staggering away. “This place is a curse to me. I must leave it immediately!”
Caphiera stumbled quickly out of the woods, Dieter lumbering behind as he attempted to carry the frozen boy. The sorceress knew she must tell Magus about what she had discovered, but then a thought occurred to her, and with an evil grin she began to develop another, more sinister plan.
LARACHE
On the beach in Morocco, Thatcher was looking down at his brother with contempt. “Perry,” he said firmly. “Get up.”
“A fever!” Perry said. “That’s it! I must have contracted a fever. It explains everything!” he insisted. “The hallucinations, the aches and pains, the fact that I’m sweating right now …”
Thatcher rolled his eyes. “You’re perfectly well!” he snapped. “Now, come along. I’ll need your help getting the professor over those rocks.”
Perry got up from the ground, but Ian could tell he still fully believed that everything happening around him was a hallucination. He heard Theo giggle and he turned to see Carl playing near the surf with the short sword. As he slashed and parried the air, the metal glinted brightly in the sun.
“That one’s a bit daffy,” she said with another giggle.
“He should probably leave that here,” Ian remarked, worried that the sword would call unwanted attention in the strange land.
But Theo turned to him with eyes that were intensely earnest and said, “No, he mustn’t leave it behind, Ian.”
“Why not?”
“Because …,” she said, searching for the reason. “Well, because I have a sense that he shouldn’t.”
“You have a sense?” he asked.
Theo nodded. “Yes, it’s terribly important for some reason that he bring that sword with him.”
Ian looked back at Carl still flailing away awkwardly at imaginary foes. “Well, he’d best learn to use that thing before he hurts himself.”
Theo and Ian laughed again as Carl got a little too close to the edge of the water and a sudden wave came in to soak him clear up to his knees. “You help Carl,” Theo said as the young boy slogged out of the water and began pulling off his soggy shoes and socks. “I’m going on ahead.”
Ian trotted down to the water’s edge and picked up Carl’s sword to save it from yet another wave barreling into the beach. “Come on, mate,” he said, motioning at the water. “Tide’s rolling in and you’re likely to get wet again.”
Carl stuffed his socks into his shoes, then knotted his shoelaces together and looped them round his neck. Before Ian had a chance to comment, Carl smiled wickedly, yelled, “Race you to the rocks!” and took off at a full run.
Ian barely had a moment to process the challenge and he shot after Carl, pumping his legs for all he was worth. He never gained a centimeter—in fact, he lost ground.
Moments later he crashed hard into the rocks, where Carl had touched first. “Crikey!” Ian gasped for breath. “You’re a fast one, aren’t you?”
Carl’s chest was also heaving, but he grinned with pride. “There were some older blokes at my orphanage in Plymouth who used to like to take turns giving me a few wallops—that is, till I learned to outrun them.”
Ian laughed and held up the short sword. “Yeah, well, this might’ve weighed me down a bit.”
There was a snort behind him and he turned to see Theo coming toward them. “Don’t let him fool you, Carl,” she said. “I saw the race and Ian would have lost even if the only thing he’d been carrying were his knickers!” The three broke into hysterical laughter, and Ian had to concede. “She’s right,” he admitted. “You’re blazing fast, mate.”
“Come on, then,” said Theo as she looked up at the rocks. “Let’s see what’s on the other side, shall we?”
She began to climb and Ian and Carl followed, picking their way carefully along to the flat platform of the Mother’s Cradle.
“Gaw, blimey!” said Carl as the three stood at the top of the rocks. “It’s a whole city down there!”
Ian was too stunned to speak. On the other side of the outcropping was an enormous city of ramshackle huts topped with tin roofs, dozens of wooden stalls forming bustling markets, larger stone buildings with odd-looking cornices, winding streets that weaved aimlessly like a maze through the city in a zigzag fashion, and, at the water’s edge, a large harbor with fishnets, wooden docks, and every color, shape, and variety of ship imaginable.
He could just make out several boats approaching the port to moor at the central dock. Along the coastline were enormous palm trees, which he’d only seen painted in some of the books he’d read, and he wondered how something so odd-looking could stand so stately against the bleakness of the grassless terrain.
Turning his attention back to the city proper, he had the sense that it teemed with the energy of a beehive, as thousands of people walked about.
Ian could see from his perch that Larache’s male inhabitants had dark olive skin and were clad mostly in tunics of white linen that reached just past their knees and matched their trousers. Almost every adult male had facial hair and they wore funny white cloth hats or red felt hats topped with golden tassels.
The women were quite a surprise to him too, and far fewer of them hurried through the crowd. Most were covered from head to toe in dark cloth that obscured the entire body, and their faces were hidden behind veils of black or white. Small children clung to their parents’ hands as they wound their wa
y in family groups through the tangle of streets packed with people and a variety of animals, including donkeys, horses, cows, sheep, and, to Ian’s immense delight, camels.
“Shall we go down?” asked Carl, bouncing on his feet, as anxious as Ian to explore the city.
“Let’s wait for the professor and the schoolmasters,” said Theo, glancing behind them.
Ian frowned as he also turned to look and saw that the professor was only midway up the rocks. He sighed and sat down on the flat rock, perching his chin on his hands as he stared in wonder at the weird and marvelous city below.
When he could hear the puffing sounds of the professor getting close to them, he noticed a small boy below on the beach near their perch. He was staring up at them, cupping his hand across his brow.
Theo must have noticed him too, because she leaned out and waved down, and after a slight hesitation, the boy waved back. “Seems friendly enough,” said Carl.
“I … don’t … remember … these rocks … being this … steep.” The professor wheezed from just below Ian.
Ian got to his feet to make room for the old man as he finally crested the flat rock. “Would you like to rest here for a bit?” Ian asked, motioning to the nice piece of rock he’d just gotten up from.
“I believe … I would,” panted the professor. Then he noticed the boy below. “Who’s that?” he asked as he sat down gingerly.
“Dunno,” said Ian. “Just a boy from the city, I guess.”
“Marvelous!” said Thatcher, who had come up with the professor. Ian could see the amazement in his schoolmaster’s eyes as he took in Larache. “Perry!” he called behind him. “Come up here and have a look!”
Perry climbed the last few sections of rock and stood dumbstruck next to his brother. “Oh,” he said softly. “I hope I don’t come out of this hallucination soon. I’d very much like to see this to the end.”
Ian and Carl grinned at each other. “Wonder when it’s going to hit him that he’s really not gone off his nutty?” whispered Carl, and Ian snickered but quickly cleared his throat and hid his smile when Thatcher leveled a look at him.
“Look!” said Theo suddenly. “The boy’s coming up to meet us!”
Sure enough, when Ian looked down, he could see the boy hiking up the rocks.
“Bonjour!” called the boy when he was just below them.
“Bonjour!” called the professor, and then he spoke rapidly in French. Ian frowned; he had no idea what the professor had said.
“He says hello and that we are pleased to make the young man’s acquaintance,” whispered Thatcher. “Now he’s introducing himself to the lad.” He waited for the boy’s response before saying, “The boy’s name is Jaaved of the Jstor.”
“What’s the Jstor?” asked Theo quietly.
“I believe it’s some sort of clan or tribe,” said Thatcher, his attention still focused on the professor and the boy. “Now the professor is asking the boy if he knows of any vessels for hire to travel up the river to Lixus.”
Ian watched as the boy nodded eagerly and spoke. “What’s he saying?” Ian whispered when Thatcher did not immediately interpret.
“He says that his master has a vessel for hire, but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to go to Lixus.”
“Why not?” asked Carl.
Thatcher frowned as he listened. “Jaaved says that it’s dangerous for Europeans in the countryside right now. He says that there was some sort of incident with the Jichmach tribe and a group of Germans and that the clan is out for revenge. He says the Jichmach don’t care if the people they take revenge against are actually German; they’d be satisfied with anyone who looks close enough.”
“So we’re not going to Lixus?” Ian asked, trying to hide his disappointment.
But the professor was speaking and Thatcher was too caught up in what the old man was saying to answer Ian. Instead, the schoolmaster began to argue with the professor. “I say, Professor,” interrupted Thatcher. “The boy has just told us it isn’t safe! We must immediately come up with an alternate plan and abandon this quest to Lixus. I think we should book passage to Spain. Surely the money you’ve brought along could see the six of us safely across the Strait of Gibraltar.”
But the professor wasn’t having any of it. “Poppycock!” he said. “Of course we must proceed to Lixus! The greatest Oracle in the world demanded it, Thatcher! Do you really believe Laodamia would send us all this way for us to give up so easily?”
“But think of the children!” argued the schoolmaster. “How can you insist on putting them in danger?”
The professor eyed Ian, Carl, and Theo thoughtfully. “I believe that in the past few weeks they’ve seen far worse,” he replied. Again Ian had noticed the slight glint in the professor’s eyes as he’d mentioned journeying to Lixus. He wondered if the old man had been overcome with that same longing that had brought him here forty years ago in search of the Star.
But Thatcher wouldn’t let up. “It would be irresponsible,” he said. “Really, Professor, I must insist that we book passage to Spain immediately!”
The professor growled and turned back to the boy on the rocks below. He spoke to him and Ian again asked his schoolmaster to interpret. “Jaaved says that the next boat for Spain leaves in a fortnight,” Thatcher explained, his face the picture of disappointment.
“You see?” sang the professor happily. “We can go to Lixus, search out our Star, and still make it back in time to board the boat to Spain!”
“No! If we can’t get across the strait, back to Europe, then we should stay in Larache, where it’s safe!” insisted Thatcher, looking to his brother for support, but Perry was still gazing off in a faraway haze.
The professor scratched his chin and gave Thatcher a patient look. “My good man,” he said. “If you believe we’d be safer spending a fortnight in that city, then you really are naive.”
“What do you mean?” Thatcher asked.
The professor turned back to Jaaved and spoke in French. The boy looked at Thatcher and nodded, saying something to him directly. “What did he say?” asked Theo.
Surprisingly, it was Perry who spoke up. “The lad agrees with the professor. The city is full of thieves, pickpockets, slave traders, and charlatans eager to take advantage of unsuspecting foreigners.”
“Well then, where does the lad suggest we go?” exclaimed Thatcher in a bit of a huff.
“We’re going to Lixus,” said the professor firmly as he got to his feet again. When Thatcher opened his mouth to protest, the professor cut him off by saying, “Let’s put it to a vote, Master Goodwyn, and allow everyone to choose for themselves.” Thatcher scowled but the professor was already asking for votes. “All in favor of staying here in Larache until our boat to Spain arrives, raise your right hand.”
Thatcher shot his hand up into the air and kicked his brother’s leg when he didn’t immediately comply. “All right,” groused Perry, and raised his right hand too.
Ian immediately crossed his arms and Theo followed suit. The professor grinned at the pair and also folded his arms across his chest. All eyes then turned to Carl, who stood unsure on the rock, his gaze darting from his schoolmasters to the professor, then to Theo and Ian, and down to the city and the boy on the rocks. “A tie means we stay here,” said Thatcher smugly, and he gave a little nod to encourage Carl to raise his right hand.
Carl shuffled his feet and looked back at Ian, who shrugged and gave him a small smile. Finally, Carl tucked his sword into his belt and slowly crossed his arms over his chest, giving Ian a huge happy grin. “I say we go for it!” he said, and the professor gave a loud whoop and began hurrying to lower himself to the rock below.
“Come along, then, all of you,” he said. “No sense fannying around here when there’s good daylight ahead for us!”
As they followed Jaaved into the city, Ian couldn’t help ogling people almost as much as they seemed to be ogling him. But he noticed after a bit that many of the men were frowning an
d shaking their heads at Theo.
He moved to her right protectively, keeping between her and the frowning men, and made sure to scowl back when he saw their disapproving looks. “Why do they seem so angry with me?” she said after a while.
“Who?” asked Carl, tearing his eyes reluctantly away from a man with a small monkey perched on his shoulder.
“These people,” Theo said. “See?” she insisted as she caught two more men glaring openly at her and spitting into the dirt.
The professor looked back and said, “You’re not dressed appropriately.”
“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” she asked, looking down at her white blouse, plaid skirt, and knee-high stockings.
“It’s your head,” said the professor as he tapped Jaaved on the shoulder and signaled him over to a small stall.
“My head?” said Theo as Ian and the others followed the professor.
“Yes,” said the professor, motioning to a woman on the other side of the stall before pointing to a white scarf folded on one of the shelves. “Your head is uncovered and here in Morocco that is unseemly.” The professor then laid a few pence on the counter for the woman, who snatched the coins up eagerly and gave him a small bow.
The professor bowed back, then handed the scarf to Theo. “Cover your head and you’ll be fine,” he instructed, but Theo just stared at the cloth blankly.
Sensing more faces frowning at Theo, Ian gently took it from her and wound it around her head and across her shoulders like he saw some of the other women wearing it. “There you go,” he said with an encouraging smile.
“Thanks,” she answered, but her frown told him she wasn’t at all pleased that she had to cover up.
“Come along, then,” said the professor, and they continued on their walk to the smaller vessels at the far end of the harbor. In one of the very last berths, Jaaved stopped in front of the large figure of a man lying prone in a hammock strung up under a small awning of thatch. The man was snoring loudly and Jaaved tapped him on the shoulder.