you,’ he said, slipping the necklace into his brown drawstring bag.
Madam Pearl stopped to look down at him. ‘Stay safe, Whisker. Aladrya is a dangerous place. Cloud Mountain and its dreaded birds are only the start of your worries. Everywhere you turn you will see notices for your arrest. Wanted posters hang in town squares. Newspapers carry your portrait.’ She gestured in the direction of the coffee table. ‘You’re quite the celebrity in these parts, Whisker. To the citizens of Aladrya, you are the Hooded Mouse Bandit, the cunning mastermind behind my jailbreak. If I’m public enemy number one, then you’re number two. Trust no one, believe nothing, and if the bounty on your head goes up, for goodness’ sake keep your head low!’
Whisker shifted his gaze to the newspaper clipping. The eyes were still staring up at him, cold and lifeless. For a moment he felt like he was looking into a mirror. He took one look at the words and shrank into his cloak.
Madam Pearl hovered in mid-air, seemingly torn between saying more and climbing to safety. Eventually, her tongue won over.
‘There’s one other thing,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘I hate to burden you with more bad tidings, but it appears you have unwittingly become involved in something much bigger than black market antiques and prison escape plans.’
‘W-what do you mean?’ Whisker stammered.
‘It’s difficult to explain,’ she said, ‘but I believe the raids, blockades and ambushes we have witnessed over the past few months are part of a larger naval operation. Cast your mind back to the summer raids on Sea Shanty Island. Half of the sailors who stepped ashore were accused of petty crimes and dragged off to prison – despite the fact that the prisons were bulging at the seams . At the time, the arrests were thought to be a strategy to stop the Pirate Cup, but, putting recent events together, I now think otherwise.’
She drew a deep breath. ‘Answer me this, Whisker, how many pickpockets, looters and small-time criminals do you think could raise the entry fee for the Pirate Cup?’
‘None,’ Whisker replied. ‘It’s more than most pirate crews can afford.’
‘Exactly!’ Madam Pearl said. ‘So they must be behind bars for another reason.’ She gave Whisker a moment to consider the facts. ‘Secondly, there’s the Port Abalilly blockade. You witnessed that for yourself – three quarters of the Aladryan navy assembled off the coast in what Captain Black Rat described as a complete battle formation. The true intentions of this exercise are yet to be known, but it is clear that something sinister is brewing.’
Whisker shuddered at the memory of an entire horizon filled with Claw-of-War ships.
Madam Pearl continued, ‘Closer to home, we have the recent ambushes on Dagger Island, Two Shillings Cove and Applesworth – well-executed manoeuvres designed to capture significant criminal identities. One thousand gold coins is an excessive reward for a harmless antiques dealer, and the fact that General Thunderclaw is personally involved in your capture suggests you are a serious threat to his plans.’
Whisker felt sick and confused.
‘I-I don’t understand,’ he stammered. ‘How am I a part of this? I’m just a washed-up circus rat trying to find his family, not a hardened criminal.’
‘A valid point,’ Mr Tribble said, striking a match in the fireplace, ‘but perhaps it’s not what you’ve done but what you know that makes you dangerous.’
‘What I know?’ Whisker gasped. ‘But that’s ridiculous! Circus tricks and tightrope techniques are hardly subjects of naval significance.’
‘You know about the Island of Destiny,’ Eaton stated, sitting up in his bed, ‘and you discovered the location of the treasure …’
‘The Book of Knowledge,’ Whisker considered. ‘It’s a powerful item, I admit, and the General would love to get his claws on it – if the General even knows the book exists.’ He shook his head. ‘But it still doesn’t make any sense. The Blue Claw clearly wants me dead, not alive to share my secrets.’
‘Perhaps that’s your answer,’ Mr Tribble said, stoking a small fire. ‘If you stumbled upon a confidential secret, the navy would stop at nothing to silence you. With your death, your secret would die with you.’
‘Except I don’t know any of their secrets,’ Whisker argued.
‘None that you are aware of,’ Mr Tribble said, glancing up from the flames, ‘but don’t underestimate the value of trivial information. A chance sighting or a passing comment is often all it takes to topple a government. Perhaps you overheard a conversation of extreme importance, even if you didn’t realise it at the ti–’
There was a sharp TAP, TAP, TAP at the door, cutting Mr Tribble short. With a gasp of alarm, Madam Pearl hauled herself to the top of the rope and disappeared through the trapdoor. Whisker snatched up his scissor sword and stood his ground, hoping desperately that Pie Rats, not soldier crabs, had suddenly learnt to knock.
Creatures Great and Small
The wooden door burst open with tremendous force, sending the terrified twins diving under the covers. Mr Tribble stood quivering next to the fire, clutching a metal poker in his paws. Whisker raised his scissor sword, preparing to engage the intruder.
In the faint light of the entrance way, the advancing figure looked more like a miniature yeti than a thick-shelled soldier crab. It was grey and furry, with a shaggy white mane surrounding a blue-grey face. Long scars ran down both cheeks and two small teeth protruded from an open mouth. The beast raised a strange hooked hand into the air and pointed straight at the trembling teacher.
‘Shiver me schoolmasters!’ it cried, heaving its large feet over the doorstep. ‘I’ve found you at last.’
Mr Tribble staggered backwards in panic, dropping the poker on his toe.
‘Ooogh!’ he cried. ‘Save me, Whisker!’
The furry beast shot Whisker a puzzled expression. ‘What’s Tribble’s problem?’
Whisker relaxed his sword arm and let out a deep sigh. ‘I think it’s your new outfit, Horace. It’s a little on the grizzly side.’
‘Oh,’ Horace said, stepping into the firelight. ‘I thought it was quite flattering.’ He stroked the fluffy white lining of his snow hood and glanced down at his oversized hiking boots.
‘These clompers are certainly no fashion statement,’ he admitted, ‘but at least my toes won’t get frost bite. I can’t afford to lose another limb …’
‘Hook Hand Horace, you preposterous little Pie Rat!’ Mr Tribble howled, finally recognising the pint-sized mischief maker. ‘Couldn’t you wait until someone opened the door? You scared the living daylights out of me!’
‘Whoops, sorry about that,’ Horace replied. He winked at the two children watching in amusement and added, ‘It’s hard to resist a grand entrance.’
Mr
