Flight of the Phoenix (2 page)

"And you talk!"

"Yes, well, so do parrots and mynas, and I'm far more

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intelligent than they are. A better conversationalist, too. Now, eat your dinner before it congeals."

Under the watchful eye of the dodo, Nate returned to his dinner. He was hungry enough that he barely noticed the burned taste. After a few bites, he looked up at the dodo. "What's a beastologist?"

The dodo's feathers puffed up in agitation. "How can you be a Fludd and not know what a beastologist is?"

Nate hunched his shoulders and turned back to his stew. He should have known better than to ask questions. Miss Lumpton always said it was one of his greatest flaws.

"A beastologist," the dodo said with a sigh, "is someone who studies beasts. Not any old beasts, mind you. Only unusual beasts. Like me." He fluffed his feathers and preened a bit.

Nate risked another question. "You mean like lions and elephants and crocodiles?" Those were the most unusual beasts he could think of. And crocodiles, especially, were fun to draw.

Cornelius snorted. "Nothing as ordinary as those. A beastologist studies only the most rare and exotic beasts."

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[I mage : Nathaniel Fludd and the dodo bird.]

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Nate pushed his empty bowl to the side and asked, "Like what?"

"Like dodos. Or basilisks, or griffins, or manticores and the like."

Nate thought back to the one time Miss Lumpton had taken him to the zoo. He didn't remember seeing any of those. "How come I've never heard of any of those before?"

"Because most people think they're just myths, which is much better for all concerned, if you ask me. Now, if you've finished your dinner," the dodo said, "I'll show you to your room."

Nate followed Cornelius out of the kitchen. The bird waddled sharply from side to side. He was not built for speed--or grace--but then, neither was Nate.

When the dodo reached the stairs, he did a little fluttering hop up onto the first step. "Best grab your suitcase," he said.

Nate peered up into the darkness. If there were any bats, they probably lived up there. "Aren't there any bedrooms down here?" he asked.

"Don't be silly." The dodo paused on the second stair. "You're not afraid, are you?"

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The scorn in the dodo's voice nudged Nate onto the first stair. "Of course not," he said, then followed Cornelius the rest of the way.

Once upstairs, the dodo led Nate to one of the very last doors in the dark hallway. "Here you go. Open it, why don't you?"

Nate opened the door and stepped into a small, dusty room.

"The water closet's at the north end of the hall," Cornelius explained. "I wouldn't bother unpacking tonight. Until morning, then." The bird left the room and waddled back down the hall to the stairs.

Nate set his suitcase down and tried to get his bearings. The ceiling slanted down toward the wall. A small bed sat tucked up under the eaves. There was a map in here, too, over by the closet. Nate went for a closer look.

It was old, and the words were written in Latin. It appeared to be a map of the world, but it was unlike any Nate had ever seen. For one, the continents were all the wrong shape and size, and there weren't enough oceans. But the most unusual thing about it was that it was covered in pictures.

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There were men in crowns, whom Nate took to be kings, but other men--strange men--had no heads or only one eye, or instead of walking on two legs appeared to be hopping on only one. And the animals! Nate recognized an elephant and a crocodile, but there were many others he'd never seen before. The map was signed down in the corner with great flourish by a Sir Mungo Fludd. Next to his signature was a blue and gold starburst with a dodo in the middle.

There was a loud clatter and thump from somewhere outside. Nate turned from the map and went to look out the window. He blew aside a small pile of dead flies on the windowsill, then pressed his nose to the cold glass.

Torches were lit down in the yard, where Nate could make out an enormous, strange wing-shaped object. A beast, perhaps? No, it was an airplane, he finally realized.

Why did Aunt Phil have an airplane in her backyard? He pressed closer to the glass and saw Aunt Phil loading supplies into the cargo hold. She was getting ready to go on a trip.

His heart sank. Who was going to watch him? The dodo?

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Surely it would have been better for him just to stay in his old house with Miss Lumpton. Except, he reminded himself, Miss Lumpton wanted her Tidy Sum more than him.

Discouraged, he went over and set his suitcase on the bed. Best get this horrible day behind him and get some sleep. He opened the suitcase to collect his pajamas, then stopped.

There was a carefully folded pink flannel nightgown, two pairs of woolen stockings, a stack of old letters, and a pair of women's drawers.

Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, he slammed the lid shut. He'd gotten Miss Lumpton's suitcase by mistake!

Tears, hot and prickly, stung his eyes. He jammed his fists into them and rubbed hard. Feeling miserable, he slipped out of his jacket and shoes and climbed into the strange bed. The sheets felt colder than normal, the blanket thinner. He huddled under the covers and missed his own bed. He missed the bedtime stories Miss Lumpton read to him, even if they were a bit boring.

Unable to sleep, he got up and fetched his sketchbook and pencil. He crawled back under the covers and propped

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himself up on the pillows. He chewed the end of the pencil, trying to remember what his parents looked like. By the time he fell asleep, all he'd been able to draw was his father's mustache and the small beauty mark on his mother's chin.

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***

Chapter Four

"Wake up,
Nate. " A hand gently shook his shoulder. "Time to get up, dear. We must be off."

"What? Huh?" Nate sat up and rubbed his eyes, wondering where he was. When he caught sight of the strange woman leaning over his bed, it all came rushing back to him.

"How clever of you to have slept in your clothes," Aunt Phil said. "You won't even have to get ready this morning."

"I slept in my clothes because I don't have any pajamas. I got Miss Lumpton's suitcase by mistake."

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"That's just as well, as we'll have to travel light." Still trying to clear the sleep from his brain, Nate looked at her in puzzlement.

"Didn't Cornelius tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"That we had to leave first thing this morning?"

Nate shook his head. He was certain the dodo hadn't mentioned anything of the sort.

"That dodo." Aunt Phil shook her head in exasperation. "Well, we must hurry. I want to take off before the wind picks up."

It finally dawned on Nate. "You mean you want
me
to go with you?"

Aunt Phil's face softened. "But of course. What did you think I'd do? Leave you behind with nothing but old Cornelius for company?"

Nate began fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

"Oh dear. That's exactly what you thought." Aunt Phil sat down on the bed next to him. "I'm not sure why your parents didn't take you with them, Nate, but normally all Fludds begin their training by the time they're eight. By my calculations, you're two years overdue."

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Nate stopped fiddling with the blanket. Aunt Phil's words had jogged a memory loose. "They said they'd send for me when I turned eight," he said. "But they never did."

"Surely they explained their reasons to you in their letters?"

Nate's fingers found the blanket corner again. "There weren't any letters."

"What?" Aunt Phil sounded shocked. She stood up and began pacing. "That's not right," she muttered. "They should have sent you letters."

Although he was glad to have her sympathy, Nate felt he should defend his parents. "Maybe they were too busy," he suggested.

"No, no. Fludds always write letters." She stopped pacing and glanced out the window. "There is so much to explain and so little time. It will have to wait until later. We really must take off before that wind picks up."

She took a rucksack from the dresser and tossed it onto the bed. "You can pack your things in there," she said. "Meet me in the kitchen." She turned to leave.

"Wait!" Nate called out.

Aunt Phil paused at the door.

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"Where are we going?" Nate asked.

"To Arabia, Nate. We have to oversee the birth of the new phoenix. It happens only once every five hundred years," she said. "So we can't be late!"

A
phoenix!
Nate thought as he stuffed his feet into his shoes. But they were myths. Legends.

Something hot and itchy rose in his chest. He couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement. Cornelius had told him that beastologists dealt with beasts that other people thought were myths. Nate had thought the bird was just trying to make himself seem important.

He shrugged into his jacket sleeves, then grabbed his sketchbook and pencil and shoved them into the rucksack. As he hurried toward the stairs, he hoped he'd get breakfast before they left.

Nate took three wrong turns before he reached the kitchen, but he hardly even noticed. He wasn't going to be left behind this time--he could barely get his mind around that.

As he approached the kitchen, he caught raised voices. "You were supposed to tell him about the phoenix." It was Aunt Phil.

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"Yes, well, seeing as he didn't even know what a beastologist was, that seemed to be putting the cart before the horse. Are you sure taking him with you is a good idea?" Nate stopped cold at Cornelius's words.

"Of course it is. He's a Fludd and it's long past time he began his training."

"Yes, but there are Fludds and then there are
Fludds.
He is rather lacking in the basic Fludd talents. When I told him the water closet was down the hall to the north, he looked south."

Aunt Phil sniffed loudly. "So he needs a good compass. Nothing wrong with that."

"Except when you are going into dangerous territory and he's your backup."

"He's the only Fludd left besides me--"

"Which is exactly my point. We can't afford to lose any more of you. Perhaps he should stay here with me. We can work on the basics, and then when you return, he won't be so far behind. He'll have some skills for you to work with."

The dodo's words made Nate squirm. Even a stupid, supposed-to-be-extinct bird knew he wasn't a proper Fludd.

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Even worse, it sounded as though his lack of skill would put them in danger.

Blindly, Nate turned around to escape back the way he'd come. He'd hide in one of those old rooms till Aunt Phil left, and then he'd find a way to sneak back to his own house. Except when he turned, he went left instead of right and bumped smack into a bureau. A pair of silver candlesticks tumbled to the floor with a clang.

"Nate! Is that you?" Aunt Phil's fuzzy head appeared in the doorway. "Come on in. Your breakfast is getting cold."

Not wanting to admit he'd overheard them, Nate shuffled into the kitchen, careful not to meet Cornelius's eye. "Miss Lumpton says birds are dirty and have mites," he muttered.

The dodo puffed up and opened his beak to say something, but Aunt Phil shushed him.

Once Nate had taken a seat, Aunt Phil plunked a platter of bacon and eggs in front of him. Nate poked at the flat fried egg that was burned around the edges. "I always have a boiled egg for breakfast," he said. He'd long ago learned to stop asking for anything else. "And porridge," he added. "But I think I'm allergic to porridge."

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"Well, you're safe. There's no porridge here. Bacon and eggs are all I've got," Aunt Phil said. "I suggest you eat up. It may well be our last hot breakfast for quite a while." She took a seat across from him, but instead of eating her breakfast, she unrolled a large map. "Do you know where Arabia is?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Nate said around a bite of bacon. "I'm not allowed to look at maps."

"Why ever not?" Aunt Phil asked.

"Miss Lumpton thinks they remind me of my parents."

"Well, rightfully so," Aunt Phil said roundly. "Your parents were mapmakers, after all."

"She thinks talking about them upsets me."

"And does it?" Aunt Phil asked.

Nate shrugged and took another bite of bacon. After a long moment, Aunt Phil turned back to the map. "Well, Arabia is in the Near East. We'll fly across the channel to France, then down across Europe to Turkey. We'll clip the Mediterranean Sea, then land in Arabia. We'll stop for a short rest and refueling near Budapest."

Almost against his will, Nate's eyes went to the top of the map. The North Pole.

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Aunt Phil saw where he was looking. She put her finger just above a tiny speck of land. "That's where the airship went down. Spitsbergen."

Nate's throat grew thick and tight. He cleared it and pointed to the familiar gold and blue starburst down in the bottom left-hand corner. "What's that?" It had been on all the maps Nate had seen so far.

"A compass rose," Aunt Phil explained. "The Fludd compass rose, to be exact. It's how you can tell if a map was drawn by a Fludd or someone else. Now, it's time to go. Got your rucksack?"

"Yes, ma'am. Right here." He patted his lap.

"Excellent. Here. You'll need a few more things." She handed him a canteen, a close-fitting leather cap, a muffler, and a pair of funny-looking round glasses encased in leather. "Goggles. To keep the bugs and dust out," she explained.

Feeling a little more prepared, Nate followed Aunt Phil to the door.

"We'll see you in a week or two, Cornelius."

The old dodo glanced at Nate. "Hopefully," he drawled.

Nate turned to the dodo.
Mites,
he silently mouthed.

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Cornelius squawked and puffed up his feathers. Aunt Phil grabbed Nate's elbow and dragged him outside.