History Keepers: Nightship to China (21 page)

‘Up here!’ Topaz called to the others. She had pulled Xi Xiang’s throne over to the wall and used it to scramble up onto the roof. She helped Yoyo up after her.

‘Let’s go!’ Nathan shouted at Jake.

‘Wait!’ He ran back to Xi’s comatose body, grabbed hold of the blue pendant – the Lazuli Serpent – and yanked it off.

‘Quickly!’ the others called. ‘Let’s go!’ The soldiers were rapidly approaching.

For a moment Jake froze. A stray sword was lying on the ground and he grabbed it and held it up in both hands. With one blow he could kill his enemy. He made to thrust downwards – but stopped just short.
Philip . . .
If he killed Xi, he might never find his brother.

As the guards stormed through the gates, Jake turned and ran, leaping onto the back of the throne and then up to the roof. Drenched to the skin, the four of them set off across the palace roofs, the steaming rain pounding down around them.

‘
THIS WAY – BACK
to the Ocean Door,’ Topaz called, pointing towards the rocky outcrop that divided the palace from the rest of the city. The golden tiles were slippery underfoot and they had to take care. Horns were sounding everywhere now, and hundreds of soldiers emerged from every doorway.

‘Here . . .’ Nathan said, passing the key to Topaz. She unfastened her manacles, throwing them off, and handed it to Yoyo – who did the same before giving the key to Jake.

Having freed themselves, they continued to the main square – to find a volley of arrows whistling towards them through the curtains of rain. ‘Down!’ Topaz cried out. They ducked just in time, hearing the clatter of missiles against the roof.

A second volley of arrows, followed by a third,
rat-tat-tatted
onto the tiles. The History Keepers doubled back, stumbling across the maze of rooftops, until they reached the jagged hill. They climbed the slope, and suddenly the vista of Canton opened out before them again. Constellations of lights marked out the port, with its thousands of ships and warehouses. The river, swollen by the downpour, was a fat black snake twisting through it.

They clambered down towards the Ocean Door and onto the roof of the teahouse. The Chinese opera was still playing below and the roof shook with the beats of the drums. They slid down it, lowered themselves one by one over the edge and jumped to the ground.

‘Quickly!’ Topaz shouted again, leading the way along the track towards the port. They reached the first of the warehouses and turned to see if they were being followed. Above them, there was another blare of horns, and a door – a vast black rectangle – appeared in the side of the rock itself. They heard the pounding of hooves, and suddenly soldiers on horseback came galloping through the opening. In seconds they were thundering down the slope, led by Madame Fang on a white stallion.

The four agents turned and ran into the warehouse. The workers shouted at them to stop, but they paid no attention. They found themselves in a colossal storeroom, stacked from floor to ceiling with millions of pieces of porcelain. They headed along the central aisle, which led out onto the dock.

Suddenly they heard hoofbeats, and Fang swept in on her white charger. Jake did a double take: she looked more formidable than ever in a silver breastplate, gleaming helmet, a giant steel sabre in her hand. As she scanned the room, her horse flared his nostrils and tossed his head. On seeing Jake and his friends, she called out to the cavalry outside.

Fang led them across the room, crashing into the stacks of china. Screaming dock-workers fled for cover.

Just as the agents approached the exit, a large pile of crates collapsed in front of them, the porcelain shattering in their path. As they climbed over the debris, Jake glanced back and saw stack after stack of white china toppling to the floor in billows of dust. Spearheading the destruction, Fang still held her sword up, black eyes fixed on Jake.

The History Keepers crunched their way through onto the docks, gazing around at the network of pontoons and wooden gantries. They followed a path along the water’s edge, but came to a dead end and had to turn back.

‘This way!’ Nathan shouted, leading them up a gangplank onto a large trading junk, where sailors were lowering crates of tea into the hold. They yelled in alarm as the strangers flew past, jumping over the rail onto the next vessel along. But a moment later, Fang had galloped aboard, followed swiftly by her soldiers, the horses’ hooves rapping like war drums on the deck. This time the sailors dived into the hold as horsemen careered around in pursuit of their prey.

Jake and the others hurtled from one deck to another, flying past bemused sailors, weaving in and out of sails. Fang and her men pursued them relentlessly, leaping over the ships’ rails. Some horses stopped dead, daunted by the gap between the vessels, or got entangled in rigging; some carried on even when they had lost their riders – a surging tide of them, froth dripping from their mouths, sweat mixing with the rain.

When the four agents reached the end of the line of ships, Nathan led the way down onto the shore. They rattled along a pontoon and dashed inside another warehouse, realizing that it was the spice depot they had passed earlier. The air fizzed with peppery odours as the workers filled kegs with rich-coloured powders.

‘Arm yourselves!’ Topaz ordered, holding her nose as she took hold of one of the casks.

‘You’ll have to excuse us . . .’ Nathan advanced towards a girl who was fixing labels on the barrels. ‘We have a situation,’ he added, taking hold of one and inspecting its contents. ‘Nutmeg? Great for the complexion.’

Just then, the doors flew open and Fang and her men galloped in. The youngsters started hurling the casks at them: many hit their mark, knocking the soldiers out of their saddles. The air was thick with spices and pepper, blinding the riders, and making them cough and sneeze. The horses whinnied and reared up, or simply bolted, out of control.

In the confusion, the agents escaped, following the zigzagging path of rickety pontoons, and ran into a third storehouse. They were immediately overpowered by the stench of fish sauce – at least ten open vats of it, each one full to the brim with festering brown gloop, alive with flies.

‘When they follow us in,’ Topaz panted, barely able to speak, ‘overturn the barrels.’ Quickly they took up positions behind the vats; the putrid aroma shot up Jake’s nose and coated the back of his throat, making him gag.

Once more, Madame Fang was the first to appear. Her horse was tiring, but she was still full of energy – though her cavalry was now drastically depleted.

Topaz gave the word: ‘Now!’ All at once, they overturned their barrels, sending the contents sweeping across in a tidal wave of fetid gunge, followed by swarms of flies, the noxious gases overpowering. Neighing in terror, many of the horses refused to go on.

Jake saw one last opportunity to stop their pursuers. Empty barrels had been stacked up, ten high, against the wall, with a wooden lever keeping them in place. He warned the others to stand clear, and then released them. A landslide of barrels juddered across the floor, knocking some of the horses over like skittles. They slipped and skidded on the wet floor, trying to regain their footing as their riders scrambled out of the way of the flailing hooves.

‘Let’s go!’ Topaz shouted, and the others followed her out of the back door.

‘The horses – see over there!’ Yoyo shouted, remembering the herd they had passed earlier on their way to the Ocean Door. They headed for a fenced enclosure, where a group of young mares was feeding. Jake threw open the gates, and they each picked a horse, vaulted up, dug their heels in and took off out of the pen.

The wranglers, who were eating their dinner nearby, shouted in alarm, and three of them gave chase. One caught up with Topaz and grabbed hold of her leg.

‘
Je suis desolée
,’ she said, aiming a kick and sending him cartwheeling back down the track.

The History Keepers tore up the slope away from the wharves. ‘Whoever gets to the
Thunder
first,’ Nathan yelled, ‘start the engine.’ He looked round. ‘And we still haven’t lost
her
.’

Jake glanced over his shoulder. Fang was in pursuit once again, whipping her horse, but there were now only two soldiers behind her.

The four agents crested the hill and tore down into the main part of the city. The streets were teeming with Cantonese, most sheltering from the rain under the awnings of bars and tea houses that had come alive after nightfall. Those in the middle of the road had to jump clear as the horses galloped past.

Finally they made it back to their ship. Leaving the mares on the quayside, they sprang aboard. Immediately Nathan went below decks and fired up the engine. Normally they’d at least make a show of raising the sails, but this was an emergency, and no one could hear the motor in the torrential rain anyway. Within moments, the
Thunder
had edged away from the pier and they breathed a sigh of relief.

But Madame Fang was not finished with them.

Jake saw her charging across the quay, sweeping aside anything in her path. He assumed she would stop at the dockside, as their ship was now several yards from the shore and the gap was widening. But she hurtled on, shouting her defiance. Jake’s eyes went wide as her stallion leaped across the chasm. The horse let out a whinny as his front leg caught on the rail, so that he thumped down onto the deck, hooves skidding. Fang was sent tumbling off.

Unruffled, she picked herself up and reached for a weapon attached to her saddle – a golden bazooka crafted in the shape of a dragon. Before the History Keepers even realized what was going on, she had primed the mechanism and fired. A jet of flames shot out, setting fire to the rigging. She was about to let off a second shot when Topaz leaped up onto the mainsail, took hold of a rope, swung round and struck her on the back of the head. The bazooka flew out of her grasp and she toppled over the side of the ship. For a moment she clung to the rail, but Yoyo slashed downwards with her sword, leaving her no choice but to let go.

Even now she wasn’t ready to give up, swimming after the ship, but it was moving too fast now.

Meanwhile the white stallion got to his feet. Whinnying and snorting, he dashed to and fro, looking for his mistress. Suddenly he heard her cries and swung round, almost knocking the wheel from its casing. The mighty beast reared up and launched himself over the side. Jake watched in awe as the animal smacked down into the water and started swimming towards Fang; she managed to climb on his back, and they headed towards the shore.

‘Go!’ Topaz shouted to Nathan at the helm, and the
Thunder
roared off across the bay at full speed; the port of Canton, with its millions of lanterns, quickly receded behind them.

Once they had put out the fire, Jake studied the dragon-shaped bazooka that Fang had left behind. It seemed familiar, and he remembered with a start where he had seen it before: it was the weapon that Philip had drawn . . . He ripped open the pouch with the bundle of his brother’s things, took out the diagrams that Galliana had given him and checked the design against the weapon lying on the deck . . . They were identical.

CHARLIE WAITED FOR
Oceane on the pier. He was smartly dressed, his crutches at his side and Mr Drake perched on his shoulder. Three nights earlier he had agreed to take her to the summer ball in St Malo; he was braced for a difficult night ahead.

Oceane had a terrible reputation: she was spoiled, pompous, self-obsessed and dependably rude. She was not much of a spy either. (In the past, she had only undertaken missions that offered opportunities for adding to her collection of jewellery. People only put up with her out of respect for her late parents, who had both been great Keepers and wonderful characters.) But Charlie was determined to try and cheer her up after the death of Josephine – he could sympathize with
anyone
who lost a beloved pet.

He looked at his pocket watch. It was almost nine o’clock. ‘She’s an hour late. The party will be over by the time we get there!’ he said, shaking his head at Mr Drake.

Just then, he heard the sound of pattering footsteps. Oceane floated down the steps towards them in a gown of blue chiffon, with long white gloves, and flowers in her hair. A pearl necklace and an ivory bag completed her elegant outfit. Charlie didn’t know anything about fashion, but he was certain that she looked breathtaking.

‘I’ve decided it’s a bad idea,’ she announced coolly before she had even got to the bottom of the stairs. She might have looked the part, but her attitude was sourer than ever. ‘I’m not coming.
Désolée
.’ She turned on her little gold heel and started up the steps again.

‘
Non
, Mademoiselle Noire,’ Charlie called after her. ‘Permission is not granted for you to return to your rooms and be miserable for the rest of your life. Do you wish to die a lonely spinster with nothing but your jewellery for company?’

‘That sounds perfect,’ she replied, without breaking step. ‘Jewels are the only thing that can really be depended on.’

‘You wouldn’t have dressed up like that if you weren’t desperate to go.’

She ignored him, so he took a sheet of paper out of his pocket and started reading out names: ‘Charles St Jean, le Vicomte de Rennes, Michel-Pierre Rousseau, from the house of Nantes, Alain Fourgère the Second, le Comte de Breton.’

Oceane stopped in her tracks and swung round. ‘Who are those people?’

‘This is a good one: Frédéric-Xavier Montjac, Duc de Bretagne, and his little brother, Alençon. Actually Alençon’s only seventeen. But they have a cousin who has the largest vineyard in Normandy.’

‘
Arrête! Arrête!
’ Oceane exclaimed, sweeping back down. ‘Are you trying to tell me that those people will be guests at the ball?’

‘Those, and many more like them.’

She put her nose in the air and thought about her options. ‘Is that the ship you’re proposing to take me in?’ she said, pointing at a yacht bobbing by the pier. ‘It’s hardly Cleopatra’s barge.’