History Keepers: Nightship to China (33 page)

Alan spoke softly. ‘Boys, you were both born in a great big palace. And you lived as princes. And you enjoyed every minute of it. Here . . .’ He opened the book and passed it to them. ‘
That
was home.’

There were illustrations of majestic buildings, of grand halls and palm-filled terraces looking out across the Nile. ‘And Egypt’s where our name comes from – Djoneses, roughly translated. We simplified it, and it just stuck somehow. No one wanted my surname, Chapman.’

‘We moved back after Philip’s fourth birthday. From our sumptuous Egyptian palace’ – the humour was not lost on her – ‘and opened a bathroom shop in south London.’

As Jake ran his fingers across the pictures, suddenly all his confusion evaporated. This was epic: he wasn’t an ordinary schoolboy after all. He and his brother were – they had
always
been – very different.

‘Can I go and show Topaz and the others?’ he asked, excitedly prising the book out of his father’s hands. ‘They’ll never believe it, that I’m not from boring old Lewisham – but from history too!’ He didn’t even wait for his parents to reply, but charged back across the battlements. He stopped suddenly in the doorway. ‘Wait . . . when
was
Rameses the Second?’

‘Around 1250
BC
, more or less,’ Alan told him.

Jake counted it on his fingers, gave a big smile and clenched his fist in victory. ‘That’s nearly three thousand years ago. I can’t wait to see their faces.’ And he disappeared down the steps to the stateroom.

‘
Boring old Lewisham?
’ Miriam sighed, turning to her other son. ‘I suppose that’s how you felt about it too?’

Philip wondered how to put it. ‘I liked growing up there,’ he conceded, ‘but it was hardly
the golden age of Egypt
.’

Alan giggled, slapped his elder son on the back, and soon they were all hooting with laughter.

Jake charged down the main staircase, two steps at a time. When he passed Sejanus Poppoloe’s portrait, he stopped and blew him a big kiss. ‘You’re a genius, old boy!’ he announced, and flew through the double doors at the bottom. For a moment he stopped, panting for breath, looking at the people on the lawns below. Everyone was standing in a big circle, clapping in time as Rose and Jupitus – the latter still sporting giant earrings – danced a polka.

Jake thought his heart would burst with happiness. He loved the History Keepers. Every one of them was fascinating and original. They weren’t spiteful like the bullies at his school or petty like some of the customers in his parents’ shop. They were kind and brave and adventurous. He thought back to the stormy night when he had first met them; when he had been kidnapped by Jupitus Cole and taken to the London bureau beneath the Monument. He had been wary of them then, even frightened. Now he was only frightened that one day he might be separated from them.

‘Jake . . .’ a girl’s voice called out of the darkness beside him. It was foreign-sounding and familiar, but he couldn’t place it. At first he thought it must be Topaz or Yoyo putting on an accent, but he could see both of them at the edge of the big circle.

‘Jake?’ the voice came again, and this time a caped figure stepped out of the shadows, beckoning with her gloved hand.

‘Who is it?’ he asked, still smiling, but a little spooked. The figure motioned again, so he stepped towards her.

There was a rustling sound from behind, and then he felt a sharp tap on the back of his skull. His vision went blurred, his legs collapsed under him, and the book dropped onto the ground. As he fell, someone caught him under the arms and he was dragged through the rose bushes, away from the party . . .

He was half aware of the figure in the cape looking down at him, her face masked. Then she pulled back her gloved hand and struck him again. He saw a flash of white light, and then no more . . .

He came to as he was thrown down onto a wooden floor. He heard people calling in urgent whispers – and suddenly he knew that he was on a ship. He heard the rasp as the anchor was raised and then dropped on deck, the purr of an engine. There was a jolt as the vessel started moving, quickly picking up speed, making his head bump about. Then the caped figure stood over him, pointing a steel rapier at his neck, and ripped off her mask.

Jake’s neck mottled with goose bumps. Of
course
he knew that voice. He knew her face too: her black eyes, pale skin and crimson lips. It was Mina Schlitz. He had not seen her since the night he had killed her snake aboard the
Lindwurm
.

‘Is he here?’ a deeper voice enquired. The speaker limped heavily towards Jake, feeling his way with a stick. He looked like a giant raven dressed in a long trench coat of black feathers. His face, all the more shocking against the black, was stretched and disfigured. His left eye had been eaten away completely, revealing pale bone beneath. Prince Xander Zeldt – for that’s who it was, unquestionably – observed him without expression.

‘Take him below,’ Zeldt ordered. ‘Lock him up. Set course for my sister’s and tell her we are on our way.’

As Jake was carried down into the bowels of the ship, he caught sight of the Mont St Michel; the dark pyramid of buildings that was the centre of his world. Across the water he heard the strains of music, and the hoorahs of delight, but they were growing ever more faint.

At Point Zero, Topaz went to look for Jake. Just outside the main doors of the castle, she found a book lying open on the ground. She picked it up and saw a colour picture of an Egyptian palace on the banks of the Nile. The caption above it read:
The Land of the Pharaohs
.

She looked round and saw Felson, and wondered why on earth he was barking at the sea.

As always, hats off to the sirens: Becky Stradwick, Clare Conville, Lauren Hyett, Sue Cook, Sophie Nelson and Kirsten Armstrong.

To Justin Somper for his fantastic work. To Ali, for being the man never discombobulated and to Martin and Rosie for their Cancale kindness and famous all-days. A special mention to Ting, for her inspiration, and to Sophie L, to welcome her back!

Finally I’d like to thank Sue Kerry, a guardian angel, to me – and many of us.

Author photo © Rufo Guerrero

Damian Dibben has worked extensively as a screenwriter on projects as diverse as
The Phantom of the Opera
and
Puss in Boots
. He is a keen explorer, inspired by everything from archaeology to cosmology, and loves nothing more than a great adventure story.

Nightship to China
is the third in his
History Keepers
series after
The Storm Begins
and
Circus Maximus
. The books have been translated into twenty-six languages, with a major movie in development with Working Title.

Damian lives on London’s South Bank with his dog Dudley.

The History Keepers: The Storm Begins

The History Keepers: Circus Maximus

‘We are predicting extremely big things for this new adventure series’ –
Mail on Sunday

‘Move over Harry Potter, it is time for Jake Djones to take the limelight’ –
Telegraph

‘A time travelling detective tale. There are desperate chases, hair-raising escapes . . . and more comical or eccentric secondary characters than you could shake a wand at’ –
Guardian

‘A cocktail of time travel, secret societies, double agents and edge-of-your-seat excitement . . . You won’t be able to put it down. Pure magic!’ –
Glamour

‘The next big thing’ –
Observer

‘Today’s answer to Harry Potter crossed with The Hunger Games’ –
Tatler

‘History can be fun too! Damian Dibben’s books have got kids’ imaginations going – and cultivated their interest in the past to boot’ –
Sun

THE HISTORY KEEPERS: NIGHTSHIP TO CHINA
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 448 10127 6

Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK
A Random House Group Company

This ebook edition published 2014

Copyright © Damian Dibben, 2014
Front cover artwork © Steve Stone, 2014

First Published in Great Britain by Corgi Books, 2014

The right of Damian Dibben to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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