Peter and the Shadow Thieves (38 page)

N
EREZZA SAT AT THE writing table in his dim cabin aboard
Le Fantome,
his brain stil echoing with the scream that, a minute earlier, had risen through his ship.

It was a woman’s scream, piercing and short, as if something had suddenly cut it off. It came from below, from the locked hold where Louise Aster was being kept prisoner. A few minutes earlier, Lord Ombra, accompanied by a terrified sailor carrying a lantern, had gone down there. Then came the scream. Now the ship was silent, as every man aboard waited—like Nerezza—for the next awful sound from below.

But there was nothing more. After several silent minutes, the door to Nerezza’s stateroom creaked, causing him to jerk involuntarily. He felt the now-familiar chil as the dark form of Ombra slithered into the room.

“Yes, my lord?” said Nerezza, trying to keep his voice from betraying his annoyance at the fact that Ombra did not knock.

Ombra glided wordlessly forward, until he was directly in front of where Nerezza sat. There was a movement of his dark form, a subtle shifting of shape, and from somewhere, Ombra produced a burlap sack. He held it up for a moment, then dropped it on the table. Nerezza recoiled: the sack was moving—bulges forming and subsiding, traveling from end to end, as if some living thing, or things, were trying to escape.

Ombra emitted a low wheezing rattle that, Nerezza realized, was probably as close as Ombra came to laughing.

“They wil not harm you,” groaned Ombra. “They just want to go…
home.
The addition of Lady Aster has made it a little crowded in there. She does not enjoy being confined.” As if to demonstrate Ombra’s point, the sack seemed to lunge toward Nerezza. He jerked away, nearly fal ing backward off his chair.

Ombra groaned, “As for the other Lady Aster—or, I should say, what is
left
of Lady Aster, in the hold—she is quite docile now, and wil make no attempt to escape. But she is to remain under watch and be kept wel fed. She must appear in good condition when the time comes to reunite her with her husband.”

“Yes, Lord Ombra. I’l give the orders.” Nerezza hoped this might be the end of it, and that Ombra would leave his cabin and take the sack with him.

But instead, Ombra cocked his hood oddly and said, “Wait! What’s that?” The hood swiveled silently on the broad, dark shoulders. “I believe we have a visitor.” Nerezza had heard nothing, but in a moment a crewman appeared in the doorway and knocked.

“What is it?” said Nerezza.

“Begging your pardon, Cap’n. A messenger. For the…For
him
,” said the crewman, indicating Ombra. “Says it’s urgent.”

“Very wel . Send him in,” said Nerezza.

The crewman hurried up the companionway stairs. There was shouting and the sound of more footsteps.

Ombra explained: “Gerch and Hampton stationed men at various locations in the city that Lord Aster has been known to frequent. These men were ordered to watch for the boy and the girl, who are no doubt looking for Lord Aster themselves. I believe our visitor to be one of these men.” A moment later, a smal , pale, nervous man entered the cabin, panting hard. Ignoring Nerezza, he approached Ombra, his expression fearful.

“My lord,” the man said. “I saw…I—” he stuttered to a stop, staring at the faceless void beneath Ombra’s hood.

“What is it?” groaned Ombra, his wheezing voice serving only to make the man more agitated.

“I…” The man stopped again, frozen.

Ombra glided forward until the edge of his cloak touched, then covered, the shadow cast by the messenger in the cabin’s flickering lantern light. The man’s face went slack; a moment later his fearful expression returned as Ombra pul ed away.

“He’s seen them,” said Ombra. “The boy and the girl.”

“Where?” said Nerezza.

“At the Tower,” said Ombra, moving swiftly to the doorway.

“Are you…Is he sure it was them?” said Nerezza.

“Yes,” said Ombra, now oozing up the companionway. “The boy flew over the wal .”

“Shal I cal for a carriage?” said Nerezza, fol owing the dark form up the ladder.

“No,” said Ombra. “The Tower is close by. Bring ten men. And Mister Slank.”

On deck, Ombra stood impatiently by the gangplank while Nerezza shouted commands. Within two minutes he had assembled a party of ten tough, trusted men. Slank was the last to arrive on deck; the moment he did, Ombra turned and glided down the gangway, fol owed by the others. At the bottom Ombra turned left, going west along the quay; the men had to trot to keep up with his swiftly flowing form.

“What is it?” Slank huffed, catching up to Nerezza.

“They’re at the Tower,” said Nerezza.

“Both of them?” said Slank. “The boy, too?”

“The boy, too.”

“Good,” said Slank, patting his belt to make sure he had his knife.

P
ETER AND TINK, having soared high over the guard at the gate, descended cautiously into the Tower complex. They found themselves on a cobblestone street, lit—barely—by smoky torches stuck at intervals into the high stone wal s on either side.

“Mol y?” Peter cal ed softly, as his feet touched the ground.

“Here,” said a voice behind him, so close that he jumped in surprise, drawing a mocking chime from Tinker Bel .

“This way,” said Mol y, setting off up the shadowy street, Peter and Tink fol owing. In a few yards they came to an opening on the right, with stone steps leading down to an archway and an iron gate. Beyond the gate they could make out the stone wharf alongside the black waters of the Thames.

“That’s Traitor’s Gate,” said Mol y. “It was used to bring prisoners into the Tower. And this”—she pointed to a stone structure rising into the night sky on their left—“is the Bloody Tower.”

“Why’s it cal ed that?” said Peter.

“Two boys were murdered there one night,” said Mol y. “One smothered, one stabbed.”

“Why?” said Peter.

“They were in line for the throne,” said Mol y. “Not always a safe place to be. Some say their ghosts stil roam these grounds. Come on.” She set off again. Peter, after another glance at the Bloody Tower, fol owed. They had gone only a few steps when…

CAW! CAW! CAW!

Mol y shrieked and jumped back into Peter. The two of them clung together, frozen by the harsh, inhuman sound coming from the darkness just ahead and to the left.

CAW! CAW! CAW!

Tink emitted a peal of laughter.

It’s a bird, you ninnies.

“What did she say?” whispered Mol y, stil clinging to Peter’s arm.

“She says it’s a bird,” said Peter.

“Oh,” said Mol y, sounding embarrassed as she quickly let go of Peter. “The ravens.”

“Ravens?” said Peter.

“They live here,” said Mol y. “It’s a tradition. The legend is that, if the ravens ever leave the Tower, disaster would befal England.” Now Peter saw them amid the shadows—a half dozen large, black, sleek birds.

They want to know if we have meat,
said Tink.

“Meat?” said Peter.

They eat meat,
said Tink.

“They eat
meat
?” said Peter.

“I’ve heard that,” said Mol y. “The Warders feed them.”

CAW! CAW!

And biscuits soaked in blood,
said Tink.

“Tel them we don’t have any,” said Peter.

“Any what?” said Mol y.

“Biscuits soaked in blood,” said Peter.

“Wel , of course we don’t,” said Mol y.

Tink landed amid the ravens, who gathered around her glowing form. There was a brief conversation conducted in bel s and caws. Tink returned to Peter and, pointing to a break in the wal to their left, said:
The White Tower is up that way.

“The ravens say the White Tower is up that way,” Peter told Mol y.

“I know that,” said Mol y, setting off through the opening in the wal .

Of course,
mocked Tink.
She knows everything.

They walked up a sloping green, and in a few minutes were standing at the base of the massive central White Tower, its ninety-foot wal s disappearing from view as they rose into the night fog. The exterior was dark, save for a torch to the right il uminating the base of a steep stone staircase. Mol y and Peter went to it and, after a glance up at the forbidding structure looming over them, began climbing the steps.

The scuffing of their feet prevented them from hearing the sound, faint in the distance behind them, of the ravens cawing again, more agitated than before. Tink heard it, but—

not wanting to leave Peter—chose to ignore the ravens’ cries.

The cause of those cries was now gliding along the wharf outside the Tower, looking for a way to get in.

G
UIDED BY THE pale light of two lanterns, the men trotted to keep up with the dark shape of Ombra as he moved swiftly along the river. To their left stood the Tower Bridge, only one of its two great towers visible, the other hidden in the distance by the dense fog swirling over the Thames. To the right rose the massive stone wal surrounding the Tower of London.

Ombra stopped before an opening in the wal , leading to a gate blocked by another wood-framed gate with iron bars. Beyond the gate, stone steps rose to a street inside the Tower.

“Traitor’s Gate,” Slank said to Nerezza. “It’s how high-class prisoners was brought in. Princess Elizabeth herself was brought through here when Bloody Mary put her in the Tower.”

The dark hood turned his way, and Slank instantly regretted having spoken.

“Spare us the history lesson,” groaned Ombra. “Captain Nerezza, take the men to the Tower entrance, but keep out of sight of the guard. Mister Slank, you are to engage the guard in conversation. When you see me approach, raise a lantern.”

Slank and Nerezza nodded, then led the men away along the fortress wal , toward the Tower entrance. When Slank glanced back at Traitor’s Gate, Ombra had disappeared.

Beneath the gate’s bottom timber, warped from weather and weight, a shapeless pool of dark oozed forward like a windblown puddle. Once clear of the gate, it swirled upward, gaining height and a capelike form, the arms extending outward, then the hood upward, covering whatever dark entity existed within.