Delivery to the Lost City Page 25

  “I still can’t believe it’s happening,” said Ina, caught between trepidation and excitement. “We’re leaving Hydroborea.”

  “The one thing no Hydroborean was ever supposed to do,” said Amlod.

  “It’s certainly going to be strange for you,” said Wilmot. “And sometimes it will be difficult. But we trolls have learned a lot about being homeless recently, and if you or any Hydroborean ever need help, just come to Trollville. You’ll always find a welcome.”

  “And just think,” added Suzy, “your people are going to need a good reporter now more than ever. Someone has to tell their story to the world, and to help them understand others in return. They don’t have Frogmaggog feeding them fake news anymore.”

  Ina smiled. “Good point,” she said. “But I think Amlod and I will spend a bit of time at the Ivory Tower first. The Book Wyrm has to return all the words it took, and I’ve got quite a lot to learn about managing a library.”

  “Frederick’s the best in the business,” said Suzy. “You’ll be fine.”

  “And I’m very low-maintenance,” added the Book Wyrm, coiling in the air above them.

  Ina laughed. “Don’t think you and Wilmot are getting away without a full interview for the Daily Scuttle, by the way. You’ll be seeing me again soon, I promise.”

  “I look forward to it,” said Wilmot.

  Frederick approached them from the direction of the Zephyr, with Maxwell circling his head. “We’re ready,” he said. “Neoma says we need to get a move on before the tower transmits the last of its magic.”

  “Why, what happens then?” asked the Chief.

  “Hydroborea sinks again,” said the Book Wyrm. “Forever.”

  The friends exchanged rapid hugs while Maxwell zipped in and out between them.

  “I’m going to live in your H.E.C. now,” he said. “So many molecules to sort! And Professor Stupid says I can visit him and catalog library books on my days off!”

  They made for the Silver Zephyr while Crepuscula’s statues crossed the floor to relieve the Lunar Guard of their duties. It was as the prisoners were being handed over that Aybek made his move.

  “Catch!” he cried, pulling a squirming mass of tentacles from inside his shirt. It was the infant kraken that he had used to trap Ina, and he hurled it at the nearest Lunar Guard, who staggered back and threw up her hands to defend herself. Aybek was past her in a flash, stooping to grab a discarded trident.

  “Stop right there,” he ordered Ina, leveling the prongs at her. “If I can’t control the book, I’ll make you do it for me. And don’t think I won’t poke her full of holes, Selena.” This last warning was directed at Lady Crepuscula, whose shadow was creeping across the floor toward him. “I’m sorry to have to refuse your hospitality once again, dear sister, but I have no intention of going back into my cell.”

  “Aybek,” said Lady Crepuscula sternly. “You’re being uncharacteristically stupid. Let the girl go while you still can.”

  “Why should I?” said Aybek.

  A shadow fell over him, but it was not Lady Crepuscula’s. The Book Wyrm had reared up, and its enormous head was poised over him. Aybek greeted it with a wild grin.

  “Listen to your mistress’s instructions, Book Wyrm,” said Aybek. He grabbed Ina’s wrist and hissed into her ear. “Tell it to grant me anything I ask. The secrets of the city’s founders. Unrivaled magic!”

  Ina took a deep breath. “Never,” she said. “I’ve just escaped from one tyrant, and I don’t want to live under another.”

  “Ina?” said the Book Wyrm. “Duck.”

  Ina stamped hard on Aybek’s foot and he released her with a cry. She dived to one side, and in a single movement, the Book Wyrm struck. Aybek just had time to cry out before it swallowed him.

  Silence descended on the throne room for a second. Then the Book Wyrm’s scales rustled once more, and a new book formed. It was thicker than the previous one, and its cover, when it grew into place, was pristine and shining silver. Ina seemed reluctant to pick it up, so Suzy stepped forward and did it for her. The book’s title was picked out in crisp black letters. Aybek Aranrhod: A Life.

  “I don’t understand,” said Suzy. “Is this … him?”

  “Everything that he was,” said the Book Wyrm. “We are all just stories in the end.”

  Lady Crepuscula approached, leaning heavily on her cane. “Oh, Aybek, you fool,” she said, although her voice carried none of its usual bite. “Always trying to have the last word.” She reached down and traced the embossed title with her fingers. “I think I’d better look after this, if you don’t mind, Ina,” she said. “If it’s a complete account of Aybek’s memories then it contains a lot of very dangerous secrets. Including the haircut I gave myself when I was thirteen.” She smiled, but Suzy saw the sadness in it.

  “Of course,” said Ina. “If that’s what you want.”

  Lady Crepuscula snapped her fingers, and one of her statues took the book from Suzy. As it did so, the ribbons of magic in the throne room walls flickered and the city trembled slightly underfoot.

  “Time is so rarely in our favor,” sighed Lady Crepuscula. “I would advise you all to stay out of trouble, but experience has taught me not to waste my breath, so instead I will simply say good luck.” Her eyes met Suzy’s for the briefest of moments. “The door of the Obsidian Tower is always open to you.” Her gargoyle launched itself from its perch on the rim of the bath, picked her up in its claws, and swooped into the waiting tunnel, followed by the statues and their prisoners. Their footsteps faded away and the tunnel mouth winked shut.

  Frederick turned from Suzy to Wilmot with a look of astonishment. “Was she just nice to us?” he said.

  “I think so,” said Wilmot. “I think I quite liked it.”

  The Silver Zephyr’s whistle blew and Neoma leaned out of the driver’s cab. “Last call for the Ivory Tower,” she shouted. “Hurry up unless you want to swim home.”

  The Lunar Guard trooped onboard, a few of them still struggling to pry the baby kraken off their friend.

  “How are you going to fit?” Ina asked the Book Wyrm. “You’re bigger than the train.”

  The Book Wyrm purred. Then, in a matter of seconds, it folded itself back up into a book and dropped into her hands. “I am portable,” it said.

  “Wow,” said Frederick. “So much library envy.”

  Suzy hugged him. “Thanks for coming after us,” she said. “And good luck with everything at the tower.”

  “I still owe you the tour, remember?” he said. “Will you be visiting anytime soon?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They both turned to Suzy’s parents.

  “Don’t look at us like that,” said Suzy’s mom. “Your father and I only decided to stop you visiting the Impossible Places because you promised us you were safe, and we didn’t believe you.”

  “And since then you’ve run away from us, been sucked into a void storm, got trapped at the bottom of the ocean, almost been eaten by a giant frog, almost drowned, and, to top it all off, your new friend has a pet dragon-thingy that turns people into books,” said her father.

  Suzy’s face fell.

  “But if you can come out of all that with a spring in your step, I suppose it’s pointless trying to stop you,” said her mom. “So yes, your father and I are going to age prematurely from all the worry, but as long as you promise to be careful and at least a little bit sensible, please, then I don’t see why you shouldn’t carry on. Especially now that Earth is a little more impossible, too.”

  Suzy felt so full of joy she thought she might burst. “Thank you!” she said, and threw herself at them, catching them both in a hug.

  “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your schoolwork,” her father added.

  “Wilmot, did you hear that?” Suzy said with tears in her eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said.

  They waved good-bye to Frederick, Ina, and Amlod as
the Zephyr pulled away, then climbed the spiral staircase back to the Sanctum, where the Express waited. The chamber was gloomier now, and the pulse of magic within the walls had faded almost completely. The city groaned again, and Suzy felt it drop slightly beneath their feet.

  “So that was Hydroborea,” said the Chief as they climbed the steps to the Belle de Loin’s gangway. “As lost cities go, it had some highlights. I’d probably put it somewhere in my top five. What do you think?”

  “I think I want to go home,” said Suzy.

  “Then let’s do that,” said Stonker.

  They followed him into the cab, and a minute later the Express pulled away into the tunnel mouth. At the same moment, the final spark of magic left the tower and soared high into the atmosphere. With no power left to maintain it, Hydroborea sank, unseen, beneath the waves and was gone.

  30

  THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

  The Express pulled to a stop, not in the fridge, but in the cupboard under the stairs, which was now the size of a school gymnasium. Suzy and her parents stepped out into the hall. After the chaos and terror of the previous few hours, the quiet stillness of the house felt very strange to Suzy.

  “Everything looks normal,” said Suzy’s mom, with obvious suspicion.

  “’Course it does,” said Fletch, following them out. “What did you expect?”

  “Honestly? A soaking-wet ruin,” she said. She led the way into the kitchen. It was spotless, although four troll teenagers lounged around the table watching the television on the worktop, supervised by a portly older troll in a gray uniform.

  “Finally,” said the troll as the others walked in. “I was beginning to think you were never coming back.”

  “Sorry about that, Marv,” said Fletch. “The job turned out to be bigger than I thought.”

  “Same here,” said Marv. “That boggart of yours is a cantankerous little devil. We finally got it cornered, though. In there.” He pointed at the microwave. “Stick it on a low defrost setting every hour or so. That seems to keep the little fella happy. And Lara here figured out what was making it so upset. What did you say it was again, Lara?”

  “Lactose intolerance,” muttered one of the youths, without turning from the television. It was showing a live news broadcast, with helicopter footage of some of the rescue ships heading for shore and blurry, long-lens shots of the Hydroboreans on deck. The headline at the top of the screen read Magical Asylum Seekers Emerge from Ocean Depths. A scrolling ticker tape of news beneath the footage said Loch Ness Monster Sighting Confirmed and Ghost of Elvis Announces Comeback Tour.

  Suzy’s mom picked up the remote and switched the set off. “Let’s worry about all that tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “You’re a treasure, Marv,” said Fletch, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “You lot put the place back together perfectly.”

  “How much of it did you take apart to begin with?” asked Suzy’s dad. He moved around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, searching for anything out of place.

  “Our pleasure,” said Marv. “Mind giving us a lift back to Trollville?”

  “It’s a long walk otherwise,” said Fletch. He and Marv cackled together and headed back to the hall. The youths slouched after them.

  Stonker tapped the little window on the front of the microwave. Something inside tapped back. “I suppose we’d better find the little chap a new home,” he said. “I wonder if that place in Propellendorf will take it.”

  Suzy pulled on her mom’s sleeve. “Let’s keep it,” she said. “Please?”

  Her mom rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Did you hear that, Calum? We make one concession and she thinks we’re pushovers.” She laughed. “If the world’s going to be full of fairies and who knows what else from now on, I don’t suppose having a boggart around the place will hurt. But you’ll be responsible for it.”

  Suzy chewed her lip. “Does the convenience store sell almond milk?”

  “And soy,” said her dad.

  “Then you’ve got a deal,” she replied. “See? Our house was magical before it was cool.”

  “Splendid,” said Stonker. “Well, if you’re all settled here, we’d best be off.” He shook Suzy’s parents by the hand. “It’s been a pleasure having you aboard,” he said. “I hope we haven’t seen the last of you.”

  “Hrrrolf frrrunk grorwl,” said Ursel, pulling them both into an unexpected hug. To Suzy’s surprise, her parents hugged her back.

  “You’ll have to come for dinner again,” said Suzy’s dad.

  “And I’d better get back to the lads on LA ROUQUINE and tell them all about our discoveries,” said the Chief. “They must be itching to get out there and tour the Union again. Think of all the things we could see.”

  “Grrrolf,” said Ursel.

  “Yes, very true,” said Stonker. “Map reading isn’t my strongest suit, so I could always use some help in the Belle’s navigation room. A team of resident experts would be just the thing.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Suzy. “And it has panoramic windows, so you’ll always be able to see where you’re going.”

  “Huzzah!” said the Chief. “I feel like I’ve got a new lease on death.”

  “We’ll make the Topaz Narrows our next stop, then,” said Stonker, taking the Chief’s skull from Suzy. “Are you coming, Postmaster?”

  “I’ll be right with you,” said Wilmot. He waited until the others had left, then gave Suzy a bashful smile. “It looks like the Express is going to be quite busy from now on.”

  “You certainly won’t be lonely,” she said. “And I’ll be back next weekend to help out.”

  “I’m already looking forward to it,” said Wilmot. “We’re scheduled for a run out to Nethertown. I’ll remember to pack some anti-vampire spray for you. And then there’s the medal ceremony, of course, for the Gold Stamp Special. And our names on the post office wall of fame.” He was becoming increasingly animated. “And the official re-dedication of Trollville’s coming up in a few months and that’s going to be huge! The king’s promised a week-long party, and after that I thought maybe you’d like to put in for the Postal Proficiency Exams so you can become a full postal operative and not just a deputy, because that’s the first step to becoming a Postmaster, which I think you’d be brilliant at, and…” He finally ran out of breath. “And I just wanted to say how happy I am that we don’t have to say good-bye.”

  Suzy blinked away a tear. “Me too,” she said. “Well done, Postmaster.”

  Wilmot drew himself up and straightened his cap. “Congratulations, Deputy Postal Operative,” he said. “See you next weekend.”

  Suzy and her parents followed him to the cupboard under the stairs, and waved as the Express slid back into the darkness of the tunnel. When the steam cleared, the cupboard was back to normal—just a vacuum cleaner and some mud-encrusted Wellies.

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use a cup of tea,” her dad said.

  Suzy drifted after her parents, back into the kitchen. She was already looking forward to everything that lay ahead. There were worlds out there she hadn’t even begun to imagine yet, and she would see them all one day.

  For now, though, the kettle was boiling, the boggart was purring in the microwave, and her parents were laughing and chattering together. She was home again. And she was happy enough with that.

  Acknowledgments

  The more time I spend writing books, the more convinced I become that they should end with a roll of closing credits, just like a movie. Because books, like movies, are the result of lots of hard work by all sorts of talented people. So here’s a list of just some of those without whom Delivery to the Lost City—and indeed Suzy’s previous adventures—would never have made it into your hands:

  My wife, Anna, who’s remarkably patient with me at the best of times but went to tremendous lengths during the COVID-19 lockdown to make sure I had the space and time to finish the final draft
s. Thank you for always being there.

  Our boys, Aurelien and Théo, both of whom are now legitimately better at Mario Kart than I am. (I promise I’m only slightly bitter.) Please, never stop asking for bedtime stories—it’s my favourite part of the day.

  My editors, Anna Poon and Liz Szabla at Feiwel & Friends, and Becky Walker and Rebecca Hill at Usborne. They’re the ones who’ve spared you from my fudged plot points, meandering characterization, and bizarre leaps in storytelling logic. It’s been a tremendous privilege working with you all for the past three years, and I couldn’t have asked for better support and guidance along the way. Suzy’s success is yours as much as mine.

  My powerhouse of an agent, Gemma Cooper, who continues to steer me safely through the strange world of the publishing industry. Thank you for doing so much to champion me and my books, and here’s looking forward to new stories in the future!

  Whichever side of the Atlantic you live on, Suzy’s adventures look absolutely amazing thanks to the talents of two brilliant illustrators: Matt Sharack, for the US editions, and Flavia Sorrentino, for the UK. The pictures in my head when I write pale in comparison to their work. Thank you, both of you, for realizing the worlds of the Impossible Places so brilliantly.

  Before the lockdown took hold, I made a habit of doing some of my writing at the Coffi House, Cardiff. I’d like to thank the staff there for always making me feel welcome, and for serving the best coffee and cake in the neighborhood. I can’t prove it scientifically, but I’m sure they made the words flow more freely.

  Claire Fayers will have to back me up on that, as we’ve been meeting at the Coffi House to work on our respective books for a few years now. Claire’s the one who, upon reading my first draft of The Train to Impossible Places, told me I had something worth publishing, and has been a tremendous source of advice and reassurance ever since. Thank you for being such a good friend in what would otherwise be a too-solitary profession.

  Mum and Dad; my brother Chris; Heather and Serge; Jayson, Tascha, Luc, and Alyssa: the best family that anyone could ask for in any circumstances. Thanks, all of you, for your love, support, and encouragement. I hope by the time you read this we’ll be able to approach within two meters of one another.