Peter and the Sword of Mercy (52 page)

Peter took off to look for Wendy, whom he found quickly with the unenthusiastic but effective help of Tink. He got her down from the roof of the butcher shop, and they walked to her parents’ home. Peter offered to fly her, but she said she had been in the air quite enough for one night.

The next day everyone except Karl gathered at the Darlings’. George and Molly were looking and feeling much better after eating, bathing, and sleeping. When Mrs. Bumbrake arrived with John and Michael, there was a joyful family reunion, with much hugging and some crying. There was more crying when they paused a moment in memory of Leonard Aster. And then it was down to business as George, who had spent much of the morning telephoning various influential associates, summarized what he had learned.

“There’s been quite a stir of activity at Buckingham Palace,” he began. “The details are being kept secret, but apparently von Schatten has gone missing”—George arched his eyebrows at Wendy and Peter, who smiled—“and stands accused of engaging in a plot against the crown. The king, who seems suddenly to be a different person”—again, George arched his eyebrows—“has ordered a full investigation, starting with a thorough interrogation of von Schatten’s assistant Simon Revile. Revile has been very cooperative, in hopes of saving his own skin. A Miss Scarlet Johns is also apparently cooperating willingly. The investigation has already produced some surprising results: Chief Superintendent Blake of Scotland Yard, who apparently was involved in a conspiracy with von Schatten, has been relieved of command and placed under arrest, along with several of his top subordinates. Meanwhile the men who went missing in the Underground have all turned up, telling strange tales of being held captive in a tunnel near the Westminster Bridge station. The tunnel has been located, as well as a mysterious vault under Westminster Abbey, but as of yet, nobody has a clue what any of it means.”

“And the coronation?” said Patrick.

“It will proceed on schedule,” said George. He looked around, beaming. “It seems things have gone rather well,” he said.

“What about the Cache?” said Molly.

“What about it?” said George.

“What do we do with it?” said Molly. “What if they come after it again?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said George. “I suppose we need to hide it somewhere.”

“I can hide it,” growled Magill. All eyes turned to him. “In Wiltshire,” he said. “There are caves there nobody knows of but me, Karl, and the wolves. I can hide it there, until you decide what to do with it.”

George looked around the room. “All right, then,” he said.

“I’ll leave tonight,” said Magill.

“What about the sword?” said Patrick.

“What about it?” said George.

“We’ve got the Sword of Mercy,” said Patrick. “It was in the Underground car, with the chest. The tip was nearby; apparently von Schatten managed to weld it to the sword, but it must have broken off again when Peter used it to smash the lock on the chest.”

Peter remembered the sound of the tip clattering on the floor.

“I heard nothing about any of the Crown Jewels being missing,” said George.

“Perhaps they don’t yet know it’s missing,” said Patrick.

“In any event,” said Molly, “we’ve got to get it back.”

“How?” said George. “We can’t just walk into the Tower of London with a sword and …”

“I’ll return it,” said Peter. “I’ll drop it off on my way back to the island.”

“What?”
said Wendy.

“Peter,” said Molly, “you don’t need to go back so soon. Surely you can stay a few days.”

Peter shook his head. “Von Schatten told me they were going after the island, too,” he said. “To get the starstuff there.”

Molly frowned, remembering her brief encounter with von Schatten in the tunnel the night before. “He said the same thing to me,” she said softly.

“So I have to go back there.”

“We’ll go with you!” said Wendy. “You helped us, now it’s our turn to help you!”

How?
chimed Tink, who’d been listening from her perch in Peter’s hair.
You fly like a stone.

“I appreciate it, Wendy,” said Peter. “But Tink is right. You’d have to go by ship. There isn’t time.”

“But…” began Wendy.

“I’m sorry,” said Peter. “I have to go. Patrick, if you’ll get me that sword …” He rose, followed by the others, except for Wendy, who sat with her face buried in her hands.

“Good-bye, everyone,” said Peter, his eyes on Wendy.

“Peter,” George began formally, “I don’t know how we can begin to …”

“Hush, George,” said Molly.

George hushed.

Molly put her a hand on Peter’s arm. “Peter,” she said, “we can never thank you enough. Just know that we love you, and will do anything for you.”

“I know,” said Peter, looking down, his face red.

“And promise us you’ll come back to visit.”

Peter’s eyes met hers, and they both remembered a moment long ago on the island, when Molly—then a girl Wendy’s age—had asked him to make that same promise.

He nodded. “I promise,” he said.

Wendy sobbed. Peter started toward her, then turned and went to the door.

T
HE
S
WORD
FROM THE
S
KY

H
ERE IT IS
,” said Patrick, handing the sword to Peter. Peter shivered, remembering the last time he’d touched it—when he’d plunged it into the living corpse that Ombra had become.

“And here’s the tip,” said Patrick. Peter stuck it into his pocket.

“Do you know where the Tower is?” said Ted.

“I think I remember,” said Peter. He and Molly had spent an unpleasant night there once, fleeing from Ombra. “Tink will get me there.” Tink, thrilled that she was once again the lone female presence around Peter, beamed from her perch in his hair.

“And you’re sure you don’t want us to …” began Ted.

“Yes,” said Peter. They’d been through this several times. “I’m sure.”

“All right, then,” said Ted. He wanted to hug his old friend, but settled for a manly clap on the back. “Off you go,” he said.

And off Peter went.

The two bored Beefeaters stood guard outside the Jewel House. There was nobody to guard against; the tourists were gone for the day. But it was the Jewel House and their job was to guard it, so guard it they did.

The sword landed in between them. It fell with a hissing sound and plunged into the grass, its blade going more than a foot into the earth. For a moment the two Beefeaters stood still, stunned. Then one ran to the sword.

“Will you look at this,” he said.

The other was staring at the sky.

“Did you see …” he said. “I mean, was that…”

The first Beefeater looked up; he saw only gray. “What?” he said. “Did you see something?”

“I don’t know,” said the other.

S
TANDOFF

N
EREZZA STARED OUT THE CAVE ENTRANCE
. The rain had finally stopped, and dawn was breaking. For a moment his hopes rose, but then, by the gray light, he spotted the massive shape a few yards down the mountainside.

Nerezza spat out a curse. Mister Grin was still there, watching the cave, waiting.

Nerezza waded back to the place where he and the others had settled for the night, a relatively dry flat rock next to the underground creek. The last torch had sputtered out hours ago; the only illumination was the dim light filtering through from the cave mouth. The starstuff chest, locked tight shut, sat against the cave wall; the key was on a chain around Nerezza’s neck. O’Neal and eight of the crewmen were sprawled around the rock, dozing. The ninth crewman was watching Shining Pearl, who sat with her knees drawn up to her chest and her head down.

O’Neal opened his eyes at Nerezza’s approach. “Well?” he said.

“It’s still there.”

O’Neal nodded. “The Mollusks will be out there, too.”

“I didn’t see anyone.”

“You wouldn’t, unless they wanted you to,” said O’Neal. “But they’re there, believe me.”

“A standoff,” said Nerezza.

“Yes,” agreed O’Neal. “So what do we do now?”

Nerezza’s eyes went to Shining Pearl.

Fighting Prawn’s arms and legs ached. He had spent the night crouched in a tree overlooking the clearing; the rest of his men were in trees all around him. During the night, one of the younger warriors had dropped to the ground and tried to creep closer to the cave, but Mister Grin, whose sense of smell was extremely sensitive, had detected the intruder and gone after him. The warrior barely made it back to his tree.

At the moment the crocodile’s attention was again focused on the cave mouth. So was Fighting Prawn’s. His daughter was inside. He had to get her out. And he had to stop these men from taking the starstuff that had, for more than twenty years, made Mollusk Island a paradise on earth, where nobody ever got sick, or grew old. From the day this priceless gift had been bestowed on the island—literally falling from the sky—Fighting Prawn had worried that someday, somebody would try to take it away. Now that day had come.