The Spin (33 page)

Mr Jacobs rubbed his bald head nervously. ‘I don't understand. Could you –'

‘Where is the sword?' the Director said very precisely and now his voice was icy cold. ‘Where is the Silver Sword, Hector?'

‘The sword fell. I got it, but it fell and . . .'

The Director's expression was ghastly, all colour drained from his face. ‘You
have
to bring it here. That's the condition.' He wiped his hands slowly over his face and shook his head. ‘Hector, Hector, have you any idea what you've done? I put a fortune on you winning. So did your father. We're ruined. You've ruined us.'

‘But why was Sparkit attacking you, Stormy?' asked Mr Jacobs. ‘That's what I don't understand.'

‘What does it matter?' the Director snapped.

Mungo abruptly slipped out from his hiding place. ‘Because of me.' He dropped down to the ground and waved his arms to get their attention. ‘Hey there! Hey! Listen to me!' he cried. ‘Listen to what I have to say!'

‘My God, it's Mungo!' the Director whispered. He staggered backwards as Mungo came towards him.

‘You
know
this moleman?' Mr Jacobs asked, amazed. ‘How is that possible?'

The Director's eyes grew hideously round, as if they were about to pop out of his head. His lips and nose became pinched and tight as the horror of the situation grew on him. ‘Where are the guards? Guards!' he called hoarsely. ‘There's a grubbin in the Academy! Guards?'

Stormy jumped down from Seraphina's back.

‘This is Mungo Muddiman, the Director's
brother
,' he said very loudly, to make sure the students peering from the open windows and door heard too. ‘That's right, this
grubbin
is his
brother
, and the Director had him locked up in the dungeon. You don't need guards, Director. This is your
brother
,' Stormy said. ‘Now everyone knows your secret, don't they?'

‘No, no, of course not, no guards.' The Director tried to smile. ‘Stormy hasn't been here long,' he said, in a false cheery voice. ‘He doesn't know what he's talking about. I suggest we go into my office and discuss this.' He spun round and headed quickly towards the house. ‘Follow me, Mr Jacobs.'

‘Just a minute . . .' Mr Jacobs said.

The gatehouse door opened and was flung back against the wall with a loud crash. Mr and Mrs Small ran out. ‘Hang on! Hang on there!' shouted Mr Small. He cartwheeled across the yard and spun into a backflip, landing right in front of the Director, blocking his path.

‘That grubbin
is
his brother!' Mr Small said, pointing a finger at the Director. ‘The Director is a liar.'

‘Yes he is,' Mrs Small, said. ‘We know. We knew Mungo from long ago. It's all true.'

‘How can you believe these two, these littles, I mean . . .' The Director began to edge backwards towards the house.

But everyone did believe them. The truth was written in the littles' round, honest faces. And the Director's guilt was obvious.

‘Thank you, my dear vertically challenged friend,' Mungo said. ‘Sylvester is my brother. Always has been, always will be; that's the sad truth. He locked me up because he didn't want anyone to see what
he
really was: half-grubbin. He's a thief, liar, cheat . . .'

‘And he was training his Star Squad to rid the world of grubbins!' Stormy shouted, just in case they hadn't understood.

‘These are serious accusations,' Mr Jacobs said nervously, looking from one person to another. ‘I don't know what to say.'

Seraphina had been puffing out orange sparky smoke, her eyes fixed on the Director. Now she began to shift towards him, inching closer and closer. Suddenly she charged the last three paces between them and jumped up, pushing him over with her front legs, toppling him as if he were a toy and treading him flat on the ground.

The Director opened his mouth but had no breath to speak.

‘See!' Mr Small shouted. ‘
She
knows what's what!'

Stormy thought the Director's eyes were going to pop right out of his head.

‘Stormy, remove your spitfyre,' Mr Jacobs said, but without much conviction.

‘No, keep him there,' Mungo said. ‘Hold him tight. He's not going to squirm out of this!'

Stormy went on talking quickly, fearing that if he didn't speak up now he might not get another chance.

‘The Director has filled the dungeons with innocent grubbins,' he said. ‘He's stolen their money. He's been deceiving you all!'

‘I knew there was a lot of money,' Mr Jacobs said. ‘I heard the spitfyres went out at night. Oh, dear, why did I never enquire . . .?'

‘They have been feeding them some nasty concoction made by Brittel, down in Otto's kitchen,' Stormy said. ‘It makes them mean and horrid and determined to go after grubbins.'

‘I did wonder, did worry, but not enough,' Mr Jacobs admitted, stopping as he saw Mr and Mrs Small running towards the door to the dungeons.

‘Let them out!' roared Mr Small.

The guards had slunk away at the first sign of trouble; no one was protecting the cellars now.

Stormy and Mungo ran to help the littles unlock the door. Minutes later the noise of clanking chains and stunned voices filled the air.

The grubbins were free!

A crowd of convicts came up. They emerged blinking in the light and rubbing at their sore arms and legs, tugging their ragged clothes over their dirty bodies.

‘I should have known,' Mr Jacobs said. ‘And there are so many! Poor things. What a fool I've been.'

Mungo bobbed around amongst the prisoners and patted one or two on their backs, greeting old friends. ‘Grand to see you! It's a good day, a fine day. It's all over, done with,' he said. ‘You're free. Sylvester is finished.'

The grubbins cheered when they saw the Director trapped beneath the spitfyre's hooves. ‘Down in the dirt where he belongs,' one said.

‘What shall we do with them?' Mr Jacobs said.

‘What shall you do?' Mungo cried. ‘Why nothing, Mr Teacher. They do as they want to do themselves. They are living things like you and me and shall go free and live their lives as they wish to. Digging gold and silver and living where they wish and how they wish. That's what they'll do.'

‘And what about him?' Mr Jacobs pointed at the Director, whose face was turning blue.

‘Will you take him, Mr Jacobs?' Stormy said. ‘Make sure that he leaves the Academy and never comes back? He should never be able to work with spitfyres again.'

Mr Jacobs nodded. He beckoned to the other teachers, who had gathered on the Academy steps but had not yet had the courage to come down and find out what was going on.

‘Come and help,' he called. ‘Tell your spitfyre to release the Director, Stormy. What a day! I suppose this will be the end of the Academy,' he added sadly. ‘I'll have the Director escorted off the premises later. Everyone leave the courtyard, please. Back to your rooms; no more excitement for today. I'll take over now.'

As Mr Bones came over to help Mr Jacobs with the Director, Mungo ran over to him.

‘Brother, brother,' he said, catching hold of the Director's free hand. ‘One moment, please.'

The Director snatched his hand free. ‘Don't touch me!'

‘All right. All right, but listen, all these years I've thought about my wife and daughter,' Mungo said. ‘I must know what happened to them. Please.'

Mungo had begged Stormy to try and find out about his family and Stormy had done nothing. Except, he thought, smiling, quite by chance he had found something out. Something wonderful that would please Mungo no end.

The Director stared ahead coldly, refusing to look into Mungo's face. ‘Your wife died,' he said. ‘And daughter? What daughter?'

‘You know there was a daughter!' Mungo cried. ‘Don't deny it. Don't take away the only reason I've gone on living. Hoping to see her again. Hoping and praying she were alive . . .'

Mrs Small stopped him with a gentle touch on this arm. ‘Of course you have a daughter.
That's
your daughter, right there!' she said.

She was pointing at Maud.

Maud was like a ghost. She didn't move. She had been watching and listening from the shadows, as she always did, and now she came forward hesitantly, staring at Mungo.

‘She is your daughter, Mungo,' Stormy shouted, unable to stop himself butting in. ‘Listen to me! I
know
she is. Look at the dimples! Same dimples! She's your daughter, all right!'

Mungo stared at Maud. A smile cracked his face and lit it up as if a torch had been shone on it. He knew his own daughter when he saw her. He tottered over to Maud and reached out a trembling hand to her.

‘Little Maudie,' he whispered.

For a second Stormy feared Maud might be appalled at having a grubbin father, and at this moment Mungo was a very dirty grubbin, his clothes torn and his hair wild, but it was just the shock that held her back for a few seconds. Suddenly she smiled, dimples and all, and, taking a white ribbon from her hair, she handed it to Mungo as if it were a fine trophy.

‘I knew you'd find me in the end,' she said.

Mungo put his arms round her and hugged her.

‘I don't care about
him
!' Mungo said, nodding at the Director. ‘He is nothing to me. Now I've got me own dearest daughter, I don't care about anything. And it's all thanks to this lad here,' he added, patting Stormy on the back. ‘Our hero.'

Stormy stared at the floor.

‘I wish I'd never set eyes on your face, boy,' the Director said as Mr Jacob took one arm and Mr Bones took the other and they tried to move him on. The Director refused to budge. He went on addressing Stormy, staring at him intently, as if he was really seeing Stormy for the first time. ‘Or I wish that I'd set eyes on you earlier, when you were younger . . . I could have moulded you into the perfect grubbin chaser. The most daring sky-rider ever! You would have been putty in my hands.'

‘I never would! I never would have been!' Stormy said.

‘That's what you think,' the Director said. ‘But I
know
. You are a born sky-rider. You are a whisperer. Now you'll be
nothing
, because I'll make sure of that! I'm not finished. You'll see!'

‘Never mind him,' Mungo said, putting his arm round Stormy. ‘Never mind anything.'

The Director allowed the teachers to guide him into the house. ‘You'll see!' he shouted back over his shoulder. ‘You have no authority over me! I'm the Director!'

Stormy shivered. He hoped the Director was very wrong and would be banished from Dragon Mountain and sent somewhere far away.

Mungo was gazing lovingly at Maud. ‘Dear little Maudie,' he said. ‘My daughter.'

Stormy thought he'd better get out of their way. They'd have a lot to talk about.

‘I suppose I should get Seraphina into her stable and get her rubbed down,' Stormy said, patting her shivering neck. ‘Look at her, poor thing. She's exhausted. Oh, wasn't she marvellous?'

‘What about Sparkit?' Mr Small said, nodding over towards the giant heap of sleeping spitfyre.

‘He can wait,' said Stormy.

Araminta was standing in the doorway watching her father being brought in like a prisoner. She came slowly down the steps towards Stormy.

‘This is all your fault,' she said bitterly, twisting her yellow skirt in her fist. ‘You spoiled everything. I'll never speak to you again. Will you stay? Will you stay and help me? What shall I do?'

She was the same contrary girl, saying one thing and meaning another. Stormy shook his head. ‘I can't help you.'

‘Horrid stupid servery boy,' she said, stamping her foot. ‘You don't understand, do you? I just want to be a sky-rider, that's all. You got to be one and you're just a pathetic little skivvy. Why won't he let me fly?' She nodded towards her father. ‘Now he's nothing and now I'll never have another chance.'

‘Araminta, I'm sorry, but –'

‘No, you're not. No one is ever sorry for me. Not when I can't fly. Not when I had no brothers and sisters and was so alone. Not when my dear, dear, uncle died –'

‘Araminta, you never even
met
your uncle, you told me that before . . . Oh!' Something had occurred to him. ‘Actually, of course, you have!'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘The grubbin's your uncle. The Director said he was dead and took his money, but he wasn't.'

Araminta's expression was stony and cold. ‘I do not have a grubbin relative of any sort!' she snapped. ‘What a horrid thing to say.'

‘And Maud is your cousin!'

Araminta swayed slightly then recovered herself. ‘Maud is the maid. I couldn't possibly . . . she sweeps floors for her keep.'

‘Poor Maud, she –'

‘Poor me!' Araminta shrieked. ‘It's
me
you should feel sorry for. I haven't got anything now. Nothing at all.'

Stormy took a big breath. ‘What will you do?'

Araminta looked down her nose at him. ‘How dare you ask me anything so personal? What impertinence from an orphan!' She looked up at the Academy. ‘I shall stay with him. What else can I do?'

She followed the others into the house and slammed the door.

Stormy led Seraphina to her cave. She was tired now and limping slightly, exhausted by her final wonderful flight.

All the way Stormy talked to her and praised her and told her just how much he loved her.

Ralf and Purbeck greeted them.

‘Well done, mate,' Purbeck said. ‘Proud of you.'

‘What about you, Ralf?' Stormy asked him. ‘Happy to see me back?'

Ralf hung his head. ‘I am, actually. Listen, I had to do it,' he said. ‘I had no choice. Brittel said that if I gave them the powder just for the next six months I'd get to move on, get out. He said the Director would let me go. You know I hate it here.'