Child of the Cloud. Cameron Stelzer

to capture significant criminal identities. One thousand gold coins is an excessive reward for a harmless antiques dealer, and the fact that General Thunderclaw is personally involved in your capture suggests you are a serious threat to his plans.’

      Whisker felt sick and confused.

      ‘I-I don’t understand,’ he stammered. ‘How am I a part of this? I’m just a washed-up circus rat trying to find his family, not a hardened criminal.’

      ‘A valid point,’ Mr Tribble said, striking a match in the fireplace, ‘but perhaps it’s not what you’ve done but what you know that makes you dangerous.’

      ‘What I know?’ Whisker gasped. ‘But that’s ridiculous! Circus tricks and tightrope techniques are hardly subjects of naval significance.’

      ‘You know about the Island of Destiny,’ Eaton stated, sitting up in his bed, ‘and you discovered the location of the treasure …’

      ‘The Book of Knowledge,’ Whisker considered. ‘It’s a powerful item, I admit, and the General would love to get his claws on it – if the General even knows the book exists.’ He shook his head. ‘But it still doesn’t make any sense. The Blue Claw clearly wants me dead, not alive to share my secrets.’

      ‘Perhaps that’s your answer,’ Mr Tribble said, stoking a small fire. ‘If you stumbled upon a confidential secret, the navy would stop at nothing to silence you. With your death, your secret would die with you.’

      ‘Except I don’t know any of their secrets,’ Whisker argued.

      ‘None that you are aware of,’ Mr Tribble said, glancing up from the flames, ‘but don’t underestimate the value of trivial information. A chance sighting or a passing comment is often all it takes to topple a government. Perhaps you overheard a conversation of extreme importance, even if you didn’t realise it at the ti–’

      There was a sharp TAP, TAP, TAP at the door, cutting Mr Tribble short. With a gasp of alarm, Madam Pearl hauled herself to the top of the rope and disappeared through the trapdoor. Whisker snatched up his scissor sword and stood his ground, hoping desperately that Pie Rats, not soldier crabs, had suddenly learnt to knock.

      

      Creatures Great and Small

      The wooden door burst open with tremendous force, sending the terrified twins diving under the covers. Mr Tribble stood quivering next to the fire, clutching a metal poker in his paws. Whisker raised his scissor sword, preparing to engage the intruder.

      In the faint light of the entrance way, the advancing figure looked more like a miniature yeti than a thick-shelled soldier crab. It was grey and furry, with a shaggy white mane surrounding a blue-grey face. Long scars ran down both cheeks and two small teeth protruded from an open mouth. The beast raised a strange hooked hand into the air and pointed straight at the trembling teacher.

      ‘Shiver me schoolmasters!’ it cried, heaving its large feet over the doorstep. ‘I’ve found you at last.’

      Mr Tribble staggered backwards in panic, dropping the poker on his toe.

      ‘Ooogh!’ he cried. ‘Save me, Whisker!’

      The furry beast shot Whisker a puzzled expression. ‘What’s Tribble’s problem?’

      Whisker relaxed his sword arm and let out a deep sigh. ‘I think it’s your new outfit, Horace. It’s a little on the grizzly side.’

      ‘Oh,’ Horace said, stepping into the firelight. ‘I thought it was quite flattering.’ He stroked the fluffy white lining of his snow hood and glanced down at his oversized hiking boots.

      ‘These clompers are certainly no fashion statement,’ he admitted, ‘but at least my toes won’t get frost bite. I can’t afford to lose another limb …’

      ‘Hook Hand Horace, you preposterous little Pie Rat!’ Mr Tribble howled, finally recognising the pint-sized mischief maker. ‘Couldn’t you wait until someone opened the door? You scared the living daylights out of me!’

      ‘Whoops, sorry about that,’ Horace replied. He winked at the two children watching in amusement and added, ‘It’s hard to resist a grand entrance.’

      Mr Tribble hopped painfully on one foot and squeaked, ‘And while we’re on the subject of courtesy, I do not recall granting permission for you to raid the winter section of the uniform shop.’

      ‘Err, well … I was hoping we could sort that out now,’ Horace murmured. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll return everything by the start of the ski season.’

      ‘What do you mean by everything?’ Mr Tribble snapped.

      ‘Just a few supplies we stumbled upon while looking for you,’ Horace said awkwardly.

      Mr Tribble stopped hopping and straightened his glasses.

      ‘I have no qualms about helping you rapscallion rats,’ he said in his sternest teacher’s voice, ‘but there are school rules to be followed.’

      ‘And we totally respect every one of them,’ Whisker said, nudging his companion. ‘Don’t we Horace?’

      ‘Oh, yeah, absolutely,’ Horace muttered absently. ‘Respect thy rules – that’s what I always say …’

      Shaking his head, Whisker reached into his brown drawstring bag and pulled out a shiny gold coin.

      ‘Our deposit for the items Horace borrowed,’ he said, handing the coin to Mr Tribble. ‘Ask the Captain to fix you up with the balance when he passes through.’

      Mr Tribble weighed the coin in his paw.

      ‘It feels extremely light for gold,’ he muttered to himself, before adding, ‘not that I’m complaining, mind you. It’s been a while since I’ve held anything but copper.’

      Whisker pointed to the diamond design on the face of the coin.

      ‘It’s one of the new Freeforian coins,’ he explained, ‘which might account for the weight difference.’

      ‘Ah, yes,’ Mr Tribble recalled. ‘The coin came from the fox during his trade for your family’s boat. And you received this coin and two others like it from Rat Bait when you deciphered the Forgotten Map –’

      ‘– and now it is being used to fund his sister’s rescue mission,’ Horace chimed in. ‘Kind of fitting, don’t you think?’

      ‘In a roundabout way,’ Mr Tribble said, slipping the coin into a pocket of his pyjamas. ‘Thank you, Whisker. I’ll hand your deposit to the school bursar first thing on Monday. If anyone asks about the clothing, the twins and I have taken up hiking. Now, about your map –’

      ‘I’m one step ahead of you, Tribble,’ Horace said, stepping towards the door.

      Mr Tribble peered at him suspiciously. ‘I’m not sure I like where this is heading …’

      Horace stuck his hook in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. There was a sudden movement from the trees outside.

      The next moment a huge blue-and-yellow macaw squeezed through the open doorway carrying an overflowing assortment of mountaineering clothes, ropes and scrolls under his colourful wings. When he reached the centre of the room, the flamboyant parrot spread out his wings and his cargo clattered to the floor.

      ‘Caw, caw,’ he chirped. ‘Everything as requested, Master Horace.’

      Mr Tribble’s glasses almost fell off his nose.

      ‘You-you-you’ve got half the school library in there,’ he spluttered, pointing to a crumpled scroll lying under a pair of hobnailed boots.