Midnight Over Sanctaphrax by Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell Read Free Book Online Page B

What have you done?’
    All around them, the white ravens screeched and squawked, the bravest of them hopping forwards tostab at Twig's legs with their cruel beaks.
    Twig!’ the professor called desperately. The intrepid young sky pirate captain was alive still, but fading fast. Twig, wake up. I'll take you back to Sanctaphrax. Twig! You wouldn't listen to me. Oh no! “I'm a sky pirate captain,” you told me. “Like my father, and his father before him,” you said. “It's in the blood.” And look where it's got you! Why, if your father, Quintinius Verginix, could see you now …’
    At the sound of his father's name, Twig stirred. The professor smiled. The white ravens hopped back, squawling with fury.
    Twig's eyelids fluttered. The professor observed the movement with excitement.
    ‘Or, perhaps I should call -him by his other name. The ^ name of the most feared and respected sky pirate captain ever to sail the skies. Cloud Wolf…’
    Twig's eyes snapped open. ‘Father,’ he said.

    ‘No, Twig,’ said the professor gently, ‘not your father. It is I, the Professor of Darkness.’
    But there was no sign of recognition in the eyes as they stared round, wild, unseeing. Nor did Twig speak another word. The professor shivered with apprehension. Apart from the strange glow it gave off, the youngsky pirate's body appeared unscathed, yet his mind had clearly suffered.
    The ravens moved closer once again. Kraan stabbed at the most inquisitive of the birds and turned to the professor. ‘Go,’ it said. ‘Take shooting star, now!’
    From the urgency in its raucous voice, the professor knew that Kraan would not be able to keep the other white ravens at bay for much longer. Trying hard to ignore the disconcerting confusion in those blindly staring eyes, the professor supported Twig under his arm and heaved him up.
    ‘Now, walk,’ he muttered. ‘Come on. You can do it.’
    The sky lightened to the east as the professor hobbled back through the Stone Gardens, one hand round Twig's shoulder and the other holding his staff.
    ‘That's it, Twig,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Just a little further.’

• CHAPTER FIVE •
COWLQUAPE
    ‘A shooting star!’ The solitary figure of a junior sub–lAacolyte, a tousle-haired youth in ill-fitting robes, peered out into the night. ‘How curious,’ he murmured.
    The storm had passed, and the academics were stirring from their numerous hiding places.
    ‘What have we here?’ came a sneering voice from behind the youth. ‘A little runt of a leaguesman's son. Why aren't you in the library with your nose stuck in a scroll, Cowlquape?’
    The voice belonged to a tall apprentice in the fur-lined robes worn by all those in the College of Cloud. Several others stood behind him, dusting off their clothes and sniggering.
    ‘I thought…’ mumbled the youth. ‘I thought I saw something, Vox.’
    ‘Leave sky-watching to those of us who are qualified,’ Vox said nastily. ‘Don't you have a latrine or something to slop out?’
    ’I… I was just going,’ said Cowlquape, all fingers and thumbs as he gathered up his bundle of scrolls. He hurried off down the rubble-strewn walkway.
    ‘Undertown scum!’ Vox's voice floated after him.
    Barely fifteen years old, Cowlquape was small for his age. He was lowest in the pecking order of Sanctaphrax -slopping out the latrines was just one of his jobs. He was at the beck and call of any who had a* menial task that needed performing: running errands for the various sub-professors, mistsifting and windgrading, helping to maintain the spotless and gleaming appearance of the floating city.

    Cowlquape, however, dreamt of better things. Whenever he could, he would seek refuge in the Great Library of Sanctaphrax - now sadly neglected - and immerse himself in the countless dusty old barkscrolls that were housed there.
    The library wasn't fashionable. It had neither the glamour of the College of Cloud or the Academy of Wind, nor the power and influence