Un Lun Dun

64. Alpha Male

Claviger’s head-feather smoothed down again, and was invisible in his plumage. Deeba stepped forward.

“Don’t bother,” the book said. “He doesn’t speak any Human.”

“Cavea, could you translate?” Deeba said. The caged bird nodded. “Parakeetus Claviger, I presume,” Deeba said, and waited for Cavea to whistle. “Pleased to meet you. Sorry to crash round yours like this. I’m sure you know about the Smog, Mr. Claviger. I want to ask if you’ll help us fight it.”

The parrot cawed, and Mr. Cavea whistled.

“He says no,” the book said.

“Who does?” said Deeba.

“Parakeetus Claviger.”

“But…why did you wait for Cavea to say it? Do you understand Bird or not?”

“Yes. But Claviger has a strong parrot accent I can’t make out.”

Deeba rolled her eyes.

“And…he says no? Claviger?”

The parrot called again, and Cavea twittered.

“Yes, he says no. He says he knows what you’re going to ask for, and we can’t have it. He says we should be ashamed of ourselves, wanting to take his crest. The males all use them to show off, and when they’re being aggressive. He says without it he won’t be a hit with the ladies. He says, uh…that the chicks dig his threads. Don’t look at me like that, Deeba, that’s what he says.”

Deeba had been feeling guilty about having to take Parakeetus Claviger’s feather. Now she felt considerably less so.

“He says that? Aggressive? Well…” She paused. She saw climbing motions in the foliage on the water tank, and looked quickly away. “We don’t want Mr. Claviger’s headgear. Is he stupid? What sort of idiots does he think we are?”

Cavea twittered.

“What?” said Hemi.

“What are you doing?” said the book.

“Why you getting angry?” said Hemi.

“Shut up,” whispered Deeba. Then, more loudly, she said, “Maybe we aren’t the idiots.”

Cavea hesitated and translated.

All the birds were squawking angrily. Claviger jumped up and down in outrage, and screeched.

Deeba didn’t wait for Cavea to translate. “Easy to say things like that from up there,” she said. “Who wants your minging[13] feathers anyway?”

“Oh, I get it,” murmured Hemi.

Claviger must have understood from the tone of her voice. He screeched, and leapt down from the top of the tank to swing from the toilet chain, close to Deeba’s face— and below the cistern.

“Up yours,” Deeba said, and jerked her hand in a rude motion. Outraged, Parakeetus Claviger ruffled his feathers into a fight-posture. The featherkey stood up on his head.

“Alright,” Deeba said loudly. “I admit it. I’m sorry I had to diss you, but actually I do want your bling.”

The utterlings hidden in the leaves heard themselves spoken, and they burst out. They dropped on vines and flung themselves at Claviger’s head.

The birds of Claviger’s court filled the air, screaming in rage, raising their own featherkeys. Before Parakeetus Claviger could fly, Diss, the six-legged bear, grabbed him and clung on. With the sudden extra weight, the two bodies pulled the chain.

Even as they descended, Diss was pulling out the featherkey still raised on the bird’s head. Parakeetus Claviger’s cry turned into one of pain as the utterling yanked his plume.

Claviger was beating his big wings as the chain jerked at its full length, and the toilet started to flush. Diss lost its grip.

Hemi, Deeba, and Cauldron couldn’t reach the tumbling bear through the barrage of enraged birds. As Deeba raised her hands to defend herself from beaks and claws, she saw Bling the locust reaching with its foreleg for Diss. The two utterlings clung to each other for a moment, but Diss couldn’t hold on, and plummeted into the bubbling bowl, leaving the featherkey in Bling’s grip.

Deeba’s cry of triumph turned immediately into one of concern. She reached to plunge her hand after Diss, but the toilet was swirling madly, the water foaming, the level suddenly rising. The toilet overflowed violently, and the little brook that bubbled from it gushed and became a river.

“Where’s Diss? Where’s Diss?” Deeba shouted, but the little utterling was gone, lost in the clear water.

Parakeetus Claviger and several of his followers were dive-bombing Bling, and Deeba grabbed the terrified utterling and the featherkey.

She tried to fight her way through the increasing current. The water took her feet from under her and sent her sprawling.

“Come on!” shouted the book. Cavea’s human hands swatted birds. “We can’t help the utterling. We have to go!”

“Ow!” Deeba crawled out of the water. A fish with a vicious jutting jaw was attached to her leg, biting her even through her trousers. The explorers got out of the toilet, shielding themselves from parakeet attack and trying to stay out of the water.

They stumbled along the side of the new rising river, which tore down the corridor and to the stairs.

Its waters bubbled with more than just its current.

“Don’t fall in,” yelled the book. “It’s teeming with piranhas!”

They retraced their steps as fast as they could, hurrying under a new crop of leeches, leaping over predatory creepers. The birds followed them, scratching, through several layers of trees, but gradually began to leave them alone. Deeba heard harsh cawing. Cavea whistled.

“It’s the beta males,” the book said, jostling under Mr. Cavea’s arm. “We’ve done them a favor. Now they get to fight to become the alpha, the main key-carrier.”

“Less talking…” said Hemi. “More getting out.”

It took them some time, even traveling as fast as they could, to get all the way down the stairs. No one said very much.

“I…I’m so sorry about Diss,” Deeba said to Bling.

“It’s not your fault, Deeba,” the book said. She didn’t answer.

They were descending beside what was a dangerous river, now, rather than the trickle it had been. Every so often a particularly voracious piranha would hurl itself from the water and at them. They dodged and climbed and slipped down muddy slopes, clinging to roots and stumps.

They paused at the bottom of the stairs to catch their breath. There were only a few meters— though they were those oddly behaved meters, Deeba remembered— to the front door.

“It’s not far,” Hemi said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Can you hear something?” Deeba said. They listened. “There it is again.”

Coming towards them, faint at first, but growing quickly louder, was a hacking, whacking sound. The leaves and trunks of the corridor were shaking with each stroke.

“What the…?” Hemi said.

Cavea whistled.

“He says he’ll go and look,” the book said. But even as Cavea reached up to undo his cage door, the sound was suddenly right up close to them, and the curtain of leaves beside them was violently split open.

Standing before them was a man swinging a big blade. There was a hacked path behind him. He stared at the travelers, who were momentarily frozen.

His skin was wrinkled and mottled. His face was slack, his jaw hanging. He leaked dark smoke from the corners of his mouth and from his empty eye sockets.

The man had obviously been dead for some time. He raised his machete and stumbled towards them.