Free The Last of the Sky Pirates by Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell Page A

Rook knew that he had thought something back.
    ‘Come on, then,’ said Partifule. ‘Stick together. It’s just over here.’
    They picked their way through the crowds gathered round the stalls, and across the landing to its outer edge. There, Partifule showed them the long, covered stall, with hammocks strung from its beams. To the right were row upon row of pallets, each one padded with a thick mattress of straw.
    ‘Hammock shelter or sleeping pallet?’ Magda asked Rook.
    ‘Oh, a sleeping pallet, definitely,’ said Rook. He gazed up into the speckled inky blackness above him. ‘I’ve wanted to sleep out under the starry canopy of the sky for so long—’
    ‘Well, now’s your chance,’ Partifule broke in. ‘In fact, you should all be settling down for the night. It’s almost midnight and you’ve got a long day ahead of you.’
    None of the three young librarian knights elect needed any persuasion. It had been a long, draining day. Before Partifule had even taken up his look-out position at the end of his pallet, Stob, Magda and Rook were settling down to sleep.
    Rook was just dozing off when, above the coughs and snores of the sleepers all around him, he heard a voice.
    ‘Wa-ter,’ it rasped. ‘Waooooh-ter.’
    Rook got up slowly and picked his way through the pallets to the very edge of the landing. There, in front of him, were two hanging-cages next to each other. His blood turned cold in his veins. The first contained a bleached skeleton, with one bony hand reaching out of the cage pleadingly and the skull resting against the bars, its jaws set in a permanent grimace. The second cage appeared to be empty.
    ‘Wa-ter.’
    There was the voice again, but weaker now. Rook cautiously approached the cages. The skeleton couldn’t have spoken, which meant …He peered up into the shadows within the second cage, and gasped. It wasn’t empty after all.
    ‘Wa-ter,’ the voice repeated.
    Rook hurriedly unclipped the leather water-bottle from his belt and held it up – but although he stretched as high as possible, he couldn’t reach the cage. ‘Here,’ he called. ‘Here’s some water.’
    ‘Water?’ said the voice.

    ‘Yes, here below you,’ said Rook. For a moment nothing happened. Then a great ham of a hand shot out from the bottom of the cage and grabbed the water-bottle. ‘You’re welcome,’ said Rook, as he watched the hand and the water-bottle disappear back inside the cage.
    There came the sound of slurping and swallowing – followed by a loud burp. The empty water-container dropped out of the cage and fell at Rook’s feet. He bent down to retrieve it.
    ‘Forgive me,’ came the voice from above his head, weak still, but less rasping. ‘But my need was indeed great.’ The hand descended for a second time. ‘And if you had a little something to eat, too …’
    Rook searched his pockets, and found the bundle Magda had given him. He’d forgotten even to open it. He passed the warm package up to the waiting hand. The sound of hungry chomping and chewing filled the air.
    ‘Mmm … mmmfff … Delicious – though perhaps it could do with a little extra salt.’ He peered down at Rook and winked. ‘You saved my life, young fellow.’ He nodded towards the skeleton in the next cage. ‘I did not wish to end up like my neighbour.’
    Rook noticed the harsh edge to the voice. This was someone who was used to giving orders. He peered more closely inside the shadowy cage. Behind the bars, bathed in dark shadows and flickering lamplight, was a hulking great figure, so immense that he was forced to crouch in the cage. Dressed in a frock coat, breeches and a tattered tricorn hat, he had dark curly hair, bushy eyebrows and a thick, black beard with what looked – Rook realized with a gasp – like ratbird skulls plaited into it. Bulging eyes glared out from the tangled bird’s-nest of hair like two snowbird eggs.

    Rook felt a surge of excitement. ‘Are … are you a sky pirate?’ he asked