feelings under control. He admitted to himself in the next minute or two that he had lost his cool a little. Thinking about it again, he decided ‘So what?’ – so Alex was becoming more like him. Did that matter? In one way he ought to feel flattered that his brother was beginning to follow in his footsteps. A good leader makes good leaders of others, he told himself, and Alex was simply learning from him. Good on Alex. Good on him.
‘Sorry, Alex.’ Jordy put out a hand to shake. ‘Just lost it for a moment – this place, you know.’
Alex grinned and shook Jordy’s hand. ‘Yeah, I know. Me and Clo have fallen out once or twice too. It’s the attic.’
‘Hey,’ cried Jordy, changing the subject, ‘what do you think of the dust sprites? They’re weird, aren’t they? Look, there’s one now. Oh, he’s gone. Really weird.’
It was clear from their faces they didn’t know what he was talking about. Their heads swung back and forth and finally brother and sister looked at each other and shrugged.
‘Dust sprites,’ explained Jordy, amazed that they were so slow at seeing the obvious. ‘I’d seen them but it was the bortrekker who told me exactly what they are. They’re the spirits of the attic. They’re everywhere – in the rafters, on the boards, in all the nooks and crannies. Sometimes they form themselves into little figures of dust, run along for a bit, then they sort of go puff and settle back as dust on the boards again. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen them?’ He stared at their faces, before adding, ‘You haven’t, have you?’
‘No,’ admitted Chloe, biting her lip. ‘We’ve seen movements, out of the corner of our eyes, but I thought that was just an overactive imagination – along with the funny light up here.’ She was a little upset to realise that an Ariel might be here in the attic and it was Jordy and not her who was aware of him. The attic could be a little spiteful in that way: revealing things to those who had no interest in them, while others yearned to see such sights. How contrary was this land of boards and rafters. It played with its visitors like toys.
While they had been sitting there talking, clocks had been striking at odd times in the distance. Jordy had systematically disabled all the clocks within an hour’s walk, so that the constant ticking and chiming would not drive him crazy. Now the more distant chimes were like owl hoots to a camper: for most of the time his brain didn’t register them. Once he concentrated, of course, they were there, but he could soon switch them off again.
‘We saved you some honey,’ Chloe told Jordy. ‘We found a bees’ nest in an old suitcase.’
‘Oh, wow – thanks.’ He really was grateful. ‘I’ve been eating veg until I look like a cabbage.’
Chloe said, ‘You don’t look like a cabbage. You look very – very swashbuckling.’
‘Thanks.’
At that moment Nelson slunk away. Jordy watched him go and said, ‘What’s the matter with him?’
Alex answered, ‘He’s heard something. Listen!’
They all tuned their ears.
‘All I can hear,’ said Chloe, ‘are the clocks.’
‘More and more of them,’ said Alex. ‘The number of strikes has increased and I can hear the ticking now.’
Jordy cried, ‘Alex is right. Someone’s repairing the clocks as they come this way. We’ve got to move.’
They were all experienced enough now in the ways of Attica to know that every new encounter was dangerous. On the one hand they had met some helpful characters, like the puppets and the bortrekker. But for the most part the creatures they’d met had proved to be hostile. Here was a new encounter coming their way. It was best to avoid it. If this thing repaired clocks, it might very well prove a menace to those who had disabled them. There was something a little crazy about a being who took the time to make sure all clocks had been wound up, even though they were telling the wrong time and striking falsely.
Jordy put his arm through the leather loop of his skateboard carrier and slung it over his shoulder. Then he followed Alex and their sister, hastily packing things. They hoisted their packs on their backs, and set off in the opposite direction to the clock-menders. This woodland of theirs could be likened to a forest of dwarf oaks. There was no height to it, but the squared trunks were