Mr. Appleblossom set three empty buckets near Florence and took the full ones from her.
Florence went on. “I guess it could have happened that Karkinos took an unexpected turn for the worse and Henry had to stay back. But that seems so unlikely—the crab was steadily improving and actually doing quite well earlier that day. So based on that, I can only assume Spike and Henry are trapped on the other side of the line of ships and unable to pass them without being detected.”
“Or maybe the eel found them,” Alex said, his throat tight.
“Spike can outrun the eel,” Florence said. “The only way she’d be in trouble is if the eel surprised her from the side or head-on. The eel would have to see Spike coming. But I’m sure Spike’s intuition is on high alert—she’d most likely be able to detect the presence of the eel in time. I hope so, anyway.”
Alex blew out a breath. “It’s making me sick to think about it,” he said.
Another round of flaming tar balls lit up the sky around the island. It was almost beautiful to watch them, so synchronized. Alex didn’t have time to watch, though, as the one aimed at the mansion struck the side of the building near the top, right next to the existing hole. The tar ball vanished inside it.
Alex ran to the edge of the roof, lay on his stomach, and peered down at the gaping hole in his bedroom wall. He scooted back up to his feet and ran back to Florence. “There’s a fire in my bedroom,” he said. “Can you get me down from here?”
Alex grabbed two full buckets of water from the edge of the roof and Florence lowered him to the ground. He raced inside the mansion with them, trying to keep them from sloshing everywhere, and ran up the stairs. Florence thundered behind him with more water.
They turned at the balcony and ran down the not-a-secret hallway to Alex’s living quarters. He set down a bucket to open the door, and then picked it up and rushed inside. Smoke billowed all around, and flames licked at the bedding. Alex threw the water on it from one bucket, then tossed the other bucketful on the tar ball, hoping to stop the fire from catching on.
Florence dumped her buckets of water over the fire as well, and stomped out stray embers with her feet. Steam rose up with an angry sizzle, which soon died down. The fire was out.
“Whew,” said Alex, fanning the air. He set his buckets on the floor and climbed over the rubble to the hole in the wall. It was no less than six feet wide and taller than him. He peered out. He could barely make out Queen Eagala’s ship and one other outlined by the dawn.
“That was a close one,” Alex said. The thinning darkness played tricks on his eyes. He squinted toward the ships as moment by moment the sky gave off a fraction more light. “What the . . . ?” he muttered, and then beckoned Florence to come over and look. “Do you see something? Look alongside the ships.”
Florence strode over and bent down to look out. “I don’t have eyes like Simber,” she said, “but I see something moving.” She looked closer. “It looks like smaller boats being lowered to the water.” She peered more closely. “And they’re filling up with people.”
Fear struck Alex’s heart. He gripped the ragged edge of the opening. “This is it,” he said. “They’re coming ashore!” Immediately he whirled around. “Clive!” he barked. “Alert Earl in the lounge and all the other blackboards on the property to advise all nonfighters to stay hidden in the lounge! The enemy is approaching land!”
Clive didn’t answer.
“Clive?” Alex frowned and turned around to look at the blackboard, but he couldn’t see it in the dim light. He lit a highlighter and peered at the space where the blackboard normally stood, and then he gasped. “Oh no!”
Florence gasped too, and they rushed over to the pile of rubble that was topped with the second tar ball. Florence and Alex began dragging pieces of the wall away and flinging them out of the way, and then they shoved the dresser off to one side, and finally, at the bottom of everything, they uncovered the broken remains of the blackboard.
Clive’s eyes were closed. He looked peaceful. But his face was deathly still.
“Clive!” cried Alex. He brushed some silt and mortar from the blackboard. Alongside Clive’s face was scrawled one final message to the mage.
Don’t die.
Pirates Ahoy
Alex dropped down next to the blackboard pieces, ignoring the crunch of broken glass under his knees. “Clive!” he shouted again. “Clive?”
Florence put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Leave him,” she said softly. “He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do.”
Alex looked up at her, his face anguished. “But—”