Meerkat Madness

IAN WHYBROW

Illustrated by Sam Hearn

For Judith Bows, Library Supremo, and all the children of ICS, Zurich and especially for Abbie, Lara and Caroline, who asked me to do an adventure story for them; for Nilou who likes yellow, Esther who likes dark blue and Maria and Malti who prefer purple.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Beginning

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Also available by Ian Whybrow

Copyright

About the Publisher

Beginning

In the chamber, three meerkat kits were squeezed up close on their uncle’s lap, because this was in fact a nursery.

Once Uncle Fearless had been a king; now he was their babysitter. That is the meerkat way when things go badly.

One of Uncle’s eyes was missing and his fur was a bit patchy and ragged in places. His left arm had an unusual bend in it. “War wounds, what-what!” he would often explain. He had not lost his royal pride.

This secret nursery was completely dark. Once or twice Uncle had shown the kits how to dig away the thick sand that served as their main door, but there was no light in the tunnels outside. So the kits had not yet seen what their uncle looked like.

He had just come down from the Upworld with supper. He hadn’t had much time to forage, for a fierce sandstorm was raging outside the safe fortress of the burrow. Still, he had brought them each some worms. And for a treat, there was a plump Flap-Neck Chameleon to share. Delicious!

“Make us big and strong!” piped Little Dream. He was growing fast but he was by far the smallest of the kits. That meant he was always last in line. He was born a moment or two before his brother and sister, Skeema and Mimi, but they had always treated him like the baby. He often seemed slow, he talked in a strange way, and, to tell the truth, they thought he was a bit dim.

Uncle wanted the kits to settle down and go to sleep. “For tomorrow,” he promised them, “you must all be ready to leave the nursery and join the rest of the tribe!”

How they squeaked and squealed and squirmed when they heard that! They weren’t at all sure that they wanted to leave the safe and cosy darkness. It wasn’t easy for Uncle to calm them down, and he had to put on his warning voice before they settled.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll be fun.” He told them that there were some older, more important kits in the burrow; some princes and a princess. Now that Skeema, Mimi and Little Dream were old enough, he was ready to lead them personally along the tunnels to the Upworld and introduce them. And then, if they were very good, they would meet the King and Queen.

“You’ll be able to see them,” said Uncle. “It’s like smelling with your eyes. The sun will show you how. It’s lovely.”

“And will we see you?” asked Skeema.

“Oh, yes. As a matter of fact I look wonderfully handsome in sunlight,” he answered. The kits weren’t sure what that meant. Still, for the moment they were happy just to know that he was there to defend them and that he had a sharp and special smell that they were very fond of. They could not remember their mother, Princess Fragrant. She had been taken by a wild dog when they were just three days old. They could just remember Flower who had nursed them and fed them milk in the very early times. But it was Uncle whom they loved. Even if he did puff himself up, he meant the world to them.

“Tell Mimi a story,” said Mimi, cuddling up. “Me! Me!”

“Not just Mimi. Tell all of us!” begged Skeema.

“Blah-blahs,” said Little Dream.

“Yes,” said Skeema, “Tell us about the Blah-blahs.”

Foreword

The behaviour and adventures of the characters in this book are modelled on those of certain actual meerkats still living in the Kalahari. These creatures wish to remain anonymous to protect their privacy. For this reason, their names and their language have been changed. Any similarity between these characters and any meerkat-stars of stage or screen is purely coincidental. Furthermore, any resemblance between Oolooks or Whevubins on safari, actual Click-clicks or Sir David Attenborough is purely in the eye of the beholder.

Chapter 1

There was nothing Uncle liked better than to talk about his Glory Days.

He cleared his throat importantly. “Harrumph! This story is called ‘The Adventures of Bold King Fearless Among the Blah-blah Tribes’,” he announced.

As usual, the kits asked, “Why are they called Blah-blahs, Uncle?”

And as usual he laughed and said, “Because of the funny calls they make to each other, of course! Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah!”

The kits laughed and squirmed happily. Little Dream picked a fat flea off his sister and nibbled it thoughtfully while he listened.

“Now, once upon a suntime,” said Uncle, “I left the safety of Far Burrow where I lived, at the far edge of the Land of the Sharpeyes, and set off to explore the Upworld. I wanted to travel and to learn all I could about my kingdom. At first the rest of the tribe insisted that I took bodyguards with me. I was very precious to them, don’t you know!”

“Like me. I’m precious!” Mimi piped up.

“Don’t interrupt,” said Uncle, holding up a paw in the darkness.

“Why did you need bodyguards?” asked Little Dream.

“Ah, because of the dangers!” said Uncle. “Because of the enemies that lurk in every hollow in the sand and under every thorn bush!”

“Oh dear,” sighed Little Dream.

“Don’t forget The Silent Enemy in the sky,” added Mimi, who liked to show how clever she was. Uncle gave a trembling twitch and a gasp and she got a sharp nudge in the ribs from Skeema. “Sorry, Uncle!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Uncle Fearless took another deep breath to pull himself together. “N-never mind. No harm done,” he murmured. It took him a while to calm down, but pretty soon he was happily showing off again. “As I have often told you, it is the meerkat way to stand by one another,” he said. “But your old Uncle was not afraid. Oh no, I was young and keen! I said to my subjects, I said: ‘I am the greatest of all the Sharpeyes! Do you imagine that I am not brave enough or wise enough to explore my own kingdom by myself from time to time if I wish?’ And so I ventured out alone, something that you kits must never, never do. Soon I had marked every corner where a kat can sniff! I discovered all there was to know out there among the sizzlingly hot Salt Pans at the far end of the kingdom. And do you know the most interesting thing that I discovered?”

“The pointy mounds!” cried the kits together. They liked this bit. “Where the funny Blah-blahs live . . . IN THE AIR ABOVE THE GROUND!”

“Exactly!” cried Uncle. “The Blah-blahs build hollow, pointy mounds, quite close together on TOP of the sand, what-what! Each mound is a burrow for a small tribe. Each mound is taller than a thorn tree; pointy at the top and much wider at the bottom. And do you know,” Uncle went on, letting them into the secret, “there’s no strength in those mounds at all. The walls are so thin that they ripple in the wind! Isn’t that ridiculous? A jackal could tear through those walls in two bites!”

“Ah, but the Blah-blahs are bigger and stronger than us, aren’t they, Uncle Fearless?” put in Skeema.

“Oh, yes!” said Uncle. “They’re giants. But in many ways they are just like us, only much funnier – and MUCH more charming and cute. I came across several tribes in my travels. Now, who do you want me to tell you about? The Oolooks who always jump up and down when they see a rhino or a giraffe and call oolook-oolook! Or would you like to hear about the Whevubins that are always dashing about calling hurryupp-hurryupp! when they can’t find their young. And when they do find them again, they chase them up and down calling whevubin- whevubin!

Little Dream took his thumb out of his mouth and said wetly, “Click-clicks. Say about you and the Click-clicks.”

Uncle scratched his ear with his back leg and he shook so violently that the kits had to hang on tight so as not to fall off his lap. The two biggest ones clung to his chest hair and Little Dream had to keep a good grip on the collar Uncle always wore with great pride.

“Well then, Little Dream,” he said. “This collar you can feel round my neck was presented to me as a mark of respect by a very important Blah-blah. He was Chief of the Click-click tribe, no less! I used to see him passing by every day in his Vroom-vroom.”

“What’s a Vroom-vroom?” asked Mimi.

“Vroom-vrooms are huge, dreadful things!” said Uncle. “How can I explain? Ah, yes . . . now you all know that meerkats always make sure to dig plenty of escape tunnels when we build a burrow, don’t you?” (He felt his little audience nodding away.) “Well, the flimsy mounds where the Blah-blahs live have only one entrance. So they keep special moving burrows nearby and jump into them whenever they sense danger. At the first sign of a lion or a rhino or any animal that bites or tramples – off they run, Vroom-vroom! Those things can move like stampeding wildebeest, what-what!”

“Oh, really, Uncle!” laughed Skeema not believing a word, but still enjoying the story.

“You’ll be telling us next that Vroom-vrooms have got legs!”

“Not at all, my boy. They glide along on round spinners that throw up clouds of sand, so they do! They do a terrible amount of roaring and dust-kicking and sometimes they let out an alarm call . . . Barp-barp! I’m pretty certain that these are tricks to frighten their enemies. But did your Uncle Fearless jump down the nearest bolthole when he saw them coming?”

“Never! No way!” cheered the kits.

“Of course not!” crowed Uncle Fearless. “I stood my ground like a king . . . ”

“And then you tamed Chief Click-click!” cried Little Dream, full of admiration.

Skeema rolled his eyes. It’s all made up, he thought. Still, he didn’t want to interrupt a good yarn.

“Well done, Dreamie! Yes, I tamed him. Mind you, it took ages before he and two of his subjects plucked up the courage to leave the safety of their Vroom-vroom. But finally they came out. And bit by bit they moved closer towards me on their tall, tall hind legs. The Chief led the way. He was very shy in spite of his great bigness and at first he only dared look at me through the shiny box he held up in front of his eyes to protect them!

Sometimes the chief went click-click! with his tongue, too, meaning that he was my subject. As each suntime passed, he became bolder and moved a little closer, bringing me tasty gifts of food. In the end he knelt on the sand in front of me and bowed down – completely tame. “You are my king!” he seemed to say. I could do what I wanted with him. He even allowed me to climb on to his head and use him as a look-out post.”

“Oo! What did he feel like?” gasped Little Dream. “Are they furry like us?”

“Well, let me tell you . . . When you climb up any of the Blah-blahs you will find that their legs are mostly smooth and warm. They feel dry like bark. Yet on the middle parts of their bodies they have a covering. It’s soft, I would say, not at all furry. Except on their heads. A lot of them have fur on their heads.”

“Uncle! Have you really climbed a Blah-blah?” said Mimi.

“Oh, many times! Once they know who’s boss they’re safe as burrows to be with.”

“What did the other Sharpeyes say when you told them?” asked Skeema, giggling. “Did they say, ‘Oo, Your Majesty! What a big fibber you are! There’s no such things as Blah-blahs or galloping Vroom-vrooms! You’re just making this all up . . . ’?”

He got a nip for being cheeky, but only a play-bite. Uncle was very fond of him. “Not at all, you saucy young dung beetle!” he boomed. “Most of the tribe were too scared to come out of the burrow at first, but when at last they did, they saw for themselves. Of course, it took a bit of time to get used to the size of the great clumsy creatures, but in the end all the Sharpeyes got to know them. In fact, we did our best to teach the Blah-blahs useful skills. We showed them the way to dig proper burrows, how to forage for food, how to do sentry duty . . . all that sort of thing. We even showed them how to do a war dance. The sad thing was, the Click-clicks turned out to be a bit stupid. They never did anything much, apart from sitting and hiding behind their eye-protectors.”

“I believe all of it,” said Little Dream. He never doubted his dear old babysitter.

“Mind you,” added Uncle a little sadly, “all this was . . . Harrumph! . . . before my . . . er . . . accident, of course. I couldn’t be a king any more after that. My brother had to take my place.”

“Sad,” murmured Little Dream.

Suddenly Uncle’s fur stood stiff and he was on the alert. “Wup-wup-wup!” he called urgently, and pulled the kits tighter to him.

“What is it, Uncle?” whispered Skeema.

“I can feel something! There! The ground’s shaking!” said Mimi.

Loose sand began to drift on to them from the ceiling. The kits began to cough and whimper.

“Is it an enemy?” whispered Little Dream. Skeema jumped down from Uncle’s lap and darted round the chamber making spit-noises. He always liked to have a plan. His present one was to run to an escape tunnel. He found himself digging furiously at the chamber door to get out.

“It’s an earthquake, possibly,” said Uncle. “Hush, now, Skeema. Stay with the group.” “Vroom-vroom!” breathed Little Dream.

Chapter 2

After a minute or two, it was silent once more. Uncle sounded the all-clear – Yee-oh-oo-oo-oo! – then he mused, “Do you know, Little Dream, you may have been right. I suppose it could have been a Vroom-vroom.” He paused to have a sniff and a think. “But I doubt it. They never come over to this side of the kingdom of the Sharpeyes. No.” He clacked his teeth together to show that he had made up his mind. “I think it much more likely that the sandstorm was playing tricks in the tunnels.”

The kits relaxed. As soon as the danger passed they were asking questions about the Blah-blahs again.

“Do they stand on all fours?” Mimi wanted to know.

And Little Dream asked: “Why they want to hide their eyes all the time?”

“Ha-ha! Good questions! To answer yours first, Mimi: mostly they seem to move on their hind legs. And, as I mentioned before, they’re taller than ant hills. Do you remember our lesson, where I taught you all how to stand like sentries?”

“Yes, yes,” squeaked the cubs, wriggling and stretching out their hind legs.

“Well that’s how the Blah-blahs stand!” “I can stand!” squealed Little Dream and showed them. It was too dark to see him struggling to balance. Finally he fell on his nose. Bonk! The others heard him, but took no notice.

“Do you mean the she-Blah-blahs as well as the he-Blah-blahs?” Mimi squeaked. “Can the she-Blah-blahs stand? Like Mimi? Like me? Like me?”

“Oh, give yourself a rest!” said Skeema scornfully.

“Yes, Mimi, hush now,” said Uncle Fearless. “The Chief of the Click-clicks always has a female with him. Her legs are as long as the trunks of young baobab trees. She has a long, pale mane but no fur otherwise and she has longer claws than the male. Sometimes they shine bright like red berries. Her calls are softer than the males except her alarm calls. Oh my goodness, I remember once when a scorpion scooted right up to her paw! She could easily have pounced on it and sucked the juice out of it. But what did she do? She did a funny sort of war dance and ran away making a noise like a scared baboon – eee!-eee!-eee!”

Skeema enjoyed that. “Now make up something funny about the males,” he begged.

“He’s not making it up,” insisted Little Dream.

“Ah, yes, I was going to tell Dreamie about their eyes, wasn’t I?” said Uncle, ignoring Skeema. “The Blah-blahs look rather like meerkat kits in a way, because their eyes are dark and usually on the front of their faces, but they’re flat and square and very shiny.”

“What do you mean, usually on the front?” asked Skeema. “Can they move them to other parts of their face?”

“Oh, yes. Their eyes are joined to their ears by little arms. So sometimes the Blah-blahs lift their eyes up and put them on top of their heads.”

“Oh!” gasped Mimi.

“Oh, yes, they’re very strange,” said Uncle. “The Blah-blahs’ noses are quite small compared to ours, so perhaps they can’t smell very well and they depend on their eyes to keep them safe. Their eyes are so dark and shiny that when I first got close to the Chief and he was sitting down I thought I was looking at a mighty meerkat warrior from a rival tribe! It took me quite a while to realise that I was looking at myself!”

“Vrrrrr!” purred the kits, though not all of them quite believed this part.

“Now, now, it’s getting late,” said Uncle. “We must all get plenty of sleep. We have a big day ahead tomorrow, remember!”

“Oh, please,” begged Mimi. “Tell me just one little bit more.”

“Just two things,” put in Skeema.

“Oh, all right. I’ll just tell you one or two more things that made us Sharpeyes chuckle and that’s all. I’ll start with one of the Chief’s bodyguards.

Sometimes he carried a tiny spear and shield with him. I don’t know what he was thinking of. It was far too small to protect anyone!

And he spent hours squatting down, just scratching the shield with the point of the spear. Very odd! And instead of marking out his territory in the normal way by squirting things with his scent glands, he . . . ”

“He what, Uncle?”

“Now you are going to think I’m telling you a whopper. Every now and then he put a small white stick in his mouth and set fire to it! Then he blew smoke out of his nose. Honestly! He looked like a warthog snuffling about on a frosty morning!”

The kits kicked their little legs and laughed till tears ran down their faces. It made Uncle laugh just to listen to them. “Honestly-hee-hee!” he protested. “I’m not making this up! Oh, I can’t wait to lead you up into the sunlight and get your eyes working! I’ll teach you trees! Colours! Sky! Dry white sand, rich wet sand after the rains! You’ll see how a tasty scorpion dances when it’s cornered! I’ll teach you how to rub the stink-juice off a millipede by dragging it across the sand! Believe me, seeing is almost as much fun as smelling, what-what! Hang on! I must just have another scratch.”

“Look out everyone! Here comes another earthquake!” giggled Skeema.

“Help! A flea-storm!” squealed Mimi with a chuckle.

Uncle pretended to have a fierce fight with them – which was just what they wanted. They rolled about the chamber for a while, wrestling and yipping and play-snarling and snapping.

“Oof! That’s enough! You’ve quite worn me out!” puffed Uncle, dusting himself down.

“Uncle! Is it easy to climb a Blah-blah?” asked Mimi, wanting more, as usual.

“Oh, easy as sneezing! I remember one time I was . . . ” Suddenly he was alert and on his back feet again, shaking the kits on to the floor. “There! You almost got me started again!” he said with a laugh. “But it’s way past your bedtime.”

He rolled the kits into a bundle and stood over them in the guard position, growling gently but firmly. “No more talk. Busy day tomorrow. There are so many lessons for you to learn, you’re going to need all your strength.”

Chapter 3

The pups were very excited and also rather nervous. Still, they slept soundly.

Fearless was not so lucky. He was troubled by his usual nightmare. He dreamed of beaks and claws and fighting and falling. He flung out his arms and legs like a star! This always happened just at the moment when a giant eagle owl dropped him and left him falling towards the rocks. His jerking and kicking and shouts of terror shocked him awake – and woke everyone else.

Little Dream was the first to comfort him. “Safe, Uncle,” he said and held him tight. He groomed him for a moment, feeling through his fur for fleas. As soon as Skeema and Mimi had their wits about them, they were up and hugging him, too.

“I don’t know what all this fuss is about,” grumbled Uncle, trying to pretend nothing had happened, but trembling all the same.

“If The Silent Enemy comes down on us when we reach the Upworld, I’m going to bite his head off!” said Skeema, doing his best to sound brave.

“Good lad!” said Uncle. “That’s the spirit! But don’t you worry about enemies. We shall be perfectly safe so long as we look out for one another. You see, I was . . . well, I was on my own. I was caught off guard, what-what! It was hunger that did it. My mind was on a tasty rock lizard, d’you see? The eagle owl saw his chance, came out of the sun, snatched me into the air and took out my eye with his claw.”

“Poor Uncle,” said Little Dream.

“Never be off your guard!” warned Uncle. His voice grew stronger as he added: “Ah! But at least I gave him a taste of his own medicine! I pulled a great mouthful of feathers out of his chest! Ha-ha! That shook him! That showed him who was boss! He couldn’t hold me then, what-what!”

He decided not to mention that the eagle owl had dropped him from a great height and smashed several of his bones. This was not the time. He took a deep breath to stop himself from shaking at the memory of it. “But it was all rather a shock, I don’t mind telling you. It took me a very long time to get my strength back,” he went on. “My mind wandered. I was feverish! I was weak as a grub! The rest of the Sharpeyes thought I had the Meerkat Madness. They didn’t think I’d live. So naturally, they had to choose another . . . ”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence and so Little Dream said, “Never mind. You can be our secret king.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Skeema and Mimi. “Three cheers for our secret king!”

“Harrumph!” grunted Uncle, feeling foolish. “No more nonsense, now! Up and follow, kits. Up and follow.” Without another word he began digging at the nursery door.

The kits had learned their lessons well and stood in line behind him in their digging order. Each passed the scooped-out sand to the one behind, as if they were passing buckets of water to put out a fire. Skeema was right behind Uncle Fearless, his brave heart pounding; then Mimi, then Little Dream. In a flash they had removed more sand than they all weighed together – and found themselves in a damp and chilly passageway.

Blindly they followed their noses and ears through this and other passages and into a wider space. Uncle told them in a whisper that they had reached the main tunnel. There were strange new smells in each place they came to – of pee and dung that was not theirs – and the kits’ paws were tickled by unknown dung beetles at work with their loads.

“On,” said Uncle. “And say nothing until I tell you.”

They followed silently until the tunnel did a peculiar thing. Its blackness rolled back and became something else, not so solid. This made them gasp and Dream began to whimper quietly.

“Don’t worry. This is just the sunlight pushing in,” said Uncle. “It creeps into the burrow slowly so as not to shock our eyes. You’ll notice it grow bigger as we get closer to the Upworld. But it won’t harm us. It’ll warm us up and make us feel quick and tricky. Then you will understand what we call ‘seeing’. You’ll enjoy it once you’re used to it.”

They pressed forward and smelled new air as the darkness began to move aside for a stronger kind of light that made the kits’ eyes blink. It was there in the half-darkness that Chancer surprised them. His smell slid out of a side-tunnel first. Then came his slick head. That was finally followed by the swaying body of the King of the Sharpeyes himself.

“Welcome to the Upworld, brother Fearless!” said Chancer. He didn’t sound very welcoming. “The Queen’s hungry,” he went on. “She’s keen to forage on the hunting grounds, but she is waiting to greet the young ones at the entrance to the burrow. So hurry. Come this way. ”

Chapter 4

Queen Heartless was nibbling a grasshopper when Fragrant’s kits and their babysitter were bundled into her presence. She was waiting on The Spoil, the loose sand heaped up just in front of the main entrance. Fearless had once been her husband but after his ‘accident’ with The Silent Enemy she had taken Chancer, Fearless’s younger brother, as her new husband. Chancer ruled the Sharpeyes with Queen Heartless now. He was the father of her royal kits.

So Queen Heartless hardly glanced at Fearless. He meant nothing to her any more. That was the meerkat way. It was something he simply had to accept. Still, if it was painful for him to be no more than a babysitter, he did his best not to show it.

The Queen puffed up her fine pale fur and sat up proudly, staring into the sun. Her back was to the newcomers as they crept, blinking, out of the burrow. The royal kits, Princes Spiteful, Needleclaw and Snatch stood beside her with Princess Dangerous. A little way off the rest of the tribe stood to attention or bobbed busily, scanning the skies and the sands all around for enemies.

The sun was still low in the sky, so the eyes of Skeema, Mimi and Little Dream were dazzled. Their first sight in this amazing new Upworld was of something shockingly bright and yellow-orange.

*

For a second, poor Little Dream thought that the Queen must be the sun itself. It hurt his eyes to look at her and he had to turn away. Most meerkats have dark patches round their deep-set eyes that allow them to look directly into the sun without damage to their sight. Not so, Little Dream. He was born with eye-patches that were so pale they could hardly be seen at all. The royal family were quick to notice this and Princess Dangerous could not stop herself from giggling. “Look at that one! Have you ever seen such silly eyes!” she whispered.

Skeema and Mimi looked dazed. They felt weak and chilly. Uncle had told them about the need to warm up their tummy-pads by standing in the sunshine and they tried to stand to attention as they knew they had to. Unfortunately, the journey through the tunnels had made them very tired and they wobbled and fell over. There was more laughter, this time from Prince Needleclaw.

The queen stopped nibbling for a moment. The grasshopper was still wriggling although she had just chewed its head off. “Have the new kits been marked?” she asked the King.

“Stand still,” ordered King Chancer and sprayed them with the royal smell.

Queen Heartless-the-Dazzling looked down her long and elegant nose at her damp new subjects.

“Now you share our Sharpeyes’ burrow,” she announced coldly.

Now you share our Sharpeyes’ smell.

Now and forever you are Sharpeyes!

“Repeat after me the Sharpeye motto: Stay alert to stay alive. And stay with the group.”

“Stay alert to stay alive,” repeated Skeema, Mimi and Little Dream. “And stay with the group.”

“You may now bow and scrape.”

The kits copied Uncle Fearless as he bowed and scraped and licked the royal face and fur, the Queen’s first, then the King’s. “Now you must greet the princes and the princess,” whispered Uncle. It turned out that the royal kits didn’t want to be licked. Instead, they formed a noisy gang and rolled the visitors over. Since they were much larger than Skeema, Mimi and Little Dream, they could do it easily. They went for Skeema first, snapping and snarling and turning him on his back in the hot sand. This caught Skeema completely by surprise. Still, he began to give as good as he got, returning with interest the bites and scratches he was given.

Uncle Fearless managed to get in among the scrapping bodies and whisper into his ear: “Give way, Skeema! Remember your place!”

Then it was Mimi’s turn to be knocked about, and finally, Little Dream’s. Mimi was nipped quite sharply but did her best to be brave and not make a fuss. Apart from Uncle, not one of the rest of the watching Sharpeyes moved or said a word.

When the royal kits turned on Little Dream he let out a warning call and words started to tumble out of him: “Wup-wup-wup! Don’t you pick on me or you’ll upset Bold Uncle Fearless and he doesn’t like bad manners and he’s our secret king and once he bit The Silent Enemy!”

“How dare you speak to us like that!” spluttered Princess Dangerous.

Little Dream took no notice. “And he is the King of the Click-clicks!” he went on. “And he’s not scared of Vroom-vrooms, and he can stand on a Blah-blah’s head, so you be careful!” It was the longest speech he had ever made.

A dreadful hush fell. This was unheard of! A kit – a commoner kit at that – speaking up without an invitation! In front of Her Majesty! Some of the humbler Sharpeyes began to murmur.

“Who does that kit think he is?”

“He must be mad!”

“It’s all that Fearless’s fault, putting ideas into his head! Secret king, indeed!”

“Yes, because he had The Madness himself – remember?”

“You’re right! Do you remember the time, just after the eagle owl attacked him and dropped him on his head? He twitched, he was helpless . . . he talked rubbish, poor kat.”

“Such a shame!”

The Queen silenced them all with a sharp cry. Nobody moved. She returned for a moment to her grasshopper, snapping off the legs one by one. For a moment there was no other sound except the whirring of insect wings. Then she said, “I have no time for any more nonsense. Tell me, Fearless, are you or any of these kits likely to be a danger to me or to my tribe?”

“N-n-not at all, Your Majesty.” Fearless was flustered but trying to seem steady.

“A babysitter’s job is to mind babies,” she said. “Not to fill their heads with nonsense. Mind them. Teach them how to be useful and how to obey. Anything else is . . . unwelcome. Do you understand?”

“Absolutely, Your Majesty. I—”

“Chancer, children, come!” she interrupted. “I lost more weight in the darktime than is good for me. I must forage for food without delay.”

With that, she turned and galloped off towards the hunting grounds.

Chapter 5

“I say, look here, my dear young Dreamer,” said Uncle as they stood alone by the burrow entrance on the very edge of the Upworld. “You mustn’t go about saying that I’m your . . . your actual king. I mean it’s awfully kind of you but it’s just not done.”

“Ah, but we like you being our king,” said Little Dream. Small flurries of hot sand blown on the wind made him stagger and squint. Luckily nature had fitted him with little wind screen wipers, so the sand in his eyes was quickly flicked away.

“It was supposed to be a secret, Dreamie, you bedbug! You’re not supposed to tell anybody secrets!” scolded Skeema. He turned to Uncle, who was looking ruffled and uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, we won’t say you’re our king out loud, we’ll just know it,” he assured him, anxious to make him feel better about himself.

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