Clash of the Sky Galleons (The Edge Chronicles, Book 9; The Quint Trilogy, Book 3)
Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell
Original publication same year in Great Britain by Doubleday.
THE QUINT TRILOGY, Book III
Quint is traveling with his father, Wind Jackal, on a mission to track down and bring to justice Turbot Smeal, the man who started the fire that killed their family. Having left behind his studies at the Knights Academy, Quint is now eager to learn what it really means to be a sky pirate and to learn from his father. But Wind Jackal is consumed by his desire to capture Smeal, amd his judgment is flawed. His actions endanger the lives of his crew and his son. As they travel from the taverns and the backstreets of Undertown and the wonders of the shipbuilders' yards to the dark dangers of the Deepwoods, Quint and Maris become separated from the rest of the crew. Finally, at the mysterious, ghostly sky-wreck in Open Sky, they discover the truth about Smeal.
name of Sanctaphrax, harvest!’ At the sound of his voice, the academics leaped into action. The ‘net-tenders’ pulled their poles free, and the great circular nets closed round the rising rocks, weighted by the fire-floats. For a moment, the huge boulders hovered above the stacks. Then, one by one, fringed by the warmth of the glowing floats, they slowly sank. As the rocks approached the ground, the ‘rock-fasteners’ surged forward with their glowing callipers and seized the floating boulders in
grainy, rough to the touch and stained with the white Mire mud, it did not look anything special. He knew, however, that when it was polished, the rock was transformed into a shimmering, shining material that glowed from within, as though countless glisters had been sealed within it, like insects inside fossilized pine-sap. Highly prized by the early architects of Sanctaphrax, the polished rock was the chosen material for decorating the increasingly ostentatious schools and academies which
aside. ‘When we hit tree height, lock the hull-weights into position, and hold her level.’ Quint nodded and took the wheel of the Galerider, his face a grim, expressionless mask. The clouds flashed past - now thick as tilder blankets, now thin as gauze. ‘Sure you can handle it?’ Wind Jackal looked into his son’s eyes. ‘I’m sure,’ said Quint, in a hoarse voice. ‘Good lad,’ said his father and, brushing past on his way down to the aft-deck, he whispered to Maris, ‘Stay with him.’ Maris smiled
stripped from the vessel and hurtling past their heads. There was nothing they could do but tether themselves to the nearest spar, gunwale or balustrade, and hold on with all their might, their muscles clenched and protesting as the great sky ship was blown across the sky in the clutches of the storm, rainlash and windhowl echoing in their ears. But it couldn’t go on, Wind Jackal knew that. Out of control, the Galerider was being torn apart by the gale-force winds, but the minute they released
Tarry Vine Tavern Perched upon his high stool, Patricule the tavern-waif slowly rotated his wing-like ears. Fine as parchment and lined with a network of pale-blue veins that pulsed as they swivelled and fluttered, his ears listened to the thoughts in the great drinking hall of the Tarry Vine tavern, just as he did every night. Although tonight was different… The tables and drinking-benches were crowded as usual. Sky pirates of every description, from mire-pearlers to Deepwoods traders,