The Magical Flight of Dodie Rue (N/A) - Softcover

Shaw, F.C.

 
9780996619332: The Magical Flight of Dodie Rue (N/A)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 099661933X ISBN 13: 9780996619332
Verlag: Future House Publishing, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

From the author of the Sherlock Academy series.

A Race with No Rules.

In a land of fortune telling, alchemy, and magic carpet racing, Dodie Rue feels out of place. Dodie wishes he could be more like his brother Taj, everyone’s favorite pick to win first place in the upcoming Grand Flyer. But Dodie doesn’t have the nerve or stomach for racing, and the town bully Atallah won’t let him forget it.

With the race just a few days away, Taj is suddenly poisoned by an unknown opponent. Now, with only seven days to live, Taj’s only hope is for Dodie to win the race and its grand prize: a wish from a genie. But the desert is a treacherous place with ghouls, sandstorms, and dragons around every dune.

In a race with no rules, can Dodie overcome his fear of flying, outsmart the other racers, and rescue his brother from the grip of death?

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

F.C. Shaw grew up with stories. First she had them told to her, and read to her. Then she read them for herself and discovered the magic therein. She is on a mission to help others discover the magic unlocked by reading a book, so has set forth to write her own stories. When she is not dreaming up and writing new stories, she tours the country sharing her books with kids. With a Master's Degree and Teaching Credential, she has taught everything from Kindergarten to college. She lives with her husband and two sons in California.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1

Dodie Rue threw a glance over his shoulder. He slipped down a grungy alley between the village bakery and the butcher shop. The stench of stale bread and rotten meat trimmings was as thick as the desert heat and kept everyone from using this alley as a shortcut to the open-air market. But Dodie had grown accustomed to the smell. 
He picked his way over splintered crates and soggy garbage. On tiptoe he neared a clay bowl he’d swiped from his kitchen and propped up with a stick, though now the bowl was turned over on the ground. He heard the scuffling and squeaking of a desperate rat trapped under the bowl. When the rat had scurried into the bowl’s shadow to gnaw on a moldy roll, it had tripped the stick and brought the bowl down over itself. It couldn’t chew its way out or move the clay bowl—a good trap.
Dodie slid a thin clay roof shingle under the bowl so he could pick up the rat inside. Judging by the weight, he guessed this was a good-sized rat he had trapped. His employer would be pleased. Once a week Dodie set traps for the rats that infested the alley. He could have caught whole tribes of rats easily, but his employer needed only one rat a week.
 “Sorry, bud, not your lucky day,” murmured Dodie as he tried not to think of the rat’s fate.
He carried the rat, trapped between the shingle and the bowl, out of the alley where he turned down the street. He looked around, hoping no one was out this early in the morning yet. His heart sank when he spotted a boy drifting toward him on a magic carpet. Dodie dodged under a shop awning and moved quickly down the street, hoping the other boy wouldn’t notice him. 
“Hey, Rue!” the boy called. He sidled up to Dodie, his emerald green and gold carpet slowing down. “What are you up to this early?”
“None of your business, Atallah,” muttered Dodie as he kept walking down the street.
Atallah Hadi came from the richest family in town and acted like he was superior to everyone else. Though he was only thirteen—a year older than Dodie—Atallah was the best flyer after Dodie’s brother. He noticed what Dodie was carrying and smirked. “Oh, your job. Guess every village needs a rat catcher and you’re perfect for the task. You’re practically a street rat yourself.”
“Shut up.” Dodie quickened his pace.
Atallah chortled. “If you’re hungry my family put out the garbage last night. You’re welcome to it.” He zoomed away before Dodie could come up with a retort.
Dodie hated that Atallah, of all people, knew he caught rats for extra income to help make ends meet. 
At the next corner an old man spread a mat on the ground. He had unkempt gray hair and a long grizzly beard. His skin was as tan and rough as weather-beaten leather, and he wore a green turban. He sat cross-legged on his mat polishing a long oboe-type instrument, a wicker basket with a lid on the ground next to him.
“‘Bout time ya showed up,” he barked at Dodie. He jerked his head at the wicker basket. “She’s hungry.”
“Pretty sure it’s a big one today.” Dodie held out the clay bowl with the trapped rat.
“Be my guest.” The man nodded at the basket again.
Dodie gulped. “Nah, I gotta get back home.”
The man’s face broke into a grin of missing teeth as he cackled. He took the clay bowl from Dodie. The rat inside squeaked. “Sounds like a lively one.” He opened the lid on the basket.
Dodie stepped back a few feet.
The man slid the shingle out from under the rat. It was a large rodent with a bright green, scaly tail. With a terrified squeak, the rat dropped into the basket. Quickly the man put the lid back into place. Dodie caught a small glimpse of the white cobra inside the basket. There was a squeal, a hiss, and then it was all over. The snake charmer gave the trap back to Dodie with another cackle. 
“Did ya see that tail? That rat’s been mussed with.”
Dodie looked at him quizzically.
“Rotten alchemist again,” the old charmer muttered. “Until next week then.” He tossed a copper coin to Dodie.
Dodie caught it and scampered away. He earned one shek a week catching rats for the village snake charmer’s cobra. One shek couldn’t purchase anything except for maybe four beans, and that’s if the bean merchant was in a good mood. But in a month Dodie could save four to five sheks, and buy two freshly baked pita loaves to share with his family. It was always a good day when he ate bread instead of the usual herb soup his grandfather made, which in reality was just hot water seasoned sparingly with salt and pepper. 
When he wasn’t catching rats, Dodie worked in his family’s shop, Rue’s Rug Emporium, which had been selling magic carpets for centuries. Before Dodie was born, the shop had flourished, carrying an ample stock of magic carpets that drew customers from all the surrounding villages. 
But then several tragedies struck the Rues in a small amount of time. First, Dodie’s grandfather Nadar, who was a racing legend, was crippled in his last magic carpet race, which meant the end of his racing career and the end of prize money to help the family. Second, Dodie’s mother died giving birth to him, which left his father Gamal with an empty heart and another child to support. And third, a fire destroyed the shop and burned up nearly all the inventory. Gamal had no choice but to take out a loan to get the business back on its feet. They had been repaying the loan for the last twelve years, always barely making ends meet.
But the Rue’s had one spark of hope: the Grand Flyer, a magic carpet race that occurred only every five years. Dodie’s older brother Taj was following in their grandfather’s footsteps and gearing up for his first race. As the Grand Flyer approached, Rue’s Rug Emporium became very busy selling racer rugs. 
“I was told Rue’s Rug Emporium was the best rug merchant in the region,” an elderly woman said, eyeing Dodie behind the counter. “You’re sure this is a genuine racer rug?”
 “Oh yes, madam. It’s been infused with stardust, and like all our rugs, comes with the KVB guarantee.” Dodie recited, “It’s been Kissed by a genie, Vexed by a sorcerer, and Blessed by the gods. I’m sure you’ll be very satisfied with this one, madam.”
“Well, it’s not for me, now is it?” She opened a silk draw-string purse, dug inside, and counted out ten gold coins. The coins chinked as she handed them to Dodie. “My grandson is entering the Grand Flyer and he needs the very best to ride. He’s about your age. You will be racing, too, I suppose? You are a Rue, after all.”
“Oh, uh, no, it’s not my thing,” Dodie said, casting his brown eyes down to the money in his palm.
The old woman arched an eyebrow. “What a shame. You are Nadar’s grandson.”
Dodie nodded. “Guess I didn’t get my grandfather’s racing genes.” He laughed politely.
The woman shook her head, muttering as she left the shop, “Tsk, tsk, such a shame.”
Dodie cupped the money tightly in his hand and headed to the back of the shop where there was a small room behind a green drape. He entered the purchase in the emporium’s ledger, and deposited the coins in a money box that was delivered to their lender every week. Dodie liked that his father trusted him with sales. That helped ease the guilt he felt whenever he...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Future House Publishing
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
099661933X
ISBN 13 
9780996619332
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
147
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar