Midnight Over Sanctaphrax Read Online Free PDF

presence of anti-magnetic sour-mist particles.
    The professor shook his head. ‘Unbelievable,’ he muttered. ‘Quite un…’ He paused. ‘But never mind the anemometer or the rain-gauge!’ he cried. ‘What in Sky's name is the sense-sifter doing?’
    The object of the professor's sudden feverish interest was a small, silver box which stood, at an angle, on a tripod. Each of its six sides was inlaid with a small square panel made of a soft, glimmering material derived from the wings of woodmoths. Like the creatures themselves, the material was sensitive to emotions, changing its colour according to the mood surrounding it. Anger would cause it to turn red; sadness, blue; fear, yellow, and so forth.
    There were two sense-sifters in Sanctaphrax: one, here, in the Loftus Tower, the other in the rundown Department of Psycho-Climatic studies. Normally, the weather-sensitive apparatus glowed a neutral white. A particularly depressing downpour might tinge it with pale blue; a long stretch of balmy breezes and sunny skies might turn it a delicate shade of pink. But always pastels. Nothing extreme was ever registered. Certainly no more than would cause a slight sense of disappointment or an increased tendency to smile. For though the weather undoubtedly affected all the creatures of the Edge, its effects were always mild.
    Until now!
    As the professor stared at the sense-sifter, his jaw dropped and his heart pounded. The apparatus was pulsing with multi-coloured intensity. Flashing, sparking, fizzing. Now dazzling red, now ultramarine, nowgleaming emerald green. And purple - deep, dark, crazy purple.
    ‘A mind storm,’ he gasped. He had read of such phenomena in the dusty tomes of The Elemental Treatise. ‘No wonder my own mind has been in such turmoil.’
    At that moment a bolt of lightning zigzagged down out of the swirling sky to the north. For a moment, night became day. The needle on the light-meter shot off the scale and jammed, while the sound-recorder shattered completely in the thunderclap that followed immediately after.

    The professor stared at the broken instruments. ‘What frauds we are, pretending to understand the weather,’ he murmured, then checked furtively over his shoulders, in case someone was listening. There were many in Sanctaphrax, twisted with ambition, who would leap at the chance to exploit the Most High Academe's deepest misgivings. Thankfully, no-one was there to hear his blasphemous words.
    With a sigh, the Professor of Darkness hitched up his black gown and climbed the ladder which led into the glass-domed attic. He pressed his eye to the viewfinder of the great telescope in the centre of the floor.
    As he adjusted the focus, the professor found himself staring deeper and deeper into the dark void beyond the Edge. If he could just see that little bit further …
    ‘What mysteries lie out there?’ he wondered out loud. ‘Wh … what in Sky's name is that?’ A small dark fuzz had crossed his field of vision.

    With trembling fingers, he readjusted the focus. The blurred object became solid. It looked like a sky ship. But what was a sky ship doing out there, untethered and so far away from land? Scarcely able to believe what he was witnessing, the professor pulled away, removed his pocket handkerchief and wiped his eyes.
    ‘No doubt about it,’ he muttered feverishly. Tt was a sky ship. I know it was. Unless …’
    He glanced round at the sense-sifter. It was pulsing a deep shade of purple.
    ‘No,’ he shuddered. ‘I can't have imagined it. I'm not mad.’
    He spun back, grasped the telescope and peered back down the sight anxiously. There was nothing there in the swirling depths. With trembling fingers he played with the focus. Still nothing. And then … The professor gasped. From the point where the sky ship had been - at least, where he thought it had been - several bright balls of light were spinning off into the dark sky.
    Perplexed, he let go of the telescope and hurried to the