Magicalamity (15 page)

“We should never have brought this boy into the Realm,” Iris said crossly. “We should’ve guessed Dolores would come after him.”

“What does she want with me?” Tom shuddered; it was horrible to think he was being hunted by his wicked aunt.

“She must’ve taken legal advice,” Dahlia said coolly. “My old professor, Judge Plato Falconer, does all her difficult work. Dolores must be afraid of legal claims on Hopping Hill after she’s killed Jonas.”

“But … but …” Tom was confused. “Why would I make a legal claim? You said I couldn’t inherit Hopping Hill because I’m a demisprite!”

“You can’t—but you can still take her to court. And if
you do that, it could tie up the gold for years. Fairy law is as old as time and ridiculously complicated.”

“But—won’t she just break the law?”

“No, darling. Fairies are killed if they break the old law. You have to find ways of getting round it.”

“Hmm, you’d know all about that.” Iris sniffed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The leader of the outlaws stepped out of the shadows. He took off his black mask and rubbed his hands through his short gray hair. “These masks are so itchy!”

“Terence!” Pindar gasped. His newly handsome face was pale with joy. “Don’t you know me?”

It was Terence Banshee, Pindar’s beloved former tutor. He had an odd face, Tom thought; big, bright black eyes, a snouty little nose and a tiny chin. His ears were extremely large, and slightly pointed at the top.

He looked sharply at Pindar. “Why, yes—you must be Jonas Harding’s boy—you’re the spitting image of him! Though you’re on the big side for an eleven-year-old.”

Here was somebody else saying Pindar was the image of his dad. “I’m Jonas’s son,” Tom said, scrambling to his feet. “My name’s Tom, and I’m the one who’s eleven.”

“Good gracious—you’re like him too—what’s going on?”

“Terence,” Pindar said desperately, “don’t you recognize me?”

Tom felt sorry for his cousin; his old tutor was the only person who had ever really loved him, and now the man didn’t know him. “He’s Pindar,” Tom said helpfully, “Pindar Falconer.”

Terence’s odd face turned deathly pale. “What kind of cruel joke is this? My poor Pindar is dead!”

“Terence, I swear it’s me—I mean, I swear I’m Pindar! I ran away from my parents and fell into a vat of handsome-mixture—but I’m just the same old me underneath—achoo!”

“That sneeze—I’d know it anywhere!” Terence burst into tears. “My dear boy!”

He threw his arms around Pindar and hugged him hard. Tom felt like cheering; he had never seen his cousin so happy.

“I thought you’d been sent to the mines,” Pindar said, half laughing and half crying.

Terence wiped his big, shiny black eyes with his sleeve. “I was in the mines, but I escaped. Oh, this is wonderful! I can see past your handsomeness now—you really are the same old Pindar!” He smiled at Tom. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Tom. I used to share a flat with your dad when we were in college.”

“Oh.” Tom was having trouble keeping track of all his dad’s old college friends.

“And I remember your godmothers very well—hello, girls. Let’s go to Clarence.”

“I don’t like leaving poor old Milly. It doesn’t seem respectful,” said Lorna.

“Don’t worry,” Terence said. “The guards will stay with her.”

He led them out of the clearing into a part of the forest where the trees grew close together. Pindar walked beside him. Tom was just in front of the three godmothers, and while they walked, he heard them whispering.

“Lorna—do you remember him from college?”

“No, I’ve never laid eyes on him. What about you, Iris?”

“If he’s close to Clarence he must be all right,” Iris whispered. “But no, I don’t remember him. Jonas shared his flat with that awful little bat.”

“The one he used to bring to the pub,” Lorna whispered. “Who was always dragging on about animal rights, and going off to demonstrations with tiny little placards.”

“Watch your heads!” called Terence.

They all had to crouch down so that they could get through a narrow opening in a sheer rock face, and there were some uncomfortable minutes of crawling along a stone tunnel.

“My nails are ruined,” Dahlia sighed. “And I don’t suppose there’s a decent magi-manicure for miles!”

They finally emerged in a shadowy underground cavern. At first Tom thought the walls were covered with
special insulation; then he saw that it was rows and rows of small brown bats, squashed tightly together like a furry duvet.

Terence lit a lantern and led them into another stone tunnel. There were no bats here, and the light caught at the glittering veins of gold in the rock.

“Keep together,” Terence said. “This mountain’s riddled with tunnels, and a stranger can easily get lost.”

They walked out into a large underground chamber lit by a single orb of ghostly white light. Two masked guards with machine guns were stationed outside a metal door.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

“Agent Five,” said Terence, “Terence Banshee.”

“Password?”

“Dear me, what is today’s word? Oh, yes—‘figs.’ ”

“Pass, friend.”

The metal door opened and they went into Clarence Mustard’s secret office.

Tom didn’t know what he had expected—an army ops room, maybe, or a wizard’s cave hung with cobwebs. He hadn’t expected this cozy sitting room full of flowery sofas, with a big round table laid for tea. Tom caught smells of toast and warm cake, and he and Pindar made faces at each other to show how hungry they were.

“This is more like it!” Lorna plumped down in one of the soft chairs. “He’s hiding out in the middle of a
mountain, but he knows how to make things snug. I’m starting to think my uncle Clarence must be quite a decent sort!”

“Thank you,” said a deep voice.

Tom nearly jumped out of his skin. A tall, thin man with close-cropped white hair was suddenly standing beside the tea table. Where had he come from?

“You’re my niece, Lorna Mustard.”

“Y-yes …,” stammered Lorna.

“How very nice to meet you; I’m sorry we haven’t met before. Your father and I had a bit of a falling-out over the affair at Quong.”

Tom couldn’t stop staring. Clarence Mustard was very, very old, with skin like cracked leather. Yet his bright-blue eyes were young and sharp. He had a way of looking at you like a spider sizing up a fly.

“Agent Twenty-Three reporting!” Iris said importantly.

“Hello, Iris. How are you?”

“I’m ready to give my report on the nude ball.”

“Oh, that can wait.” Clarence’s piercing eyes fixed on Tom and Pindar. “Well, well, the Harding demisprite—and you seem to have brought me a runaway Falconer.”

“Something wonderful has happened,” Terence told him. “This runaway Falconer is none other than my dear boy Pindar—not dead after all! And he’s just told me he wants to join us!”

“Indeed?”

Pindar’s face turned red. “If you’ll have me.”

“Your father is Tiberius Falconer,” Clarence said sternly, “the most corrupt and evil member of a corrupt and evil family. Your mother is Dolores Harding Falconer—and I can’t think how a nice family like the Hardings ever came to produce such a frightful woman.”

“But I’m not like them!” Pindar said fiercely. “What’s more, I’ve never been like them—Terence will tell you. I’m different.”

“I can see that,” Clarence said. “I’ve been expecting someone like you for a very long time.”

“Er … sorry?” Pindar was puzzled. “Did you know I was going to run away?”

“My boy, I know the ancient prophecy:
One Good Falconer shall come / To kick the others up the bum!
The message in the stars is that the One Good Falconer is here at last. You must be him, the one who will lead the Realm after his family’s downfall.”

“ME?” Pindar was horrified.

“Steady on,” Terence said. “Pindar’s the best boy in the world, but I don’t think he’s cut out for that sort of job.”

“And Pindar can’t stay in the Realm,” Tom said boldly. “We’ve already decided he’s coming to live in the mortal world with me.”

“Thanks, Tom,” Pindar said.

Clarence was not annoyed by the interruption. He smiled down at Tom, and his piercing eyes were kind. “Welcome, Tom. You’ve decided, have you?”

“He’s my cousin and he saved my life.”

“You have your father’s gift for friendship. Let’s sit down before the tea gets cold.” He sat down by the big silver teapot and began pouring tea.

Tom was incredibly hungry and it was some time before he could think about anything except eating. The food was brilliant—cakes, toast, muffins and sandwiches. He hoped Clarence would forget about this One Good Falconer business. Pindar belonged with him, and if his cousin had to stay in the Realm, the flat above the deli would seem horribly empty when all this was over.

Clarence Mustard ate nothing, but kept up polite tea-party conversation. He introduced himself to Dahlia, and recommended his own magi-manicurist (“She’s a miracle worker!”). He asked Lorna about Mustard Manor (“Dear old house! Does the back door still stick?”).

When everyone except Lorna had stopped eating, he said, “Now we’d better think how to get you all home. It really isn’t safe here—why on earth did you come?”

“We had to steal Milly’s body as evidence,” Dahlia said. “I’m Jonas’s lawyer.”

“Ah, you’re defending him, are you?”

“Yes, I qualified as a fairy lawyer just before I ran off with my first husband.”

“Prepare yourself for some bad news,” Clarence said. “He’s going to be tried under Rule Four.”

Tom had no idea what he was talking about, but Lorna gasped through a mouthful of jam tart, and Pindar muttered, “Oh no!”

“It means,” Clarence said, “that if Jonas is condemned to death, his lawyer will be killed with him.”

“Thank you, darling,” Dahlia said coolly. “I know what it means.”

“Nobody would expect you to take such a risk. If you want to drop out, we’ll quite understand.”

Everyone looked at Dahlia. Tom hardly dared to breathe. This was the godmother he was least sure about—there was a decidedly selfish side to Dahlia—but she was very clever, and if she did drop out, who would defend his dad in court?

“Oh, I’m not dropping out,” Dahlia said, giving Tom a much kinder smile than usual. “Nobody’s going to be killed. I’m in it to win it—that cow Dolores is about to get the bum-kicking of her miserable life!”

“Hooray!” yelled Pindar and Lorna.

“Thanks,” Tom said. “My dad hasn’t got anyone else to speak up for him.”

“It won’t be an easy job,” Clarence said. “But Jonas told me how clever you are, Dahlia. He has the greatest faith in all his son’s godmothers.”

“You’ve seen him!” Tom cried.

“Yes, we met just before his arrest.”

“Was he OK?” Tom’s chest felt tight.

“He’s in excellent health,” Clarence said. “He’s being very well fed in prison because the trial’s going to be televised and they want him to look fat.”

“I saw him too,” Terence said, pouring more hot water into the teapot. “He was hiding with some cousins of mine.”

“But … I thought Dad was hiding with a colony of bats!”

“Yes,” Terence said. “My cousins—on my mother’s side.”

“Terence is a demifur,” Pindar said helpfully.

“What’s that?”

“I’m a demi, just like you,” Terence said. “My father was a fairy—though sadly not nearly such a nice fairy as yours—and my mother was a bat.”

“Oh.” Now he understood why Terence’s face looked odd; he was half-bat. This was the nearest Tom had ever been to having a conversation with an animal.

“It must sound very strange to a mortal,” Clarence said. “You see, Tom, us fairies are able to change ourselves into certain animals. Sometimes, a disguised fairy falls in love with an animal, and they produce a half-animal, half-fairy.”

“We can choose which one to live as,” Terence said. “Most of us choose our fairy side—I’d be the first to admit a bat’s life is rather limited. When I was in college, however, I chose to live full-time as a bat.”

“Of course!” cried Lorna. “Sorry I didn’t remember you—but you weren’t called Terence in those days, were you?”

“I used my bat name, but Jonas couldn’t pronounce it, so he called me—”

“SQUEAKY!” cried Dahlia. “Now I know you!”

“You still owe me money,” Iris said. She was looking at Terence as if he were a bad smell under her little dinosaur nose. “Why did you want to live as a bat, anyway?”

Terence sighed. “I decided I hated my fairy side. I never met my father—he was just a drunken lout who changed himself into a bat for a laugh, and tricked my poor young mother into falling in love with him. Some fairies”—he glanced at Iris—“are very unkind about demifurs. Jonas was never like that.”

“No.” Iris sniffed. “He had the most extraordinary collection of friends.”

“Thanks for helping him,” Tom said.

Terence smiled, but he was serious. “Your father is a great man, Tom. He left the Realm because he couldn’t stand the wickedness. He didn’t want to live in a place
where demifurs were treated like dirt. It was Jonas’s daring escape, on the night before his wedding to poor old Milly, that inspired me to join Clarence.”

“We never found out who helped him,” Iris said. “I bet it was you.”

“Me? I always thought it was you!”

“We don’t have time for arguments about the past,” Clarence said. “There’s still the problem of getting you all back to the mortal world. I was going to smuggle you over the border, but it’s too risky. You’ll have to go through our special escape hole in the membrane. If you’ve all had enough to eat, I suggest we set off.”

Tom was rested now, and full of food, as he and Pindar straightened each other’s wings.

“The Realm’s great,” Tom told Pindar, “but it’s dangerous. I’m looking forward to being back in the mortal world.”

“Me too,” Pindar said. “I like the mortal world. The light’s so soft and peaceful, and nobody’s trying to kill me.”

“If you come to live with us,” Tom said impulsively, “will you miss all the magic?”

Pindar lowered his voice. “No—I was never very good at magic, and I’m allergic to most of it anyway.”

“And—and you’re not going to stay to be the One Good Falconer, are you?”