The Bone Magician (25 page)

SILVER APPLE KILLER UNCOVERED

by

Deodonatus Snoad

My Dear Readers,

I am sure that by now there are very few of you out there who have not heard of the escape of the Gluttonous Beast. At this point in
time I cannot comment on his whereabouts or his intentions, but no doubt you will find these out for yourselves soon enough.

There is every possibility you also know that it was I, Deodonatus Snoad, who released the Beast. Perhaps
it was Mr Idolice who told you. I wonder: did he also tell you how he kept
me
in captivity for eight years in his travelling circus, Rudy Idolice’s
Peregrinating Panopticon of Wonders, and showed me under the name of Mr Hideous? I suffered daily, as did the Beast, the torment of being poked and prodded and stared at. But, unlike the Beast, I was able to break free and to pursue my life as I wished.
Perhaps now you begin to understand why I would do such a thing as to allow a Beast of wholly unrestrained temperament to roam free in the City. All I will have done is to afford him the same opportunity as I had, and I am sure that he will be grateful
for it. Of course, there is always the possibility that you will not even notice him among you, such is the nature of this city.

There is one other thing I can reveal on this page, my final piece for the
Chronicle
. I am
quite certain that this is a fact not yet in your possession: the identity of the Silver Apple Killer. I can divulge this to you now because I intend to be far away from Urbs Umida when you read this. Like the Beast, I will start a new life.

You see, my Dear Readers – and I mean that with the utmost sincerity, as I realize now that you have in your
own way been my only friends these past few years – I, Deodonatus Snoad, your humble servant in all newsworthy matters of this city, am the Silver Apple Killer.

But why? I hear you cry. What have we done to deserve this?

Well, let me tell you.
You went to gaze upon the Beast
. That is what you did.

At least I am not like him, you thought, as you stared heartlessly at him in his cage. And then you walked out on to the Bridge and
wondered why you were struck down. And now the Beast is free to take his own revenge. Perhaps he has already. And it is no more than you deserve, every gawping one of you.

Remember,

There will be no next time,

Deodonatus Snoad

Note from the Editor:

This piece was delivered to the offices of the
Chronicle
the same night as the Beast was
released. Bearing in mind the subject of the article, we considered that you, the people of Urbs Umida, should have the opportunity
to read it. Unfortunately, there is no news of the Beast as yet. We can only hope that
he is captured before anyone else comes to any harm. As for Deodonatus Snoad, he was found dead in the Beast’s cage, along with Rudy Idolice, the morning following its release. We can only speculate that the Beast was not as grateful for his
freedom as Deodonatus might have wished.

The Editor

PS As far as we can make out, the Greek quotation means:

‘An ass thinks an ass a pretty fellow.’

Make of it what you will.

Well, Dear Reader (as Deodonatus was so fond of saying, although I do not suppose so many will ever read this journal as
read the ‘Chronicle’), I cannot say when I will be writing again. We are packed and ready to go, Juno and I, and we have said our goodbyes. I shall not miss Urbs Umida, but I shall miss Squid’s Gate Alley, where we leave some good
friends
:
Benedict and Aluph – to whom I gave for safe keeping my mother’s bones – Beag, and Mrs Hoadswood, who has sustained us with her cooking in this miserable place. We gratefully take some with
us in our bags.

We have all read the ‘Chronicle’. Aluph is certain that Deodonatus was trying to tell us through his writings
that he was the Silver Apple Killer. His mistake, however, was to talk about fault. There is not a soul in this city who would ever accept that they might be to blame for something. It is not in their nature! Aluph was
most concerned about Mr Snoad’s Friction Stick, but there was not a trace of it to be found, neither in his lodging house nor at the Nimble Finger. No doubt it will surface eventually.

The only thing of interest that was found at Deodonatus’s lodgings was a copy of ‘Houndsecker’s Tales of Faeries and
Blythe Spirit’. Deodonatus seemed well acquainted with the tale of the princess and the toad. It explained a lot.

It was late afternoon when Juno and Pin walked briskly over the Bridge towards the city gates on the other side of the
river. Beneath them once again the Foedus was making slow progress inland, groaning and creaking with her burden of broken ice and colourful debris from the stalls that had traded on her frozen back. The thaw had started the previous evening and the
streets once more were slushy streams of muck and the smell of the river was heavy in the air. Pin breathed deeply and Juno laughed.

‘I should have thought you would be glad to get that smell out of your head.’

Pin smiled. ‘It is a smell I will never forget,’ he said. ‘And it will always remind me of everything that happened
in this city.’ He put his hand to his collar and felt for the tiny bone, the tip of his mother’s little finger, that was hanging from a string around his neck.

‘I think I prefer my smells,’ said Juno laughing.

‘Well, it’s all behind us now,’ said Pin. ‘And who knows what’s ahead?’

‘The truth, perhaps,’ said Juno, thoughtfully, ‘about your father.’

‘Maybe,’ said Pin. ‘Though sometimes the truth isn’t such a great thing after all. And what about you? This man
you are looking for, what will you do if you find him?’

‘He has something that belonged to my father,’ said Juno. ‘I will ask for it back.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘A wooden leg.’

‘Do you know his name?’

‘I do,’ said Juno. ‘His name is Joe Zabbidou.’

from
Houndsecker’s Tales of Faeries and Blythe
Spirits

I thought this might shed some light on the complicated nature of Deodonatus Snoad’s thinking and the meaning
of the silver apple – Author

There was once a beautiful princess who had everything a princess could wish for. Beauty and wealth, and a loving father
and mother. She lived in a marvellous castle and spent her days playing in the surrounding gardens. She was a kind princess, but she had one fault. She suffered somewhat from pride. Her father warned her on many occasions that one day her pride would
teach her a lesson.

‘I am sure you are right,’ she said gaily, but she paid him little heed and ran away.

It happened one day that she was playing in the rose garden south of the castle. She liked to play there because the ground was mossy
and springy under her feet and in
the centre of the grass there was an ancient well. When she became hot she would wind down the bucket and draw up some of the cool clear water that lay deep below to splash on her
face.

On that particular day, she saw something glittering in the grass. She reached down and recovered a small silver apple, just big enough
to fit into the palm of her hand. In the sunlight it was quite beautiful and she threw it into the air and delighted in catching it. Then she threw it so high that she lost sight of it in the brightness of the sun, only to hear a moment later a loud
splash from within the well.

She ran over to the well and looked into the darkness, but there was no sign of it. But she was not one to give up so easily.
‘Perhaps,’ she mused, ‘there is a way.’

Carefully she lowered the bucket into the water and then brought it up again full to the brim. Hopefully she peered inside and exclaimed
with joy when she saw something glistening at the bottom. Quickly she emptied it, but it was not a silver apple that sat before her, only a gleaming toad. Its green legs were splayed on the grass and its toes gripped the mossy ground. Its knobbly skin
and wide grin repulsed her.

‘Ugh,’ she exclaimed and turned her head away.

‘Please
don’t turn away from me,’ said a voice, and when the princess looked again through her fingers,
she saw that it was indeed the toad that was speaking.

‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘You are too ugly to deserve my gaze.’

The toad looked up at her sadly. ‘I might be able to help you,’ he said.

The princess laughed, rather nastily. ‘And what could you do for me?’

‘I could fetch your silver apple,’ he said. ‘It is at the bottom of the well. If you could just put me in the bucket
and lower me down, I can get it for you.’

‘But I would have to touch your ugly skin,’ she said.

‘Is that such a torment for you?’ asked the toad, and the princess thought of the beautiful silver apple and said,
‘Perhaps not. But I shall have to close my eyes.’