The Eye of Zoltar (11 page)

‘What the—?’

‘Get it together,’ I snapped, ‘or you and me are done.’

Actually, him and me were not yet an item so we couldn’t be done, but I had to think that it might be something he valued, and give him an emotional boost to get the spell right. With only two hundred feet and a second or two to a nasty, shattered end, Perkins tried again and Colin changed abruptly to a dark matt-black substance.

I held my breath.

Colin hit the road with what I can only describe as probably the loudest, deepest and most dense-sounding
thud
I had ever heard. He narrowly missed two backpackers and a car as he momentarily spread out across the road to a flat disc about six inches thick. In an instant the rubber molecules that now made up his body sprang back into shape and Colin was catapulted high into the air. So high in fact, that the anti-aircraft guns opened up again, but this time with less accuracy, and none of the shell bursts came close. Pretty soon Colin was on his way back down but this time he landed five hundred yards or so farther away, and a second later was catapulted back into the air. We watched with growing despondency as Rubber Colin bounced off into the distance until he vanished below a low hill to the north.

‘Blast,’ said Perkins, lowering his now steaming finger in case anyone noticed he was responsible. They hadn’t, and Perkins suddenly looked tired and sat on our luggage, head in hands.

‘You okay?’ I asked.

‘I think so,’ he said. ‘I’ve not spelled that strongly before. Do I look okay?’

He looked tired and drained and somehow … different. More world-weary. I told him he probably needed an early night and he nodded in agreement.

‘Was that Colin?’ asked the Princess, walking back toward us.

I told her it was but to keep it under her hat. Magic was
strictly forbidden
in the Empire, and Perkins certainly didn’t want to be outed as a sorcerer.

‘How far do you think he went?’ she asked, staring at the horizon.

Perkins looked at his watch.

‘He’ll be bouncing for the next ten minutes or so. Best guess – thirty or forty miles.’

‘How much wizidrical energy to change him back?’ I asked.

‘Bucketloads if you want it done immediately,’ replied Perkins thoughtfully, ‘but the spell will wear off on its own within a few days. Either way, he’s not flying out of here on his own – not with a wing like that.’

‘But he’s safe as a rubber dragon until he turns back?’

‘Sure – so long as no one tries to make car tyres or doorstops or gumboots out of him. But it’s not all bad,’ he added. ‘At least he’ll be waterproof if it rains.’

I sighed. This was a bad start to our search. I pulled my compass out of my bag and took a bearing on the hill behind which Colin had bounced, then drew a line on my map. It was, luckily enough, pretty much in the same direction we were to travel. If our calculations were correct, Colin would be running out of bounce not far from Llangurig.

‘They had run out of armoured cars,’ said the Princess ‘so I persuaded them to upgrade us to a military half-track at the same rate.’

She looked at Perkins, who was still sitting, head in hands.

‘Do you think we should upgrade this to a quest?’ she asked.

‘It is
not
a quest,’ I said emphatically. ‘If it was we’d need to register with the International Questing Federation, adhere to their “Code of Conduct” and pay them two thousand moolah into the bargain.’

This was true. The Questing Federation were powerful, and would insist on a minimum staffing requirement: at least one strong-and-silent warrior, a sage-like old man, and either a giant or a dwarf – and all of them cost bundles, not just in salary but in hotel bills too. To go on a quest these days you needed serious financial backing.

‘No,’ I said more emphatically, ‘this is a search, plain and simple.’

‘Jenny?’ said Perkins, still with his eyes closed.

‘Yes?’

‘Why
were
they shooting at Colin? At barely the size of a pony and with fiery breath no more powerful than a blowlamp, he’s not exactly dangerous.’

A voice chirped up behind us.

‘They shot him down because all aerial traffic in the Cambrian Empire is banned.’

I turned to see who was speaking, and that was when we first met Addie Powell.

Her face was dirty, she had no shoes, and she was dressed in a loose, poncho-style jacket that was tied at the waist by a leather belt upon which hung a dagger. It was the costume favoured by the Silurians, a tribe who lived on the lower slopes of the Cambrian Mountains. She had three small stars tattooed on the left side of her face that told me she was a daughter of middle rank, a braid in the left side of her hair denoting no parents, and a ring on the third toe of her left foot – she held financial responsibility for someone, likely a younger sibling, or a grandmother. I guessed she was about twelve or thirteen, but it was hard to tell. Children grow up fast in the Empire. She may have been as young as ten.

‘Hungry?’ I asked, for Silurians value hospitality above everything, and the girl nodded. I dug some cheese out of my bag and offered it to her. The girl paused for a moment, approached warily with one hand on the hilt of her dagger, took the cheese and sniffed at it.

‘Hereford Old Contemptible,’ she said expertly, ‘with chives and extra-mature. My favourite. Thank you.’

She sat down on a rock beside us, took a bite of the cheese, chewed for a moment, then said:

‘New in the Empire?’

‘Half an hour ago.’

‘Was that rubber dragon anything to do with you?’

‘Um – no.’

‘Ah-ha. Did I just see your Bugatti being towed away?’

I nodded.

‘Not unusual,’ said the child. ‘Our Glorious Emperor is a bit of a petrolhead. He sees a car he likes, he takes it. But at least he’s willing to pay for it. He’s odd like that. He cries bitterly when signing execution orders and always pardons his victims afterwards.’

‘There’s a lot to be said for not holding a grudge.’

‘I suppose so. Why do you have “No more pies” tattooed on the back of your hand?’

‘It’s sort of like “nil by mouth” only with … pies,’ I replied, having no real idea why. ‘Actually,’ I added, ‘it’s not mine at all.’

I took the Helping Hand
^™
out of my cuff, and tweaked the second knuckle for two seconds to put it in sleep mode. The Helping Hand
^™
made some rapid hand signals that were pre shut-down diagnostics, then went limp. The girl did not seem that taken aback, but then if you’ve been brought up in the strife-torn Cambrian Empire, seeing a hand without a body attached probably wasn’t such a big deal.

‘You’re a sorcerer?’ she asked.

‘I
know
sorcerers,’ I told her. ‘The hand is enchanted, but not by me.’

‘I see,’ said the girl, ‘and why do you want to find Sky Pirate Wolff?’

I raised an eyebrow.

‘News travels fast,’ I said.

‘Gossip has been clocked at 47.26 mph out here,’ explained the child, ‘the fastest recorded anywhere in the Kingdoms. Gossip is so fast, in fact, that we have no need for newspapers or a postal service. The only place where news does not travel is across the border. I know nothing of your culture other than you seem mostly well meaning, are ridiculously wealthy by our standards, and regard anything dangerous as somehow fun.’

She was right. Little crossed our nations’ borders in the way of information. A war might be raging in your own country, and the first thing you’d know about it was when you returned home to find your house a smoking ruin, with armed militia eating the contents of your freezer and ‘Viva el Presidente’ daubed on the walls.

‘So, said Addie, ‘what do you want with the captain?’

‘We’re curious,’ I said, not wanting to give too much away, ‘and we like an adventure. We hear Wolff rides the Cloud Leviathans, and we’d like to see one up close.’

She stared at us for a moment, head cocked on one side, sizing us up.

‘The best place to start,’ she said ‘is the legendary Leviathans’ Graveyard, where the huge beasts go to die. Many have sought the ivory in the dead animals’ jaws, and many have been lost in the attempt. Actually,’ she added, ‘
all
have been lost in the attempt, which is why it’s kind of off the tourist trail. When can you leave?’

‘As soon as our transport arrives, and our guide.’

‘Your guide is here,’ said the girl with a smile. ‘My name is Addie Powell, and I agree to take you to Cadair Idris as long as you accept my terms.’

‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ I said, ‘but you seem quite young for a guide.’

Addie narrowed her eyes.

‘Don’t take
this
the wrong way, but the last person who said that ignored my advice and is now carrion in the Empty Quarter. If they’d done what I’d said they’d be inheriting a kingdom about now. Besides, it’s not the age, it’s the mileage that counts.’

She definitely looked as though she had seen the mileage. Her eyes had a hard look in them, and I noticed a scar on one cheek, and one of her fingers was missing.

I apologised, told her I had complete confidence in her abilities, and we all shook hands. I introduced everyone, even the Princess, who made an awkward half-curtsy.

‘Will it be risky?’ I asked as we sat down to negotiate her fee.

‘Risky?’ said Addie. ‘Put it this way: statistically speaking, you’re dead already, your bones gnawed by wild animals and now bleached in the sun, your life only fractured lost moments, memories in those who knew you best.’

‘Very … jolly,’ I said.

Addie shrugged.

‘There are many dangers and I don’t want you to start whining when someone gets eaten or drowned or something. But here’s the deal: a Golden Moolarine each for wherever you want to go for the next week, and for that I can promise you a fifty per cent survival rate.’

‘I thought the official Fatality Index was eighty-six per cent?’

Addie smiled.

‘I can offer better odds than the official rate. It is a gift passed down from one tour operator to the next – a sixth sense that tells me how many we will lose. I am never wrong. But let’s be clear on this: half of your party will die, or be lost or eaten. Are you sure you want to shoulder that responsibility?’

I looked at Perkins, who nodded.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Then we have a deal,’ said Addie, and we shook on it.

At that moment an ex-military half-track turned up in a cloud of yellow Marzoleum fumes. I’d not seen one of these up close before. The front two wheels were for steering, and at the rear there were caterpillar tracks, like on a landship. It was also protected by a quarter-inch of armour plate on the sides and bottom, but not the top, which was open, but could be covered by a canvas tarpaulin. Perkins and I looked at it doubtfully.

‘Where we’re going, there are no roads,’ said Addie. ‘This was a good call. We leave in half an hour. Wait here.’

‘Fifty per cent casualties?’ said Perkins as soon as Addie had gone and we had signed the half-track’s rental agreement. ‘That’s …’

‘… one and a half of us, plus two and a half fingers if you count the Helping Hand
^™
,’ said the Princess. ‘Bags I not be the one half-dead, especially in Laura’s body.’

‘You should be more serious, Princess,’ said Perkins.

‘And you should hold your tongue when talking impertinently to royalty, Mr Porkins.’

‘It’s
Perkins
.’

‘Perkins, Porkins, Twitkins – like I give a monkey’s.’

‘No one is dying or losing fingers,’ I said, ‘and we’ve got a few magical moves that should help us get home safely. And Princess, hold your tongue. You’re Laura Scrubb right now, and will be until we get you back to the palace.’

We chucked our baggage inside the half-track and I climbed into the driver’s seat to figure out how to drive the vehicle. It didn’t seem much different to the Bugatti, in fact, and I was just reading the bit in the instruction manual about track maintenance procedures when a voice made me look up.

‘Hey!’

It was Curtis and two others. All young, all dressed kind of hip, all looking a bit smug, confident and stupid.

‘Hey, Dragonslayer dude,’ said Curtis, grinning at me, ‘heard you were heading off through the Empty Quarter towards Cadair Idris to do some Cloud Leviathan spotting. Sounds dangerous, and well, we’re like totally up for it.’

‘This is a private expedition,’ I said sharply, ‘you’re not coming.’

‘Too late,’ he said, ‘we’ve already okayed it with your tour guide, and she’s taken our money.’

‘Is that right?’ I asked Addie, who was walking up with a bedroll on her shoulder.

‘Yes indeed,’ she said, ‘a larger party fares better for all manner of reasons, and if it comes to a scrap, seven people are better than four.’

‘I really don’t think—’

‘I’d like you to trust my judgement on this one, Miss Strange.’

We stared at one another for a moment. There was something she wasn’t telling me, but I had to trust her – only a fool ignores a local guide.

‘Okay,’ I said, ‘welcome aboard.’

‘Awesome,’ said Curtis, readying himself for introductions. ‘These are my buddies. Meet Ignatius Catflap.’

He indicated the shorter of the two. Ignatius had a shock of black hair and seemed to be trying a little too hard to grow a beard. He was chewing gum and his red-rimmed hungover eyes blinked stupidly as he was introduced.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘This is just like going on a trip to some weird and awesome dangerous place.’

‘It’s not
like
it, you dope,’ said the Princess, ‘it is.’

Ignatius stared at her in surprise.

‘A
little
bit forward for a handmaiden, aren’t you?’

‘She’s kind of a bodyguard as well,’ I said. ‘Try and be nice to the morons, Laura.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Ignatius’ family own the Catflap Corporation,’ piped up Curtis, as though it were exciting and relevant. ‘They make novelty placemats.’

‘They do
what
?’ I asked.

‘Placemats,’ said Ignatius, ‘mats to put your plates on at mealtimes. I’m here doing research into our planned “Extreme Jeopardy Range”. Each mat will depict a frightful end suffered by someone here in the Cambrian Empire. What do you think?’