‘I have … a Dragon,’ I said. ‘Admittedly he’s rubber right now, but he’ll be turning back pretty soon.’
‘And if he does, and if he can get here, will he be willing to kill them to get Perkins back?’
I thought about Colin’s strictly pacifist nature.
‘Actually, probably not. But he can be seriously scary – talons, teeth, barbed tail, fiery breath, that sort of thing.’
‘I’m sure that’s very scary where you come from, but considering the loathsome creatures that squirm, squelch, drift or creep around this country, a Dragon has a terror rating of two. And to put that into context, a Tralfamosaur is a five, and my gran is an eight.’
‘Your gran must be very scary,’ I said.
‘She ate a live whippet once,’ said Addie, ‘which is pretty scary, especially during a wedding.’
‘What did the bride and groom say?’
‘She was the bride. I think she wanted to make a statement to her in-laws.’
‘That would be quite a statement,’ said the Princess, pulling a face.
‘There must be something we can do about Perkins,’ I implored. ‘He’s a good friend, and I really like him.’
Addie shrugged.
‘It’s not like he’s dead,’ she said. ‘You’ll meet him again some time, I’m sure.’
‘True,’ I replied, ‘but I also think Emperor Tharv might reopen research into Thermowizidrical Weapons if he had access to a sorcerer.’
Addie thought for a moment.
‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘and that would be a screaming disaster. Wait here.’
She patted me on the arm, and approached the three bandits, who were all congratulating themselves on their good fortune.
‘How much for him?’ she asked, pointing not at Perkins but at the man who was the bandit’s previous kidnap victim.
‘Getting into the kidnap business, Addie?’
‘Tour guide pay is not what it used to be.’
Gareth thought for a moment, then nodded. They went into a huddle for some bargaining, and two minutes later Addie returned with their previous victim. He was in his mid-sixties and dressed in a tweed jacket and plus-fours. He had a genial demeanour, an impressive moustache, but didn’t look as though he’d slept in a proper bed for a week.
‘This is Mr Wilson,’ said Addie, ‘and we’re leaving.’
The others needed no second bidding and hurriedly clambered aboard the half-track.
‘Why did you buy him?’ I said to Addie in a low voice.
‘I have a plan to get your Perkins back,’ she said, ‘and there can’t be any witnesses.’
I stared at her to see whether she was pulling my leg, but she wasn’t. She nodded in the direction of the bandits, who were readying to leave.
‘Better say your goodbyes.’
I walked across to Perkins.
‘Hey,’ I said, ‘how are you feeling?’
‘Not great,’ he said. ‘They want to present me to Emperor Tharv as a gift. I’ve never been a gift before.’
I leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, and took the opportunity to whisper: ‘Trust us. You’ll be fine.’
The bandits then mounted Perkins on a spare Buzonji and were soon lost to view in a swirl of dust. I watched them go and then returned to the half-track. I was, as you might imagine, of a somewhat heavy heart. Perkins was the closest thing to a boyfriend I had, and despite our recently increased difference in ages, I didn’t want to lose him. I looked at my watch. At seven I would contact Tiger using the conch and report what had happened. Moobin or Lady Mawgon would doubtless know what to do.
At the Claerwin
‘Hello, everyone,’ said our new travelling companion as soon as we were on the move, ‘you don’t have to call me Mr Wilson – Wilson is just dandy. I’m an ornithologist.’
‘A what?’ asked Curtis.
‘It’s someone who studies birds,’ said the Princess.
‘Hadn’t you heard?’ said Curtis with an impertinent laugh. ‘Birds have all but vanished in the Empire.’
‘Which makes the sport of birdwatching quintriply fascinating,’ said Wilson. ‘Think of the thrill of finding a bird where there aren’t any. Marvellous.’
‘You’re mad,’ said Curtis.
‘Bit rude,’ said Wilson cheerfully. ‘Who’s the hairy chap and does he know that his thing is showing?’
‘That’s Ralph,’ I said, ‘and I don’t think he cares if it’s showing or not.’
‘Ook,’ said Ralph, sort of in agreement.
‘An ornithologist?’ I said, still considering Wilson’s earlier statement.
‘It’s how I managed to negotiate his release so easily,’ said Addie. ‘Gareth mistook ornithologist for anthologist. Practitioners skilled in the art of collecting works of poetry are sound, tradable commodities out here, while birdwatchers just eat your food and say: “Ooh, stop the car a minute, I think I can see Painted Dillbury”.’
‘Where?’ asked Wilson excitedly, before realising it was simply an example. ‘The funny thing,’ he added, ‘is that I am also an anthologist. I didn’t tell them because they never asked. I’m very grateful, by the way. As a special treat I’ll tell you all about the Cloud Pippit. The sparrow-sized bird has a density only slightly greater than helium and nests upon rising columns of air—’
‘Bored now,’ said Curtis.
‘Still rude,’ said Wilson.
‘Where are you heading?’ I asked.
‘This way, now,’ he said, pointing in the direction we were going. ‘I have no plans. You?’
‘Llangurig,’ I answered, ‘and then perhaps to Cadair Idris.’
‘To watch Leviathans?’ he asked, suddenly excited.
‘It’s possible.’
‘Not exactly birds, but they do fly and have as yet unobserved mating rituals – I’m in.’
‘It’s on a fifty per cent risk factor,’ I said, ‘and we’ve not lost anyone yet so mathematically speaking you could still be fair game.’
‘I’m still in,’ said Wilson with a grin. ‘I’ve heard Leviathans are a total blast.’
There were no other incidents of note in the next hour, and after driving through a narrow gorge where we had to pay two sub-quality bandits an insultingly low fee for the privilege to pass, we came upon the Claerwin lake, a large body of water nestling quietly about twenty miles inside the Quarter. We drove along the banks of the lake for a mile or so and arrived at one of the many campsites dotted about the countryside, expressly for the use of travellers eager to spend a safe and unmolested night.
‘Okay,’ said Addie as we pulled into the deserted campsite and parked next to the shattered remains of long-abandoned armoured vehicles, ‘I know it’s not late, but we’ll camp here for the night. It’ll be a long day tomorrow if we’re to make Llangurig before nightfall.’
We climbed out of the half-track and stared at the lake, which was about a mile across.
‘It looks almost perfectly … circular,’ said Curtis.
‘I read in Conspiracy Theorist magazine that the lakes around here are craters from top-secret Thermowizidrical Device weapons tests back in the eighties,’ said Ignatius.
‘Thermowizidrical … what?’ asked Curtis.
‘Using magic to cause explosions,’ I said, ‘usually two contradicting spells that draw increasing amounts of power as they attempt to cancel each other out. If left unchecked the spell will break down and then either fizzle out or go supercritical and violently explode. Crucially, the two spells could be potentially just written down – the power to take out a city block or two from a few scribbles on the back of an envelope.’