‘We don’t take receipts,’ said Hilda.
‘It’s not a receipt,’ said the Princess. ‘Technically speaking what you have there is a banknote. Any banknote is merely a promissory note issued by a government against its assets to enable the citizenry to more easily trade commodities. And by assets one might usually mean gold, although you could choose mice, turnips or tulip bulbs. Often you don’t need any assets at all – if the citizenry believe their national bank will remain solvent come what may, a simple promise is enough, backed by nothing more tangible than … confidence.’
Hilda looked at the Princess blankly, then at me.
‘Yes, I know,’ I said, ‘we’ve had to endure her for a while now but the funny thing is, she’s usually right.’
Heartened by this, the Princess continued.
‘… and since that receipt is signed by Emperor Tharv, who is the Cambrian head of state, that note is legal tender to the value of one Bugatti Royale.’
‘But it’s a car,’ I said, ‘it’s not worth eighteen million.’
The Princess smiled.
‘Not quite correct. There were only seven Bugatti Royales made, and the last one sold at auction for over twenty million. The Bugatti is not so much a car, more an exquisite work of art you can take to the shops. You’ve been driving around in a Van Gogh.’
‘You like economics, don’t you, handmaiden?’ said Hilda, picking up the telephone.
‘Is there anything else?’
‘Hello?’ said Hilda into the receiver. ‘I need to speak to the Master of the Sums.’
We waited for a few minutes while Hilda explained the situation, and after a minute or two she put her hand over the receiver.
‘The Bugatti Royale exchange rate stands at 19.2 million Cambrian plotniks,’ she said. ‘Would you like to take the deposed and penniless King Zsigsmund VIII in lieu of change?’
‘No, I’ll take a Volkswagen Beetle, please,’ I said. ‘One in particular. Pale blue, 1959 – the one Boo arrived in. The rest can be cash.’
Heading home
We stayed overnight in Cambrianopolis while Boo’s paperwork was processed. We had a good meal, a very welcome bath and slept in clean sheets for the first time in what seemed like an age. Talk between the three of us had been muted, with each of us lost in our own thoughts. We’d all be returning to our usual lives over the next few days. The Princess would go back to being a princess, I would return to Kazam and Addie would be dealing with her usual bread-and-butter tour work – taking eager and very dopey tourists into areas of high jeopardy, then attempting to stop them being eaten.
We were waiting outside the Clearance House twenty minutes before it was due to open. I’d tried to raise Kazam on the conch again, but still nothing. The good news was that my Volkswagen had been found, repaired, filled with fuel and returned the previous evening. We had spent an amusing half-hour trying to squeeze Rubber Colin inside the car, only to give up and instead lash him on to the roof rack. Addie had returned the half-track to the hire company, and we were very glad we’d taken out the Additional Collision Waiver as it was in a considerably worse state than when we hired it.
Boo did not seem particularly happy to see us, and stepped blinking into the daylight as soon as I had signed the paperwork.
‘You shouldn’t have paid the ransom,’ she said as soon as she saw me. ‘If no one paid, the kidnapping business would collapse in an afternoon. You’re all fools.’
‘It’s good to see you again too, Boo,’ I said. ‘This is Addie Powell, our friend and guide, and this is Princess Shazine of Snodd.’
‘A Sister Organza switcheroo?’ asked Boo, staring at the Princess and prodding her with an inquisitive middle finger.
‘My mother did it,’ said the Princess.
‘Once, I knew the Queen very well,’ said Boo, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the Princess. ‘A good woman until she married that idiot your father. Ask her if she remembers the incident with the squid.’
‘I will,’ said the Princess, who seemed to have become immune to the insults her father’s name attracted.
‘Right,’ I said as soon as we were in the car, Once Magnificent Boo deferentially allowing the Princess to sit up front, ‘let’s get out of Cambrianopolis before someone changes their mind.’
Luckily, no one did, and an hour later we were heading back towards the border. Barring bad traffic or a breakdown, we’d be back at the palace by lunchtime, and the Princess and the handmaiden could be changed back.
‘I used to think Laura Scrubb was the ugliest girl I’d ever seen,’ said the Princess, staring in the courtesy mirror at the face she’d been using for the past few days, ‘but I’ve got to quite like the snub nose, shortness of stature and lack of any agreeable bone structure.’
‘You’ll soon be yourself again,’ I said, with mixed feelings. The Princess in Laura’s body and I had got on really well, but I wasn’t sure how that would translate once she was back to being beautiful and rich and influential once more.
As we drove towards the border I related everything that had happened over the past four days. I told Boo all that I could recall – leaving out the bit about Gabby – and expected her to make comment, ask questions, or say ‘Ah-ha’ or ‘Really?’ or ‘Gosh’ or something but she didn’t say anything until I’d finished.
‘At least it explains why there’s a rubber Dragon strapped to the roof,’ she said at last. ‘I was wondering about that. Where’s the Eye of Zoltar right now?’
I told her it was in the old saucepan in her footwell, and she drew her feet away.
‘Has anyone touched it?’
‘No.’
‘Keep it that way. It’ll be nothing but trouble. If I were you I’d drop it down the first disused mine shaft you come across.’
I explained why we needed it, and that we’d hold a conclave to discuss everything when we got home. Boo merely shrugged at this and muttered darkly about ‘meddling with powers you could not possibly hope to comprehend’.
We passed a road sign alerting us that the border to the Kingdom of Snodd was ahead.
‘Thirty minutes,’ said Addie, who would be picking up her next group from the tourist office, where we first met her.
‘About time,’ said the Princess, ‘I’m really beginning to miss being me.’
I ran over my speech to Queen Mimosa as we drove along. About how I felt the Princess had progressed from being a spoilt brat of the highest order to someone who could, and would, think of others. On second thoughts, I probably wouldn’t need to say anything at all – the Princess would simply open her mouth and speak, and the Queen in her wisdom would know.
We first spotted the smoke when we were still some way from the border. We thought at first that it was the result of a minor border skirmish or something. When I mentioned it to Boo she leaned forward in her seat.
‘That’s not the border,’ she said, ‘it’s farther away.’
‘Hereford?’ I asked.
‘Closer than that,’ said Boo. ‘Perhaps the palace.’
‘The palace?’ echoed the Princess, and urged me to drive faster. The palace was only ten miles from the border, and as we crested the last rise and the Kingdom was spread before us the Princess’s home came into view. And what we saw was neither expected, nor welcome.
‘No!’ cried the Princess, and put her hand to her mouth.
I stopped the car at a lookout spot where several other people were already watching, and we climbed out. The royal palace was on fire, and a long pall of black smoke drifted across the land. There was a small explosion in the castle, then another.