The Eye of Zoltar

  The second pass was as devastating as the first. Those drones that were not gathered up in the Leviathan’s massive mouth were blown apart by the high-pressure air venting out of its underbelly as it passed, leaving the Hollow Men in tatters. We jumped down after the second pass and moved forward to lend a hand, either by slicing to ribbons those Hollow Men that were momentarily disoriented, or attacking those that were awaiting the Leviathan’s third run. It was an enemy in rout. Like all armies, they had weaknesses, and we had found two that evening: nylon stitching and a collapse of leadership when attacked on two fronts.

  Ralph and his new friend conducted six passes in total until the Hollow Men either retreated or simply collapsed back into parcels of clothes. They were powerful, but even they knew when to call it a day. This time the battle was truly over, and we had won. We looked at one another, and were a picture of exhaustion, stress and relief. I wasn’t the only one who had taken some damage. The Princess had two nasty cuts to her arm and chest, and Addie was wrapping her arm with a bandage.

  The Leviathan parked itself nearby in a low hover and Ralph jumped down to join us, still carrying his large ladies’ handbag in the crook of his arm. He was smiling in his odd Australopithecine way and he greeted us with a clasp of our hands and a soft chuckle. True, we had not been over-enamoured of Ralph when we first met, but when Perkins devolved him it was we who cared for him, and clearly, friendship and loyalty were something that went back a long way in mankind’s history – even to a point before we were truly human. We’d looked after him, and he’d looked after us.

  ‘Thank you, Ralph,’ I said.

  ‘No Ralph,’ he said, his mouth making strange contortions, as though chewing the words together before he spoke. ‘Name … Pirate ’aptain Ralph.’

  ‘Ralph, Wolff? Why not. But a pirate?’

  ‘Only for … good,’ said Sky Captain Ralph with another semi-grin, before looking around. ‘Others?’

  ‘All gone, Captain.’

  ‘Sorrow f’ all,’ said the Australopithecine, ‘’cept Curtis. Glad dead, ’natius too. Wilson, ’erkins – liked. Sorry.’

  ‘We’re sorry too,’ I said. ‘Who’s your friend?’

  I nodded towards the Leviathan, whose chameleonic skin made him look like the scrubby grassland he was hovering above, and Captain Ralph looked at the Leviathan, smiled one of his ancient smiles and touched all our hands again.

  ‘Friend,’ he said, and rummaged in his oversized ladies’ handbag for a moment before handing me a small object carved out of Leviathan tooth and attached to a gold chain. It was a whistle. The captain pointed at the whistle, made a blowing gesture, then pointed at himself, the Leviathan and me.

  ‘I understand,’ I said, and he smiled again, snapped the clasp of his handbag shut, climbed back upon the body of the beast and they both moved off and up as one. By the time they were at a thousand feet in altitude, the Leviathan’s underbelly was already looking like the clouds, and a second later we couldn’t see it at all.

  We stood there for some moments in silence.

  ‘Well, Addie,’ said the Princess at last, ‘looks like your fifty per cent fatality rate was correct after all.’

  Addie frowned as she counted up the numbers in her head. Eight had come out, and four had survived.

  ‘Yes,’ she said sadly, ‘but I wish I’d been wrong. Without Perkins and without Wilson, all would have been lost. Jenny, I’m truly sorry.’

  And we all hugged. Spontaneously, and in silence, while the tattered remnants of the Hollow Men were blown by the breeze across the scrubby grassland.

  We become sisters

  The half-track had cooled down sufficiently to be started and move off once we’d cut the clothes from the tracks, and we didn’t stop until we’d reached the cave in which we’d spent the night before. It was late when we arrived, and too tired to even bother about hiding the half-track or for one of us to stay awake as sentry, we all fell fast asleep.

  I was awoken by a faint noise from outside the cave. I looked at my watch only to discover that a sword-cut the day before had removed the face and hands. I nudged the Princess, who mumbled something like: ‘No,no, Nursey, a pedicure at ten, I said,’ before turning over and going back to sleep. I looked for Addie but her bedroll was empty, and I found her crouching silently at the cave entrance, watching. It was painful when I moved, as all the cuts and nicks I’d received stung horribly.

  ‘Who’s outside?’ I whispered.

  ‘The Mountain Silurians,’ Addie whispered back.

  ‘Let’s see what they want,’ I said, getting up. ‘They know we’re here, and after yesterday, I’m not sure much really scares me any more.’

  We stepped out from behind the rhododendrons to find three warriors upon Buzonjis silently waiting for us.

  ‘Greetings on this day,’ I said, ‘and all respects be upon you. But if you mean to kill us, then be quick about it. We have faced more death in the past twenty-four hours than we would care to see in a lifetime, so do it now or go about your business and leave us to ours.’

  ‘We’re not here to kill you,’ said the middle warrior and the larger of the three, ‘we are here to bring Geraint the Great’s word of congratulations. He salutes the brave warriors who have faced the Cavi homini and returned, and thanks you also for the goat thing, which looks like sound financial advice. He deems you worthy of being called his sisters, and grants you free access upon our lands and the full protection of the Mountain Silurians, wherever you might be.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘good.’

  ‘Then you accept?’ asked the warrior.

  ‘Do we?’ I asked Addie.

  ‘Hell, yes,’ said Addie enthusiastically. ‘An honorary sister of Geraint the Great? You’ll never have to queue in Tesco’s again. And that’s just for starters. Never mind all the other fringe benefits of being affiliated to the most terrifying warrior tribe in the whole of the Kingdoms.’

  ‘I don’t shop at Tesco’s,’ said the Princess, who had arrived behind us. ‘In fact,’ she added, ‘I don’t think I shop at all.’

  ‘Laura Scrubb will have all the benefits when you return her body,’ I said. ‘Perhaps it might make up for the lost hand.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said the Princess, ‘I’m totally in.’

  The warrior on the left slipped expertly from his Buzonji and asked us to sit down. An induction into the Mountain Silurians’ affiliation was designated by a tattoo, in their case a small blue star on the right temple. It took about twenty minutes each, and after leaving us with an elegantly bound book of eligible bachelors within the tribe and three offers of marriage for ‘The Fearless Tour Guide Addie Powell’, the warriors remounted their Buzonjis and were gone.

  ‘Mum will be furious I’ve had a tattoo,’ said the Princess, looking at the livid red mark in the half-track’s wing mirror. ‘Yes, I know it’s technically not on me. It’s just that I’ve got so used to this body I’m not really sensing much of a difference. In a strange way, I’m actually enjoying being Laura Scrubb.’

  We had a good wash in the waterfall before taking a half-hour to tension the half-track’s tracks, as was insisted upon in the rental hire agreement. I even checked the oil and refilled the radiator with water.

  We repacked, climbed in, checked Rubber Colin’s straps were still secure, and headed off down the Llangurig road.

  ‘Do you think Laura has had as interesting a time in my body as I have in hers?’ said the Princess, who had been thoughtful for some time.

  ‘I’m thinking almost certainly,’ I replied.

  ‘I’m going to free her,’ she said, ‘with a generous pension. In fact, I’m going to free all the orphans working in the palace. And when I become Queen I’m abolishing this whole bullshit orphan-based economy. The trade in orphans ends under me – the fast-food joints and hotel industry will just have to figure it out another way.’

  I smiled. Things were looking good for the Kingdom of Snodd, and for orphans in general.
Queen Mimosa had been right to send her daughter out with us, even if by every other measure the trip had been an abject failure.

  ‘Maybe that’s why we have the Troll Wars,’ mused the Princess, who was turning out to be a lot less wooden-headed than I had first thought, ‘to supply the orphan-based economy with orphans.’

  ‘It’s crossed my mind many times,’ I said.

  We came within sight of Llangurig at that point, and I was suddenly aware that the past few days, adventurous though they had been, had not helped us one atom in our fight against the Mighty Shandar. In fact, since we’d lost Perkins and Colin was still rubber, we were actually worse off.

  We found Llangurig a ghost town. The arrival of the railway had taken away its geographic relevance, and only a handful of residents remained, there because they loved it, and none of us had any issue with that.

  We had lunch in the Bluebell and all of us ate two main courses, and sponge pudding to finish. Cadair Idris has that effect.

  ‘So who did take the Eye of Zoltar?’ asked Addie, calling for more custard.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied, ‘but whoever did has had six years to try to unlock its power, and I’m figuring they haven’t – we’d certainly have heard about it.’

  ‘Tell me if I’m pointing out the bleeding obvious,’ said the Princess, ‘but when did Able Quizzler die from that fall?’

  ‘It was … six years ago,’ I murmured.

  ‘And how long since Pirate Wolff got changed to lead?’

  ‘Six years.’

  ‘Is that important?’ asked Addie.

  The Princess didn’t need to answer. I knew precisely what she was getting at. I got up and placed the last of our money on the table.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Addie.

  ‘We’re going to find some shovels,’ I said, ‘because the Princess just picked up on something we all missed.’

  ‘And then,’ added the Princess, ‘we’re going to the cemetery.’

  I had no difficulty finding Able Quizzler’s grave again, and started to dig almost immediately, much to the outrage of the gravedigger, the same one we had met previously.

  ‘You can’t be doing tha’!’ he said. ‘We only ’cept deposits, not withdrawals!’

  We ignored him and, after waving his arms at us for a while, he shambled off about as fast as he could go.

  The ground was waterlogged and heavy, but we eventually unearthed a leaden foot, twisted and mildly flattened by the impact, about two feet beneath the surface.

  ‘Kevin Zipp might well have been right after all,’ I said as we continued to dig, ‘and this is my theory: Able Quizzler found his way to Sky Pirate Wolff’s lair, and as soon as the Eye was shown to him, he used the most easily accessible magic within the Eye to make his escape – in this case, a turning-to-lead gatekeeper. He prised the Eye from Pirate Wolff’s hand, then killed every pirate in his way using the Eye’s power before escaping on a Leviathan. But then the Eye’s gatekeeper spell did what gatekeeper spells are meant to do – protect the jewel. Quizzler was himself turned to lead, and now dead, fell from the Leviathan.’

  ‘And landed here, still – hopefully – clutching the Eye.’

  ‘Fingers crossed.’

  We uncovered his torso, also deformed with the impact, and a minute or two later uncovered his leaden features, still fixed in a triumphant grin etched there six years before and at a height of ten thousand feet or so. I knew then that my theory was sound. Quizzler was killed by the Eye’s malevolence, just as he had achieved his lifelong quest.

  ‘There!’ said Addie as we brushed the dirt off Quizzler’s body to reveal his hand clenched around a large, pink jewel. Despite the ground being wet and muddy, the jewel seemed to repel the dirt and shone with a brightness that almost invited avariciousness. It was actually, I think, even bigger than a goose’s egg, and from somewhere deep inside the jewel there was a light – a pulsating glow, like that of a human pulse. It seemed that Zoltar’s evil will, the guiding force of the gem’s power, was still in residence. We’d found the Eye of Zoltar. But we were going to have to be very, very careful unless we wanted to end up like Quizzler – lead, and very dead.

  We all stared at the jewel, hardly daring to breathe.

  ‘I’ve got no magic in me,’ said the Princess, ‘but even I can feel it – a sort of dark wickedness.’

  ‘I feel it too,’ said Addie, ‘and I’m also thinking that no one should touch it.’

  I agreed with this and after a brief discussion I had the Princess go into town to buy an iron cooking pot, several large balls of string and as many candles as she could carry. And then, without touching the massive jewel, we prised it from Quizzler’s grasp and placed it in the pot surrounded by clay. Once this was done we bound the lid of the pot closed with string, then poured molten wax over the string to seal it tight. We then carried our treasure gently to the half-track, where it was lashed securely to the floor next to Rubber Colin. It was the most dangerous magical artefact that I had ever handled, and I wondered then about the wisdom of giving it to Shandar. But that was up to Moobin and the others to decide.

  ‘Okay, then,’ I said, ‘just one more thing to do and we’re heading home.’

  ‘I really hope it doesn’t involve going back into the Empty Quarter,’ said the Princess.

  ‘No, Cambrianopolis – to negotiate for Once Magnificent Boo’s release.’

  Negotiations in Cambrianopolis

  Cambrianopolis was close to the border with Midlandia but a good hour’s drive north of the frontier with the Kingdom of Snodd. It was a large, sprawling city built in the ‘shabby war-torn chic’ style so popular in the Empire. Most of the city seemed to be piles of rubble interspersed with roofless houses and half-dilapidated apartment blocks, leaning dangerously and blackened by smoke. It was all contrived, of course, like a large and uniquely complex Victorian folly, or a theme park celebrating mankind’s ceaseless warmongery, or something equally daft. Most of the apparently empty buildings were fully occupied, and not unsafe at all. The overall effect was one of a nation in constant civil war, something that was not the case at all – the Tharv dynasty had ruled unopposed for over three centuries.

  We found our way to Emperor Tharv’s State-Owned Ransom Clearance House, which was a large building that, despite having bars on the windows, was run along the lines of a five-star hotel: there was an extensive menu, reliable room service and a health spa and pool. If you were going to be kidnapped anywhere, Cambrianopolis was the place. Some people even came on holiday deliberately to be kidnapped as the Clearance House was full of interesting people. One might, for instance, mix with long-term resident the Duke of Ipswich over breakfast, and be invited to buy tea for the deposed and penniless King Zsigsmund VIII in the afternoon.

  Addie said she’d wait for us by the half-track, so I showed my credentials at the door, took a number and then sat on one of the benches and waited to be called. The Clearance House was designed to make negotiations as quick and easy as possible: agree a price, pay the money – release. Notwithstanding, negotiations could sometimes drag on for decades. The Duke of Ipswich had been here sixteen years as everyone tried to come to an agreement. The ransom was the easy bit; the argument was over who was going to pay for the duke’s food and laundry expenses.

  Our number was eventually called and we entered a small, cheerless room with dusty grey filing cabinets and a dead potted plant. Our negotiator was a young, tidily dressed woman with an intriguing scar running vertically down her cheek and across to her lower lip.

  ‘Hello,’ she said pleasantly, rising to greet us. ‘Welcome to the Cambrian Empire’s Ransom Clearing House. My name is Hilda and I will be negotiating on behalf of the Nation. Offers made in this room are legally binding and negotiations may be recorded for training purposes.’

  I asked whether my handmaiden could sit in, which was okay, and then said who I was and who I wanted to release. Hilda’s eyebrows rose as I spoke, but whether that was
because of me or Boo, I wasn’t sure. I’d like to think a bit of both.

  Hilda the negotiator spoke into a phone to have Boo’s file sent up and then made small talk about the weather and asked whether we had any news from the Kingdom of Snodd. I tried to fill her in about politics but she was really only interested in the Kingdom’s most famous stunt performer, Jimmy ‘Daredevil’ Nuttjob.

  ‘On fire last I heard,’ I told her.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘news doesn’t really cross the border. There could be a war going on and we’d be the last to hear about it. Ah, the file. Thank you, Brigitte.’

  Hilda opened the file and scanned the contents.

  ‘So,’ she said after a while, ‘Miss Boolean Champernowne Waseed Mitford Smith, aka “Once Magnificent Boo”. Occupation: Sorcerer. Condition: Healthy but minus her spelling fingers so deemed “damaged goods”. Charges: Unauthorised importation of a Tralfamosaur, illegal flight over the border and using magic to avoid detection. Charges dropped through the intervention of the Emperor, but after refusing to do any sorcery for him and threatening to “punch him painfully in the eye”, she was transferred to the Clearing House for disposal. We’ve had two best offers for her, both of which are currently on hold. But since you are a recognised negotiator for Kazam Mystical Arts Management and have the prior claim, we will transfer her to you if we can agree terms. If you don’t buy her release, we’ll accept the highest best offer. Okay?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said.

  ‘Splendid. Here we go: we’re looking to get thirty back for her.’

  Thirty grand was a lot of cash, but actually a little less than I thought they’d ask for. But Boo was, as they said, damaged goods, so her value was limited.