The Hunting of the Princes

  Jemima ran along the quay, hoping speed alone would be enough to get her clear of the clumping gols. If she could just get out of the harbour she might manage to lose them amid the markets.

  One of the soldiers drew his sword, and took a mighty swing at a gol. The blade, whose elegant hieroglyphs glowed with purple enchantments, simply bounced off the contraption’s clay chest. It ignored the attack and carried on toward Jemima.

  Worried shouts were rising above the sounds of the mass brawl as dock workers realized a powerful enchantment had taken control of their gols. Twenty metres ahead of Jemima, three gols were heading down the quayside towards her. They pushed past a soldier, smacking him into a barrel as if he was no more than a bundle of fluff. Two terrified dock workers scrambled out of their way.

  Jemima looked round wildly. There were gols ahead and behind now. The stone wall along the side of the harbour pool offered no way out. She dashed up a gangway to a moored cargo yacht. Only when she stumbled on to the wooden decking did she realize there was no escape: the yacht measured barely fifteen metres from prow to stern, and there was nowhere to hide.

  The first gol reached the gangway and put its foot on the worn planking. Jemima screamed.

  Someone landed on the quayside behind the gol. It was the boy with the white hair, who had somehow jumped down the wall. He stood up with a savage smile on his face, and drew a sword whose blade shone with a vibrant green light.

  Jemima wanted to shout ‘That’s no use!’ but she was so terrified she couldn’t even move, let alone open her mouth.

  The boy stood behind the gol as it stomped up the gangway. He brought the sword up, and swung it in an almighty arc, cutting through the gangway’s tough planks in one powerful sweep. Gangway and gol plummeted down into the water.

  Jemima gasped in surprise. Bubbles were roaring up from the gaps around the gol’s brass joints as the water poured into its hollow body. Its legs fell off, then the arms. Its head was last, bobbing away from the torso and sinking without trace.

  The boy winked at her, and took a sharp step back as the remaining gols arrived. They lined up along the side of the quay, facing the cargo yacht in silence. Jemima stared back at them, but they didn’t move.

  Then the dock hands arrived and began frantically counter-charming the gols, bringing their contraptions back under control. Lady Jessicara waited until it was safe, and the gols were marched away, before allowing Captain Feandez of the bodyguard squad to lower another gangway out to the yacht. She was first across, putting her arm round a shaking Jemima and helping her back ashore. When Jemima had recovered enough to look round, the boy with the white hair had long since vanished.

  THE LAIR OF THE ANA-NERD PRINCE

  ‘What were you thinking?’ Taggie stormed.

  Jemima scowled sullenly over her cup of tea. It was one of Mum’s herbal infusions, supposed to calm her.

  ‘Clearly she wasn’t,’ Mum said.

  ‘But what an adventure, eh?’ King Manokol said in an admiring tone. ‘Just the kind of devilishly exciting scrape princes and princesses are supposed to have.’ His gaze flicked dismissively over Prince Lantic, who stood at one end of the mansion’s lounge, his slim shoulders all hunched up. ‘Decent ones, anyway.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about my sister,’ Taggie said.

  Jem huffed herself up, ready to deny all blame in her loudest possible voice – but Mum raised a warning finger.

  ‘No real harm done,’ the King said, stroking his beard. ‘You did the right thing nipping on to that yacht to dodge the gols. Gols can’t survive being dunked in water – they’re not even happy in rain. Something about their animation enchantments breaking up . . . Ask Lantic here if you want the truly boring details.’

  ‘Someone chopped the gangway apart for me,’ Jemima said quietly. ‘I still can’t sight who it was. I want to thank him.’

  ‘Captain Feandez of the Blue Feather regiment is looking for him,’ King Manokol said. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll find the boy. After all, the fellow’s a hero.’ Again there was disappointment directed in Lantic’s direction.

  ‘Did the harbourmaster inspect the cargo?’ Taggie asked.

  ‘Sadly not,’ the King said, pulling thoughtfully on his beard. ‘By the time order was restored, the boat had sailed. It’s most strange, nobody saw it on the Zhila afterwards.’

  ‘I know they were using a shadecast in the cargo hold,’ Jemima said. ‘Maybe they expanded it to cover the whole craft.’

  ‘Most likely,’ the King said. ‘But what with all the anamage contrivances we have to see through such enchantments these days, you’d think someone would have spotted the blighters. Apparently not. Which means the Blossom Princess was right to be curious. There was definitely some skulduggery involved, most likely contraband or unpaid fees. Some of those smaller boat captains are a troublesome lot, barely more than pirates.’

  ‘Well, I thank you for your understanding,’ Taggie said.

  ‘Quite all right.’ The King smiled at Jemima. ‘Next time, give my officers some warning before you go gallivanting off after criminals, eh?’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Jemima said in a respectful tone, which didn’t fool Taggie for an instant.

  King Manokol bowed courteously to Mum, who politely allowed him to take her arm. They swept out of the lounge together, with Lantic scuttling after them.

  ‘Don’t ever do anything like that again,’ Taggie said to Jemima after the door had closed.

  ‘Don’t try and boss me about,’ Jemima snapped back.

  ‘Do you understand what you’ve done?’

  Jemima held her head up defiantly. ‘Uncovered a bunch of smugglers. The King was grateful.’

  ‘No,’ Taggie told her. ‘You put us in the King’s debt. Which he will no doubt remind me of if there’s a vote in the Gathering for which he needs support.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jemima said, abashed. ‘Sorry. I didn’t think of that.’

  There was a whole lot Taggie could have said on that subject, but nothing that hadn’t been said a thousand times before. And it had never made any difference before.

  ‘I had to go to that harbour pool, Taggie. I knew something bad was happening there. I just did.’

  ‘I know.’

  Jemima produced a sheet of paper. ‘This is what I saw in the crates,’ she said hopefully. ‘Do you know what it is?’

  Taggie took a look at the pencil sketch. It was typical Jemima: all quick and messy, with lines crossed out. She couldn’t make much sense of it: a narrow cylinder with a ring at one end, and some kind of crude metal attachment at the other. ‘I have no idea,’ she said. ‘It’s got to be some kind of anamage contraption.’

  ‘We have to find out,’ Jemima implored. ‘Please, Taggie, it’s important, I know it is.’

  Taggie sighed. There were times when Jemima was the ultimate annoying little sister, but . . . she couldn’t stand the idea that one day the two of them would wind up like Mum and Aunt Judith. ‘I suppose we could ask someone who knows all about the anamage art,’ she said, with a slow smile spreading across her face.

  Captain Feandez clearly didn’t approve. That much was obvious from the way he walked, with a rigid back, and that he said nothing other than a curt ‘Yes, Majesty’ when Taggie asked him to take them to Prince Lantic. His face was also expressionless, which was strange, given that most of it was covered in tattoos of serpents and eagles that wriggled round each other.

  He led them down a wide marbled cloister in the palace. One side had open window arches looking out across the river Zhila as it cut through the desert away to a shimmering horizon. When Taggie went over to one of the arches for a better look, there was nothing below her at all. It was a very long fall to the desert below. She felt the weird tingling of vertigo in her legs.

  ‘Majesty, this is the prince’s study.’ Captain Feandez stood at a tall door inlaid with ceramic tiles depicting some kind of sea monster.

  ‘Thank you,’ Taggie said gracefully.

/>   Captain Feandez knocked. There was no answer. He knocked harder.

  ‘Come in.’

  The captain opened the door, bowing. But not quickly enough to hide the flash of disapproval on his face. Taggie wondered who it was directed at.

  Prince Lantic’s study wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Instead of some cosy bookshelf-lined room with a fireplace and leather wingback chairs, she found herself in a hemispherical stone chamber with several deep alcoves around the edges, one of which held a furnace. Overhead, five big window wells let in strong shafts of sunlight. There were several workbenches on the floor, along with other big wardrobes, chests and freestanding shelves that were scattered around at random. Every flat surface was occupied, mostly by a bewildering array of tools or glassware, some of which was bubbling or puffing out vapour. But there was also a disorganized clutter of anamage contraptions – little insect figures and clockwork devices, all in various stages of assembly (or disassembly). Crystal globes sparkled with odd colours, several of them floating just above a brass plinth, like a miniature solar system. Anamage birds, barely bigger than butterflies, skittered through the air, while things crawled, rolled and waddled across the floor. And the smell . . .

  ‘Foo!’ Jemima said, waving her hand in front of her face. ‘What is that stink?’

  Taggie’s eyes were watering from the acrid smell. ‘Hello?’ She couldn’t see Prince Lantic anywhere.

  ‘Hello,’ Lantic’s voice called out.

  ‘We need to ask you something.’ Was he standing behind one of the cabinets?

  ‘Um, Taggie . . .’ Jemima said.

  ‘Sure, no problem,’ Lantic said.

  Taggie prodded a brightly painted copper fish on one of the benches. It burped out a bubble, and wiggled through the air to cower behind a spherical aquarium. Taggie peered forward. There was an eyeball in the middle of the aquarium, staring back at her. She took a pace back. ‘Wow! Do you craft all this stuff yourself?’

  ‘Taggie!’ Jemima’s teeth were clenched together. She was looking up.

  With her spine tingling, just like her legs had with the vertigo, Taggie tipped her own head back to stare at the curving roof of the chamber. Prince Lantic was riding a bike. It was something Taggie imagined an Edwardian gent would have – half elegantly carved wood, half crude iron struts. But the major difference was that it was scooting along upside down, directly above her. This didn’t seem to bother Lantic at all. He waved down cheerfully. That was when Taggie realized his clothes weren’t falling down – or should that be up?

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, and turned a sharp curve round one of the window wells to pedal down the side of the chamber.

  Taggie gave him a sincere smile when he stopped in front of her. ‘That’s impressive,’ she said.

  ‘It’s an olobike,’ he said breathlessly. ‘I just added a few ideas of my own, like the climbing enchantments.’

  ‘Clever.’

  He wheezed out a cough, and flicked his hair away from his eyes. ‘Thank you. Would you like to try one? I’ve got another. I was experimenting.’

  ‘I’d love to, but not right now.’ She didn’t know what it was about him, but he seemed so much more confident in here. No father constantly criticizing him, she supposed.

  He grinned back at her.

  ‘I need to know what this is,’ Jemima announced.

  Lantic jumped like he’d been jabbed by a pin. He blushed. ‘What what is?’

  Jemima found a relatively clear patch on a bench, and unrolled her sketch. ‘This is what I saw in the crates at the dock. Do you know what they are?’

  Lantic put on some glasses and bent over the paper to examine it. ‘How big was this thing?’ he asked.

  ‘That bit was about two feet long,’ Jemima said, pointing to the cylinder.’ And it was made from stone, or maybe china. Something like that.’

  ‘Clay?’

  ‘Could be. Yes.’

  ‘What about this ring?’ Lantic asked.

  ‘Brass, I think,’ Jemima said. ‘Possibly copper. I can’t be sure – I was seeing through the crate.’

  ‘You were?’ Lantic asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your sight is a powerful one, Blossom Princess.’

  ‘Thank you. This bit at the other end, that was iron, I think, definitely different from the ring.’

  Lantic ran a hand over his brow, face all scrunched up as he stared at the sketch. ‘This part –’ he indicated the cylinder – ‘I would have said is a gol forearm. But this, where the hand should be –’ his finger tapped the iron attachment – ‘I’ve no idea what that is, I’ve never seen anything like it. All I can think is it might be a part of some machinery such as you would build in the Outer Realm.’

  Taggie gave the drawing an uneasy look. ‘Outer Realm machinery never works too well in the other Realms, especially somewhere with as much magic as Shatha’hal.’

  ‘Simple machines work here,’ Lantic said. ‘Mechanical systems, things that don’t require your electricity to power them. I know this. About a century ago, some farmers further up the Zhila used steam-powered traction engines to plough their fields. They were brought here from the Outer Realm.’

  ‘What happened to them?’ Taggie asked in fascination.

  ‘They were expensive to use, compared to gols. We don’t have your coal mines, so their coal had to be imported as well. Eventually they fell into disrepair. One of them now stands in the Hall of the Royal Society of Anamages. It is a required study for students. I remember being very impressed, for it is such a sturdy thing.’ He took off his glasses to reveal a wistful expression. ‘How I would love to see the machines the Outer Realm has these days. Rogreth told me that the traction engine is but a toy compared to their modern contrivances.’

  ‘Your brother was right,’ Taggie said. ‘The Outer Realm has much better today. There are millions of cars, but they cause a lot of pollution, so scientists are developing hydrogen power and electric—’

  Jemima suddenly clapped her hands together. ‘Diesel,’ she announced.

  ‘What?’ Taggie gave her an annoyed glance. Talking with Lantic had been easy; he was clearly growing used to her.

  ‘You talking about cars reminded me,’ Jemima said. ‘I smelt diesel fumes coming from the smuggler’s boat.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. It was vibrating and making a rumbling noise. That wasn’t an anamage craft with a tail: it was using a diesel engine. A metal cylinder with a diesel engine. Taggie! It was from the Outer Realm. And that odd shape, Taggie, it was just like a submarine.’

  ‘Impossible,’ Taggie said immediately.

  ‘Why?’ Jemima demanded hotly. ‘It makes perfect sense. Nobody saw it on the Zhila afterwards. Even the King admitted that was odd. But they wouldn’t have seen it if it was underwater.’

  ‘It can’t have been from the Outer Realm,’ Taggie insisted.

  ‘Why not? Lantic just said they imported traction engines once upon a time.’

  ‘But . . . what was it doing here?’

  ‘Smuggling,’ Jemima said with a huge smile. ‘We know that.’

  ‘But smuggling what?’ Taggie looked at Lantic, who gave Jemima’s sketch a further confused glance.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. A smile to match Jemima’s spread over his face. ‘But we need to find out,’ he said resolutely. ‘I don’t like the idea of Third Realm anamage contraptions being combined with Outer Realm machinery. To me that speaks of someone trying to gain a huge advantage over their rivals. Travel to the Outer Realm is strictly limited for a reason, and bringing back artefacts is even more difficult. It requires royal approval.’

  ‘How many crates were on board?’ Taggie asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Jemima said. ‘Dozens. ’

  ‘I can ask round the anamage colleges and houses,’ Lantic said. ‘See if anyone has been placing unusual orders for gol parts. And I will summon the city’s harbourmasters, discover if craft like this one have be
rthed in Shatha’hal before.’

  Taggie grinned at him. It was nice to see him so enthusiastic for once.

  ‘I have a friend who is about the best art student in the city.’ Lantic held up Jemima’s sketch. ‘Can you describe this in real detail to him? We need to get a better idea of what it can be used for.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘And I must consider incorporating seespy lenses into anamage fish. Craft that travel under the water – how wonderful.’ Lantic seemed captivated by the idea.

  ‘All right,’ Taggie said, and held up both hands to try and calm things down. ‘I have to go back to the Gathering for the afternoon session. Jemima, if you go out again, make sure you tell Captain Feandez, understood? He’ll give you an escort.’

  ‘Yes!’ Jemima said petulantly.

  Taggie wished Felix was back: the squirrel was the best person in all the Realms for keeping Jem out of trouble. But she could hardly begrudge him his birthday off.

  THE SURPRISE PRISONER

  By midday of the third day, the Gathering of Kings (and Queens) had accomplished very little, Taggie thought. They’d praised themselves a lot, and shouted angrily about the Karraks’ attempts to hunt down and murder the princes and princesses (their children). Apart from that, nothing had been accomplished. It was the mood she worried about. Nobody seemed interested in why the Karrak Lords and Ladies would do such a thing, the only topic the Kings (and Queens) wanted to discuss was vengeance.