Back To The Divide (18 page)

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imagining a fine -- or, at the very worst, a period of hard labor. The ziggurats took some building. They seemed like a bit of a waste of time, really -- it wasn't as though you could live inside them. The bases were made of solid brick, and only the terraces and the tops were usable.

"Depends what sort of mood the king's in," said the soldier. "Last week someone got buried alive for overtaking on a blind corner. The week before that, someone else was ordered to stand on his head for half an hour for the same offense."

This was not reassuring news.

"Then there's all that stuff about the king and queen of Andria," the amberly went on. "That's had an adverse effect on him. No monarch likes to hear about another one being overthrown, and when they just
vanish
afterward ... I don't think he's been sleeping too well."

Felix was quite sorry that the ramps zigzagged up each time -- he would have liked to walk along the terraces and look at them properly. He was pretty sure, now, that he was seeing something very similar to the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The retaining wall on the edge of each terrace must have been quite deep, since the beds of earth were big enough to support fully grown fruit trees. The railings were there to stop people from falling over the side, although some of them were so swathed in climbing flowers they were invisible. These flowers were bright purples and pinks and reds, not unlike bougainvillea, and they cascaded downward like frozen waterfalls of color.

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The palace turned out to be quite small. The king was seated on a throne in the middle of a courtyard, and he was listening to someone defending himself against a parking infringement.

"I was unloading barrels of ink," said the defendant. "I was only there for a couple of minutes."

"Surely you could have parked in the approved place, and rolled them there?"

The defendant looked worried. "You're so clever, Your Majesty, I'd never have thought of that."

"Hmm," said the king, banging his gavel on the arm of the throne. It was severely dented on one side. "I'm going to fine you one left shoe for the parking offense and sentence you to six months' gardening for the illegal use of flattery in court. Next."

The soldier nudged Felix and Betony, and they stepped forward. "Pull down your scarves," he hissed. "No covered heads in front of the king."

Betony and Felix unwound their headscarves.

The king peered at them. "A tangle-child and a mythical being," he said. "How exciting."

"Speeding offense, Your Majesty," said the soldier with a swift and disbelieving glance at Felix's ears. "An unsupervised carpet -- a big one, as well. More witnesses than leaves on a tree."

"There's far too much of this sort of thing these days," said the king. "I need to make an example of them. Being a mythical beast is no excuse."

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Felix and Betony looked at each other in alarm.

"The death penalty seems appropriate. Any cutthroats in the area?"

The soldier shrugged.

"Well, what else can I throw them to?"

A wonderful idea popped into Felix's mind. "I hope he doesn't sacrifice us to a riddle-paw," he whispered, loud enough for the king to hear.

The king brightened. "I heard that," he said. "What a marvelous solution. I owe the king of Sebeth a favor for that flowering shrub he sent me. Tell me, is Leona still causing him problems? I heard she ate his chief accountant last year."

"I believe so, Your Majesty, though no one ever knows exactly where she is. There are several rocks she uses when she's lying in wait."

The king turned to Felix and Betony and banged the gavel on the arm of his throne again, deepening the dent. "I sentence both of you to be sacrificed to a riddle-paw. Well, maybe sacrifice isn't quite the right word. If you solve enough of her riddles she may get bored and let you go. Next."

The soldier looked faintly disgusted, although he tried to hide it. He cleared his throat. "Er ... one small problem, Your Majesty. How do we get them there? No one knows exactly where Sebeth is. It's a hidden city; you need a Sebethian guide to find the place."

"Well, find one, then."

"You need a guard to enforce the penalty, as well."

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"Consider yourself nominated, Jahim."

The soldier looked seriously ticked off. "We'll need a carpet big enough to carry four people."

"Well, use theirs, then. Put a temporary change-of-ownership hex on it. What's next? Not another parking offense?"

Jahim saluted and led the children away. Felix wanted to laugh out loud. If they survived Leona's riddles and got the marble spell, they'd have their carpet back again and be able to cross the desert. Best of all would be a scenario where the brazzles were waiting for them at Sebeth; if anyone could solve Leona's riddles, Ironclaw could.

It took them a good twenty minutes to walk all the way back down the ziggurat. They were put into custody while Jahim went off to look for a guide and get the change-of-ownership hex applied. Custody was unexpectedly pleasant; they were given cool sherbet drinks and a sort of bean-mush sprinkled with seeds to eat. Provisions for their journey were also produced -- legs of cold meat, a loaf of bread, some quaddiump cheese, and a pot of honeyed sweets. It was clear that the king wanted them to reach their destination alive and well. There were blankets, too.

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***

10

***

It was midafternoon by the time Nimby arrived, carrying Jahim and a surly-looking nomad. The guide had no luggage of his own, but his clothes billowed around him revealing odd shapes now and again, as though he had a lot of hidden pockets in which he carried a variety of things.

"Bobbins and bodkins,"
said Nimby, "this is a surprise, isn't it? Sent to the very place --"

"Shut up, Nimby," said Betony.

"What exactly happens when we get to Sebeth?" asked Felix quickly, worried that the sentence might be changed if the king got to hear that he'd given them exactly what they'd needed -- a guide.

"My orders are to fly down low and tip you off," said Jahim. "There's no way I'm landing next to Leona. Then we hover for a bit, watch what happens, and report back."

"Or take us back," said Felix.

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"Er ... yes," said Jahim. It was quite clear that he didn't expect them to live.

The children climbed aboard, and Nimby took off. He obeyed every flight-sign to the letter, keeping to the speed limit and flying in a counterclockwise direction around big ziggurats. It was only once they'd left the city walls behind that he gained more height and accelerated to a decent cruising speed.

Although Jahim was quite talkative, asking a lot of questions about Felix's world, the guide didn't say a word for some time. He just sat there, his scarf wound around his head so that only his dark eyes were visible. Now and again he indicated a slight change of direction with his hand, obviously using wadis and rocky outcrops as landmarks.

"Is Sebeth like Kaflabad?" Felix asked him.

The guide shook his head.

"Any ziggurats?"

The guide shook his head again.

"Well, what
are
the buildings like?"

"They are excavated into the rock."

"Will we get there tonight?"

The guide shook his head again, and Felix gave up trying to get information out of him.

They had to camp right out in the middle of the desert. Jahim turned Nimby into a tent, opening out a telescoped pole he'd brought with him, and they had supper. Felix had

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always been very litter-conscious and he buried the remains of their meal a little way off, knowing it was all biodegradable: date stones, the bones from the cold meat, fruit peel. He looked at the expanse of sand stretching away before him, silver in the moonlight. No chance of getting washed away here, he thought, returning to the tent, and they all settled down to sleep.

He was woken at some stage during the night by the sound of something digging. He listened. Scrape, scrape, then the pitter-patter of a shower of sand. He sat up. Something was unearthing their rubbish. Scrape, scrape ... pitter-patter. A pause, then a crunch -- the crunch of bone. He nudged Jahim. Jahim rolled over without waking and pulled his blanket over his head. The crunching went on for a minute or two and then stopped. Another pause. Felix listened as hard as he could, hoping whatever it was had gone away.

The next thing he heard was a sniff -- right next to him, on the other side of the carpet. Then three more sniffs, in quick succession. It was something big -- the sniffs weren't low to the ground, they were at waist-height. Felix felt the adrenaline rush through his body like a forest fire. He nudged the guide. The nomad woke instantly and took in the situation right away. Very quietly, he produced a candle from one of his hidden pockets and lit it with a wave of his hand. Then he wrapped his headscarf around his scimitar and set fire to it. The impromptu torch flared up, and Jahim and Betony awoke with a start. Felix put his fingers to his

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lips, and they stared wide-eyed as the guide flung back the carpet.

Two of the most terrifying creatures Felix had ever seen leaped backward. Nimby shrieked, woken by the guard's action and the heat of the flames. Jahim drew his dagger with one hand, white-faced, and tore off his headscarf with the other. He copied what the guide had done, and a second torch flared up. The creatures retreated to a safe distance, but they didn't go away. They were the closest things Felix had ever seen to saber-tooth tigers -- except for the fact that they had two heads and six legs each. The legs weren't arranged like those of an insect, however -- the front end had two pairs of front legs beneath the heads, then the bodies seemed to merge into one, so that the back half of the body was standard lion issue with just one pair of hind legs, although the tail was shorter.

[Image: Saber-tooth tigers.]

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They were more heavily built than the average lion, though, and their fangs projected well below the line of their jaws. They didn't have manes, and their eyes glowed as green as a sinistrom's, but their faces were nowhere near as intelligent.

"We can't stay here," said Jahim. "We don't have enough to burn, and fire is the only thing that will keep them at bay." He grabbed his blanket and motioned to them all to do the same and step outside. Then he grabbed the pole and telescoped it back to the size of a small truncheon. Nimby flattened himself out on the ground, but he was shivering, and things kept rolling off him.

"Keep still," hissed Jahim, "unless you want to get shredded to cushion-stuffing by those fangs."

"What
are
they?" asked Felix.

"Cutthroats," said Jahim shortly, hefting their gourd of water on to the carpet and making sure the stopper was secure. "They prey on travelers." His torch was burning down now; it wouldn't last much longer.

They all scrambled aboard. The torch flickered one last time and died. The cutthroats took a couple of paces forward.

"Come
on,
Nimby," said Jahim. "You can take off now."

"I've been singed," wailed the carpet. Part of the fringe at Nimby's rear end was now just blackened stubs.

"Zithers and ziggurats,"
swore Jahim. "That doesn't stop you from flying, does it?"

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Nimby made a gulping sound, as though he were fighting back the tears. The cutthroats broke into a run.

"Fly,
curse your fibers!" shouted Jahim, and Nimby took off rather shakily. He wasn't quick enough; one of the cutthroats came level and leaped into the air. The beast caught the guide's clothing with one of its four forepaws. The nomad was dragged to the edge of the carpet, and the weight of the cutthroat prevented Nimby from rising any farther. Jahim swept his dagger around in an arc but only managed to slice off a handful of hairs. Felix and Betony were clinging on for dear life; the carpet was shuddering and jerking, trying to pull away.

The nomad seemed to be fumbling in his clothing for something. His dagger's in his
belt,
thought Felix, why doesn't he draw it? Nimby lurched to one side, in another attempt to shake off the cutthroat, and tilted alarmingly. The guide tumbled to the ground and the carpet shot up a couple of feet, like a balloon suddenly released from its moorings, and then steadied.

Felix and Betony watched in horror as the guide scrambled to his feet. The second cutthroat had arrived now, and it looked as though the pair of them had decided to play with their victim, like a cat with a mouse. The first one patted the nomad with its paw, and he staggered a few steps. The second one did likewise, and this time the nomad
ran.
The sudden break into a sprint delighted the cutthroats;