Back To The Divide (25 page)

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"Leave that carpet where it fell and get moving," said Pepperwort.

"Brazzles can't walk the distances you can," said Ironclaw. "They're not built for it. They're built to fly."

"All right," said Pepperwort. "You can carry me, and Thornbeak can carry the others."

"What about the --" Thornbeak began.

"Do as he says," interrupted Ironclaw.

Felix and Betony clambered on to Thornbeak. Pepperwort climbed rather nervously on to Ironclaw and glanced around as though he expected to find a seat belt somewhere. Realization slowly dawned that this was going to be very different from a scheduled flight on a fire-breather, and he grabbed hold of Ironclaw's feathers.

"Don't do that," said Ironclaw. "It spoils my concentration."

"I have to hold on somehow," snapped Pepperwort.

"Grip with your knees," said Ironclaw, rising into the air. "Don't you know anything?"

The brazzles climbed steeply above the tree canopy, their powerful wings whipping up the sort of wind that bent branches.

Then Thornbeak banked hard to the left, out of Ironclaw's way, and called, "All clear!"

"All clear for what?" yelled Pepperwort.

"His dropping-like-a-stone impression," screeched Thornbeak, and Ironclaw furled his wings and plummeted.

There was a high-pitched scream from Pepperwort. He

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parted company with Ironclaw and landed somewhere in the tree canopy.

"That was as easy as a trifle," said Ironclaw, and both he and Thornbeak laughed so hard that Thornbeak nearly unseated
her
passengers.

Felix joined in, out of sheer relief.

"We need to get Nimby," said Betony sharply, so the brazzles circled around and headed back to the glade.

"I suggest that, after that, we go back to the brittlehorn valley and see if the rug can be repaired," said Thornbeak. "And while we're there, Milklegs can consult the pool and tell us whether Snakeweed's given up and gone back to Andria yet. I don't particularly want to fly back to the perching rocks if
he's
still there." She looked at Ironclaw, who nodded in agreement. Then her attention was taken by a fallen branch that was curved in an elegant S-shape.

"I'll pick it up later," said Ironclaw.

Betony looked at Thornbeak, perplexed.

"Those brazzle rocks are still terribly uncomfortable," said Thornbeak. "A perching branch would be an improvement. That's why we were in the forest. Shopping." But she didn't look Betony in the eye as she said it.

By the time they picked up Nimby from the glade, he was only semiconscious. He kept calling Felix "Master Weaver" and telling him to even up his edges.

"What are we going to do?" wailed Betony. "He can't fly us to the Andrian mountains in this state."

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"He needs a first-class seamstress," said Thornbeak. "Someone who can do invisible patching."

"Well, we're not going to find one in the brittlehorn valley, are we?" snapped Betony. "We'll have to go back to Geddon."

"One thing at a time," said Thornbeak.

Felix groaned inwardly. It was one thing after another, not one thing at a time. He needed to get back to his own world, and everything was conspiring against it.

"Can't
you
take us to the Andrian Divide?" he asked.

"I don't really feel up to a long flight," said Thornbeak unexpectedly. She glanced at Ironclaw.

"Er ... nor do I," said Ironclaw.

Betony's face creased into a frown. "So what about the king and queen? You're meant to be looking for them."

"I can't do anything until the feather responds, Betony," said Thornbeak reasonably.

As soon as they landed in the brittlehorn valley it became apparent that there was some sort of celebration going on. A fire-breather was curled up a little way off on the bank of the river, fast asleep, its breath rising into the air like smoke signals. Oatcakes were laid out on the grass, and a stone trough had been filled with fermented fertle-juice. A group of colts were galloping around, deaf to the shouts of their mothers to calm down. Every so often one of them would sneak up to the trough and slurp down a mouthful of juice, until someone noticed and chased him away again.

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"Well,
whisk my rump with a bunch of twigs,"
said Milklegs when he saw the brazzles. "Pewtermane's fame stretches far and wide. There were a lot of people who wanted him for president of Andria, you know." He glanced toward the mud wallow. Several brittlehorns were rolling around in it, but they were so mud-bespattered that they were unrecognizable.

"There's Granitelegs," said Ironclaw, waving a wing.

Granitelegs seemed a little unsteady on his feet and nearly fell over as he squawked a greeting.

"Too much fermented fertle-juice," said Thornbeak disapprovingly.

"Is that Pewtermane over there?" asked Felix. "It is," said Milklegs. "We're celebrating his return. Have an oatcake."

To Felix's surprise, Thornbeak had one, too. "I thought you were completely carnivorous," he said. The oatcake didn't really taste of anything much, and he had to chew it for ages.

"Just fancied it," said Thornbeak, and she had another one.

"Well, well," said a familiar voice. "If it isn't Thornbeak. That squintlefish research you did for me was first-rate."

"Turpsik!" cried Thornbeak. "What a delightful surprise!"

"Quite a party," said Turpsik, surveying the others.

"I forgot to tell you about Turpsik taking Snakeweed's fire-breather," said Felix to the brazzles, but before he could

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explain about Grimspite a really good idea came to him. "Turpsik," he said, "I've just thought -- you're brilliant with a needle and thread, aren't you?"

Turpsik smoothed her pink dress over her ample bosom and smiled. "But not quite as good as I am with a dactyl and trochee."

Betony looked blank.

"They're poetry terms," hissed Thornbeak.

"Could you mend a magic carpet?" asked Felix.

"Never tried," said Turpsik. "Don't see why not, though."

"I'll get him," said Betony, and she went off to fetch Nimby.

Thornbeak turned to Milklegs. "We've got a favor to ask," she said. "We want to know what's going on back up on the peak. Could you do a pool-check for us?"

Milklegs hiccupped. "All right," he said.

Betony returned with the carpet tucked underneath her arm. Turpsik sucked in her breath and let it out again. "That's quite a job," she said.

"But you could do it?"

"It'll take me a while."

"Wipe your feet somewhere else," muttered Nimby. "I only lie down for royalty."

"He's delirious," said Turpsik. "I'd better get started before any more of him becomes unraveled. Good thing I always carry my sewing kit with me." She took a battered

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little box out of one of her pockets, along with the filleting knife she used as scissors.

"I'm getting something," said Milklegs. "Snakeweed's still up there, sitting on a rock. And Stonecrop's just arriving."

As soon as Snakeweed saw Stonecrop he looked annoyed and snapped, "Where's Pepperwort?"

"We split up," said Stonecrop. "We couldn't find the brazzles anywhere."

"Well, it's a good thing I don't need them anymore, isn't it?" snapped Snakeweed. "You see, I know where Ironclaw has hidden his gold."

"Where?" asked Stonecrop.

"Where I would have hidden it if I'd been in Ironclaw's position. On the other side of the Divide."

Stonecrop laughed, as though this were some kind of joke. "Can you think of a better place?"

Stonecrop blanched. "Are you suggesting we cross over there ourselves and bring it back?"

"That's right. I can't carry it all on my own, and we'll need several trips. I don't fancy taking the fire-breather across, it's too noticeable. They don't have fire-breathers in the other world."

"Supposing Ironclaw returns," said Stonecrop, "and tells our fire-breather to get lost? If he dismisses our transportation, getting the gold back's pointless. We couldn't carry it. Perhaps I should stay and guard the fire-breathers."

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"Good point," said Snakeweed. He rummaged in his pocket. "But you're not staying. I need you. I'll leave Harshak in charge."

"Harshak?" whispered Stonecrop. "But ... but you destroyed him."

"You think I'd surrender the best weapon I've ever had?" laughed Snakeweed. "No, no, no." He showed Stonecrop Harshak's pebble, and then he started to rub it between the palms of his hands. Stonecrop's eyes widened in horror; then he went very white and grabbed hold of a rock to steady himself.

The pebble started to glow, giving off a foul smell as Harshak slowly materialized, gradually losing transparency until he was a solid being. His snout was crisscrossed with scars, his knifelike canines were a dirty yellow, and he had appeared midsnarl. There was a fresh scar on his stomach, but it was healing quickly, the way sinistrom wounds always did after a good licking. Stonecrop made a sort of strangled sound in his throat.

Harshak was glaring at Snakeweed as though he really didn't like him very much. Snakeweed stared back, his green eyes level and steady, and Harshak's snarl slowly faded away.

"That's better," said Snakeweed. "Now. See that fire-breather over there? The one that looks as though it'll shortly be shoe leather? I want you to guard it."

Harshak's eyes widened, and he looked outraged. "Is that
all?
You summon me here -- me, Harshak, the most terrible

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of the terrible, and all you want me to do is guard a geriatric vehicle?"

"That's right," said Snakeweed.

Harshak went over to the fire-breather. The fire-breather opened one eye and let out a smoke-puff of alarm. "I have no instructions to harm you," said Harshak contemptuously. "I, Harshak, the most gruesome of the gruesome, am your bodyguard."

The fire-breather made a face at the smell, opened his other eye, and gave Snakeweed a look of disgust. Then he went back to sleep.

"Come on, then," said Snakeweed, beckoning to Stonecrop and walking over to the Divide. The two of them straddled the ridge as Snakeweed flipped open his personal organizer and started to recite the numbers of the spell out loud.

"Blazing feathers,
" said Ironclaw as Milklegs told them what he'd just witnessed. "I didn't expect Snakeweed to guess where I'd hidden the gold."

"What are we going to do?" asked Betony.

They all looked at one another.

"I think I'd better follow them across the Divide," said Ironclaw. Gold was a serious matter.

"I think I should come, too," said Felix. "Brazzle gold shouldn't be in my world at all. It's nearly as worrying as marble statues."

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"It's inert," said Ironclaw. "It doesn't respond to magic. That's why it's used as currency."

"Gold has a disturbing effect on human beings," said Felix. "It makes them reckless as well as ruthless. Listen -- Snakeweed won't have Harshak to defend him, and he won't be expecting us -- so we could jump him, disarm Stonecrop, and retrieve Harshak's pebble. Then we bring back the gold and destroy Harshak for good."

"I want to go, too," said Betony. "I'd love to see Felix's world -- even if it is just for an hour or two. And I can help carry the gold."

"What are you going to do about Snakeweed?" asked Turpsik, glancing at Ironclaw. "Didn't you once say you wished you'd pecked his eyes out?"

"It's just a figure of speech," said Ironclaw uncomfortably.

"I'd do it myself," said Thornbeak, "but ..."

"No you won't," interrupted Ironclaw. "In fact, I don't even think you should cross the Divide."

Betony expected Thornbeak to come out with a sharp reply, but she didn't. She merely said, "No, it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Things to do."

Felix and Betony climbed on to Ironclaw again, and he spiraled up and out of the brittlehorn valley. Before long the rocky peak came into view, along with two tiny columns of smoke. Ironclaw swooped down low and skimmed the rocks like an aircraft evading radar, and Felix suspected that he was

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just as good at it as Nimby. He could see the ground rushing by beneath him -- Ironclaw's dirt-board, the perching rocks, the path, then a pile of brushwood, as though someone had been collecting fuel.

They crested a small outcrop, and there was the fire-breather. Harshak was lying down next to it, his head on his paws. Ironclaw landed close to the Divide, and Felix and Betony leaped off.

Harshak was on his feet and charging toward them before they had time to get themselves organized. Felix and Betony banged into each other, trying to get away, and fell over. Harshak crinkled his upper lip into a concertina, baring scimitar-fangs the color of old ivory, and a deep rumbling growl erupted from his breast. He went straight for Ironclaw's throat, but the brazzle sidestepped him. Harshak skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust like a cartoon character, all four legs held rigidly out in front of him at forty-five degrees.

"Hang on ..." said Ironclaw.

Harshak didn't give him the chance to finish -- he leaped into action once more, all snarl and muscle. Ironclaw simply lifted into the air a little way and let him charge past underneath.

Harshak slid to a stop again, his brain eventually catching up with his legs. He wasn't going to defeat something that could fly without a considerable improvement in his tactics. He decided to try a bit of taunting and ridicule. "I know you, you flea-bitten old mathematician," he said. "You