Back To The Divide (3 page)

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English always the common tongue in other dimensions? It seemed as unlikely as a chimpanzee writing
Hamlet.
Or was he looking at it the wrong way around, and it was something to do with
him
-- he could only cross into a dimension with which he had a particular affinity? He squinted a bit harder at the fragment of paper, and finally he made out a word here and there, and eventually a whole phrase --
so fear each wand, and fear each boot...

Wands meant
magic,
and magic was what he needed to revive his parents.

He peered into the cave mouth and realized he could see a shape moving in the gloom. "Hello?" he called. "Anyone at home?"

"It's not ready," came the reply. "Try again tomorrow."

Felix wondered what exactly wasn't ready. "I haven't ordered anything," he said.

"Not taking any new commissions at the moment," returned the voice. "Good-bye."

"Can't I just talk to you for a minute?"

"Far too busy," said the voice briskly. "Waterfall's flooded the office. Lost five days' work."

"I could help you clean up."

There was a moment of silence. Then the shape became larger and more distinct, and the owner of the voice finally emerged from the cave.

Felix tried not to laugh. He'd met a lot of mythical creatures the previous summer, but he hadn't encountered one

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like this. It was taller than a man, but not ridiculously so. Its legs were goaty, like a faun's, and it had only one eye, situated in the middle of its forehead. However, it was wearing a dress. The dress was a faded coral pink, stretched tightly across an ample bosom that proclaimed the owner female, and there was a lace frill around the hem that had come unstitched in a couple of places. The unnaturally red hair was scraped back in a bun, and there was a pearly pink pin holding it in position.

"You're a cyclops," said Felix.

"I'm a poet," said the cyclops indignantly. "Turpsik. Won the Creative Cursing Competition last year. Surely you've heard of me?"

Felix shook his head.

"Thought you were Pignut," said Turpsik. "Told him the anthem probably wouldn't be ready today, but he takes no notice. Look, if you really are offering to help me clean up, there's a broom over there. Sweep the water out of the cave and into that little gully."

To Felix's surprise, she showed no interest whatsoever in who
he
was. He picked up the broom and went into the cave. It was a mess. Papers were scattered everywhere, most of them soggy; the only area that had remained dry was an alcove that held a set of rickety shelves, filled with books of poetry.

[Image: Turpsik.]

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He started to sweep out the water, rescuing pages every so often and collecting them in a pile. Turpsik busied herself clearing away the debris that had blocked the drainage channel beneath the tiny waterfall that was her plumbing system.

Eventually she said, "That's enough for one day. Still got a few rhyming couplets to get done by tomorrow and a refrain to compose." She didn't thank Felix for his help, but she did offer him lunch. Felix accepted, although he had misgivings.

He needn't have worried. Turpsik's bosom hadn't reached its impressive size on just bread and water. The cyclops flung a few ingredients into an iron pan, chucked a couple of fish into another, and a delicious smell wafted across the mouth of the cave. Then she milked the sheepy creature straight into a jug, added a fruity mush, and stirred it in. The result was one of the nicest milk shakes Felix had ever tasted.

Turpsik talked nonstop all the way through the meal, and Felix had no chance to raise the matter that was uppermost in his mind -- a countercharm for the marble spell. The only time the subject veered away from Turpsik's difficulties in making a living as a poet was when she asked Felix if he wrote poetry himself.

Felix shook his head.

"Can you sing?"

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"Sort of."

"Have a go at this for me," she said, handing him a sheet of paper. "Like to hear someone else perform it, so I can see how it sounds. It's an anthem." She hummed the tune for him in a deep, rich contralto.

Felix cleared his throat and sang:

We shall replace what we have lost,

We don't give up, or count the cost;

We don't forgive, we don't forget,

We never make an idle threat.

So fear each wand, and fear each boot,

And know that we are resolute.

"Hmm," said Turpsik. "Think it still needs a bit of work. Not sure I should have accepted the commission at all, really, but Fleabane always gets what he wants, doesn't he?"

"Fleabane?"

"Don't you know anything about current affairs?"

"I'm from another world," said Felix.

"Oh," said Turpsik. "I'm from the north."

Felix could hardly believe it. Wasn't she the slightest bit interested in the enormity of what he'd just said?

"I can see that the north doesn't mean anything to you," said Turpsik, sounding disappointed.

"I don't even know what
world I'm
in!" bridled Felix, "let alone anything about the geography or current affairs."

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"The north," said Turpsik, as though he hadn't spoken, "is the home of the one-eyes, to whom it is patently obvious I am related. It's a harsh land, but it's produced some fine poets, such as myself. There's something inspirational about ice and snow and seafood. We didn't have much to trade other than fish, so we didn't have a great deal of contact with the outside world. The first we knew of the great changes elsewhere was when one of the few traders who
did
call on us showed us something called a newspaper. Appalling prose style, produced in unprecedented quantities by some newfangled invention called printing. I spoke out against this abomination with considerable eloquence, hence my exile. Written some very powerful free verse on the subject.... Anyway, headed south, and ended up here. And then I heard that Tiratattle was in ruins, and --"

"What?"
shrieked Felix.

Turpsik's one eye opened wide with astonishment. "I'm impressed that you disapprove of vandalism that strongly."

"Tiratattle," said Felix, hardly daring to believe it. "Did you say Tiratattle?"

"Yes."

"Where are we now? At this moment?"

"In the Andrian mountains."

"And there's a town called Andria, on the coast? With a library?"

"Of course."

"I've been here before," said Felix.

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Felix's announcement was obviously of no interest whatsoever, because Turpsik just carried on with her story. "The japegrins who had previously occupied Tiratattle moved out in droves," she said. "And then they invaded Andria, because they'd read in one of those wretched newspapers how much nicer it was."

"Betony was in Andria," said Felix. "Assisting Thornbeak. "

"Thornbeak? I've met Thornbeak. Helped her with some research on squintlefish shoal-songs. You're not that Felix Sanders by any chance, are you? The human boy?"

"Yes," said Felix.

"Synonyms and similes,"
said Turpsik. "You're more famous than
me."

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***

2

***

There was a moment of silence as Turpsik studied Felix. Then she said, "If you've been away for a while, I'd better tell you what's happened since Snakeweed and his sinistrom disappeared. Apparently the king and queen of Andria have abdicated, in favor of a president. Fleabane. He's set up his headquarters in the palace. His japegrins are all wearing kicking boots, and they're armed with heavy-duty wands. They've got an incendiary spell suspended over the library, and they're threatening to burn it down."

"Burn it down?"
Felix was horrified.
"Why?
It's unique."

"Blackmail. Fleabane is having a few little problems getting folk in the library to see everything his way. Nasty piece of work, this new president, even for a japegrin. Power mad. Big ideas and an even bigger temper, though he's only a little runt of a thing himself. Learned his tactics from Snakeweed, back in Tiratattle. He needs a diversion, you see -- some common enemy that can be overcome. And what better common

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enemy than Snakeweed himself? Everyone hates him, because he started all this with his unscrupulous business schemes. But Snakeweed found his way into
your
world, along with that especially nasty sinistrom Architrex, didn't he? Fleabane wants to bring him back. Then there will be a big trial -- everyone invited -- and Snakeweed will be sentenced to death and burned at the stake.

"Fleabane's arrested everyone in the library -- that'll include Thornbeak, of course, and her assistant -- Betony, did you say her name was? He's forcing them all to look for the Divide spell. They won't find it, of course -- it's not in a book at all, it's in a brazzle's head. Presumably you have it as well, or you wouldn't
be
here. How does it work?"

"You have to stand across the Divide so that your atoms -- ittybitties -- are equally distributed on either side. The spell freezes you in two halves and makes sure you're in exactly the right position, moving you if necessary -- it mustn't be too far. Then, after a pause as long as a heartbeat, it sends you across." But all the time Felix was saying this, he was thinking -- if the japegrins knew I was back, there would be a price on my head. He looked at Turpsik.

"Oh, I won't turn you in," said the one-eye.

"What will they do to Thornbeak and Betony if they don't find the spell?"

"Don't know," said Turpsik. "Never met Fleabane, but don't like the sound of him. No respect for books or any of the arts."

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"He can't be worse than Snakeweed," said Felix, and he told her what Snakeweed had done to his parents, and the chain reaction that had started to happen.

"Don't use magic myself," said Turpsik. "You need a proper sorcerer to sort that one out."

"And I can't leave Betony a prisoner, either. I have to
do
something."

"Fleabane's got a triple-head guarding the library," said Turpsik. "Have you ever
seen
a triple-head? They're huge. Three scrawny necks poking out of a bundle of gray feathers. The beaks have wicked hooks to them, and the talons are even worse. Wrote a poem about one once:
Blood-red cheeks and a blood-red soul; I Each beak can swallow a japegrin whole.
Which reminds me, how come you speak the same language as me if you're from another dimension?"

"I've often wondered that, too," said Felix, momentarily thrown off course by Turpsik's question. "But what I find even more remarkable is that nobody over here seems to speak anything else -- in my world, there are loads of different languages."

"We used to have lots of languages as well," said Turpsik. "Tangle, Brittlehorn, Lickit. About four hundred years ago we decided that was silly and we'd be better off with just one."

"So how did you hit on English?"

"You'd need to ask a historian that."

Thornbeak.
Thornbeak was a historian. This reminded Felix

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of what they'd originally been talking about. "There
must
be a way of rescuing Thornbeak and Betony," he said.

"Can't smuggle a brazzle out under your coat, you know."

"Is there another way out of the library?"

"Bound to be," said Turpsik. "There aren't any plans of the building because it's so old. No plans that survive from when it was built, that is. There have been others made since. Rumor has it there were tunnels all over the place -- there was definitely one to the palace."

"I thought Fleabane was using the palace as his headquarters."

"He is. But there might be a tunnel to the beach, for instance. Very rocky along that coastline. Try exploring the caves; one of them might lead somewhere. Find someone with a bit of local knowledge. Ask around. Discreetly, mind you."

"And risk getting caught and having the spell tortured out of me with those heavy-duty wands?"

"You need a disguise, and a good cover story. I could send you off with Pignut when he arrives, to sing the anthem to Fleabane. That would get you into Andria. Go for a walk on the beach afterward."

"And supposing there isn't a tunnel? Or it's been blocked up? Or it's being guarded?"

"Then you'll have to think of something else, won't you?"

Felix couldn't think of anything else. "How can I disguise myself?"