Back To The Divide (35 page)

"
You eat your spliggit, Milfoil, and less of the cheek." Grimspite wandered into the kitchen and looked around. No sign of Snakeweed.

346

"You here for a job?" a lickit asked.

"Yes," said Grimspite, unable to think of any other reason for his presence. "I've been writing a cookbook,
Dining Out on Mythical Beasts."

"Perfect," said the lickit. "We've been wondering how to improve the menu -- make it more in keeping with the general theme of the place -- but the only recipes we've found have been ones in children's books of myths and legends, and they don't go into sufficient detail. Fish fingers, for instance. Fish don't even have hands, let alone fingers. Look, run this lunch tray up to room 13, would you? Got a fussy customer who doesn't want to eat in the hall with everyone else."

That's promising, thought Grimspite, a fussy customer who stays in his room. Is it because he doesn't want to run the risk of being recognized? "On my way," he said, taking the tray.

He decided to play his part properly and knocked.

"Come in," said Snakeweed's voice.

Grimspite smiled to himself and opened the door.

Snakeweed was sitting on the bed, reading something. "Put it on the table," he said, not looking up

Grimspite put the tray on the table. Then he said, "I've come to rip you apart, Snakeweed."

Snakeweed raised his eyes and then one eyebrow. "Grimspite," he said. "Well, well."

Grimspite leaned against the door so that Snakeweed couldn't get out and changed himself back into sinistrom

347

form. When he was fully functional again he realized that Snakeweed had broken the spindle off the spinning wheel and was holding it in front of him as a weapon.

Grimspite took a couple of paces forward, estimating distances and trajectories, and then he sprang. Snakeweed sidestepped him and jumped on to the bed. He now had a height advantage. Undeterred, Grimspite leaped at him again. Snakeweed used the mattress as a springboard and sailed past him. Grimspite bounced on the spot where Snakeweed had been standing, hit the wall, and did a backward somersault. Snakeweed raced for the door, but Grimspite managed to cover the distance in two bounds and seized him by the ankle. They both fell to the floor, each struggling to be the first to regain his footing. Snakeweed lifted the spindle like a dagger and aimed it at Grimspite's left eye. Grimspite had to let go of Snakeweed's leg to evade this, and Snakeweed scrambled to his feet and made another attempt to get out. Once more Grimspite intercepted him, and as the spindle swept across his vision he thought he'd misjudged it. He lunged to the right and caught Snakeweed a glancing blow on his weapon arm. The spindle flew into the air as Snakeweed lost his grip on it and turned end over end before it descended again and hit Snakeweed on the hand.

The japegrin crumpled to the floor and stayed there.

Grimspite blinked. Had Snakeweed hit his head or something? He scrambled to his feet and peered at him.

348

Snakeweed was breathing deeply and evenly, and he appeared to have gone to sleep. There was a tiny pinprick of blood on his finger from the spindle.

Scabs and scars,
thought Grimspite, is everyone else going to go back to sleep now as well? And does that include me?

He didn't feel particularly tired, however -- no more tired than a life-and-death tussle usually made him. The distant kitchen sounds were still going on, too. He polished off the food he'd brought Snakeweed -- no point letting it go to waste -- changed back to lickit form, and took the tray back to the kitchen. Then he told them that he'd recognized Snakeweed and challenged him about the disgraceful way he'd been running Andria. Snakeweed had tried to silence him and the rest was history.

"History's our business," said the head lickit, "as well as myths. I think we should capitalize on this. Put him on display. He'll stay like it for a hundred years. We can lay him out on the bed and do some nice posters around the walls, illustrating the appalling things he did. He'll be the star attraction."

I rather like that, thought Grimspite, and I think Pewtermane and Turpsik will like it, too. It's poetic justice -- Snakeweed being shamelessly exploited by a business venture, instead of
him
being the one to exploit others. I wasn't all that thrilled about the prospect of disemboweling him, to be honest. That sort of thing lost its glamor a while back.

"Tell me," said Grimspite. "Why didn't we all go to sleep,

349

the way everyone did last time? And the time before that, come to think of it?"

"Because Snakeweed was no good," said the lickit. "Historically speaking, Princess Bella was supposed to be so nice that everyone went to sleep as well so that she wouldn't be lonely when she woke up. The queen of Andria's a good sort, too. Not overendowed with brains, I grant you, but not malicious in any way at all. Snakeweed's another matter, isn't he?"

Grimspite nodded. "Yes. Unquestionably the most unpleasant being I've ever encountered."

There was no reason to stay at the castle any longer. He could go back to the brittlehorn valley and finish his cookbook. As soon as it was published he'd send the castle a copy, and they could use it to turn the restaurant into an eatery of worldwide renown. The triple-head should have one, as well. He left a few recipes for the lickit who'd shown such an interest in his work, and then he strode off across the drawbridge and headed for Tromm Fell. He was really looking forward to learning about philosophy and meditation and maybe doing a couple of poetry courses with Turpsik. Being a sinistrom didn't have to mean a life of unbridled violence; he'd been lucky enough to have a choice, and he was quite sure he'd made the right one.

350

***

19

***

The journey to the mountains was uneventful. Nimby got rather excited by his first glimpse of snow, and Betony had to remind him he was carrying passengers. They flew over Turpsik's valley, still carpeted with the brilliant purple flowers, and Felix pointed out her cave. There was a thin column of smoke rising from the entrance; someone else had taken up residence already. It was, after all, a highly desirable bit of real estate -- running water and plenty of space. A few minutes later they arrived at the Divide and landed.

"Time to say good-bye again, Felix," said Ironclaw. "Oh, you'd better take the snail with you. Didn't need it in the end, did we?" He withdrew the box from his leg-pouch and passed it over. "You will be back, though, won't you?" he added. "Now that you've got the spell, you can cross over whenever you like."

Felix nodded, although whether it would actually happen was another question entirely. If -- no,
when
his parents

351

knew the full story, would they let him? The enormity of the situation facing him when he got back was hitting home; he'd been trying not to think about it too much. While he'd been in Betony's world it had all seemed a bit distant. Change what you can, accept what you can't. Now the moment had arrived, like an exam you'd been aware of, but had been pushing to the back of your mind.

"Felix," said Betony hesitantly, "you could do with a hand applying all those countercharms, couldn't you? I'd really love another glimpse of your world."

Take Betony with him? It would be absolutely brilliant -- he wouldn't have to do it all on his own, and it would delay the inevitable good-bye. The things he could show her ... it would be such fun ... assuming everything worked out OK. But how would he get her there? He had a long bus ride in front of him, and he didn't have enough money to pay for both of them. Ironclaw's gold wouldn't be much use at a bus station -- and would she really be able to contain her amazement at all the new things she would be seeing? "I really wish I could," he said. "But it's quite a journey to my house; we'd have to go by bus, and I don't have a ticket for you."

"Excuse me for butting in like a rush mat," said Nimby, "but I'd love to see your world as well."

"We could take him with us," said Betony. "If he promised to behave himself."

"I would, I would,"
said Nimby. "I'd be the most obedient carpet ever."

352

Felix felt a bit dubious. Taking Nimby across the Divide would be yet another magical invasion from the other dimension -- supposing someone spotted them in flight? On the other hand, it might be less risky than traveling on public transportation with an elf at his side, and Betony would take him back again when she went home. Decision time. "OK," he said, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."

Nimby squealed with delight and flapped his fringe. Felix and Betony gave Ironclaw a big hug, which embarrassed him. Then Felix put the carpet under his arm, and he and Betony straddled the Divide.

"I'll do the honors," said Ironclaw, and he recited the spell, thinking how elegant it was. One of the best he'd ever calculated.

Felix and Betony came to on the Pennines, and it was raining. Betony looked around. "It's very different from Costa Rica," she said.

Felix smiled. "The weather's not as good." He opened his backpack and pulled out his fluorescent orange rain poncho. "Here," he said, "wear this."

She fingered the fabric suspiciously before putting it on and looked very surprised when the raindrops just ran off it. "What about you?" she asked.

"My clothes are more suited to this climate than yours."

"I can make you a roof," said Nimby, curling up his leading edge. "In fact, I have to, otherwise I'll lose my voice."

353

It wasn't perfect, but it was much better than nothing. They both climbed on to the carpet, which then took off.

"I want you to avoid towns and villages," said Felix. "We don't want anyone to see us, if we can help it."

"I'm perfectly capable of flying in low clouds and not getting lost," said Nimby, as anxious to please as ever. "Would that help? I have built-in orientation sensors, once you tell me where to go. Therefore, I will remember the route back perfectly."

Felix laughed. "Just don't hit any power lines."

"I never hit anything," said Nimby indignantly. "I'm a top-of-the-line carpet, remember?"

It was a boring trip, since they couldn't see much -- but Felix directed Nimby with his compass and was delighted when a break in the clouds showed him the expanse of London below. The rain had stopped soon after they left the Pennines.

Betony's mouth dropped open. "Is that a
city?"
she asked. "It's as big as a desert or an ocean. It just seems to go on and on forever. And it's so horribly
gray."

As they approached Wimbledon, Felix felt the tension begin to rise. So much depended on him, it was really scary. The wet and dry bits of his body seemed to have swapped roles -- his mouth was biscuit-dry, and his eyes felt prickly, but the palms of his hands were wet. The hair at the nape of his neck was damp, too. He looked down. It was very weird flying along above familiar roads. There was a dreamlike quality to it, seeing everything from such a different

354

perspective: his school, shut up for the summer; the park, with just a solitary figure walking a dog. His initial nervousness that they would be spotted began to evaporate; the carpet didn't make any noise at all, and people never seemed to look up as they walked along. Betony brightened a little when she saw that all the houses had gardens, and she laughed out loud when she saw a plastic gnome.

They landed unnoticed in the drive, and Nimby rolled himself up. Betony just stood and stared at the house, open-mouthed, and Felix had to nudge her toward the front door.

"It's so big," she said. "Like a palace. Is that a stable, at the side?"

"It's a garage," said Felix, smiling. "For a self-propelled vehicle." He took out his key and unlocked the front door. The door didn't want to open at the outset, but it was only due to the huge pile of mail that had accumulated behind it. They pushed their way inside, and Felix leaned the carpet against the wall. The answering machine was flashing its all-full signal, and the leaves of the potted plant in the hall had withered and turned yellow. Betony was looking in amazement at the framed photograph of Felix on the telephone table. "That's really good," she said. "Who painted it?"

"I'll explain later," said Felix, dumping his backpack on the floor. The excitement was making him feel twitchy.
This was it.
He was going to bring his parents back to life. He took a deep breath and walked into the front room, where Snakeweed had turned his father to stone.

355

The statue wasn't there anymore.

He stood in the middle of the room, numb with shock, just stupidly staring at the space where his father had been. Betony followed him in, cleared her throat as though to speak, and then seemed to think better of it.

"I don't understand," said Felix eventually. His voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. "Where is he? Has he come back to life? I thought he was going to remain like that for twenty years."

Betony's brows drew together and she bit her lip, and he could see that she was as perplexed as he was.

He looked in the dining room, the downstairs closet, the cupboard under the stairs. Nothing. He ran upstairs and searched all the bedrooms. Still nothing. So he returned to the kitchen and looked a bit harder at the back door. There was something strange here, all right. The lock had been forced, but the door had been bolted again from the inside. There were little chips of wood on the floor and the door itself had a white scar by the handle, where the metal was coming away. He pulled back the bolts, his mind working overtime. Someone had broken in through the back door, but locked it again as they left. It didn't make sense. He dashed out into the garden, expecting to see dots of white marble everywhere, but there weren't any. The lawn was overgrown, certainly, but it was the same expanse of green it had always been.

He was half-expecting what he found when he reached