Back To The Divide (6 page)

"Fangs and talons!"
squealed Betony, her green eyes flashing with excitement.

"Ssh,"
admonished Thornbeak. "We're not leaving until we've neutralized the incendiary spell. I suggest we stop looking for demolition charms and concentrate on fire-raising."

They moved on to the room that dealt with fire and water. Thornbeak looked at the rows and rows of books and groaned. "They're not even divided into the two subjects,"

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she said. "I wish someone would invent a proper system for cataloging everything. We'll just have to pull them out one at a time."

They carried on with their quest, flicking through book after book and replacing each with a sigh of disappointment. Then, just before sunset, Betony found a book called
Great Arsonists of the Past.
She stifled a yelp of delight and passed it over to Thornbeak.

Thornbeak found what she was looking for in minutes. She nodded sagely and said, "The countercharm has to be applied at sunrise exactly where the spell was cast, and that's the entrance hall. Fortunately, the only ingredient we need is a brazzle feather. We'll go back to our sleeping quarters like good little prisoners and sneak out just before dawn."

A different japegrin from the one they'd encountered earlier appeared in the doorway. "Any luck?" he asked.

Thornbeak shook her head.

"Oh well," said the japegrin, "it's quite possible we won't need it. Fleabane's sent a couple of his militia to Tromm Fell to torture the spell out of the brazzle who calculated it."

Thornbeak froze, and Betony went white.

"It's curfew time." The japegrin grinned, pleased with the reaction his statement had created. "You'd better scuttle back to your storeroom."

Thornbeak and Betony made their way back to their poky little sleeping quarters.

Thornbeak's yellow eyes were dark with misery. "They

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don't
need to
torture Ironclaw," she said. "All they have to do is bet him he can't remember the spell, and his ego will do the rest."

"I think you're underestimating him," said Betony, seesawing between believing it one moment and being every bit as worried as Thornbeak the next.

Pignut woke Felix at some unearthly hour, and the wise-hoof was on the road before sunrise. "It takes ages to get an audience with Fleabane," the japegrin explained as they trotted along. "We need to be first in the line, or we could wait all day."

The japegrin at the roadblock recognized Pignut and waved them all straight through. Felix felt a surge of relief; he hadn't wanted anyone looking at him
too
closely.

"You seem nervous," said Pignut.

Felix gave him a wan smile, wishing there were an easier way of getting into Andria than singing Turpsik's anthem to Fleabane.

Pignut peered at him a little more closely. "You've got blue eyes," he said.

"I had an eye infection," said Felix, saying the first thing that came into his head.

Pignut looked skeptical.

He's not convinced, thought Felix, I need a better story. And then one came to him. "Remember Global Panaceas?" he asked.

"Snakeweed's potions company?"

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"Yes. My mother ..." He struggled for a moment with a sudden paralysis of the throat as his eyes watered, and coughed to cover it up. He'd had a sudden vision of himself, old and gray, still in Betony's world and still looking for the antidote to the marble spell while his parents' faces became worn and moss-covered and their hands developed a crazy paving of fracture lines. "My mother bought one of their remedies for me," he managed, after a moment or two, "but it went wrong."

Since most of Snakeweed's cures had gone wrong when he'd been running Global Panaceas, Pignut simply nodded and said, "Accidents will happen."

"I was lucky not to go blind," said Felix, feeling some elaboration was called for. "The stuff really stung, you know? My eyes went all bloodshot, it was agony, and when the bandages came off my eyes had turned blue."

"Oh, well," said Pignut, "it could have been a lot worse. They might have turned brown, like a ragamucky's. They're still a bit watery, though."

Andria was different from the way Felix remembered it. Everything looked a little bit smaller, a little more rundown, a little less jolly. The grass roadsides hadn't been cut, and there weren't any lickit stalls on street corners anymore. They carried on past the lodging house he and Betony had stayed at, but the gate was teetering on its hinges and there were weeds in the garden. The wise-hoof sighed heavily as

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they took the main highway to the palace, which was in the opposite direction from the road that led to the library.

Ironclaw could see a faint blue haze shimmering on the library roof as he circled above it. He had no idea what it was: some new sort of weatherproofing, maybe? It was so early in the morning that the only creature he could see on the grounds was the triple-head. Good, he thought, that makes my job a whole lot easier. He swooped down and landed on the grass.

The triple-head opened its six eyes. Then all three beaks squawked, "Password!" simultaneously.

"I'm not stopping," said Ironclaw. "Just thought I'd drop by for a chat.
I'd
find it incredibly boring, sitting on a statue all day. Pay well, does it?"

"Cuddyak hearts with pukeberry sauce," said Head Number Two.

"Deviled creepy-biters."

"Sweet-and-sour vamprey wings."

Ironclaw tried to look impressed. Then he said, "I bet they haven't offered you flame-bird eggs. It just so happens that I've got one in my leg-pouch."

All three heads became far more alert.

"You can have it if you solve a little puzzle for me," said Ironclaw. He took the stonecrake's egg out of his leg-pouch. Turpsik had painted it red with her hair dye, and it looked

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rather exotic. Number Two and Number Three glanced at each other and smacked their beaks.

"Hang on a moment," said Number One. "Why would a
brazzle
want help with a puzzle?"

"Four heads are better than one," said Ironclaw quickly. "Now then. The problem goes as follows: Two of you are guarding doors. Behind one of them is the egg."

"No," said Number Two, "all three of us are guarding the door. And the egg's out here."

"This is all hypothetical," said Ironclaw. "Imaginary. A pretend situation. Let's start again. Number One, you're guarding the left-hand door. Number Two, you're guarding the right-hand door. Number Three is the one who's trying to decide which door to choose. One guard always tells the truth; the other guard always lies. You can ask one question only, Number Three, to whichever guard you like. Get it right and you get the egg. Get it wrong and you get beheaded."

The concept of one head not being there anymore was obviously a new one.

"That's worrying," said Number One.

"I'm not sure we should go along with this," said Number Two.

"It's my head that's on the block," said Number Three.

Ironclaw clenched his toes in an effort to keep his temper. "It's hypothetical.
Pretend.
I'm not really going to behead you."

"That's all right, then," said Number Two. "Am I the one who lies, or the one who tells the truth?"

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"The whole point is that we don't know," said Ironclaw.

"We never lie to one another," said Number Three.

Ironclaw was losing patience. "All I want is the
question,"
he snapped. "The question that will get Number Three the egg, whichever one of you he asks."

"I don't think there
is
a solution," said Number Two.

"Yes there is," fumed Ironclaw.

"Well, if you know the answer already, why are you asking us?"

"I don't know the answer!" screeched Ironclaw, although naturally he did. "I just know there is one! Flintfeather solved it, but the answer's been lost!"

"That's different, if it's Flintfeather," said Number Three.

"We're sitting on his statue," said Number Two. "He was ever so clever."

"Just like you, Number Three," said Number One.

"In that case," said Ironclaw, "why don't you just get on with it and solve the problem for me?"

"OK," said Number Three unexpectedly. "Let's say that Number One is the liar and Number Two tells the truth."

"I think Number One ought to be the one who tells the truth," said Number Two.

"It doesn't matter!" squawked Ironclaw, hopping up and down with impatience.

"Number One tells the truth, then," said Number Three. "If I ask him which door the egg's behind, he will tell me the right answer. If I ask Number Two, I'll get the wrong

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answer. So I'll ask Number One. Number One, which door is the egg behind?"

"We haven't decided that yet," said Number One.

"No, you're quite right, we haven't."

Ironclaw clenched his toes more tightly. He desperately needed them to start arguing. "You haven't understood the problem at all, have you?" he said.
"One
of you lies,
one
of you tells the truth, but
none
of us knows which one. How can you find out which door the egg lies behind with only
one question?"

"Oh, I see," said Number Three suddenly. "I just have to ask either of them what the other would say, and then do the opposite. If Number One's the honest one and the egg's behind
his
door, he'll tell me Number Two will say it's behind
his
door. So it won't be, because Number Two would lie. If I ask Number Two, he'll say Number One will tell me it's behind Number Two's door, because he's lying about Number One's answer. So the answer is: If I asked the
other
guard which door the egg was behind, what would he tell me?"

Ironclaw's beak dropped open.

"Oh, Number Three, that's quite brilliant," said Number One.

"You're as clever as Flintfeather," said Number Two.

"We'd like our prize now," said Number Three.

Ironclaw passed them the egg, wondering what on earth he was going to do next. He had been looking forward to Thornbeak's reaction when he strolled in, a picture of debonair nonchalance, ready to tell her that he'd gotten the

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triple-head too busy squabbling with itself to notice their departure.

"Hang on a minute," said Number One. "Flame-birds don't lay eggs, they're reborn from their own ashes."

Oh,
droppings,
thought Ironclaw. How was I supposed to know that? Then he had the most extraordinary piece of good fortune -- a faint growling sound that got louder and louder.

All four heads turned to look, but there were trees in the way. The triple-head obviously regarded the noise as a threat, as it dropped the egg and flew away to investigate. Ironclaw decided to have a good preen before he entered the library. Thornbeak was very particular about that sort of thing.

Just before dawn Thornbeak and Betony left their sleeping quarters and tiptoed through the library until they arrived at the entrance hall.

"Right," said Thornbeak. "I need to place one of my feathers in the center of the star on the floor. Then I recite the spell." She took a pace forward, stopped, and glanced at her feet. Her front two bird legs were armed with golden talons. Although she could sheathe the claws on her hind paws, she wouldn't be able to move silently. "My talons are going to make too much noise," she whispered. "I think you'll have to do it."

Betony was instantly terrified but at the same time felt terribly important and grown-up. She could see the jape-grins behind the desk, fast asleep, but she had never operated

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a spell a hundredth of the power of this one; it was a level thirteen. If she got it right, she would be able to boast about it for years to come -- but supposing she got it wrong?

Thornbeak passed her the book. "It's at the right page," she said. "Read it out loud after you've put this feather on the little black spot in the middle. Don't hesitate, and don't leave anything out."

Betony took Thornbeak's feather and looked at the spell. The words swam before her eyes, and she had to blink a few times before she could focus. Her heart was thumping, she could feel it, and her mouth was horribly dry. Come
on,
she said to herself, you can do it.

"Go
on,"
urged Thornbeak with a lash of her tail. "You can do it."

Betony tiptoed across the floor. She put the feather in the center of the star, and the ghostly blue haze on the ceiling rippled. Then she took a deep breath and started to recite the countercharm. One of the japegrins mumbled something in his sleep, but he didn't wake. The sun was streaming in through a side window now; she could see the long shadows it was casting on the lawn outside. The rain clouds had gone.

She was about halfway through the spell when she heard the noise. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand and kept going. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the triple-head fly past the window. She almost hesitated -- in flight, the bird was even more terrifying.