Jinx On The Divide (10 page)

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his light receptors. He watched him go over to the table where Felix and Betony had been sitting, look underneath it, pick up the lamp, hold it up to a candle, and examine it. Then he put on his coat and went out.

Nimby unrolled himself and tried to follow. But carpets aren't very good at lifting latches and unlocking doors, and it took him a while to find an open window he could squeeze through, by which time the landlord had disappeared. It was pitch-dark outside, and Nimby knew he wouldn't be able to fly very far. He needed to twisty-strip sunlight for energy, like a plant photosynthesizing, so he decided to find some shelter and lie low until dawn.

It was harder than he'd anticipated. All the outbuildings that looked promising were a little too security-conscious. He had to fly quite a way out of Vattan until he reached the next village, which was farther than he really wanted. It seemed to consist of just a general store, a fishmonger's, two houses, and a small farm. Eventually, he found a door that was slightly ajar and squeezed himself through, catching one of his threads on the architrave. He tried to jerk it free, but it broke off and he let out a little yelp of pain. Fortunately, the room was deserted -- it was a storeroom. Nimby just lay there on the floor for a while, exhausted. Finally, his light sensors adjusted to the gloom, and he looked around. Strings of onions were hanging from the ceiling, and sacks of grain were stacked against one wall. There were barrels of salted fish, and casks of fertle juice, and bundles of herbs -- and

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that was when a sudden gust of wind banged the door shut behind him. One cursory inspection of the latch showed him that he wouldn't be able to get out of this one. He was stuck, until somebody needed some onions. He rolled himself up beneath the skylight, so that he would catch the first rays of sunshine, and went to sleep.

It was a long time before anyone came.

The sound of running footsteps alerted him; then the door banged open, and a shaft of light arrowed across the floor. He caught a glimpse of a tall, darkly robed figure, carrying something under his arm. Then the door closed again, and there was the sound of heavy breathing.

After a moment or two, there were more footsteps outside, but these ran straight past. Nimby's light sensors adjusted themselves to the shadows once more, and he found himself looking directly at the brandee. The brandee grinned and held up the red woolen thread that Nimby had left on the door frame like a calling card.

Nimby tried to make a bolt for the ceiling -- but the brandee was too quick for him, and he found himself slammed back on the floor with a foot planted firmly in the middle of his central design. He tried wriggling toward the door.

"You're not going anywhere," said the brandee, placing his other foot on the carpet as well. "At least not without me on board."

"I take orders only from my mistress," said Nimby.

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"We'll see about that," said the brandee, and he started to recite a change-of-ownership hex.

Nimby knew that these hexes were only temporary -- he'd had one put on him before -- but it was going to make the heroic rescue of Betony and Felix (if that was what was needed) impossible. "Where do you want me to take you?" he was compelled to ask, but he felt like a cut-rate doormat for failing in his task before he'd even got going. Some hero.

"Yergud," said the brandee.

When they reached Yergud, the brandee rolled up the carpet, admired the view of the twin volcanoes, and went looking for the bookshop. He always visited bookshops, and this one was world famous. He'd once spent fifty years inside his lamp with only
Slobbit's Compendium of Cuddyak Diseases
and a jinx box, and the jinx box had been as mad as a cycad. Since then he had added to his library at every available opportunity. There were a surprising number of cookbooks, although most of them dealt with fish. The brandee's eye was caught by one called
Dining Out on Mythical Beasts.
It was beautifully produced, with some delightful illustrations.

"Bestseller, that one," said the shop assistant.

"Got anything on science?" asked the brandee. It was always worth a try.

She shook her head. "No. You're the third person who's asked me today."

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The brandee raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh, it's just a fad. Our beloved thane has got himself a scientist, and it's caused an upsurge of interest in all the mythical stuff."

"A scientist? Here?"

"A human being, supposedly."

"Where is this scientist?"

"Squill's headquarters."

"Where's that?"

"Used to be a hotel -- the Yergud Valliton. First left at the soothsayer's, and then second right after the hat shop."

"Thanks," said the brandee. He tucked Nimby more firmly under his arm, went outside, and came face-to-face with a brazzle. The carpet wriggled violently, unrolling itself so that half its pile was visible.

"Hey," said the brazzle, a young female sporting the latest craze in black-feather spikes. "You've got Betony's carpet."

The carpet in question started to reply, so the brandee tightened his grip and hissed, "Silence, floor rag."

"What's happened to Betony?" demanded the brazzle. "What have you done with her? Where is she? How come you've got her carpet?"

"I bought it secondhand in a general store," lied the brandee, unrolling Nimby and placing him on the ground.

"Where?" demanded the brazzle.

"On the road to Vattan, Fish Dump of the Spitfire North."

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He sat himself down in the center of the carpet, cross-legged, and ordered, "Up!"

The carpet interpreted the command as literally as possible. He jerked upward, tilted suddenly, and tipped the brandee onto the ground. The lamp rolled a little way downhill, and the brandee jumped to his feet and chased off after it.

Nimby moved next to Fuzzy and whispered, "Betony and I got separated. She's got Felix with her. The brandee caught me and used a change-of-ownership hex. It'll wear off after another day or so, but in the meantime I can't go back for them."

Fuzzy nodded. "Where are they?"

"Somewhere near Vattan. They're looking for Rhino."

"No
chance," said Fuzzy. "I know rhinos are endangered, but Felix won't find any he can reintroduce from over here because they're mythical beasts, and ..."

"This
Rhino is a boy, and a very dangerous one. He's telling the japegrins how to make weapons of mass destruction."

"I'd better get going, then," said Fuzzy, thinking,
Smooth. I'm going to have an adventure.

"Great balls of wool,
you're not up to something like this, Fuzzy," hissed Nimby, for he could see the brandee returning with his lamp. "If they find Rhino, you'd need to carry three humans at once. I think you should go and get Ironclaw."

"I can deal with it," said Fuzzy indignantly. "I'm not a hatchling anymore."

The brandee kicked Nimby irritably with his foot. "When I

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say
up,
I mean like a feather on the breeze, not pumice shooting out of a volcano." He sat down and crossed his legs.
"Up,
curse your knots." The carpet lifted off and bore the brandee away.

Fuzzy was aware that napping off on a rescue mission on an empty stomach was a bad move, so she treated herself to a peck of lunch at the fly-in restaurant on the cliff face. She got to talking with a chatty old carrionwing called Scoffit, who turned out to be OK and not smelly at all. Scoffit told her the locations of the rescue huts in the mountains, which might be useful in the event of a blizzard. Scoffit also warned her about the molten rock that could spew from crevices, and the superheated steam that could shoot out of a lake. And for once, Fuzzy was prepared to listen to advice, even if it did come from an old crone on her way to a shrieking convention, with feathers that would have made a moth-eaten duster look up-market. Scoffit was only the second carrionwing she'd met, and she found herself revising her previous opinion. Appearances weren't everything -- Scoffit had traveled to the north to guest in a squawk band, and how smooth was that? Mind you, a little scarlet polish on those craggy old claws wouldn't hurt, and a decent feather shampoo ...

She finished her meal, and said good-bye to Scoffit. Then she launched herself off the cliff with a particularly nifty backflip and reverse plummet, soared upward again, and set a course due north. Fuzzy to the rescue! It had a nice ring to it.

***

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Squill's HQ was a sprawling stone building, with a lot of outbuildings such as stables and storerooms. A huge tree stood within the grounds.

"You can't come in here," said the guard.

"Why not?" asked the brandee, shifting the rolled-up carpet he was carrying to his other arm.

"You're a nomad, aren't you? No nomads. No tangle-folk, no ragamuckies, no brazzles, no brittlehorns, no one-eyes, no lickits ..."

"I get the picture. However, although I may look like a nomad, I am, in fact, a brandee." The brandee extracted his lamp from somewhere in the folds of his clothing. "I am beholden to no one at the moment."

The guard stared long and hard at the lamp. If he just had the guts to snatch it, he could have wealth beyond his wildest dreams -- and the most beautiful japegrin maiden in the world. His fingers started to itch, and he licked his lips.

"Don't even think about it," said the brandee, running his hand over the hilt of his dagger. "I heard you have a scientist here, and I want to meet him."

"Nobody meets him," said the guard. "On the other hand, if you could grant me one little wish I might ..."

"It's against the rules," said the brandee.

"No one need know. She doesn't
have
to be the most beautiful maiden in the world. Just as long as she isn't thin, or lopsided, and she doesn't bite ..."

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The brandee cast the japegrin a withering glance, turned on his heel, and left.

He waited until they changed the guard, and then he tried again.

"You can't come in here," said the new guard. "No nomads, no ragamuckies, no tangle-folk ..."

"I'm not a nomad," interrupted the brandee. "I am a prince from a far-off land, and I have come to present this beautiful magic carpet to your thane."

The carpet in question made some muffled remark.

The guard glanced at his clipboard. "Nothing about it in the schedule for today," he said. "Prince ... er?"

"Prince Goodbody," said the brandee, using the first name that came into his head.

"You could see his secretary."

"All right," said the brandee, and he made his way to the waiting room.

A sorry collection of individuals was waiting to see Squill's secretary. In one corner, a ragamucky was sobbing quietly into a brown handkerchief. The other petitioners were all japegrins, and they gave the ragamucky a wide berth. The brandee found himself a chair, sat down, and laid the carpet on the floor next to him. No one spoke to him, although they gave him a few dirty looks. After a while, a guard entered and beckoned him over.

"Hang on a minute," protested one of the japegrins. "He just came in. I've been waiting since yesterday."

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The guard shrugged.

"He's not a japegrin. How come he gets to go in first?"

"It's not right, carpet or no carpet."

"And why is that filthy ragamucky in here?"

"That's not right, either."

The guard took no notice and left the room, gesturing to the brandee to follow.

Squill's secretary was a stunningly beautiful japegrin with shoulder-length auburn curls, and she told him she would have to search him. The brandee found himself wishing -- not for the first time -- that he had a real body, so that he could fully appreciate it.

"You can't take that in," she said, when she found the dagger.

"Purely ornamental," said the brandee. "It couldn't cut butter."

The secretary seemed undecided, but then she found the lamp. She held it up to the light and admired it. "His excellency likes presents," she said. "I can see that you know it is customary to give them to him three at a time -- he'll just love the lamp."

Before the brandee had time to protest this, the secretary ushered him through. The thane looked the brandee up and down and said, "Well?"

"Prince Goodbody," said the secretary.