Jinx On The Divide (30 page)

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Thornbeak cleared away her papers, left the building, and flew down to the sea.

For a moment she thought Ironclaw had returned, for there was a large male brazzle scratching around in the sand. It looked as though there had been a celebration of some sort -- a small-tail and a wise-hoof were dancing in and out of the waves, a diggeluck was sitting with his back against a rock, swigging from a gourd, and an elderly brittlehorn was rolling around like a foal. Thornbeak turned her magnifying vision on to the brazzle and realized immediately that it wasn't Ironclaw. This one was far too handsome. Nor was it Stonetalon, their son. Nevertheless, there was something familiar about him. The hooked beak, the noble brow, the athletic build.

She turned her attention to the small-tail. There was something familiar about him, too. The slant of his eyes, the curl of his horns; he looked just like the statue of Quillfinger, the scribe who had written down the first Tangle-Commonspeak dictionary....

She moved on to the brittlehorn. The brittlehorn was a dead ringer for Ivorynose, the philosopher. The diggeluck looked like Delveditch, the moat designer, and the wise-hoof appeared to be a reincarnation of Pastern, a librarian who had vanished under mysterious circumstances twenty years ago. She'd known him quite well.

She studied the brazzle once again -- and then he looked up, saw her, and squawked a greeting.

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And that was the moment when Thornbeak realized every single one of the revelers on the beach had once been a statue on the grounds of the library.
Well, pull my tail and run,
she thought,
it's Flintfeather.
She felt a surge of delight -- she knew so much about him, she'd spent fifty years researching him and writing about him. He was extremely good-looking. She wondered who had turned him to stone, all those centuries ago, and why. And then she thought -- my book. It's completely irrelevant now. And it was doing so
well.

Betony and Rhino crept along the passageway at the top of the stairs. The Pink Harpoon was a really old inn -- it was big and rambling with twists and turns and dark little corners that could easily have concealed a snagglefang.

"I hope Felix is OK," said Betony, her voice squeaky with anxiety. "I thought he was following us. He must have stayed behind with Snakeweed. How are we going to know if it's safe to go back downstairs?"

"We go back to the landing and listen, I suppose."

"We don't have any weapons, Rhino. Oh, how I wish Fuzzy would come back."

"We probably couldn't see her even if she already has," Rhino pointed out. "The windows up here don't give much of a view."

"I wish you hadn't dragged me up here."

"I'm sorry," said Rhino. "I thought I was doing it for the best. We probably
would
have been better off staying with

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the others. The driver had a crossbow, and Snakeweed had a wand."

"You can only use a wand a certain number of times before it needs recharging."

Rhino smiled. "Science and magic aren't really all that different, are they?"

They came to the end of the passageway and tackled the corner in true blockbuster-movie style, pressing themselves against the mossy wall and poking only their noses around the corner.

The white shape at the end of the next corridor turned to look.

Betony froze. Rhino grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back the way they'd come. Before they were halfway to the stairs, the snagglefang rounded the corner. If it hadn't stopped to have a celebratory snarl, it would have been curtains for both of them -- but the beast clearly thought the hunt was over and he could pick them off at his leisure.

Rhino let go of Betony's hand and forced open one of the windows with his elbow.

"What are you
doing}"
screamed Betony. "We're on the second floor. It's too far to jump!"

Rhino simply pushed her toward the window. Then he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her right up, so that she had to kneel on the sill.

"Rhino!" cried Betony. "What are you
playing
at? I'll fall!"

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"I'd rather you jumped!" called a silky little voice.

All of a sudden, it was clear that Rhino had spotted Nimby hovering just below the window, and seized the chance to save Betony. She glanced back over her shoulder at him. The snagglefang had stopped snarling and was walking toward him in a horribly deliberate way, with a businesslike expression on its scarred white face. "What about you?" she said.

"I'm too big to squeeze through there. Go
on,
Betony, jump!"

Still she hesitated, so Rhino pushed her. There was a moment when she was falling, her gasp frozen in her throat, and then Nimby cupped her fall.

Rhino took a deep breath and prepared to die fighting. He'd never done anything heroic before, and the adrenaline was pumping through his body, making his heart beat faster and the tips of his fingers tingle as though he'd had an electric shock. He was thinking faster, too. He could see that the snagglefang knew it had him cornered, for it treated itself to a protracted growl. How effective would his bare hands be against a wolf-thing the size of a small bear?

And then he remembered. He still had a couple of firecrackers left. He moved his hands to his pockets, slowly, slowly. The creature was just watching him at the moment, and licking its black lips. To his relief, the firecrackers were in one pocket and the cigarette lighter was in the other. He

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pulled out a little cardboard cylinder -- slowly, slowly -- then the lighter, and moved his hands behind his back. He was going to have to light it blind.

The snagglefang took a pace forward.

There was a dry rasping click as the cigarette lighter failed to light.

The snagglefang took another pace forward.

I'm going to die,
thought Rhino. He tried a second time. The lighter flared up, burned his finger, and went out again. Trying not to fumble, he flicked it once more with the ball of his thumb. This time, he managed to ignite the little blue fuse without burning himself, and he hurled the firecracker straight at the snagglefang.

There was a bang -- a muffled bang, not the sort of explosion that had razed the ragamucky shack. A real damp squib. But it was enough to send the snagglefang yelping back downstairs. Rhino stuck his head out of the window. He could see Nimby hovering a little way off, with Betony on board -- and then he saw the snagglefang race out of the building with its tail on fire, and run off down the road. Fuzzy appeared from nowhere and chased it.

When they all met up again outside the inn, Felix was relieved to see Betony in one piece. But when she leaped off Nimby, it was Rhino she ran to. And if that wasn't bad enough, she then proceeded to give him the most enormous hug.

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"You're a hero, Rhino," she said, and she told everyone what he had done.

Rhino felt a sort of warmth replace the hyped-up feeling he'd had upstairs. Despite her elfin beauty, Betony was as tough as they came. The urge to make fun of her had gone. She was all right.

The japegrin driver led his cuddyaks out of the barn and harnessed them to the sleigh. Then he turned to Snakeweed and said, "Shall we go, Your Excellency?"

Snakeweed smiled. "Time to say good-bye again, Felix. Though not as acrimoniously as before, I hope." He held out his hand.

Felix shook it, although it didn't feel quite right. "Those caves," he said. "Are you going to charge admission?"

There was a faint flicker of something behind Snakeweed's eyes. "It's got to be self-supporting, Felix. There's the publicity to pay for, and the upkeep, and that predator hedge will have to go. It needs a decent landing strip for fire-breathers as well."

They watched Snakeweed climb aboard the sleigh. The japegrin shouted at the cuddyaks, and with a snort and a bellow, they were off. Felix, Betony, and Rhino could still hear Snakeweed coughing when the sleigh was just a tiny speck in the distance.

"Come on, then," said Betony. "Let's go."

Rhino suddenly seemed reluctant to move.

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"What's up?" asked Fuzzy.

"I thought you were desperate to get home," said Felix. "I was desperate to get
away,
when there was a price on my head," said Rhino. "That's not quite the same thing."

"Don't you want to go back now, then?" asked Betony. "I got my wish, didn't I?" said Rhino. "Respect."

"What about your parents?" asked Nimby. "What about them?"

"They'll be worried."

"No, they won't."

"Are you sure?" said the carpet. "I only had a weaver, you see, so maybe I don't understand."

"They've got five other sons. Gary -- that's my oldest brother -- my mom hasn't heard from him for years. Good riddance, was what she said. He was always in trouble, see. I liked Gary a lot, actually. He was always OK with me, took me fishing and stuff. Moved up to the Midlands somewhere -- Birmingham, I think. I could say I went to live with him, that I'd been in contact all the time. That I had his cell number all along."

"And how are you going to say that, if you stay over here?" asked Felix.

Rhino turned to look at him. "You could do it," he said.

"No way," said Felix.

"Why not?"

"I'd be lying."

Rhino just looked at him.

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"If they're not bothered, Felix, I don't see that it matters," said Betony.

Oh, it matters,
thought Felix.
This was
my
place, my own private world. It gave me adventure, it gave me friends, it gave me a
life.
And now Rhino wants to live here. Rhino, the person from my own world who I hated above all others.

"We need to talk about this," said Fuzzy, with a sharp glance in Felix's direction. "Let's head up to the Divide, and have lunch up there. Then, when you've dumped the jinx box down the fissure and Rhino's decided what he's going to do, we can go our separate ways."

"Sounds good to me," said Rhino.

Felix was trying really hard not to be a wet blanket, but the horrible feeling of impending doom wouldn't go away. Every time he managed to think about something else, it would creep back, souring everything and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something was going to happen when he jettisoned the jinx box, he was sure of it, and it involved Betony getting really upset. Why did everything have to have a downside? The downside of Rhino's wish being granted was one he hadn't anticipated at all. Rhino was happy here now, and he no longer wanted to go home. If Felix was honest about it, he was dead jealous. Staying in this world with no strings attached would be wonderful. But he had parents who loved him, he had responsibilities. He had to go home.

Perhaps a look into the crystal ball might prepare him for

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what was to come. He managed to pull his face into a smile, and then he climbed onto the carpet with the others.

Thornbeak landed in the sand, and found herself tongue-tied for the first time in her life. Flintfeather, mathematician and apothecary to the king, author of the book
Strength in Feathers,
inventor of the spell that had cured Felix's heart complaint. Flintfeather, whose biography she had spent fifty years writing, whose statue she had admired every day on her way to work, whose fame stretched as far as Kaflabad and beyond. Flintfeather, whose intellect had been beyond compare. Flintfeather, her hero.

"Hi there," said the brazzle. "You're a good-looking bit of fluff."

Thornbeak's beak dropped open. When she realized it, she shut her beak with a loud clack.

"I've been a statue for a long time," said the brazzle, stretching out one of his wings -- lazy, athletic, overtly masculine. He ruffled his feathers and flattened them again. He was a very good-looking brazzle indeed -- broad-chested and muscular, and his plumage was glossy and bright. He cocked his head to one side. "What's your name, silky-rump?"

"Thornbeak," said Thornbeak. The conversation wasn't going quite the way she'd anticipated.

"Hold on a moment, velvet-paws, while I give myself a preen. Can't chat to a hen looking like this." He had an earthy voice, well used, slightly sardonic. He started to preen

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himself, taking great care with every feather. Thornbeak didn't quite know where to look.

Ivorynose the brittlehorn came over. He nodded politely to Thornbeak and said, "We live in interesting times, Professor."

Thornbeak wondered how he knew she was a professor when he'd been stone for the past three hundred years, but he was pretty intimidating, the way senior brittlehorns frequently were, so she didn't ask.

"Two powerwords have been used in the past few days," the brittlehorn continued gravely, looking into the middle distance. "I have meditated on this, and I can tell you that the first gave free will to every brandee, and the second gave all stone-enchanted beings their bodies again."