Jinx On The Divide (6 page)

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Sinistrom.
He hoped to show that not every sinistrom was the irredeemable brute of popular belief.

He stared at the page in front of him, trying to make sense of the text. The Big Bang was the spell that had misfired all those centuries ago, creating 169 sinistroms. He had been delighted to find the thing at all -- and then he had realized that it was a numerical spell, and way beyond his comprehension.

One thing was clear, however. The sinistrom stink was hidden in those numbers somewhere, and if Ironclaw could extract them and get rid of the smell, Grimspite might be able to have a regular social life and attend some conferences. He sighed with pleasure. Life as an academic was so much more rewarding than a life of unbridled violence.

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***

4

***

Felix turned the ornate brass handle of the other door that led out of the magic lamp's main chamber, wondering what a magical greenhouse would be like. The brandee's study had been harmless enough -- although they hadn't found Rhino, nor any evidence that he'd been there. Things were not always what they seemed in Betony's world, however, and dangers lay in the most unexpected places.

After a second or two, the most beautiful perfume wafted through the opening, and a shaft of sunlight skittered across the floor. Felix and Betony smiled at each other, relieved, and stepped into a tangle of flowering plants and little ornamental fruit trees, with trellises and rock gardens and winding paths. There was a small stream with a tiny waterfall, which appeared to go from nowhere to nowhere.

"Water," said Betony, and she took off her cap and scooped some up. She sniffed it. "Smells all right," she said, and she took a sip. "Tastes all right," she said, and drank deeply.

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"Well, that solves one problem," she announced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and passing the cap to Felix, who did likewise. She looked at the fruit trees. "And that'll solve the other, when we get hungry."

They explored the greenhouse from one end to the other -- it seemed to be about the size of Felix's backyard at home -- but they didn't find Rhino. There were little statues here and there that smiled at them. Insects with bright metallic bodies were busily pollinating the flowers, and joking with one another as they worked. The jokes were really bad ones about things like blooming idiots and budding geniuses.

"It's awfully late," said Betony, stifling a yawn. "I'm tired. We could go back to the main room and spend the night on the cushions. The greenhouse might be different tomorrow."

"Not a bad idea," said Felix.

"What's that?" said Betony, pointing behind him.

He turned to look. "It's a marble pedestal. Probably had a flowerpot or something on it at one time."

"No, it isn't. It's a silk-covered box."

Felix stared at it. "You're right," he said. "It's not at all as big as I thought it was -- must be a trick of the perspective. And how could I have thought it was made of stone?" He got up and went over to look at it. The pattern seemed to shift as he changed his position, swirls of golden yellow one moment and a vivid lime-green the next.

"That's the most delicate pink I've ever seen," said Betony. "Like the inside of a shell."

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[Image: The box.]

"It's not pink, it's green," said Felix. "You're color-blind," said Betony. "It's purple now."

"Turquoise."

"We can't be seeing the same thing." Felix reached out his hand to check that the padded surface felt as soft as it looked.

"No!" shouted Betony suddenly. "Don't touch it! It's a jinx box."

Felix pulled back his hand. "What's a jinx box?"

"All I know about them is that they were originally a mistake," said Betony. "They were created centuries ago, to store information, but they changed things. They were incredibly malicious, so they were all destroyed. Then -- quite recently -- K'Faddle found a way of removing the malice. They made their inconsistency and contrariness the selling

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points, and sold thousands of them. Thornbeak called it a triumph of marketing."

"Oh, hang on a minute," said Felix, opening his backpack. "That owner's guide ... there were advertisements for other K'Faddle products in the back. Here." He spread the book out on a shelf, and he and Betony read the following:

Special offer!

***

The K'FADDLE JINX BOX is a must! Amaze your friends, entertain your offspring, humiliate your teachers.... The K'FADDLE JINX BOX comes in three different designs -- invisible, Subtle, and Lurid. It has been manufactured to the very highest standards, and bewitched by a certified sorcerer.

The invisible design comes with its own Here-I-Am case, so that you can find it. A favorite with japegrins, because it can be used as the basis for innumerable practical jokes!!!

The subtle design suits the discerning buyer who is looking for a sound investment, we expect this

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model of the K'FADDLE JINX BOX
to become a collector's item.

The Lurid design is for fashion freaks who want to be one flap ahead. It'll get you loved, get you hated, get you barred from Squeak & Squawk clubs.

You can store an kinds of information in a K'FADDLE JINX BOX - but what comes out won't always be quite the same as what went
mil!
Read what some of our clients, past and present, have to say:

"After we'd played Hunt the Haunch -- it was my birthday--I got everyone to throw an equation into my K'FADDLE JINX BOX drew something called Pythagoras' Theorem Never looked back after that."

Bronzepipion,
mathematician

"I used my K'FADDLE JINX BOX to collect recipes, and every so often, it would change one of them. That was how I get my Rotten Toadstool Soufflé, it made my name as a chef."

--Flourface, chief lickit in
the palace kitchen

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Order your K'FADDLE JINX BOX today, and be the entry of the roost!

K'FADDLE & OFFSPRING, ZIGGURAT THREE, KAFLABAD

***

"That one must be the Subtle design," said Betony, glancing at the box sitting on the shelf. "The collector's item. You only see the colors and designs you like best. Unless ... No. Surely not."

"What?"

"Well ... if it's been here for ages ..."

"It might be one of the old ones?"

"No," said Betony. "No, they were all destroyed. I'm sure they were."

Hmm,
thought Felix.
Once something bad's been created, it's very hard to make sure it gets destroyed. Unexploded bombs and land mines are always turning up in my world.
But all he said was, "I wonder what's stored in it?"

"I'm not sure I want to know."

"Whatever it is, it's only words," said Felix, thinking,
At least it won't be nuclear waste or toxic chemicals.

"What do you mean,
only
words?" said Betony. "Words are the most powerful magic of all. They create pictures inside your head -- how amazing is that?"

"You know what I mean. It'll just be words that come out

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of the box, not a sinistrom or a vamprey or a mad japegrin with an ax. We could take it with us."

"You're joking," said Betony. "I wouldn't touch that thing for all the emeralds in Andria."

They ate a few fertle fruits. Then they went back to the main chamber, where the brandee was curled up on his cushion, reading a whodunit about brass rubbing. They sorted out some cushions for themselves, said good night, and went to sleep.

Despite the stone-throwing incident and the ragamucky's curious preference for carrionwings over brazzles, Fuzzy was still really excited about spending a few days in Yergud. She'd heard about the view of the double mountain from the main square, and she knew about Yergud's world-famous bookshop. There was a reference book on squawk music she particularly wanted, which laid out the mathematical structure behind the work of the most experimental bands -- the ones her mother said sounded like waggle-ears in pain.

There was also a fly-in restaurant with a top-notch reputation, some spectacular scenery, and some seriously weird wildlife. It was about time she saw some of the world. Her brother, Stonetalon, flew all over the place. She'd show him.

She found it quite difficult to get to sleep that night, although perhaps it was the fact that she'd eaten a little too much of the house carcass and drunk three whole buckets of fertle juice.

***

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"Fertle fruit can lose its appeal, can't it?" said Felix, wiping the scarlet juice from his chin. He and Betony were having breakfast in the main room of the lamp; it bore a remarkable likeness to supper the night before.

Betony nodded. "And you can't eat more than a couple of those custardy vamolins; they're too rich." Then she said, "Oh, hang on a minute. What about that cake your mother made?"

The cake was a little beat-up, but it still tasted wonderful and reminded Felix of home. It was a lot more filling than fruit, and they ate half of it between them.

The brandee looked up from the book he was reading. It was a leatherbound autobiography, written by another brandee, called
Getting on My Wick -- Two Hundred Years of Solitude.
"I think I may spend the rest of the day as a gas," he said. "I am consumed with jealousy by your consumption of that cake, for it is clearly a very pleasurable experience."

"We're going to take one more look in the greenhouse," said Felix, "and if it's still the same size, we're giving up and assuming that Rhino got out. Any ideas about how he might have done it?"

"Zizzipadoo,"
said the brandee, and he turned himself into vapor.

"What did he mean?" asked Felix.

"It was a joke," said Betony.
"Zizzipadoo
is the word children use when they're not old enough to do magic but they're pretending to. Come on, let's get on with it."

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The greenhouse looked very different this morning. The little stone paths turned to gravel after a few yards, then to dirt, and then they more or less petered out. The vegetation seemed a lot thicker. Clusters of orchidlike flowers dangled from fleshy stalks; yellow speckled with cerise, lilac, and powder blue, pink dappled with white. Bulbous pitchers hung from the slender stems of pitcher plants, lime-green bodies splattered with purple blotches. Strange little trees spread their leaves into fan shapes, and curious spiny fruits clustered at the ends of the branches. It felt hotter than before, more humid.

"It's going to be really difficult to find him in here, isn't it?" said Betony.

"I'm not sure we're going to," said Felix. "I've been thinking. This greenhouse must be a bit like a balloon. Sometimes it's inflated, and other times it's quite small. But there's only one way in and one way out -- through the door."

"So we might as well give up?"

"Might as well."

One of the little insects zipped past, giggling. "Why did the firefly bump into the tree?"

"Because it wasn't very bright!" replied another, chortling. Felix smiled.

"Look at that pitcher over there," said Betony. "It's absolutely enormous."

Felix looked. It was so huge, it had to rest on the ground. "What do you think it eats?" he asked.

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Betony looked shocked. "Eats? What do you mean?"

"Pitcher plants are carnivorous. At least, they are in my world. Ours are much smaller than these; they catch flies, which drown and then get digested."

Betony made a face, which quickly turned into an expression of horror as the implications hit home. "What do you think these eat, then?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Felix. "Some pitcher plants have been known to eat frogs. Perhaps this one's big enough to tackle small birds?"

"And not necessarily that small," said Betony, backing away. "I think you're right about Rhino not being here. Let's go."

But Felix was overcome with curiosity. Although physics and chemistry were his favorite subjects in school, biology was a very close third. Insectivorous plants fascinated him; they were just so
weird.
Despite the lid of the pitcher plant being firmly shut, he couldn't resist going over to peek inside.

"I wouldn't," said Betony, but it was too late.

As Felix lifted the green oval lid, a voice said, "Well, hello." It was so sudden and so unexpected that he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"It's not a pitcher plant at all," said Betony. "Look, it's not attached to anything. It's the jinx box -- and you've gone and opened it."

"Perhaps you'd prefer me in a different guise," said the plant, becoming a box once more.