Magicalamity (10 page)

“Oh, but—I wasn’t looking for Tom.”

Tom and the godmothers looked at each other, suddenly confused.

“Well, for goodness’ sake,” Dahlia said, “who are you looking for?”

“The contact,” Pindar said. “I’m trying to join the followers of Clarence Mustard.”

“What rubbish!” interrupted Iris. “No such group exists!”

“The globe’s still clear.” Lorna’s rugged brow was furrowed. “How did you get to hear about it?”

“My tutor told me. I think he was one of them.”

“Clarence Mustard was my uncle,” Lorna said, “but if you think I know anything about his so-called followers—well, you’ve come to the wrong fairy. Sorry.”

“No, I haven’t,” Pindar said. “I was looking for the group coordinator.”

“Darling, don’t be silly!” cried Dahlia. “You won’t find that sort of troublemaker in my house!”

Pindar looked as if he wanted to argue, but he was distracted by the arrival of the food. Mr. Grisling pushed in a trolley laden with steaming plates of casserole and roast potatoes, and Pindar sighed with joy. He shoveled it in ravenously, trying not to get blobs of sauce on the valuable globe around his neck.

“This is fantastic,” he said shyly to Dahlia. “Thanks.”

“Pindar’s been living rough,” Tom said. “He needs somewhere to stay.”

“Well, he can’t stay here!” snapped Iris. “It would be far too risky! If he’s run away they’ll be searching for him, and we’ll be swarming with Falconers in a second!”

“They’re not searching for me,” Pindar said, his mouth
full of syrup pudding. “They’re glad to get rid of me—they don’t know I know what I know!”

“And what’s that?” Dahlia asked.

“Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” Pindar said politely. “I can only tell the contact.” He looked up at the three fairies. “Which of you is Iris Moth?”

T
here was an astonished silence. Lorna’s mouth dropped open. Dahlia’s face was too stiff with Botox to show much emotion, but her eyes widened.

“Iris? Are you sure?” asked Tom.

“Oh yes,” Pindar said. “That was the name my tutor gave me, before my parents sent him to the mines.”

“Well, he must’ve got his wires crossed,” Lorna said. “Iris Moth is the LAST person to get mixed up with anti-Falconers.”

“He said Iris Moth.” Pindar was polite but stubborn.

Tom, Dahlia and Lorna looked doubtfully at Iris. She was shiftily avoiding meeting their eyes. “Nonsense! I’m far too respectable.”

“My tutor said you’d put me in touch with the followers of Clarence Mustard.”

“That’s just ridiculous,” Lorna said. “My uncle Clarence is dead!”

“Oh no. He’s pretty old, but he’s still alive. My tutor met him. He’s hiding out on Hopping Hill with his followers.”

“Alive?” Tom was excited; using Clarence’s outgrown wings had given him a feeling that he knew this legendary fairy version of Robin Hood.

“Well, blimey!” Lorna gasped. “It’s a good thing my father isn’t around—he disowned Clarence after the affair at Quong.” She looked at Tom. “I didn’t tell you about that, did I? It was his worst act of terrorism. Clarence managed to gate-crash the annual nude ball at the summer solstice. He exploded a terrible transforming spell—twenty Falconers were permanently changed into dung beetles.”

Tom laughed. “Cool!”

“It was no laughing matter!” Iris Moth said fiercely. “It was the first serious challenge to their power! Thanks to him, two members of the Ten are still living in a sandbox!”

“My dear Iris,” Dahlia said, “you are indeed a dark old dinosaur! There you were, posing as a crashing snob and Milly Falconer’s best friend—and all the time you were plotting their downfall!”

“I had you all fooled!” Iris said triumphantly. “I’ve been anti-Falconer since before this demisprite was born! I ignored the godmother summons at first because I didn’t want to blow my cover.”

“So what’s he like, then—my uncle Clarence?” Lorna asked. “My father said he was incredibly cheeky, when he mentioned him at all.”

“He’s very old, but still very strong,” Iris said. “And he still loves a joke—you’ll have noticed how all the biggest terrorist attacks have his trademark wit.”

“Ah, yes!” sighed Dahlia. “The toffee bombs! And who can forget the melting toilets? The Falconers do so hate being laughed at!”

“He sounds brilliant,” Tom said. He turned to Iris. “If you tell Pindar where to find him, can I go too?” It would be incredibly exciting to meet the legendary Clarence Mustard in person.

“You?” she sniffed. “A demisprite?”

“I might be a demisprite, but I can still be anti-Falconer—can’t I?”

“Hmmm.” The little dinosaur eyes were pinpricks. “You do seem quite intelligent. We’ll see.”

“If they took Hussein,” said Lorna, “they’ll take anyone!”

Iris was smug. “As a matter of fact, you’re wrong about your ex-brother-in-law. He’s been Clarence’s top genie
operative for years. Remember the jelly flood at last year’s boat race? That was Hussein.”

“Blimey!” Lorna’s craggy face was pale. “And I called him a layabout!” She glanced at her watch. “No wonder my brain feels like cotton wool—it’s two in the morning! And we haven’t decided what we’re going to do with this runaway Falconer.”

Pindar was in the middle of a yawn. He tried to look alert while the fairy godmothers considered him.

“I think he should stay.” Tom couldn’t bear to think of Pindar spending another night in someone’s window box. “He can sleep in my bedroom.”

“You haven’t asked me what I know,” Pindar said. “I brought some useful information. While I was sneaking out of the palace I heard my parents talking.”

Iris looked at him sharply, giving him her full attention. “Well?”

“They’ve found gold on Hopping Hill,” said Pindar.

There was another stunned silence and Tom tried to read his godmothers’ faces.

“Have they?” Iris said slowly. “Have they, indeed? Thank you, Pindar; that explains a lot. In fact, it explains everything.”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked. “What is Hopping Hill, anyway? If Clarence Mustard’s hiding there, does that mean it’s like Sherwood Forest?”

“Hopping Hill is a mountain in the middle of the Realm,” Iris said. “It’s very big and very high and covered with thick forest, and that makes it a perfect hideout for anyone on the wrong side of the Falconers—it’s the last wild place in the Realm, and a refuge for outlaws of every kind. They’re constantly sending in spies and raiding parties, but they never catch anybody. Once upon a time, in the dark ages, it was an active volcano and several dragons lived inside it. There’s a legend that when one good Falconer comes along, the dragons and the volcano will wake again—nonsense, of course. I happen to know Hopping Hill rather well, and it’s completely dead. Tiberius knows it’s riddled with terrorists. He’s been dying to blow the whole thing up for years—but it’s not Falconer property.” She gazed round dramatically. “Since the dawn of time, Hopping Hill has belonged to the Hardings.”

“To … my dad’s family?” Even after all the surprises he’d had recently, it was fascinating to discover that his dad owned a volcano.

“Yes, it belongs to Jonas. That’s the main reason Dolores wanted him to marry Milly—to bring Hopping Hill into the family. And that was before they found gold there! Don’t you see?” Iris stamped her foot impatiently. “Dolores can’t get the gold unless she kills Jonas and inherits the mountain. That’s why she won’t rest until she’s found him.”

Tom felt as if he’d swallowed an ice cube; suddenly the danger of Dad being killed felt real and terrifying. “My dad doesn’t want it—why does she have to hunt him down and sentence him to death? He should just give her Hopping Hill, and we could go home.”

“Impossible!” Iris said. “He would never betray the Hoppers—which is what the people of Hopping Hill are called. And in any case, the law says Dolores can’t have it unless Jonas is dead.”

“Wouldn’t I inherit it? I’m his son!”

“Demisprites don’t count.”

“The Falconers don’t care about a bit of gold!” protested Lorna. “They’re ROLLING in the stuff!”

“Actually, they’re not.” Pindar’s round cheeks reddened again as they all looked at him. But he spoke very confidently. “My parents are totally broke—that’s the other thing I wasn’t supposed to hear.”

Tom saw that this information had a big effect on his three godmothers.

“Well, well, well!” Dahlia said with a wicked smile. “The Falconers are fortuneless! Is that just your parents, darling—or the whole boiling lot of them?”

“All of them,” said Pindar. “Their debts are huge, and they’re penniless—my mother’s sold half the castles, and my father keeps putting up the taxes. My father’s two brothers that he never managed to kill have both
gone bankrupt. They can’t keep it secret for long. Shopkeepers have started asking for their money. Or else they break in and steal back their stuff.”

Iris’s little eyes glittered with excitement. “At last, something we can use against them! This boy might be the best informer we ever had!” She looked at Pindar. “If your father knew what you’d told us, he wouldn’t rest until he’d had you killed.”

“I know,” Pindar said sadly. “I can’t ever go back.”

“This proves you’re on our side,” Iris said. “I vote Pindar stays.”

“Me too!” Tom grinned at his cousin—it was something to win over sniffy old Iris.

“And me!” cried Lorna. “Pindar’s one of us now!”

Dahlia gave him another radiant smile. “Stay here as long as you like, darling!” She took the truth-globe from his neck. “We don’t need this anymore.”

“Thanks.” Pindar ducked his face away shyly, and Tom suddenly knew that he wasn’t used to being praised, or having nice things said to him.

Dahlia yawned. “It’s ridiculously late—you boys had better go to bed. Pindar will have to sleep on the floor tonight, I’m afraid. I’m simply too partied out to summon any husbands.”

The two boys said good night to the godmothers and went back upstairs to Justinian’s bedroom.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” Tom said. He wanted to say
he felt happier now that his cousin was with him, but that would sound silly.

“This is the best place I’ve been in since the circus.”

“Did you like the circus?”

“It was OK.” Pindar took off his dusty sneakers. “The elephants were really nice to me.”

“Oh, I forgot, you fairies can talk to animals—I’d so like to do that. Do you think a demisprite would be able to learn?”

“Dunno,” Pindar said, with a gusty yawn. “But it’s not that hard. There are spells for it.”

There was only one bed, but plenty of pillows and blankets, and they made Pindar a comfortable place on the floor.

He took off his jeans (revealing underwear with a picture of Jay Trebonkers on the back) and lay down at once. “Thanks, Tom; this feels fantastic.”

“Are you sure it’s soft enough? You can have the bed if you like.”

“No, really—I’m fine here.” Pindar pulled the blanket up to his shoulders with a contented sigh. “After that last window box, it feels like the Ritz. And it’s so nice to belong somewhere.”

Tom got into bed and switched off the bedside lamp. He should have been tired, but he was wakeful and curious, and he knew Pindar felt the same. They looked at each other through the net of shadows.

“Do you miss your parents?” asked Tom.

“No. I never felt I belonged with them. They didn’t like me.”

Tom tried to imagine having parents who didn’t like him, and couldn’t. However annoying your parents were, you always assumed they were basically on your side. “Are they strict?”

“Yes,” Pindar said. “But I wouldn’t mind that if I thought they cared about me. They couldn’t have kids for years, though they tried every spell in the book. And then I came along. But they didn’t like me, and nothing I do is good enough for them. I’ve spent most of my time in my own wing of the palace, with a couple of servants and my tutor, Terence Banshee.”

“You liked him.”

“Yes, Terence is great.” Pindar’s voice was sad. “They banished him to the mines. He had a copy of Clarence Mustard’s
Anti-Falconer Handbook
. Just before his arrest he told me about Iris Moth. But I wasn’t brave enough to run away until last week.”

If Mum had been here, Tom thought, her kind heart would have bled for Pindar. She would’ve said nice things to him, given him cake and perhaps kissed him good night. Tom couldn’t do any of this, but he did want to make his cousin feel he had at least one good friend.

“I’m glad you did run away,” he said.

“Thanks—me too.”

It should have been rather weird to share a room with this stranger, yet it felt oddly comfortable, as if he had known his newly discovered cousin all his life. “Good night, Pindar—nice to meet you.”

“Good night, Tom—nice to meet you, too.”

A
lmost at once, Tom fell into a dream. He was on a beautiful white beach—he knew he was dreaming, but at the same time it seemed incredibly real. He felt the heavy heat of the sun and the soft sand under his feet, and heard the sighing of the waves.

His mother was lying under a big umbrella, holding a red drink full of fruit. She wore a bikini and looked very happy.

In the dream she wasn’t surprised to see him. “Tom! Isn’t this lovely?”

“Fantastic.” If this had been real life, Tom would have hugged her and bombarded her with questions, but in
the dream, he was quite casual. He sat down in the shade beside her. “What’ve you been up to, Mum?”

“Oh, just lazing about and having fun,” Mum said. “I’ve started pottery classes.”

“Great.”

She sipped her drink. “And I do a lot of thinking. I see everything from here. Before I forget, I must tell you something very interesting I know about Pindar.”

“Pindar?” Even in the middle of his dream, Tom was startled to hear his cousin’s name.

“He thinks his mother didn’t love him—but he’s wrong. She loved him very much, Tom, every bit as much as I love you.” She lay back on her sun lounger. “And when you see your dad, tell him it’s just like Snow White.”

Tom was awake, in a sunlit bedroom, with his mother’s voice ringing in his ears. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she meant. When he was little he had loved the Disney film, but now he couldn’t remember anything about it except the dwarfs. And what was all that about Pindar?