Old Kingdom 04: Across the Wall (21 page)

Oh! This is awful! I am being
kidnaped! They are taking me to sell to
a desert chieftain at an auction, which
I think is going to take place at midnight
somewhere near the river, and
I’ll miss the party tonight. And I was
going to wear my new dress with the ruby
chips sewn on cloth of gold, and the
peacock feather fan from …

Those few words, and the ‘For Sale’ brochure you hold in your kid-gloved hand, lead you to suspect that Lady Oiseaux is being held at the infamous Quay of Scented Rats—a floating bordello now stuck in the mudflats of the River Sleine.

Pausing only to slip your trusty rapier into its scabbard, you draw your cloak around you and erupt out into the shadows of the night— toward the Sleine—and the vicious, nasty, disgusting … (roll of drums) … Scum Quarter of the Old City!

You walk a few yards with considerable bravado and then whip back to your townhouse. Only a complete fool would go down to the vicious, nasty, disgusting Scum Quarter without pistols and a dagger or two. Maybe you should call in on the lads at the Fencing Academy … but there’s no time. Select five items from the following list before once again slinking out into the shadows of the night …

EQUIPMENT

Dagger

Pistol (with powder & balls for five shots)

Bag of 20 gold bezants

Portrait of Lady Oiseaux (3‘6” square)

Scented handkerchief

Halberd

20’ rope

Repeater watch

Bottle El Superbeau Cognac

2 pairs silk stockings

A glove puppet of Cyrano de Bergerac

Small plaster saint

Bottle Opossum perfume

Five-pronged fish spear

THE ADVENTURE BEGINS!

1
Moving from shadow to shadow down the wide Boulevard of the Muses, you feel very much like the intrepid adventurer hurrying to rescue his beloved lady. You are so caught up in this delightful little daydream that you don’t notice the six Watchmen following your erratic shadow-to-shadow progression down the street till you go one shadow too many and find yourself caught in the glare of their lanterns.

If you are carrying a halberd or five-pronged
fish spear, Go to 50

If you aren’t carrying either of these, Go to 30

2
Who do you think you are—the unnatural offspring of the Three Musketeers and Michael York? Roll one die.

1–3 At least you feinted toward somebody’s left
eye. Pity it was your own. Then you stuck your
rapier in your left foot … The bravo takes pity
on you and lets you limp away. Minus one on all
future combat rolls due to both stupidity and
injury. Go to 52

4 Both of you fence away quite competently,
crying ‘Caramba!’ and ‘Take that! And that! And
this little one! And that.’ Eventually you become
so tired, you lean on your swords and just whisper:
‘Aha—foul blaggard!’ etc. The bravo gets bored of
this first, and leaves. You rest briefly, then continue
on your way. Go to 52

5–6 Your fencing master would be proud—
there’s always a first time. You feint, parry, and
riposte as if you knew Errol Flynn intimately when
you were a young boy—and tried to keep him at a
distance. The bravo is struck several times and
retires bleeding to the nearest laundress. You
continue on your way. Go to 52

3
Descending to the next floor, you find yourself in a barbershop, the walls lined with mirrors. There are four doors, sixteen reflections, and a trapdoor.

Do you go through the door marked with a
tiger? Go to 85

Or the door marked with a lady? Go to 39

Or through the door marked with both a lady
and a tiger? Go to 34

Or the one with two ladies and a tiger? Go to 92

Or through the trapdoor, which is marked with
a lamb chop? Go to 58

4
It’s not very nice up the Emperor August’s nostril. Four or five hundred bats seem to have used it as a toilet for about a century. You wait inside for several minutes, then emerge as a grotesque mound of bat guano. The balloon is still there, but whoever is in it doesn’t recognise you. Add one to all future combat rolls due to your repellent exterior. You head south. Go to 54

5
You smile sickeningly and cross over to the tiger, mumbling ‘nice pussums … good kit-e-kat …’ You reach down to scratch its stomach, and it grabs you with both paws and bites your head off. As your soul becomes a delicate butterfly and floats off to the transit lounge, you feel that this would never have happened if you had read
The Jungle Book
as a child. The End.

6
The Western Wall Originally built to hold out the barbarians, the Western Wall fell into disrepair when the barbarians became civilised and bought the city in an underhanded realestate deal. Now only a crumbling ruin inhabited by thieves, cutthroats, and defrocked clergymen, the wall is rarely visited by anyone else.

You remember this as a defrocked clergyman bears down on you, swinging his incense pot with deadly intent.

Do you get out your five-pronged fish spear, leer
evilly, and say: ‘How many prongs do you want,
and where do you want them?’ Go to 77

Run back to the Arc de Trihump? Go to 99

7
You stand in the line before the main entrance to the Quay of Scented Rats—a vast, overdecorated house-boat that is now firmly embedded in the mudflats of the Sleine. At the front of the line two burly men (who look suspiciously like beavers) demand the five-bezant entry fee.

Do you pay them? Go to 55

Say, ‘Back off, bucktooth. I’m with Scum
Quarter Vice’? Go to 36

Offer them the bottle of El Superbeau cognac?
Go to 17

8
Hanging by one hand, you tie the rope to the sail and climb down to the next one. From this one you climb through a window to the inside of the mill. Go to 35

9
You wrench the door open and leap through it. But will you evade the tiger? Roll one die.

1–3 Damn! The doorknob would be stiff …
You half turn to meet your doom like a brave
warrior, but the tiger smashes you to the floor, and
you let out a pitiful little shriek instead. Fortunately,
this is the exact cry of an orphan tiger cub! The
tiger stands back, bemused, while you crawl across
the room and out through the exit. Go to 79

4–6 The door slams shut just as the tiger slams
against the other side. You lean against it, sweating
in fear. Go to 79

10
You wrench open the bottle of Opossum perfume and scatter a few drops toward the awful hag. A beautiful aroma fills the room, and she steps back, spitting and cursing. ‘Back, foul fiend!’ you cry, throwing a few more drops, which burn through her outstretched arm like acid—so you throw the whole bottle and bolt for the exit. You don’t look back. Go to 79

11
Just as you are about to fleché across the room and drive your rapier through the poor unsuspecting woman’s heart, a great gong rings … and time stops. As the echoes of the gong die away, a disembodied voice fills the room with the weary pronouncement, ‘The Age of Chivalry Is Now Officially Dead’. Time suddenly resumes, but your heart isn’t in the wild attack, so you merely lunge at the tiger. It backs off snarling; you circle around to the other door and duck through it. As you leave, the woman throws the voodoo doll at your head. Subtract one from all future combat rolls due to wax burns on your face. Go to 79 12 F

12
FISHGUT ALLEY

And you thought the Street of Fishmongers smelt bad. Obviously this is where all the fish guts end up after the beggars have tried to eat them—for the second time. At the other end of the alley, a hulking giant of a man is standing, a spiked club in his hand.

Do you approach him for directions to the
Sleine? Go to 57
Or return to the Street of Fishmongers? Go
to 41

13
As your hand touches the hilt of your rapier, you start, and the eyes in your head bulge dramatically. The hag is wearing the Black Apron of a Master of Cleaver-Fu—a deadly martial art you cannot possibly cope with! Go to 62

14
There really is nothing like just messing about in boats. Pitting one’s strength against the vicious tidal bores that sweep up the river, or the onrush of sewage from the city that sweeps down. But lo! There on the port bow you see a heavily decorated houseboat, firmly embedded in the mudflats. The heavy use of purple fur around the windows (and fake gold trim on the gutters) convinces you this must be the infamous Quay of Scented Rats.

Do you heroically leap from your boat as you
pass the Quay of Scented Rats, do a triple somersault
in the air, and land upon its sleazy deck with
an air of casual arrogance? Go to 64

Or cautiously pole up to one end, tie up your
boat, and sneak aboard like a rat? Go to 26

15
You emerge into a long corridor lined with various prints of the activities of the Quay of Scented Rats. To your right there is a door marked ‘Auction Goods.’ To your left there is a door marked ‘Not the Auction Goods.’

Do you go left? Go to 80

Or right? Go to 23

16
THE RIVER SLEINE

You sneak past the hustlers of the Southgate and out through a postern. Before you lie the winding, deep-blue waters of the River Sleine, alive with wildfowl amid the teeming rushes … Then your eyes clear and you realise you are looking at a picture tacked to the postern door. You open it, and there before you lies the turgid, coal-black watercourse that makes slimy pollution look good—the true River Sleine. Steps lead down toward the river, and you think you can see a boat tied up at the bottom.

Do you go down? Go to 27

Or turn back, you coward, only to be killed by
a lightning-struck albatross falling out of the sky?
(This is called a premonition.) Go to 45

17
‘Before we descend to crass commercial tranactions,’ you say suavely, ‘you may care to have a drop of … El Superbeau cognac.’ You hold the bottle in front of them as they drool and reach out with grasping fingers— then fling it into the Sleine! The two guards hurl themselves into the slime, desperate to reach it before it gurgles away into the murky depths. Seconds later, you are flattened as a horde of eager customers storms across the bridge. You get up wearily and hobble after them. Go to 61

18
The merchant reels back, a garfish sticking out of his left ear. Bleating with fear, he crashes into another merchant’s stall. Within seconds, the Place of Plaice becomes a whirling mass of rioting merchants, customers, and airborne tubs of fish. You have to get out! You run toward the Arc de Trihump. Go to 99

19
R O L L O N E D I E .

1–3 The man in black is entranced.
Your fingers manipulate Cyrano’s arms brilliantly,
and his rapier flickers back and forth, gleaming in
the light from the two-hundred-watt chandelier
above. Z draws closer and closer … then you
strike. The puppet’s sword shears off half of Z’s
mustache! Shrieking, he bursts past you, smashes
through the door, and runs away. Go to 100

4–6 You are a little nervous, and Cyrano moves
jerkily, producing a very second-rate display of
swordsmanship. Z watches for a while, then
exclaims: ‘Non! Non! Ziss iz not ze way ze
Thibault iz exerzized! Give eet to me!’ You hand
over the puppet. Soon Z is totally occupied, putting
Cyrano through the seventy-seven Lunges of Señor
Ricardo. You slink past. Go to 100

20
‘Twenty!’ you exclaim, exhibiting profound knowledge of history that hasn’t happened yet, the current year being a sort of alternate 1624. Still, ‘What’s an anachronism between friends?’ you mutter to yourself. Z takes this as a riddle and begins to knead his forehead in deep thought. Six hours later, still unable to answer your question, he overexerts his brain and faints away. You step over his unconscious form and go through the door. Go to 100

21
AVENUE OF CHAMPIGNONS

A broad and leafy avenue, much frequented by bands of rioters from the Green and Blue factions of the donkey-cart races. Many bravos stalk the avenue, seeking opponents from rival factions.

Are you wearing a blue one-piece body
stocking? Go to 33

Are you wearing something else? Go to 33
anyway

22
You stand there, gaping. The shadow of the balloon looms closer and closer, and the stench of manure is overpowering. A man in a pin-striped suit looks out at you and says, ‘Nah—he hasn’t got what it takes,’ and the balloon flies on. Sometimes it pays to be a ninny. Go to 54

23
You open the door marked ‘Auction Goods’ only to be confronted by the giggling eunuch you may have been unlucky enough to see earlier. The thin, sickly man accompanying him carries a gladstone bag in one hand and a gleaming scalpel in the other. The eunuch titters, ‘That’s him, Doc!’ and leaps forward to pinion you in his blubbery arms.

Do you trip the eunuch, use him as a springboard,
hurtle through the air, head butt the doctor,
somersault, and land on your feet whistling ‘Dixie’?
Go to 68

Or pirouette gracefully and bolt back through
the door? Go to 47

24
Your rapier is barely out of its scabbard before the black-clad man has reduced your clothing to tatters. Little ‘z’s have been cut in every available piece of cloth and leather. Your trousers fall down.

Do you attempt to continue this rather farcical
duel? Go to 73