The Lightning Key (11 page)

M
iles Wednesday, sunbaked and soot-caked, sat on the stone surround of the palm tree that grew from the center of the square almost to the sky. All around him was the bustle of the market, with stalls selling dates, nuts, salt fish and colored spices piled in perfect cones. There were carpets and jewelry and tall silver coffeepots, saddles, stools, snakeskin bags, baskets, sandals and robes. People crowded the stalls and haggled with their proprietors, and Miles searched among them for any sign of Little. She had been gone for some time, and he wondered if it had been such a good idea to send her off with two elderly strangers
as camouflage. The vivid memory of someone he thought was Little turning suddenly into Bluehart did nothing to calm his nerves.

Baltinglass of Araby had waited awhile with Miles, fidgeting like a child, and when a small boy approached offering himself as a guide he had leaped from the stone parapet as though it were red-hot. “No sense in both of us sitting here like a couple of stuffed mongooses,” he bellowed. “I'll go and get haggling over some beasts of burden. Meet me at Wahid the camel trader's as soon as Little turns up.”

Miles watched a man sitting on his hunkers with a monkey on a long chain. The monkey was performing somersaults as his owner collected coins in an upturned fez. Miles could hear Little's voice as though she were sitting beside him, asking why the man should be earning the money while the monkey did all the work. She was still often puzzled by the way things worked in his world, yet his visits to the Realm had shown him that she no longer fit there either. A cold feeling crept over him, and he felt suddenly sure that she would not be meeting him at the palm tree. He stood up on the stone parapet and scanned the crowd anxiously. There was still no sign of her, but Baltinglass's small guide was dodging through the crowd with the air of someone
who had an urgent message and had been promised a big reward to deliver it.

“You must come with me,” panted the boy, tugging at the sleeve of Miles's coat. “The white-eyed effendi wants you.”

Miles shook his head. He was not sure whether to trust the boy. “I have to wait here for my friend,” he said.

“You must come,” repeated the boy. He frowned as he tried to remember the exact wording of the message he had been given. “Effendi says the villain and his idiot have stolen the girl.”

Miles felt the wind knocked out of him as though he had been punched. He jumped down from the stone wall and took off after the boy, who could skip around people without breaking his stride the way Silverpoint dodged lightning. They ran to the edge of the square and down a narrow alley. The boy turned and ducked through a thick red curtain, and Miles followed.

He found himself in a large dusty yard, open to the sky and shaded with date palms. A long trough of water ran along one wall, and a number of camels drank thirstily from it. Baltinglass was in the center of the yard, shaking the hand of a man in a dazzling white robe and turban. The man had skin the
color of roast coffee, with pure white eyebrows and a fat mustache that looked like the hands of a clock showing twenty past eight. His chin was frosted with stubble. He turned and smiled at Miles. “Welcome, young man,” he said.

“That you, Miles?” said Baltinglass. “Got some bad news. Wahid here just sold a couple of camels to two men fitting the description of the villain and the fool. Said they had a tight grip on a small girl who wasn't keen to travel with them.”

The camel trader spread out his hands and his eyebrows tilted in despair. “They tie her to the camel, so she don't fall off, they say. As soon as they are gone I send my boy to report to the gendarmes, but they have all gone swimming.” He shrugged. “What can I do?”

“How long ago was this?” asked Miles.

Wahid shrugged again. “One hour,” he said. “Maybe less.”

“We have two fine beasts here, Sanaam and Khuff,” said Baltinglass to Miles. “Their saddlebags are packed and they've had a long drink. We can get going right away.”

“How will we know which way they went,” asked Miles, “if they're following a map of the Gobi Desert?”

The camel dealer shook his head in disbelief. “They show me this map,” he said. “They ask me where is Kagu, but the map make no sense, so I set them on the road to the oasis. I don't like those men, but my camels must drink.”

He went over to the two camels that Baltinglass had bought. They knelt on the ground, one a caramel color and the other almost white. “Sanaam,” said Wahid, touching the cheek of the caramel camel, “and Khuff. You will take good care of them, yes?”

“Count on it,” said Baltinglass. “I'm no stranger to camels, nor to their spit, for that matter.” He rummaged in one of his saddlebags and pulled out two long strips of cloth. “Come here to me,” he said to Miles. He wrapped the cloth expertly so that it covered Miles's head and most of his face, and then did the same for himself. “Didn't have time to get properly outfitted,” he said, “but these will do for a start.”

The camels were fitted with high saddles mounted on woven blankets festooned with colored tassels. Miles mounted Sanaam's saddle with a little help from Wahid, and at a signal from the trader the camel lurched to her feet, almost throwing him off again.

“Hold the pommel,” said Wahid. “Talk to Sanaam.
She must learn your voice.”

From his perch on the camel it seemed a long way to the ground. Miles was twice as high up as he had been when riding on the tiger, and he found it strange to sit on a saddle instead of directly on the animal's back.

“Hut-hut!” came Baltinglass's voice from behind him, and all at once they were in motion. The camels barged out through the red curtain and into the narrow alley, and Wahid's small boy ran alongside them. “I put you on the road to the Akhdar oasis,” the boy shouted cheerfully, and they moved at a fast trot though the crowded streets, their heads brushed by trailing laundry that hung from the windows above. By the time they reached the edge of the town they had acquired a following of a dozen children, a goat and a couple of dogs. A paved road led out into the desert. Low, scrubby bushes dotted the landscape on either side, and between them drifts of sand lay across the road as though the desert were impatient to claim it back.

They stopped in the road, and Baltinglass of Araby tilted his head and took a deep sniff of the desert air. “I've slid through worlds of ice and steamed in the deepest jungles,” he said, “but in my dreams I always return to the desert. There's sand in my veins
and a hot wind in my soul, Master Miles, make no mistake.”

“You ride all day, maybe you reach Akhdar by nightfall,” said the boy. He slapped the rumps of both camels and called,
“Bissalma”
; then he turned with his companions and ran back to the shaded streets and alleys of Al Bab.

The sun was rising high now, shortening the shadows and rippling the road ahead. Miles was glad of the turban that Baltinglass had made, which protected his head from the full force of the sun. The camels settled into a rolling lope, and when he looked back the port was already lost in the shimmering distance. They rode in silence for some time, and Miles scanned the horizon ahead for any sign of the Great Cortado, his pompous ally and their captive. From time to time he would spot tiny figures bobbing above the heat haze, but it was impossible to judge how far away they might be, or whether they really were camel riders or just tall rocks or rolling tumbleweeds.

The color slowly seeped from the desert scene until everything looked a faded yellow-blue, and his thoughts began to slide away to other times and places. He found himself in the cool shade of the gazebo, where the hairy bulk of The Null crouched
on a bed of straw, reading from the newspaper to the beast that had once been his father. He thought of Lady Partridge, presiding over a hundred orphans and as many cats in her stately home, and of the three diminutive Bolsillo brothers touring the land with their spectacular circus show.

Sanaam's braying grunt brought him back to the scorching desert just in time to stop him from slumping forward onto the camel's neck. The road had faded into a narrow track that curved like a faint scar through the arid landscape. “Good girl,” he croaked through cracked lips.

Baltinglass pulled alongside him and handed him a canteen. “Drink,” he said. The water was warm and tasted slightly sweet, but it felt like life percolating down through him. “Keep an eye out for some shade,” said Baltinglass. “We'll stop and refill.”

“Refill?” said Miles.

“Ourselves and the camels,” said Baltinglass. “A camel will eat his own harness or the hat off your head, but where there's shade there should be plants to graze them on. I'll rustle up something a bit tastier for us.”

They came to a ridge of camel-colored rock that ended in a wind-sculpted arch. Clumps of scrubby plants hid in the shadow beneath. They dismounted
stiffly, and Baltinglass of Araby rummaged in his saddlebag for provisions.

“Ever eat toasted scorpion?” he said.

Miles looked at the saddlebag apprehensively. “No,” he said.

“Me neither,” said Baltinglass. “Sounds horrible, though. Here's a chicken kebab.”

They sat in the narrow strip of shade and unwrapped the kebabs that Baltinglass had bought that morning. There were two full canteens of water, and as they expected to reach the oasis at nightfall they were able to quench their thirst and still leave enough for the rest of the day. Miles took the rolled map from his pack and examined the route they had taken. The stone arch under which they sat was drawn in miniature with a fine pen, and beside it was what looked like a scorpion with a cross drawn through it. He memorized the landmarks on the onward route to the Akhdar oasis, then put the map away. “I hope Little's all right,” he said.

“Don't you worry about her,” said Baltinglass. “She's a gem in the porridge, and those fools will break their teeth on her yet.”

Miles stood and shook the sand from his trousers. He would have liked nothing more than to curl up in the relative cool beneath the rocks and give in to
sleep, but he felt that every second they spent there was a step farther from Little, and he could not allow himself to rest until he had freed her from the Great Cortado.

“How are we going to get her back, even if we do catch up with them?” he asked, helping Baltinglass to his feet.

“Haven't a bull's notion,” said Baltinglass. “I make it a point never to play until I've seen my cards.” He mounted Khuff's saddle and the camel got obediently to his feet. “I hope she managed to hold on to my cane, though. There's twenty inches of steel hidden in there that would make a great impression on that flaky ringmaster if the occasion presented itself.”

“I can't imagine Little pulling a sword on the Great Cortado,” said Miles, sitting astride Sanaam's saddle and wondering what on earth Baltinglass had done to make his camel stand up.

“Nor I,” said Baltinglass. “That girl has weapons far subtler and sharper than my old swordstick. Besides,” he said, “I'm hoping she leaves the skewering of that particular reptile to me.”

L
ittle softwing, cord-bound and camel-carried, sat as low in the saddle as she could manage, hiding herself from the sun in Doctor Tau-Tau's ample shadow. Her wrists were tied tightly behind her, with the other end of the rope securely knotted to the saddle. Doctor Tau-Tau was sweating profusely, and the smell reminded her of an old onion she had once found at the back of a kitchen cupboard in Partridge Manor. She wrinkled up her nose and tried to remember the song of the bees that created the flowers.

It did not help that she had to head-butt the fortune-teller's sodden back now and then to keep
him awake. They were some way behind the Great Cortado, who urged his camel on with savage kicks and was probably out of earshot already. If Tau-Tau fell off his camel it would almost certainly be the end of him.

Now, you might think that Little would consider herself better off with Doctor Tau-Tau out of the picture, but she was a thoughtful girl and she had quickly realized that this would not be the case. For one thing she would be tied to a camel's back in the full glare of the sun, without water or shade or the means to free herself. And besides, she would not wish such a death on anyone, even a man as dangerously selfish and vainglorious as Doctor Tau-Tau. Nor, for that matter, did she like to think of a Sleep Angel having any reason to visit that particular stretch of desert. It seemed she was stuck with rotten onions for now.

She wondered where Miles was at that moment. She had no doubt that he and Baltinglass were in full pursuit and making the best possible speed, but there was no way of knowing how long they had waited for her before realizing she had been kidnapped. She had been unlucky enough to run straight into the Great Cortado after she had helped the two elderly ladies to find a hotel, and no one had
paid much attention as the ringmaster had dragged her by the arm into the camel yard and threatened her with a beating if she opened her mouth. She had tried to alert the camels, but Cortado seemed to suspect what she was up to, and had squeezed her arm so tightly that she had been forced to stop.

Now she was thirsty and dizzy. The Great Cortado had all the water in his saddlebags, and she thought she herself might soon faint with the heat. She summoned the last of her energy and gave Doctor Tau-Tau's back a head butt that a goat would have been proud of.

“What?” mumbled Tau-Tau, who had been dreaming he was surrounded by electric fires, eating plain crackers in a bath full of toast crumbs. “What are you playing at, child?”

“You were about to fall off,” said Little.

“Nonsense!” mumbled Tau-Tau without much conviction. “A man of my experience . . . no journey too short. Soon be at the hostelry.”

“I'm sure you'd like a drink,” said Little.

“Yes, yes, I'll have masala tea,” said Tau-Tau, who had not entirely shaken off the dream of the crackers.

“The Great Cortado has all the water in his saddlebag,” said Little, “but he's a long way ahead.”

Doctor Tau-Tau straightened up with an effort and squinted into the distance. He wore nothing on his head but his sun-bleached fez, and that afforded him no shade whatsoever. “Is that him?” he croaked indignantly. “He's miles away! This beast's too slow.”

“Never mind,” said Little. “It's a desert tradition to give the faster camel to the more important person.”

Doctor Tau-Tau stiffened with indignation in the saddle. “Outrageous!” he said. “I'm the world's foremost clairvoyant, and he's an unemployed showman on the run from the nuthouse. If anyone deserves a better camel it's plainly me. A better camel,” he said, “is no more than I deserve.”

Little smiled to herself. A safe distance and a raging thirst had obviously helped Doctor Tau-Tau to forget how afraid he was of the Great Cortado, and she had learned that the angrier adults got, the easier it was to persuade them to do things they would not normally consider wise.

“You're right,” she said. “He probably hasn't thought of that, and I'm sure he'll agree when you point it out to him. I think I can make this camel go faster in the meantime. I know a few . . . camel noises.” She spoke to the camel for a moment, asking him if he would mind catching up to his friend
so that they could get some water. If the beast was surprised to hear her he kept his surprise well hidden, but he grunted and broke into a rolling trot, leaving small puffs of sand in his wake. After a while she could see that they were gradually gaining on the Great Cortado again. Her arms were aching from being tied behind her, and she would have given anything to be able to free them, if only to rub her dust-stung eyes. “One step at a time,” she told herself quietly.

 

Baltinglass of Araby, far away and right at home, pulled the head cloth down from his beaky nose and sniffed the air. “There's water near,” he said. “Can you spot the oasis, Master Miles?”

Miles jerked out of his sunbaked doze and scanned the horizon. “I think so,” he said, “but I've been seeing trees all afternoon, and every time we get close they disappear.”

“That's where a big snout comes in handy,” said Baltinglass. “The eyes are easier to fool than the nose.”

“I can see lots of palm trees now,” said Miles.

“Akhdar is a big oasis,” said Baltinglass of Araby. “It's a canvas village. You'd best keep your eyes well peeled as we approach. If Cortado and Tau-Tau are
here we want to keep the elephant of surprise on our side.”

“You mean the element of surprise?”

“Nope,” said Baltinglass. “Ever seen what a surprised elephant can do to a small tent?”

“Someone's coming,” said Miles. Two riders were approaching in dark blue robes and head cloths, and as they drew closer Miles could see that they were riding horses instead of camels. They stopped and examined the new arrivals with undisguised curiosity.

“You are foreigners,” said one of the men. “State your names and your business.”

“Who wants to know?” said Baltinglass. His fingers twitched on the reins, and Miles guessed that he was missing his cane.

“Our master is Kadin al Arfam. He prefers to know with whom he shares the hospitality of the oasis. There are many dishonorable brigands abroad in these troubled times.”

Baltinglass stared sightlessly at the man for a moment, then leaned toward Miles and spoke behind his hand in a loud whisper. “Talks like a storybook, this one. Better answer in the same vein, eh?” He straightened up. “We are weary travelers, O vigilant one. We mean no harm, and we will be
honored to accept your master's hospitality.”

The stranger scratched his head. “That wasn't exactly the meaning of my greeting, weary traveler,” he said a little less confidently.

“You mean your master is
not
a great and hospitable one?” said Baltinglass.

The two horsemen held a whispered consultation; then one wheeled his horse and galloped off toward an extensive tent pitched among the palms. The remaining horseman stood facing them in awkward silence while his horse stamped and fidgeted on his behalf. Before long the first man returned. “Our master would be honored if you would sup with him in his tent,” he proclaimed.

“Lead on,” said Baltinglass.

They followed the horsemen down into the oasis. The air was cooling rapidly as evening fell, and Miles could not remember anything so welcome as the feeling of moisture that touched his skin. A herd of goats drank from a clear pool near Arfam's tent, mirrored on the far side by a group of slender antelope. The tiredness from the day's trek was evaporating in the peace of the evening, but Miles was uneasy at the prospect of losing ground in their hunt for Little. “We don't want to delay for long, do we?” he said to Baltinglass in a low voice.

“We don't,” said Baltinglass, “but a straight line is not always the shortest distance from point A to point nine, Master Miles.”

They dismounted from their camels, and two small boys appeared, to take the tired beasts to the water while their blue-clad reception committee held open the tent flaps. Baltinglass stepped out of his shoes, and Miles copied him.

“Enter, please,” called a rich voice from inside. Miles took Baltinglass's arm lightly and they entered the tent. It was long and low, lit by a number of oil lamps. The walls consisted of intricately woven cloths, and sticks of incense sent thin lines of smoke curling up to the ceiling, which was supported by thick branches of sand-bleached wood.

The voice belonged to an elderly man with a beard but no mustache, who sat on a large rectangular cushion. Miles was taken aback to see that the man's face was a subtle shade of indigo, and he tried not to stare. The man spread his arms hospitably. “Come, come, sit down,” he said, waving at another cushion opposite him. Between the cushions a cloth was spread with a variety of dishes, a bowl of fruit and a large water pipe.

Their host watched as Miles helped Baltinglass find himself a seat on the cushion. “You are blind,
my friend,” he said.

“As a pig's trotter,” said Baltinglass.

“Yet you have no cane to guide you,” said Kadin al Arfam. “Surely a stick would require less feeding than a boy?” He smiled at Miles. He had one of those faces that could smile and frown at the same time, possibly because his eyebrows were thick and fierce and would continue frowning even if they could be removed and left on the bedside table.

“You've got a point there,” said Baltinglass, “but a cane can't shinny up a tree and pick apples.”

The blue man picked up a pair of wire-framed glasses and perched them on his nose. He peered closely at Baltinglass. “If it's not a rude question, effendi,” he said, “how did you lose your sight?”

“Foolishness, mostly,” said Baltinglass of Araby. “I developed a nasty habit of standing in thunderstorms with a copper hat on.”

“A domed hat with a tall spike?” said Kadin al Arfam. He gave a great laugh, as though he had just heard the funniest joke ever invented. “I have thought of you often, Baltinglass, my friend, but I'm ashamed to say I cannot remember your given name.”

“That makes two of us,” said Baltinglass. “Baltinglass of Araby will do fine, and my friend here goes
by the name of Miles.”

Miles looked at Baltinglass in surprise. “Does he know
everyone
?” he wondered. “I'm pleased to meet you,” he said to their host, remembering his manners.

“And I you. Please help yourselves,” said Kadin, his smile growing even broader as he waved his hand at the lavish spread in front of them. “You must tell me everything that has befallen you since we parted, Baltinglass.” He turned to Miles. “We met when I threatened to decapitate him for killing one of my goats,” he explained with a cheerful scowl. “Then he got blasted by lightning, which was a great stroke of good fortune for me.”

“Not sure I'd see it that way myself,” said Baltinglass, filling his mouth with dates.

“No, indeed,” said their host, “but it is a lucky thing that we meet again nonetheless.”

“If you're looking for that goat I owe you, your luck is out,” said Baltinglass. “I must have left it in my Sunday trousers.”

“On the contrary, it is I who owe a great debt to you,” said the blue man. He indicated the contents of his tent with a sweeping gesture, forgetting that Baltinglass could not see it. There were bales of colored cloth, ornate saddles, wooden carvings, rich carpets,
leather chests with finely tooled decorations in silver and a wealth of other fine merchandise, all presided over by a committee of rainbow-colored parakeets on a tall perch. “After I was given the chance to do you an act of charity, the gods heaped blessings beyond measure upon me. Everything I turned my hand to met with success. My goats multiplied like jerboas, and I soon built up a great herd of fine camels too. All the wealth you see here has grown from that moment like a flower in the desert.”

He clapped his hands together, and a servant appeared with a tall silver coffeepot. “And so,” said Kadin al Arfam, “you must allow me to return the favor. Just tell me what you would like. I have my finger in so many pies that there are few requests I could not satisfy.”

“In that case, a large gin, a new swordstick and a comfortable bed would wrap my day up nicely,” said Baltinglass.

“We really need to get back on the road,” said Miles. “We're searching for a missing friend.”

“Then you must make an early start,” said Kadin, “but first you need rest. How did your friend disappear?”

Miles looked at Baltinglass, but he was slurping
thick black coffee from a tiny cup. “She was kidnapped by two men whom we know,” said Miles. “We think they may be here in the oasis.”

Kadin al Arfam beamed. “This is indeed fortunate!” he said, and Miles wondered if the blue man would consider even being flattened by a palm tree a stroke of good luck. “You will give me a description of your friend, and my men will search high and low. If she is here we will find her and apprehend the culprits.”

“They are dangerous men,” said Miles, feeling as though he should give their host some warning.

Kadin al Arfam clapped his hands in delight. “And so are my servants!” He beamed. “Don't you worry, young Miles. If your friend is here they will find her, even if they have to search till they are blue in the face.”