Back To The Divide (12 page)

114

Thornbeak looked skeptical. "What is it, exactly? A distribution graph for prey animals? I'm not doing all the hunting, Ironclaw, however easy you try and make it for me."

"It's a cataloging system for the books in the library."

Thornbeak stared at him. "But I can't use the library anymore."

This obviously hadn't entered Ironclaw's head.

"Oh, never mind," said Thornbeak. "Tell me about it."

Ironclaw told her.

"That's really sweet of you," said Thornbeak, when he'd finished. "And if the library is ever open again, I shall get it up and running. It's a splendid solution. Let's have lunch."

Ironclaw watched as Thornbeak sliced up a haunch with her beak. She could even do that elegantly. She was quite a hen -- and her hindquarters were still the most attractive he'd ever seen.

They were just finishing their meal when Felix and Betony appeared over the ridge. Betony was wearing her old tunic and trousers, which she'd washed. She'd left Agrimony's dress behind; it was totally impractical.

"We've got a result," said Felix.

Ironclaw looked astonished. "I didn't know you were working on anything."

Felix laughed. "It's just an otherworld expression. I've found out where we have to go for both a royalty-location spell and a countercharm to the marble thing."

"Where?"

115

"West. We need a riddle-paw."

"A riddle-paw?" Thornbeak looked surprised. "I didn't think there were any left in this part of the world."

"Her name's Leona," said Felix. "Socrates told me about her."

"Riddle-paws are dangerous," said Thornbeak. "They won't even enter into a conversation until you've solved one of their puzzles."

"What happens if you get it wrong?" asked Betony.

"They eat you."

Ironclaw laughed. "I've yet to find someone who can give
me
a puzzle I can't solve."

"Excellent," said Felix. "You'll take us there, then?"

Ironclaw looked from Felix to Thornbeak and back again. He'd been so excited about getting back to his dirt-board he'd forgotten all about the need to find the king and queen, and he certainly hadn't bargained for
this.

"I think you asked for that, Ironclaw," chuckled Thornbeak. "Yes, Felix, of course we'll take you."

"We've packed our backpacks already," said Betony.

"No one knows exactly what lies to the west," complained Ironclaw. "There's forest on the slope of Tromm Fell, but beyond that there's desert. And beyond that ..."

"Sheer adventure," said Betony, her green eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Hmph,"
said Ironclaw.

***

116

It took them a little while to get organized, since Thornbeak insisted on Ironclaw taking some of his gold with him. Eventually both brazzles strapped on bulging leg-pouches, and they were off. The flight wasn't terribly arduous, as they were gliding downhill most of the time, but before long the sun turned crimson and sank beneath the horizon. They would have to camp in the forest for the first night; the following day they would be flying across the desert.

They found a glade carpeted with dusk-flowers that nodded their heads in time to the evening bird chorus. The trills and warbles were rather unusual -- Felix could swear that one bird was singing a definite tune and another was practicing arpeggios. Moonbeam moths were performing synchronized aerobatics as Betony lit a fire and started to toast some bread and cheese. Ironclaw and Thornbeak went off to hunt before it got too dark, and Felix and Betony settled themselves comfortably against their backpacks and had supper.

"How did you feel when
your
parents were turned to stone?" asked Felix.

"Fed up," said Betony. "Tansy's a lousy cook, and Ramson's useless at housework."

"Didn't you miss them?"

"Not really," said Betony, poking the fire with a stick. "They always seemed to be busy in the dispensary, mixing potions and stuff."

Felix looked shocked.

Betony glanced sideways at him. "Well, maybe a bit.

117

Tansy was the favorite, you see, because she was so interested in all that. I was the naughty one. And after all, they'll come back to life in what -- sixteen years' time. I'll be a famous historian by then, if the library's open again. I shall astound them." She poked the fire once more, causing a tiny fountain of sparks. "No one else in my family has ever done anything interesting. What about yours?"

"I had an uncle who climbed mountains."

"Why?"

Felix laughed. "Because they were there, I suppose. He died before I was born. My parents may not be as exciting as he must have been, but I think I prefer them that way."

Betony's expression suggested she thought otherwise. "It's a pity your parents were too heavy to bring with you," she said. "You need a specific countercharm really, otherwise you'll have to try lots of different broad-based ones. Ramson turned Socrates into a sickle when he was little and then tried to reverse it. Poor old Socrates changed into a toadstool and then a stink tree before my father intervened. Ramson
nearly
managed it, you see -- all vegetation, but not precise
enough.
Your parents could turn into humungallies or river-fatties before you hit on the right spell."

Felix imagined his garden inhabited by a pair of elephants or hippopotamuses. It didn't bear thinking about. Then he remembered the matchbox in his backpack. "I brought a sample with me," he said, taking it out.

"You chiseled a bit off one of your parents?" cried Betony,

118

aghast. "It'll stay amputated, Felix, you won't be able to reattach it."

Felix laughed. "I'm not that crazy," he said. "I brought one of the little creatures that crawled over the statue. A snail."

"A snail?" said Betony. "What's that? Oh, let's see, Felix, please, I'd love to have a look at one of your world's creatures."

Felix unwound the insulating tape, hoping it would stick back again, and very carefully opened the matchbox. The stark white
wrongness
of the snail took him by surprise for some reason and hit him hard. How many animals in his own world were like this now? Had the contagion spread across London? Across the Channel? Or farther still -- to Africa, Asia, America?

"Wow," said Betony, staring at the little marble gastropod. "That's seriously weird."

Felix forced himself to concentrate on the here and now and said, "Don't you have anything similar?"

Betony shook her head. Then she stiffened.

Felix looked around. "What is it?"

"I heard something."

"What?"

"A squeak."

Felix grinned. Surely Betony wasn't frightened of mice -- or whatever this world's equivalent was? He suddenly noticed that the birds had stopped singing. All that remained was a deep, velvety silence; it was as though the landscape itself were holding its breath. Betony was sitting very still, her

119

head slightly on one side, listening. Perhaps her ears are sharper than mine, thought Felix, and his smile widened. The tops of them certainly were: delicate little elfin points.

Betony swallowed. Her spine had begun to prickle, and her customary bravado was wearing very thin all of a sudden. She kept on listening as hard as she could. The eerie silence was broken once by the distant call of a nighthawk, then it closed around them again. She threw another handful of twigs on to the fire -- but they must have been damp because instead of blazing up they nearly snuffed it out, and a cloud of smoke billowed out instead.

Felix heard the high-pitched attack squeak a split second before he saw the dark shape dive out of the trees toward Betony. She raised her hands above her head and tried to ward it off. Felix had no idea what the creature was; to him, it just looked like a large bat. Then, to his amazement, Betony burst into tears.

The shape hovered above her, its leathery wings beating, waiting for another chance to strike. Then it dived again, squeaking, its nasty little face creased with excitement, its fangs clearly visible, even in the gloom. As it skimmed past her it stuck out its tongue and licked a tear from the end of her nose. Betony stood up, flailed her arms wildly around her head, and caught it a glancing blow.

The creature fluttered to the ground, and Felix got his first real look at it. It was an ugly little thing. Its face was dark gray and leathery, its fangs very white by comparison.

120

[Image: A vamprey.]

The face wasn't batlike, though -- it was almost human, apart from the glowing red eyes. The ears were out of proportion, huge; the skin inside was so creased and folded they looked more like flowers than ears.

"It's a vamprey, isn't it?" said Felix, leaping to his feet. "A shadow-beast."

Betony had edged around to the other side of the fire. She was still crying, which wasn't like her at all. "Vamprey attacks are very rare," she sobbed. "I don't know what to do."

I do, thought Felix, and he seized a branch and swung it as hard as he could at the tiny target. He missed. The vamprey slithered to one side, took off again, and vanished into the gloom.

"Fangs and talons,"
wailed Betony. "I wish I'd paid more attention to shadow-beast studies. I know vampreys bite you and drain your blood -- but they're very fussy about who

121

they feed on, like worrits. Worrits won't eat anything that hasn't died laughing, and vampreys won't kill anyone who ... oh,
why
can't I remember? They always come back, you see. And it might bring the rest of the colony with it."

She tried to recall what her teacher had said, but all she could see was the title of the essay she'd written --
Countering Shadow-beasts.
She'd copied half of it from Agrimony when Agrimony wasn't looking, and got into trouble.

"I think I can guess," said Felix. "You hardly ever cry, Betony, and the vamprey was trying to lick your face. I bet
that's
what it wants: tears."

Betony wiped her eyes with her sleeve and sniffed. "Thirteen out of thirteen," she said. "I remember now. They're the opposite of worrits -- and that's the whole
point
of the attack squeak. They need you to know that they're about to sink their vicious little teeth into you, so that they can lap up the tears before they start on the blood.
That's
what I learned in class; whatever you do, you mustn't cry."

"OK," said Felix, handing her a tissue. "Smile."

Betony looked at the tissue, perplexed. "What's this?"

Felix started to explain, but his explanation was cut short by a whoosh that rapidly increased in volume as hundreds of vampreys swept out of the trees and homed in on them. The chorus of attack squeaks filled the air with shrill piercing cries, and countless leathery wings were suddenly beating around their heads.

122

***

7

***

Felix took a firmer grip on the branch he was holding, lashed out at the vampreys with it, and yelled, "Why is grass dangerous? Because it's full of blades!" He managed to fell one vamprey with the fore-stroke and then another with the back-swing, and he felt very pleased with himself.

Betony forced a wobbly grin and said, "What happened when the sinistrom fell down the well? He kicked the bucket."

"Why is history for fruitcakes? Because it's full of dates!"

The jokes were appalling, but they were doing the trick. The vampreys were just flitting aimlessly about the glade now; they weren't diving down to attack.

"Why did the creepy-biter swallow a candle?" gabbled Betony. "For light refreshment!"

"Which shadow-beasts are the most artistic?" added Felix, trying to adapt his own world's jokes as best he could. "Vampreys! They're good at drawing blood!"

123

Wrong joke. The smile left Betony's face.

The vampreys swooped toward them again, but then, suddenly and inexplicably, they turned in midair and left.

Felix glanced up and saw two dark shapes descending rapidly, with occasional forays to snap at something. Ironclaw and Thornbeak landed in a flurry of fur and feathers, firing anxious questions at them and asking whether either of them had been bitten.

Betony had regained her composure as quickly as ever. "Nope," she said breezily. "We're fine; we just told each other jokes."

Thornbeak looked impressed.

But Felix was looking gutted. "The matchbox," he said. "It's gone."

"Are you sure?" said Betony. "We might have kicked it or something."

"What's a matchbox?" asked Ironclaw.

Felix described it and told them what was in it. The four of them then searched the glade but to no avail.

"Why would a vamprey want a marble snail?" said Felix. "It doesn't make sense."

"They collect things," said Thornbeak. "No one knows why."

No one knows why jackdaws collect things, either, thought Felix. Then something occurred to him. "Surely," he said, "the moment the vamprey touched the snail it would turn to marble as well?"