Delivery to the Lost City

by P. G. Bell

  “A cheap and nasty illusion,” said Aybek as the coral wand crumbled to dust in his hand. “But it should do the trick. Put this back on him, would you please?”

  Wilmot took the fake ring and surreptitiously slid it onto Frogmaggog’s finger. “Does this mean he can’t turn you into a sea urchin anymore?” he asked.

  “Thankfully,” said Aybek, brushing the coral dust from his hands. “It’s a considerable weight off my mind. The rest of the plan, unfortunately, depends on you.”

  Wilmot started with alarm. “What do you mean?”

  “You came to Hydroborea, so I assume you have a means of getting out again,” said Aybek. “Is the Express waiting for you somewhere in the city? If so, I expect the crew are attempting some form of ill-conceived rescue attempt as we speak.”

  “The Express isn’t here,” said Wilmot curtly. “Suzy and I came in the H.E.C., through the eye of the great void storm.”

  Aybek cocked an eyebrow. “The great void storm, you say? Why didn’t you simply take the direct route?”

  “I thought that was the direct route,” said Wilmot. “You mean there’s another way?”

  For the first time, Aybek regarded Wilmot with genuine interest. “How fascinating. You’ve rediscovered Hydroborea, and yet you don’t actually know where it is.” A knowing smile spread slowly across his face. “You’ll kick yourself when you find out. You needn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

  Wilmot flared his nostrils. “Nothing is too much trouble for a postie,” he said. “How did you find your way here?”

  “Because I’m the cleverest man alive, of course,” said Aybek. “And with the library of the Ivory Tower at my disposal for so many years, I was bound to figure out the city’s location eventually. I’d always intended to pay a visit, but my schedule never allowed for it. However, after you and your meddlesome friends relieved me of my duties, I persuaded Tenebrae that he and I should make our way here. We were fast wearing out our welcome in the Union, and besides, I was curious to see if I was right.”

  “Tenebrae’s here, too?” Wilmot looked around the chamber in alarm.

  “Don’t trouble yourself,” said Aybek. “He’s probably languishing in a dungeon somewhere, if he hasn’t already been eaten.” And he dismissed all thought of Tenebrae with a wave of his hand. “Tell me about the H.E.C. Where is it now?”

  “It’s moored in the abandoned zone down in the Lowertwist district,” said Wilmot. “But before you go hatching any schemes, it’s inoperable. The engines are burned out.”

  Aybek’s brow furrowed a little. “That makes things trickier,” he said. “But is the vessel still watertight? Would it survive a trip to the surface?”

  Wilmot’s suspicions deepened. “Maybe. But you’re not setting foot in it without me, Suzy, and the Chief. And we’re not leaving until we’ve delivered the book to Ina.”

  “Ever the dutiful Postmaster, I see,” said Aybek.

  Their conversation was interrupted by the Hydroboreans, who approached carrying a small cauldron of bubbling gray liquid among them.

  “It’s ready,” said the newt woman. “It’s as strong as we could make it.”

  At the same moment, a heavy pounding started on the Sanctum door, making everyone jump.

  “Your Greatness!” shouted a Watch Frog voice from outside. “Are you still in there? Is everything all right?”

  “Blast,” said Aybek as the Hydroboreans scattered for cover. “I got distracted. Quickly, Master Grunt, help me with this.”

  They picked up the cauldron and lugged it to Frogmaggog’s side.

  “Open his mouth,” Aybek ordered.

  Wilmot couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than touch Frogmaggog’s cold and clammy face, but he forced himself to reach down and, very gingerly, part his lips.

  Aybek pulled a rusty ladle off a nearby shelf, then thought better of it, tossed it over his shoulder, and tipped the cauldron’s contents directly into Frogmaggog’s mouth. The gray liquid disappeared down his throat with a noise like a drain being unblocked, and a bright red glow began radiating from his belly. It spread to his limbs and face, until his whole body was glowing like a light bulb. And as the glow intensified, Frogmaggog began to grow, quicker and quicker.

  Wilmot and Aybek retreated to the workbench as the Master of Magic sat up and opened his eyes. “What happened?” he said, looking at his shining fingers. A few seconds later, the glow faded, and he was his huge, monstrous self again. “Ah,” he sighed, stretching his arms until his knuckles grazed the ceiling. “That’s more like it.”

  Aybek looked mildly disgusted. “The effects should last until tomorrow,” he said. “But please try not to exert yourself before then. It only hastens your return to your natural size.”

  Frogmaggog was still getting to his feet when the door burst open and two Watch Frogs leaped into the room, their tridents drawn. They stopped short upon seeing Frogmaggog and bowed.

  “Your Greatness!” said one. “Is everything all right? We feared for your safety.”

  “Everything’s fine,” rumbled Frogmaggog. “I was just telling these outworlders what I expect of them.” He glowered at Wilmot and Aybek. “Open the book and tell me its secrets. Do it quickly, and I’ll let you live.”

  “How generous,” said Aybek. His eyes strayed to the two Watch Frogs, who were still standing awkwardly inside the door. “But if I might make a request…?” he said.

  “Out with it,” said Frogmaggog. “I’ve got a city to run.”

  “In the interest of security, perhaps it would be wise to station these two Watch Frogs here in the Sanctum for the rest of the day. After all, are you sure this new outworlder can be trusted?”

  Wilmot puffed his chest out indignantly but knew better than to answer back. He maintained a dignified expression as Frogmaggog leaned down and scrutinized him at close range.

  “Maybe you’re right,” said Frogmaggog. “He didn’t want to cooperate earlier. You two!” His signaled to the Watch Frogs. “Stay here and keep a close eye on this outworlder. I don’t want him trying to make off with my book.”

  “Yes, Your Greatness!” The two frogs bowed as Frogmaggog lumbered out, then took up their posts in front of the door, fixing Aybek and Wilmot with some well-practiced scowls.

  Wilmot turned his back on them and dragged the empty cauldron to a workbench, where Aybek was already setting out tools and ingredients. “What did you do that for?” Wilmot whispered, pretending to help. “Escaping’s going to be a lot harder with those two watching our every move.”

  “Leave that to me,” said Aybek. “In fact, leave everything to me.”

  “Except this,” said Wilmot, picking up the book and holding it tight. “I don’t want you tampering with it.”

  “Oh please,” said Aybek. “I spent years trying to open it at the Ivory Tower and got nowhere. I’m hardly going to be any more successful here.”

  “Only Ina may open me,” said the book.

  “There, you see?” said Aybek. “Now, please stop complaining. We both have very important work to do.”

  “What work?” said Wilmot.

  Aybek handed him the empty cauldron. “You can wash up.”

  22

  THE HOUSE WITH CHICKEN WINGS

  It took a couple of hours for Frederick and the others to find Propellendorf’s only pet shop, but once they did it was easy to spot. It was a wooden cottage with a roof of unruly thatch, and it was floating about ten feet off the ground, near the base of the city’s southwest roto-spire. Wisps of purple smoke rose from its chimney, and its shutters and doorway were gaily painted with interweaving patterns of wildflowers that had Frederick thinking of the canal boats that plied the waterways of his old home in the Western Fenlands. Unlike the boats, however, the cottage boasted a pair of enormous white feathered wings that sprouted from its sides. They flapped lazily, keeping the house steady in the air, while a noisy chorus of grunts, growls, caws, and squawks came from its open doorway. A pain
ted sign above the door read PALDABRA’S EXOTIC PET EMPORIUM.

  “I dunno,” said Fletch, looking at the shop sideways. “How is this supposed to help us fix the H.E.C.?”

  “I admit it’s a long shot,” said Frederick. “But if I’m right, they could have exactly what we need.” A rope ladder unfurled like a tongue from inside the door as they approached the building, and they scrambled up it.

  The shop was full—full of noise, full of the hot, thick stink of living things, and full from floor to ceiling with hutches, crates, tanks, and cages of every shape and size, containing the strangest collection of creatures Frederick had ever seen in one place. There was a cage full of disembodied green hands that scuttled around like spiders on their pointed claws. Another contained a two-tailed cat with fur that seemed to be made of fire. It regarded them indifferently as they passed. Frederick was so distracted by it that he accidentally bumped into a large fish tank, causing a shoal of what looked like miniature mermaids inside it to scatter for cover. It was only when he steadied the tank with his hands and the creatures slowly reemerged from hiding that he realized that, while they did indeed have fish tails, their top halves were hairy and simian-like. A sign fixed to the tank said SEA MONKEYS.

  “I’ll be right with you!” came a deep female voice from a half-open doorway behind the counter. “Feel free to browse, but watch out for the death worms. Their venom sacs have just grown in, and they like to spit.”

  Suzy’s mom slipped her hand into her husband’s. “I’m beginning to think we got off lightly with just the boggart,” she said.

  The shopkeeper—Paldabra, Frederick assumed—emerged from behind the counter. She wasn’t an enormous tortoise, but it took him a few moments to realize that, because she certainly looked like one. She was old and hunched, and wore a giant tortoise shell as though it were an armored tank top. The skin of her neck hung in wrinkled curtains, and she blinked at them through a pair of thick spectacles that made her eyes look huge and earnest. Her gray hair was in curlers underneath another, smaller tortoise shell, which she wore like a helmet.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, peeling off a pair of leather gauntlets. “I was in the back room feeding the bunyip pups. They’re always a bit feisty.” She adjusted her spectacles to get a better look at their group. “Out-of-towners, are you? Looking for a gift? I’ve got a sale on jackalopes at the moment. Or, if you’re after something with a bit more novelty value, I’ve got a talking mongoose called Geff. I warn you, though, he does like to go on about politics.”

  “We’re actually looking for something a bit more specific,” said Frederick. “And rare.”

  Paldabra leaned against the counter, suddenly serious. “Then you’re in the right place, young man,” she said. “Because rare is my specialty.”

  “We’re looking for a thermo-demon,” said Frederick.

  Paldabra raised the knobbly lumps where her eyebrows should have been. “That really is specific,” she said. “And not to be taken lightly. Thermo-demons can be difficult creatures to live with if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Oh, we know what we’re doing all right,” said Frederick airily, only to be interrupted by a tug on his sleeve. He looked round to find Suzy’s mom leaning toward him.

  “What’s a thermo-demon?” she whispered.

  “They’re a magical and evolutionary fluke,” he whispered back. “I remember browsing through a book about them when I was re-cataloging the zoology section last month.”

  “But do we want a demon?” asked Suzy’s dad. “Aren’t they nasty, fiery, dangerous things?”

  “Only a handful of demon varieties are harmful to others,” Paldabra said indignantly. “And I don’t let any of my creatures leave this shop unless I’m certain they’re going to a good home. You’ve got to give me some assurance you know how to care for it properly.”

  Frederick raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I’ve done my research,” he said.

  “How much research?” said Paldabra dubiously.

  With a conspiratorial smile at the others, Frederick drew a business card from his pocket and handed it over. “I think this will put your mind at ease.”

  Paldabra raised her glasses and squinted at the card. “It’s blank.”

  Frederick’s smirk vanished. “What?” Paldabra handed the card back and he flipped it over in disbelief. Both sides were completely bare. He rubbed at them with his thumbs, willing the letters to appear, until he realized what was wrong. “Of course,” he groaned. “The Book of Power.” He tossed the card over his shoulder. “Listen, you can trust me. I’m the Chief Librarian of the Ivory Tower.”

  “And I’m the Lead Gymnast at the Circus Palooza,” said Paldabra. “Now prove you’re not a complete nincompoop or get out of my shop.”

  “How’s about this?” Fletch shouldered Frederick aside and slapped his own dog-eared, oil-stained ID card on the counter. “And I can vouch for the boy. He might not look much, but he’s got it up ’ere.” He tapped the side of his head.

  Paldabra picked up the card and pursed her lips. “Impossible Postal Service,” she said. “That might be acceptable. But thermo-demons don’t come cheap.”

  “Then it’s just as well the company is picking up the tab,” said Fletch. “Can you help us or not?”

  Paldabra raised the card to one eye, scrutinizing every letter. “You know what?” she said, handing it back with a satisfied smile. “I think I can.”

  She shuffled out from behind the counter, pausing to retrieve a long wooden pole with a metal hook on one end from against the wall. Then she waved the others aside and moved to the middle of the room, staring up into the rafters as she went. Frederick followed her gaze and saw more cages hanging up there in the shadows.

  The shopkeeper turned in a slow circle, tapping one finger against the side of her face and studying the undersides of the cages. “This one,” she said, pointing at a large bell-shaped birdcage wrapped in a silk scarf. She reached up with the pole, unhooked the cage, and lowered it gently until it was hanging at eye level. The others gathered round.

  “This little fellow’s been with me for a while now,” said Paldabra, lowering her voice. “I saved him from a sandstorm in the petrified forest of Kulch. He’d got confused and was trying to count every last grain, the poor thing. Another few minutes and he would have been done for.Let me introduce you.” She removed the silk cloth.

  Frederick stared at the creature in the cage. It was a fat, furry red caterpillar, about six inches long, with a pair of stubby black horns on top of its bulbous head, and a single green eye that blinked at them all with undisguised curiosity.

  “That’s a demon?” said Suzy’s dad.

  “I call him Maxwell,” said the shopkeeper.

  “Who are they?” said Maxwell, in a high-pitched buzz of a voice. “Tourists? They look like tourists. All stupid and clueless. I don’t like them.”

  “Charming,” said Frederick.

  “And this is the stupidest and most clueless one,” said Maxwell, pointing at Frederick with his tail. “I bet he gives the others lessons in being stupid and clueless. He’s probably got a teaching degree in stupid and clueless, from Stupid and Clueless University. A university they built just for him. Because he’s so stupid and clueless.”

  “Hey!” protested Frederick. “I happen to be a very important librarian.” But Maxwell didn’t hear him—he was too busy bouncing around inside his cage, making a series of “duuuuh!” noises. “Somebody tell him!” said Frederick.

  “I think I’m warming to him already,” said Suzy’s mom, fighting to keep a straight face. Frederick glowered at her.

  “Maxwell?” said the shopkeeper. “These people want to give you a new home. Would you like to go with them?”

  Maxwell settled back on his perch and cocked his head toward her. “Depends,” he said. “Will there be work to do? I’m bored here.”

  “We’ve got lots for you to do,” said Frederick. “Som
e very important counting and sorting.”

  “I like counting and sorting,” said Maxwell. “I’m best at it.”

  “So I’ve read,” said Frederick. “So, are you in?”

  Maxwell leaned forward on his perch, eyeing each of them in turn, before settling on Frederick again. “Only if I can call you Professor Stupid.”

  “No deal,” said Frederick.

  “Yes deal,” said Fletch. “Wilmot and Suzy are running out of time to deliver this book of yours. If you want to get ’em out of the void storm an’ save your library, we need to get movin’.”

  Maxwell stuck his tongue out and blew a loud raspberry at Frederick.

  The shopkeeper gave a sigh of contentment. “I never know how to feel when one of my creatures leaves me,” she said. “Sad that they’re going, or happy to know they’ve found a proper home at last.”

  “I’m not sure how happy to feel either,” muttered Frederick.

  “Let’s settle the payment, and I’ll let you be on your way,” said the shopkeeper. She handed the cage to Frederick and stumped back toward the counter, followed by Fletch.

  “Hello, Professor Stupid,” said Maxwell, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. Frederick pressed the cage into Suzy’s parents’ hands.

  “Please stop calling me that,” he said.

  “Okay, Professor,” said Maxwell. “Where are we going?”

  “Into the void. Do you think you can handle that?”

  Maxwell’s eye widened. “You mean the one inside your head? I hear it’s infinite!” He laughed so hard he fell off his perch and bounced around the cage like a spring.

  Frederick gave him a withering look. “We’re on a mission to save our friends, and we need your help. Believe me, if we didn’t, I’d leave you here.”