‘No, no, no, no, no!’ Quomp frowned. ‘I'm happy to say she's safely locked up and awaiting trial on Molnok, screaming to everyone that her planet has been betrayed and the Federation let her down.’ His frown deepened. ‘And the worst of it is, she has a point. Her homeworld's in a right mess and how the local Guardian let it get like that is a complete mystery. However, that's no excuse for stealing four Touchstones, or killing you for that matter, even if it was an accident. I really was very cross with her about that.’
‘So what's going to happen to her?’
‘It's going to take several hundred lawyers to decide that one,’said the Guardian with a sigh. ‘Ask me again in a couple of years.’
‘And the Touchstone? The one she had?’
‘Yes?’ Quomp pulled out a chair and sat himself down at the table. ‘What about it?’
‘I was wondering what you'd done with it.’ Douglas hesitated. ‘I suppose what I really want to know is what happened to the one I had. In fact, I've been wondering,’ he went on, ‘if there was any way I could have it back.’
‘Oh you have, have you?’ Quomp leaned back in his seat and looked at Douglas over the top of his glasses.
‘I know you said how dangerous it was to let someone like me have a Touchstone.’ Douglas sat himself at the table, facing the Guardian. ‘But couldn't there be some way round that? I mean, didn't the Yob have some sort of child control, like we do on the Internet? Isn't there some way you could let me have the stone but without letting me make bombs or start plagues? And in return maybe I could do something useful.’
‘Like what?’ said Quomp.
‘Well, I'm not sure, but there must be something. Nobody else can use the Touchstone I had, can they? And it seems a terrible waste for it never to be used again.’
He paused, waiting for the Guardian to answer, but Quomp did not speak. He sat there looking at Douglas, as if waiting for him to say something else.
‘What I was hoping,’ Douglas went on, ‘what I was hoping was that you'd ask Gedrus if he knows of any way I could have my Touchstone back. If he says it's a bad idea and I shouldn't have it then fine, I won't. I mean, I wouldn't want it if Gedrus said it was going to lead to trouble, but if he thought it might be all right, that it might be useful, then I'd really like to have it back.’ He paused and added, ‘I think it's the only thing in the world I really do want. So could you ask him, please?’
Quomp still did not answer directly. Instead he put his hand in his pocket, took out a Touchstone and held it thoughtfully in the palm of his hand.
‘Well…’ he said eventually, ‘if you want it that badly, I suppose we'd better let you have it.’ And he reached across the table and carefully placed the stone around Douglas's neck.
Douglas was rather confused. He'd expected a little more resistance than this.
‘You might want to check I've given you the right one,’ said Quomp.
Douglas reached up and as his fingers met the Touchstone, the familiar figure of Gedrus appeared in the air in front of him. He was sitting at his chair in the library, just as he had that first day, his feet up on the desk in front of him, reading a book and eating an apple.
‘Hi there!’ He waved cheerily. ‘Long time no see. What can I do for you?’
‘Nothing really,’ said Douglas. ‘Well, not at the moment. I just wanted to check you were still there.’
‘Always here, old buddy.’ Gedrus turned the page of his book and took another bite of his apple. ‘Always here. Ready and waiting.’
And in that moment, Douglas felt a great weight slide from his shoulders. He did not quite know what the weight had been or why it had suddenly gone, but he did know that holding the Touchstone in his hand felt right.
Quomp was looking at him.
‘You're giving it to me? Just like that?’
‘That's the plan,’ said Quomp.
‘Aren't you going to ask Gedrus if it's a good idea?’
The Guardian gave a little smile. ‘Oh, I asked him that some time ago! For some reason he seemed to think it would be an excellent idea.’
‘But…’ Douglas hesitated. ‘But I thought the rule was that only Guardians are allowed to have a Touchstone? Are you allowed to change it?'
‘I have no intention of changing any of the rules,’ said Quomp firmly, ‘least of all that one. Basis of everything. No, no, the rule stands.’
He smiled again, and it was a moment before Douglas fully realized what he meant. Even when he did, he could hardly believe it.
The Guardian held out his hand.
‘Welcome to the Order, Douglas,’ he said.
‘You're a Guardian?’ said Ivo. It was the third time he had asked the question and he was still unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.
‘Sort of a trainee, junior, novice, apprentice Guardian.’ Douglas did not find the whole thing easy to believe himself. ‘But yes. I'm a Guardian.’
They were sitting in Ivo's new workshop. It was larger than his old shed, with gleaming new workbenches running down one side and an impressive selection of power tools on the other. The two boys were on a battered sofa at one end, where Ivo had his plastered foot propped up on a cushion as he tried to absorb the news.
‘So what happens now?’ he asked. ‘You go off and rule the universe or something?’
‘It's not quite like that,’ said Douglas. ‘As far as I can tell, all Guardians actually do is answer questions. People want to know something, I ask Gedrus for them, and pass on whatever he says.’
‘What people?’
‘Anyone really,’ Douglas shrugged. ‘Anyone who's passing.’
Quomp had told him that, out here on the edge of the Federation, passing ships would be limited to the occasional merchant vessel or troop carrier, so he probably wouldn't see more than a dozen or so people a week.
‘And what happens if they ask you how to do something bad?’ said Ivo. ‘Like Kai wanting to steal some Touchstones. What do you tell them then?’
‘I say whatever Gedrus tells me to say,’ said Douglas. ‘I don't actually ask him the question people give me. Guardians never do that. I say to Gedrus, “This person has asked me this question, what's the best thing I can say in reply?”’
‘Best for who?’ asked Ivo. ‘Best for you, best for them…’
‘Just… best,’ said Douglas. ‘You know, for everyone.’
‘And then they go and do whatever you told them?’
‘If they do,’ said Douglas, ‘it seems to work out. Quomp says that's what happens when you ask the right question. It's because Gedrus knows what people really want. He knows what they ought to be doing, where they ought to be going… so when they do what he says, it's like they suddenly find they're heading in the right direction and their problems seem to get sorted out.’
‘Like your parents,’ said Ivo.
Exactly like his parents, Douglas thought. Mr and Mrs Paterson were still separated but that didn't stop them being a lot happier these days. And they were getting on better with each other as well. When his father brought him home after their trip to the cinema on Saturday, he had actually come into the house, stayed for a cup of tea and then fixed the tap in the downstairs lavatory. He had even offered to drive the coach when Mrs Paterson took her party of under fourteens to the qualifying heats of the Jive and Disco Championship in Manchester.
One of the dancers she would be taking was Hannah Linneker, who had recently started jive classes and showed, Mrs Paterson said, all the athleticism and complete lack of fear that you needed to be thrown several metres into the air while relying on your partner to catch you. Mind you, her partner was David Collins and Douglas thought he'd be far too frightened to let her fall. If he did, Hannah might stick his head in a fire bucket again.
‘Is there a charge?’ asked Ivo. ‘When people ask you these questions? Do they have to give you money?’
‘No,’ said Douglas. ‘No, it's all free.’
‘In that case,’ Ivo said, lo
oking rather relieved, ‘can I ask you something about the driveshaft housing on the robot?’
‘Sure,’ said Douglas and he watched as Ivo hopped over to the workbench to collect a long tube of metal connected to the electric motor from a washing machine.
As he watched, he wondered why it was that his best friend should turn out to be an accident-prone Bulgarian who ate raw onions for lunch. He had read somewhere that the strongest friendships are often forged in times of crisis and shared danger and it was true that, from the time they had both carried Kai's body down to the bathroom in the annexe, they had had plenty of both.
But it was more than that. There had always been something very reassuring about being with Ivo and only now did Douglas realize why. The fact was that Ivo was the one person he knew who had always been on the right compass heading. Ivo had always known where he was going and what he wanted. He had always been just… Ivo.
‘I think there's a problem with the flange setting.’ Ivo was back and holding out the tube of metal. ‘I used longer bolts because they were all I had, but I'm wondering if that means there won't be room for the axle connection.’
He waited patiently while Douglas fingered the Touchstone hanging round his neck and asked Gedrus.
‘He says it'll be fine.’ Douglas released the stone and turned to his friend. ‘He says there's nothing to worry about. It's all going to be just fine.’
‘You've got five visitors,’Guardian Quomp explained. ‘A merchant from Galatea, a Commodore in the Federation Navy, two politicians from Nuuk and the Mimbari amabassador. Are you ready?’
‘I think so.’ Douglas was standing in the little sitting room of the annexe where Kai had stayed nearly two months before. He was wearing his school clothes, with the Touchstone hanging down neatly over his tie.
‘Nervous?’ asked Quomp.
‘No, not really.’
‘Quite right.’Quomp nodded vigorously. ‘Absolutely no need. Nothing to worry about at all. I send them in, they ask their question, and…’
‘… and I ask Gedrus what's the best thing I can say in reply.’
‘Precisely. That's all there is to it.’ The Guardian looked anxiously at Douglas. ‘Don't forget to use exactly the words Gedrus says. Never mind if they sound odd, or rude or you don't understand them whatever Gedrus tells you, that's what you say.’
‘OK,’ said Douglas.
‘Attaboy!’ Quomp gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder before heading back to the door. ‘The first one's the Galatean – I did warn you they were incredibly ugly, didn't I?’
‘Yes, you did,’ said Douglas.
‘They've got this gunge that dribbles out of their ears when they get excited but don't take any notice.’ Quomp paused and took a deep breath. ‘Right, well, I'll send him in then.’
The Guardian disappeared. There was a shuffling sound from the corridor and a moment later a short figure with loosely hanging skin, almost entirely covered in warts and tufts of bristly hair, entered the room. A substance like green custard dripped from his ears on to his shoulders and a sharp, pungent smell filled the air.
Douglas did not even notice. At that moment, nothing could disturb the peace and contentment he felt. Like Ivo with his robot, like his mother at a dance class, like his father at the garage building his supermarket trolley, he found he was exactly where he wanted to be, doing exactly what he wanted. He had no idea where it might lead him but that didn't matter. The compass needle was pointing due north and the road ahead was straight and clear.
He raised a hand in greeting to the alien.
‘Hi there!’ he said. ‘What can I do for you?’
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