Hide & Seek

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Nathan looked down into his lap. “Underneath Bymion,” he said, knowing his grandmother would instantly be worried all over again. “But she knows what she’s doing, honestly. She won’t be in danger. John’s dad and a friend of his have gone with her, and they’re looking for the Chord of Destiny. It was to find out what happened to you and the others.” He sighed, looking up at Granny’s frown. “Everyone keeps rushing off to rescue one of the others, but we end up having to rescue them all over again.”

  “And Bayldon?”

  “Dad’s here,” said Nathan at once. “He’s in the garden. He was going to trim the jasmine now it’s winter, but I bet he’s gone to sleep.”

  “I’ll go and speak with him,” Zakmeister stood, walking towards the kitchen door. “We’ll need to start building the tournament field and lists soon, if there’s only a week. And I won’t leave it to Clebbster. He could set traps. I’m sure Bayldon will want to be involved.”

  “He’s with Alan, by the front steps,” Nathan said, and looked back at Granny. “So we really are going to have a tournament?”

  “It will save a lot of lives,” she said. “And will stop a lot of magical tricks. But whether they’ll accept the outcome, I’m not so sure.”

  “Then we can have another tournament,” said Nathan.

  But Granny shook her head. “It would come to a trial of strength in another way,” she said, looking sad. “It would be a battle of magic, one to one.”

  Both Peter and Sam had rushed in once they heard familiar voices. “Who’s got the strongest magic?” asked Sam. Peter had rushed over to hug Tryppa, and it was her who answered.

  “Altabella,” she said. “Granny, as she prefers. She’s the master, although she pretends she’s not because she doesn’t want to upset Messina and the others.”

  Sherdam was nodding. “It’s true. Altabella is the greatest magician I have ever known.”

  Poppy had been standing quietly in the doorway, and now ran in. “Granny, you’re wonderful,” she said. “I wish I was like you.”

  Smiling, Granny said, “My dear Poppy, you will be one day.”

  But Poppy sighed. “I haven’t any magic at all. Not a wink. Nothing.”

  Sam interrupted. “And on their side, who’s the strongest? Deben? Krillester? One of the others?”

  “I don’t know them all,” said Granny. “But I believe it’s Clebbster. And I would hate to fight him, but I am almost certain it will come to that in the end.”

  They all gathered around the kitchen table that evening, and although Messina had not yet returned, Granny was content to wait until the following morning to chase her up. “Messina,” she said softly, “considers herself one of the greatest magicians, and dislikes being distrusted. I must, therefore, trust her to be safe. At least until the morning.” She muttered the last sentence to herself, sighing, “Even if I won’t be able to sleep a wink tonight for worrying about her.”

  Crumbly roast chicken with stuffing and crispy skin had been served up by Jellywop, and then a pudding of lime cheesecake with cream and minty chocolate crisps. Everyone except John and Messina were crowded around the table, while Mouse, Flop, Gosling and Mars Bar all curled in front of the nice warm oven where the chicken had been roasted. Alan stood behind Bayldon’s chair, while Gillywobbles and Candykins were galloping around the garden nibbling at the bits of jasmine vine which Bayldon had been trimming earlier. Mouse and the three other cats were all purring so loudly that they interrupted the conversation, and outside Mavis, the echidna snorted about the noise, and burrowed back under the front step.

  But what everyone was talking about was not so contented.

  “I saw them,” said Sherdam. “And it was no mistake. They kept high above everyone’s heads, but they were there, and watching. Not Yaark, but the three others.”

  “Stars?”

  “Oh yes,” Sherdam said, mouth full of stuffing and chips. “It seemed that none of the wretched Hazletts knew they were being watched. They didn’t look up, and the room was generally dark except for some torches. Besides, all those past emperors wouldn’t have the faintest idea what a star was. Only Clebbster and his father would have known. And I didn’t know who the father was.”

  “His name was weak, and his name was Davister,” Zakmeister said.

  “He made the original foolish agreement with Yaark., Added Granny.

  “And no one's been able to get rid of him since,” said Zakmeister.

  “But he wasn’t there,” continued Sherdam. “No blue star. There was a large black star, glittering like onyx. A sickly pink, and a deep green. They did nothing, but they watched.”

  “Flibweed is the stronger,” said Granny, “and that’s the black one. Oshlik is pink. I can’t remember the name of the green. The others were stronger and larger.”

  “But they were never involved in anything before,” said Sherdam. “And others were destroyed in the Sparkan volcano. But now these three seem to be under Yaark’s orders.”

  “One thing at a time,” Bayldon said. “We can’t worry about everything. Once Messina gets back we can discuss more, but at the moment we need to concentrate on the tournament. Who fights? We have to choose three.”

  “Me,” called Henry VIII from the end of the table.

  “Both Henry V and Richard and Christopher are in Bymion with the new arrivals from England,” Granny said. “But I believe Henry V would be brilliant at a tournament. And perhaps,” and she looked over, “Zakmeister would be our best.”

  “Good choices,” said Bayldon. “So as soon as Messina is back, we go down to Pickles to make the arrangements. And if she isn’t back – well,” and his face went white, “I go to Bymion to search for her.”

  Poppy, who sat next to her father, patted his arm. “Mum always gets home OK,” she said. “but if you do go looking, I’ll come too because I know the tunnels. Well, I don’t really but I was there, and I found the Chord of Destiny too.” She looked up at her father, then stuffed in another spoonful of cheesecake. “I just wish I had some magic like everyone else. Except you, Dad. Don’t you feel rotten, being normal. I hate being normal and boring.”

  But her father smiled. “I’m perfectly happy being normal,” he said. “I am, after all, a Bannister and not an Octobr. I come from a happy normal family. Nice modern English people.

  Not Lashtang people. But that’s the way I like it now, living here.”

  She managed a third slice of cheesecake. Then she jumped up and skipped into the next room, returning quickly, and sat back down. She was waving something colourful “Look,” she said, “I’ll prove I’m not normal.” And she pulled the bright headband over her ears. It held three luxurious and beautiful peacock’s feathers on each side of the band, almost like some unique crown. “Brewster gave it to me,” she said. “I keep meaning to wear it and then I forget. And I do wish I could see Brewster again. He seems to have disappeared. I miss him. Besides, if it comes to war, he could be very helpful.”

  She lifted a hand and patted her feathers. Nathan called from across the table, “Mine’s better. Eagle feathers.”

  ‘But you don’t wear it either,” Poppy called back.

  “No,” Nathan grinned. “I don’t want to play cowboys and Red Indians.”

  Columbus, who was half buried in his papers as he sat at the end of the table with Henry VIII, looked up. “What was that?” he asked. “Are you accusing me of discovering America again?”

  Poppy laughed. “No,” she said. “But it’s you who should have a headband with lots of feathers on it.”

  Columbus looked puzzled. “I’ve never worn such a strange thing in my life,” he said, and returned to his charts, spread on the table over his plate. “If I’m going to stay here, I really must talk to a shipbuilder.”

  “I know two,” said Nathan. “I’ll introduce you.”

  But Poppy, fiddling with her headband, was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Eaten too much cheesecake?” asked Peter, who would have eaten more o
f it had Poppy not finished the lot.

  “No, it’s this funny thing Brewster gave me,” she said. “It’s – well – I don’t know how to explain. It’s as if it’s talking to me.”

  “Brewster’s talking to you?” asked Peter.

  “No, not that either.” She pulled it off as though suddenly fearful. “It was something else. Something nasty.”

  Granny looked up at once. “Explain,” she ordered. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Looking around the long table at everyone sitting there and watching her, except for Columbus who never watched anyone else, Poppy blushed. She didn’t want to tell all of them about the strange things she’d been hearing. “I’ll tell you, Granny,” she said in a rush. “But come into my bedroom.”

  Rising from the table, Granny ordered Jellywop to clean up and wash the dishes, and Jellywop rushed to do as it was told. It would have been smiling happily if only it had a mouth to smile with. The others slowly wandered from the kitchen, off to the living rooms, or outside. Although it was already very dark, the sky was studded with twinkling stars and looked quite beautiful. Over the distant hills one of the moons was rising, sending out a soft pink gleam over the clouds.

  But Poppy and Granny hurried off to the bedroom, and Nathan asked, “Can I come?” Then Peter asked the same thing, followed by Sam.

  “Oh, alright,” sniffed Poppy. “But no laughing at me. Promise. This already makes me feel a bit odd, but I suppose I just have to get used to that.”

  They sat in the small bedroom, Poppy curled up on the bed with her back against the pillows, Peter curled on the big comfy chair in the corner, and put his thumb in his mouth because he thought no one was looking at him, Sam sat on a couple of cushions on the floor, Granny sat on the end of the bed, and Nathan sat on the window seat.

  “Now,” said Granny. “What is this all about?”

  “It just started when I put Brewster’s funny feathers on,” said Poppy. “Peacock feathers, and very pretty, but I never wore it before. It’s a bit like a kid’s game. Have any of you worn the ones he gave you?”

  The all shook their heads. “I like mine. It’s grand,’ said Nathan. “But I hung it on the wall. I’d feel an idiot wearing it.”

  “I just put it on for fun,” said Poppy. “You know – to show how crazy I am. But as I sat there I heard a voice. Not a very nice voice, sort of husky and bossy. And it said, I shall do as I think right. I was really startled. I didn’t answer it of course, and I just sat there. And then there was another voice. It was nicer and sort of friendly, but it said something ridiculous too. Someone is listening, it said. And then the nasty husky voice said something like, we’re being spied on. Well, I actually felt a bit frightened.”

  “Tis a trick of Brewster’s,” decided Sam.

  But Nathan said, “Well, I wonder. Peacock feathers. There’s a quill with a peacock feather in the library room at Clarr. But there’s Clebbster’s cane as well. It’s wooden and it doesn’t have any real feathers, but it can fly and do what Clebbster tells it, so it has its own magic.”

  Everyone stared at everyone else, and Peter took his thumb out of his mouth with a gasp and said, “Maybe that’s what Brewster did. So it means if you put that thing on your head, then the peacock cane can hear everything, and it tells Clebbster.”

  Crossing her arms and leaning back, Granny looked extremely interested. “I think Nat is right”, she said. “And I also think Brewster has arranged this. But not out of spite. He likes you Poppy and calls you friend, both you and Nat. So I think this is a real gift. Yes, it’s the quill in the Tower of Clarr, and Clebbster’s cane that you can hear. But that could be a blessing, not a trick. You may hear the most important of Clebbster’s plans.”

  “That’s creepy,” sniffed Sam.

  “It’s brilliant,” said Nathan.

  “It’s extremely important,” said Granny. “I wish we had discovered this before. It could be the most wonderful help, but we can’t let it hear our plans. You must take it off, Poppy, when we discuss anything of importance.”

  The feathers now lay between Poppy’s hands. She brushed them with her fingers, but she didn’t feel like putting it on again. “I don’t ever want to wear it again,” she said.

  But Granny disagreed. “This will be of enormous gain,” she said. “If you don’t like the idea of wearing it, then I might take it myself. But Brewster gave it to you and you are the one to discover what it might tell us.”

  “So do the quill and the walking stick already talk to each other?” asked Peter. “They don’t ever meet, do they. What on earth would they talk about?”

  “We don’t know.” Nathan was looking at the headband. “Perhaps I should try wearing my own. I mean, Clebbster’s cane and the writing quill in the tower might have secret plans or something. Or the quill is secretly on Clebbster’s side. I’ve got eagle feathers so I don’t think it’ll do anything, but I’m going to go and get it just in case.”

  And he jumped up and ran from the room.

  “Alright,” said Poppy, straightening her back and sitting forwards. “I won’t be a coward. Tell me when to put it on, and I will.”

  “Not yet,” said Sam. “Wait a minute. When Nat comes back, I want to ask the silver fairy what it’s all about.”

  Smiling warmly at Sam’s silver-tipped finger and his wavy silver hair, granny asked, “You call that the silver fairy.”

  “That’s what she is,” nodded Sam. “Her voice is just like a fairy.”

  Nathan hurtled back into Poppy’s bedroom, and he was carrying his own headband, also given some time ago by Brewster. “Ready?” he asked, and when they all nodded, he pulled it over his bumble-bee hair, and stood in the middle of the room. “Now,” he asked Sam, “what does your fairy say?”

  Sam asked carefully, since only three questions would be answered. “Hello silver fairy,” he said. “Please explain the things these two feathered headbands can do. And please tell us why Brewster gave them to Poppy and Nat. And please tell us what we ought to do about them.” He was holding his finger high, and it caught the light. But then he frowned. “Brewster gave me one too, but I can’t ask my fairy about that until tomorrow.”

  “Hush,” said Granny. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”

  “Grulax the mighty peacock, and the flying ostrich Jeedy,” began the silver voice.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Izyx hauled her slick slimy body through the doorway, and a tumble of tiny termites ran behind. She screamed out her orders.

  “Attack. Bite that woman. Eat off her nose. Split her lips. Bonk her and stomp her. Make her run, but block her escape.”

  Arthur stood just one moment in utter surprise, and then reacted. He ran forwards and stamped with both feet, squashing a good many scampering termites beneath his boots. Jim was laughing.

  He’d never seen such creatures before and thought the termite queen amazing. “Now,” he roared, “if I still had my pirate ship, I’d take you onboard. You’d frighten every other ship on the water at first sight. I’d be rich in a week.” But as he came close to the screeching queen, he kicked out and her huge body trembled, releasing more white curdled slime.

  Messina surveyed her furious but shivering enemy. “Queen to queen,” she said. “Your time is up and your palace no longer has a place beneath the new village.” She raised both hands, murmured, “this time my magic is strong and free,” pointed all ten fingers and murmured one of the spells she used less often, but kept for moments of urgency. “Annihilate,” she said, “Forza di morta. Pronto. Simplicity.”

  The queen simply ceased to exist. One moment she was there, and the next moment she was gone. She did not writhe nor even fall flat. She just disappeared as if she had never lived. The doorway was empty except for a few scattered and minute termites heading in no particular direction.

  “So now we destroy the whole nest?” asked Arthur.

  “More than a nest,” Messina smiled. “I’ll show you. Come with me.
”

  The narrow tunnels burrowed through the earth, leading eventually to the main tower. Jim and Arthur stood staring at it, half impressed and half disgusted. “It’s so huge,” Arthur said. “Those tiny little ant-like things must have passed their lives building this vast palace. Seems a shame to knock it down.”

  “Sad indeed,” smiled Messina. “Even more sad, I imagine, if your beautiful new built house above suddenly collapsed because the termite tunnels were too close beneath.”

  “That’s it,” grinned Arthur. “It’s all got to go.”

  They used their spades and shovels, kicking and thumping, until eventually the great pile was no more. Then Messina sent her last stroke of magic, calling, “Gone. Flat. Then fill in with soil to make it solid. Forza. There must now be a strong foundation for the Town of Bymion. Ecco lo fatto. Remish-undyllatto-preckopulatt.”

  “I think,” said Arthur, standing back as the ground trembled and moved, “that magic is the most wonderful thing in the world. Why carry a spade and a hammer when a finger of magic will do everything in a blink of time.”

  “There are rules about magic,” Messina sighed as they walked back together towards the steps leading back up to the streets and houses. “At first it takes hard work and endless repetition. Then after months, many folk here discover they have no magical skill. My beloved husband does not, and my daughter fears she has none either. And then, even when you happily find that you do have some inner skill you must continue to practise.”

  “Your magic is strong, my lady,” Jim said.

  “But many things can weaken it,” said Messina. “The circuit comes through your hands and fingers. If they are bound to your side, or weakened by some illness or breakage, then you cannot do any magic at all. Another wizard’s magic can also block yours temporarily. Using your skills too often is exhausting and you may need two days rest without any magical attempts, while some people find their magical force fades during storms, or first thing in the morning.”

  “Not with you, my lady?”

  “I am not beyond the occasional failure,” she said. “But I am stronger than many.”