They climbed the steps and found themselves once again above ground, and standing beneath the pouring rain. Jim laughed. “Reckon we did a good job. But now I’m off home to sit in front of the fire.”
He sped off while Arthur and Messina returned to the Crinford household, where John was waiting. It didn’t take long to explain what she had seen, and Messina told him, “You were one of the first to see the Chord of Destiny, and learned the truth about your father. Now he’s seen it too, and learned the truth about you.”
“Fantastical,” said John, grinning up at his father. “So if there ain’t no complaints, I’s coming back wiv you to see Nat, lady. But I reckon I’ll be back to see me dad mighty soon too.”
Arthur grinned back. “A few days here – a few days there. Perfect, my boy. But don’t forget I want to meet those shipbuilders.”
“Tis a promise,” John answered at once. “I wanna go to sea an’all.”
“But first we have to collect those willing Sicilians brigands,” he called as John scampered out with Messina.
With a flutter of two fingers, Messina and John were back at the cottage. John hadn’t stopped grinning. “Reckon this way o’ travel tis a bit too easy,” he said. “Gotta take more exercise, or shall grow mighty fat.”
The rain had stopped and a little sunshine was creeping between the early morning clouds. And the cottage was full.
Granny stood waving on the front step. Beside her was Nathan, and on the other side were Arthur and Alice, proudly polishing her ring on a teatowel brought out by Jellywop. Peter was with Tryppa, both playing the lute at the far end of the garden, while Sam, wearing a white headband adorned with large white cockatoo feathers on both sides, was sitting at Tryppa’s feet.
Talking to Richard III, Poppy was wandering the garden and they both seemed much engrossed, while Henry Viii on the other side of the garden, was waving his sword around, practising his jousting skills. Columbus, as usual, was on the garden bench studying his maps, and Henry V was sitting next to him.
Bayldon, Zakmeister and Sherdam were inside talking in the living room, and most of the animals were also inside, enjoying the warmth.
Hearing Messina call, Bayldon rushed out of the house, and everyone came over to say they were delighted at her return, and greet John. Within minutes everyone was talking at once, while Granny slipped indoors to make a cake. She beckoned Messina who followed her in, and Granny wiped the flour off her hands, saying, “As we planned, it’s a tournament. But three coloured stars have been seen. That’s a problem.”
“Including a blue star?” asked Messina, sneezing as the flour floated around the kitchen. She looked around for a tissue, found nothing, held one finger to her nose to stop another sneeze, and ended up with a white tipped nose.
Granny shook her head. “Nobody has seen Yaark. Nor has anyone seen Wagster or Brewster. But there’s to be a tournament in six days' time on the field outside Pickles. The lists have yet to be built. I intend going down there to work today, but I wanted to see you first.”
“And our three brave knights?”
“Fat King Henry has already volunteered,” Granny answered. “And so has the other King Henry. I suggest Zakmeister for the third.”
“He’s our greatest warrior,” Messina agreed. “Will it work, do you think?”
“To end the war? I’m afraid not,” sighed Granny. “Clebbster has every Hazlett emperor dating back from 1485 at his house, and they all love to fight by the look of them. They’ll fight to be the ones to fight, no doubt. I believe it will end with a trial of magic.”
“We’ll see,” said Messina. “But if it does, that will have to be me. Or you?” She smiled. “Even Sherdam or Zakmeister.”
“We shall wait and see,” said Granny, and returned to her cake.
Messina wandered back into the living room where Bayldon was waiting for her. He kissed the white tip of her nose. “Been out in the snow, my dear?”
She had no idea what he was talking about since the winter sun was shining. “We have to go to Pickles to build a tournament ground with lists and tents,” she told him. “Coming?”
Within the hour, John, Nathan and Poppy stood on the slope leading up from Pickles village, and were able to look down on the dark waves of the winter sea. They also looked down on the great black villa which stood on the cliffs amongst the trees. Behind them Granny, Messina, Bayldon, Zakmeister and Henry VIII all stood talking.
“Not on a slope,” insisted Henry, pouting at the land around him.
“We may never have jousted in the past, as you have,” said Zakmeister with faint irritation, “but we do know the land has to be flat.”
Messina, frowning at both Henry and Zakmeister, started walking to the west, avoiding the village, the black house, and the slopes. The others followed.
“Come on,” said Poppy, “they’ll argue over this for hours. Let’s go and visit Ninester and Little Smudge.”
“Me one and only attempt at the joust were mighty awful,” agreed John. “So this ain’t my business.”
They walked down to the village and knocked on the cottage door where Ninester lived with his adopted puppy and his mother, Irima. Irima answered the door, the puppy at her heels. “What a nice surprise,” she told them. “Come and visit Ninny.”
“I bet he don’t like being called that,” sniggered John.
But Ninester was as cheerful as always, and for some hours they ate biscuits, talked, and drank steaming hot tea. The very pleasant three hours, however, did not finish so pleasantly.
It was Krillester who did not bother to knock on the door. He simply blew the door open, and marched inside. Deben marched in behind him. They were armed, but had not yet unsheathed their swords. Krillester bellowed like a gale at sea.
“I came to see my fool of a son,” he shouted. “The idiot Deben insisted on following, although I refuse to speak to him. And now I find you – and you,” he pointed with fury at Nathan and John, “who should be trapped in a glass cage in the Southern Ocean.” He ignored Poppy. A young girl appeared to him to be below interest.
Everyone had jumped up, and now stood, hands in fists, glaring at both visitors, while Little Smudge barked with ferocious energy although he wagged his tail hopefully at the same time. Irima, once Krillester’s wife, got up, flushed bright red, and quickly hid in the kitchen.
Although in the past Ninester had been much abused by his father, he was now the only one who showed no signs of agitation or anger.
Nathan shouted back, “We escaped. Easy. We have more power, and you and your kin have less than you suppose.”
Gathering up Little Smudge to stop the barking, Ninester remained sitting at ease on the couch, and smiled. “Hello Father. Hello Deben. Welcome to my cosy cottage. But wasn’t I told Deben killed you?”
Krillester seethed. “He did, and once our forces have destroyed your forces, I shall make sure I kill him. But for now we need every man. So I’ve come to take you home. Get up and take up your sword.”
“I haven’t got one,” said Ninester, looking puzzled.
“No matter,” Deben interrupted. “We can get hold of a dozen. Just do as you’re told, and come with us.”
“I can’t leave my puppy,” Ninester said. “He cries if I go away. Besides, I like it here. Nat says you’re going to fight a tournament. You used to like jumping on a llama and riding off to kill people.”
Krillester glared. “This is not a request, my boy. It’s an order.”
“You can’t order him about,” said Poppy suddenly. “Because you’re both dead, and he isn’t. He might have lived at the same time as you, but he never died.”
“What difference does that make?” Deben demanded.
Poppy wasn’t sure but she managed to think of a quick answer. “It means he’s outlived all of you, so he’s – he’s – he’s everlasting.”
“Am I?” asked Ninester, interested.
Snorting, Krillester looked back at his son. “Move, brat,” h
e snarled, “or I shall put an end to your everlasting life right here and now.”
Nathan, having moved carefully back behind the sofa, had been whispering to the Knife of Clarr. He had not taken out the blade for it shone too brightly and the sun still slanted in pale beams through the window, but he touched the outside of his coat at the place where his knife rested within the inside pocket. “As Lord of Clarr to the Knife of Clarr, don’t let these men take Ninester away. And don’t let them hurt him. In fact, don’t let them hurt any of us. Whenever possible, make them go away.”
Not much happened at first, for Deben was arguing with his adopted father. “Just drag the fool over to the cliff house. Why bother asking him?”
“I don’t ask,” Krillester said between his teeth, “I order.”
“Just force the idiot,” said Deben becoming impatient.
This idea seemed to appeal to Krillester, until Ninester looked up at him, saying, “So Deben killed you, did he? That wasn’t very nice, was it, Papa? How did he do it?”
“A vile suffocating pillow,” said Krillester, clenching his hands. “I died slowly, and in pain.”
“Gosh,” sighed Ninester. “That must have been horrid. I’m surprised you don’t kill him now.”
“I will,” seethed Krillester, “just as soon as the final battle is won.”
“Dunno why you waits,” John added to the conversation. “One less fighting ain’t gonna make no difference.”
Krillester turned on John. “Quiet, fool. You should be dead too. Once Clebbster discovers that both of you managed somehow to escape, he’ll be furious. He’ll kill both of you himself.”
Shaking his head, Nathan grinned. “Not yet, he won’t. He can’t fight yet. His wife and daughter, both true Quosters, broke every bone in his body several times over and left him on the floor looking like a bag of splinters tied up in trousers and a coat. He can only just about walk.”
Somewhat surprised at this story, Krillester managed to answer, “But his magic is as strong as ever.”
But Deben was more interested in the story. “His wife and daughter? Quosters? And they beat Clebbster?”
“Oh yes,” said Poppy sitting down on one of the chairs, crossing her legs and leaning forwards as if she was about to read a bedtime story to her small children. “You’re a Quoster too, of course,” she smiled. “But Clebbster’s wife was a real half snake. Very beautiful as a tall thin woman, but really deadly as a snake. An anaconda, and really huge. You’re a Quoster too, but you can’t change into a real snake. You just have a forked tongue and a nasty character. But Hexaconda, that’s Clebbster’s wife’s name, she has a daughter just like herself. They both hate Clebbster and they attacked him when he told them to attack Nat.”
Deben actually looked quite upset. “I’m not a Quoster,” he said. “My parents were normal humans. How dare you call me an ugly snake person.”
“Oh, was you all nasty about Quosters back in your day?” demanded John. “Well – you’s a Quoster alright, and all them Hazletts wot comes after yer got the Quoster blood, ain’t they. Forked tongues. Ugly. Mean.”
“Your parents were half-bloods,” Nathan explained. “They looked human, but they weren’t. They were more Quoster, they just didn’t look it.”
“Rubbish,” now Deben was furious and Krillester, hating his adopted son, leaned back against the broken door, his arms crossed as he smiled at Deben’s discomfort. “I’m no half-blood and I have no serpent in my bones. Take it back now, or I’ll split you down the middle.”
“It’s the truth,” shouted Poppy. “Look at your tongue. You pretended you made that yourself by magic, but you know that isn’t true. You were born with it like every Hazlett after you.”
With another snarl, Krillester stepped forwards and slapped Deben across the face. At first, shocked and humiliated, Deben stepped back, his hand to his cheek where a huge red mark had appeared, the same size as Krillester’s hand. Then, as the shock subsided, Deben ran forwards and punched Krillester twice in the stomach. The older man doubled over, wheezing. Deben laughed as his adopted father staggered, almost falling.
“Tis a shame to fight,” said Ninester mildly. “It never does any good, you know, and you usually just end up breaking furniture or vases or something.”
Neither his father nor his replacement took the slightest notice of him. As Krillester straightened up and began to breathe normally again, he snatched a plate from the arm of the chair where a couple of dog biscuits for Little Smudge had been placed. Indeed, one of them was slightly chewed. Krillester jammed both biscuits into his mouth and threw the plate at Deben. Then, as Deben ducked, Krillester grew pale and spat out most of the last biscuit.
“Not very nice, is it,” said Poppy with delight. “They’re doggy biscuits. The puppy chewed one of them.”
Deben, who had ducked and managed to escape the thrown plate which now lay in smashed pieces at his feet, was laughing with genuine pleasure. “Dog food? Well, how apt. Just what you deserve, Daddy dearest.”
With a face of thunder, Krillester advanced, catching Deben around the neck with both large strong hands. Deben floundered and began to choke. “The vile creature killed me when I was too old to save myself. Wicked and ungrateful animal. He’s a Quoster, is he? I might have guessed. One of the old forest creatures without a spot of human blood.” And his hands tightened even harder.
“Of course,” said Ninester from the shadows, still cuddling Little Smudge who was eyeing the spat out crumbs of his biscuits with vague hope, “the nasty boy killed you, Papa, so he deserves to die. But you killed your own father didn’t you Papa?”
There was a short silence. “What a ridiculous lie,” Krillester said at last. “Where did you get such a stupid idea?”
“Because I saw you,” said Ninester with a small smile. “You went into Grandpa Davister’s bedroom in the middle of the night. You’d been angry with me the day before and I couldn’t sleep for crying, so I got up to follow you and say I was sorry for being naughty. Then I just stood and stared until I got scared and ran back to my own bed.”
“What did he do?” asked Nathan with interest.
“Grandpa Davister was fast asleep in bed,” Ninester continued. “I liked Grandpa because he didn’t tell me off very often and he only hit me a little bit. But Papa had a long knife, and he cut his father’s throat all the way across. There was lots and lots of blood, and it really spoiled the sheets. I thought that was a shame because Papa always thrashed me when I was little if I wet my sheets in the night.”
Having twisted away, Deben stood glaring at his adopted father. “So you killed your daddykins as well, did you? And now you blame me? Well, just wait until I see Grandpa Davister the next time back at the Hazlett Palace.”
With half a sneer and half a gulp, Krillester said, “The boy always was a fool. I did nothing of the kind, He misunderstood.”
“Not sure how you can misunderstand a knife and a slit throat pouring with blood.”
“Probably a dream,” Krillester said. Then he saw Deben take two quick steps towards him, and immediately drew his sword. Deben did the same. Everyone else drew back to leave a clear space in the middle of the floor.
“Mummy won’t like blood on her carpet,” said Ninester with a note of panic.
This was ignored as both Deben and his adopted father circled each other, swords upraised, looking for an opening. Then Deben jabbed out, but missed Krillester’s chest by some distance. Krillester skipped away, laughing, but instead he slipped on his own wet dog biscuit crumbs, and tumbled flat on his back on the floorboards.
“How polite,” giggled Poppy. “He managed to miss the carpet. Irima will be most pleased.”
Without the slightest attempt at fair fighting, Deben jumped on Krillester and tried to plunge in his sword. In return, Krillester’s sword plunged to the hilt into Deben’s chest.
Everyone held their breath, staring and waiting. But what happened was not what they expected. There were indeed
drops of blood from both men, but very little, just a trickle which dribbled onto the floor as both men completely disappeared.
Poppy looked at the blood stains on the empty floor. “Just a little smudge,” she said. “But not as pretty as the other little Smudge.”
“Ah,” said Granny from the open doorway. “What a pretty sight.”
They all whirled around. “T’were Krillester n’ Deben,” said John. “But they done each other in. Mighty useful.”
“I saw them,” said granny, entering the room. She called to Irima. “Quite safe now, my dear. You can come back.” Then smiled at Ninester. “They came to get you?”
He nodded, while Nathan said, “They wanted him on their side, though I’m not sure why, since his father knew Ninester’s no fighter and has no magic. But they ended up killing each other.”
“I believe,” said Granny without wishing to explain too much in front of Ninester himself, “they wished to use him for – let us say – an experiment. On the jousting field, which we have just finished building.”
“And why did they just disappear?”
“Being already dead, they can’t leave a solid body behind,” said Granny. “Once dead, they disappear and all of them will do that – except Clebbster of course, although he certainly will join the others in time.”
She flicked a half twirl of a finger at the blood stains left on the floor, and they quickly disappeared too. “Thank you,” smiled Irima. “I was just about to clean that up. I’ll clean up the biscuit crumbs instead.”
Granny gave another little twist of a finger, and all the coughed up crumbs also disappeared. “Time for a few nicer biscuits,” she said, “before we have to go.” She quickly twiddled the fingers on both hands, and three large plates of biscuits appeared on the table behind the couch. “The chocolate and the strawberry cream biscuits are for us,” she said, “and those nice squidgy brown ones are for Smudge.”
Everybody rushed over and grabbed. Little Smudge sat obediently until Ninester handed him two biscuits, which he ate at once. The others ate fast too, for Granny’s biscuits, whether handmade or magic made, always tasted delicious.
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