Wizard's Guide to Wellington

by A. J. Ponder

  Alec almost choked. “Dangerous? How?” he asked. He’d never really thought of Wellington as “dangerous” before -– but then again, up to this moment he’d never really thought of his family as “normal” either.

  “Well, there was that cave-troll that escaped. Absolute havoc, then-”

  “A what! You’re kidding. There’s no such thing.”

  “Yes, there is! I saw it. Standing right there in Civic Square, bold as brass. Had the council of wizards really shaken, that did – and on top of everything else. There were even some calls to bulldoze the place – the whole of Wellingtowne! Imagine that. But of course it won’t happen because it’s such a fantastic tourist destination – ”

  Alec’s door flew open.

  “Mum! You found Dad?”

  “No, not yet. But it’s all okay. Mrs Bee says your dad’s out of the country for a couple of days on business.

  Alec’s eyes widened. “It’s not like Dad to do that without saying.”

  “No. Some kind of emergency apparently. And there was nobody by the name of Perry or Perrin Kettleson on any flight today. So there’s nothing to worry about.” She smiled. “Come on, hurry up, dinner’s getting cold.”

  “Okay. Just a sec,” Alec said and waited for the door to close before hiding the book under his pillow. “Stay out of sight, you hear,” he said, just before. Molly burst into his room.

  “I saw it, I want it,” she said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Alec tried not to look back as he dragged himself downstairs.

  Molly followed him. “You might not think I can see it. But I can.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Molly. Go away or I’ll steal all your fairy books.”

  Molly glared. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Then leave my books alone – I need to ring Dad. Maybe-”

  “Oh. Mum already has. Lots.” Molly clasped her hands in front of her chin and shook her head. “She says, ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’ Then she rings up again.”

  Alec shook his head. It made no sense. Dad had organised this months ago, in the same precise way he organised everything. He labelled all his tools and hung them against silhouettes he’d drawn for them on the wall. He wrote anything important on card so his Mum wouldn’t forget. He told everyone months before he went anywhere. And he was never late. “Everything in its right place and at the right time,” that was his dad. It might have been boring, except Dad made the smallest thing exciting, as if an adventure was hiding just around the corner.

  Molly burst into tears. “I think Dad’s been stolen,” she said.

  “Dad’s fine,” Alec reassured her.

  In his heart he knew it was a lie.

  TRUTH, LIES AND THE LANDLADY

  Swaying gently and fighting the urge to vomit, Perrin stepped out of the lift. She took a couple of deep breaths, adjusting to the murky light and twinkling floor. Headache-bright spots of light danced on the ceiling; she closed her eyes and they disappeared.

  Not headache spots – Fyreflies. Useful and ecologically friendly, they buzzed about casting their wan light over everything.

  A huge lady in a floral dress glared at her from behind an equally huge wooden desk. “Why are ya here?” she demanded.

  Perrin shuffled nervously under her gaze – it was the kind of look a person might give a puppy dog with some incurable and contagious disease.

  “Er. How much is a room?”

  Her eyebrows ran together in a suspicious line across her forehead. “Ya old enough to be travellin’ on yer own?”

  “I’m, er, ayteen,” Perrin grated, trying to sound older than she was.

  “Yeah, right.” An enormous arm dismissed Perrin with a careless wave.

  “Sixteen?”

  “I’m not believin’ that neither. Go away and don’t go bother’n me again, ya hear?”

  “Please. I really need somewhere to stay,” Perrin said, not liking the way her voice sounded so high and desperate.

  “Fine. Two silvers for the night, and ya c’n have the attic.”

  Perrin swallowed. She’d be broke before a week was out at that rate. Still, it was only one night. Tomorrow she’d find her uncle and see if he’d forgotten about his visitor. Though surely she could get a better deal? “Er, one silver – and that includes breakfast?”

  “All rightee, eh, little ‘un?” The lady positively beamed, even to her eyeballs. “I c’n see yer serious. But a young ‘un like yerself shouldn’t be wanderin’ round Wellingtownee all by yer lonesome. I mean, here it’s very different from Londontowne. There’s magic everywhere here – and it’s very volatile.”

  “I’m not a baby. I can handle it.”

  One eyebrow flew up, “Ya think so, girl? So tell me – “ her voice grew harder and her eyes lost their twinkle, turning glassy and compelling “ – who ya running away from?”

  Perrin glared at her. “You don’t need to resort to such underhanded tricks. My uncle should have picked me up from the airport but he must have forgotten or...or something.” She didn’t much want to think about possible alternatives; relatives coerced into the job of Christmas-holiday babysitting were usually unpleasant.

  “Anyway, I need somewhere to hole up for the night. I’ll find him in the morning,” Perrin added with a great deal more certainty than she felt.

  The landlady frowned. “That the case, eh? You wouldn’t lie to me now, would you?”

  Perrin shook her head.

  “Well then, hand over that silver piece and you c’n stay the night, and maybe even a couple more if you have to, eh? But if your uncle doesn’t turn up after that I’m putting ya back on the plane me-self, ya hear?”

  Perrin nodded. Mostly because the lady reminded Perrin of her grandmother, and harsh experience with her had taught her that nodding was the safest option – unless she wanted to go around for a week with a very bad case of boils.

  “All rightee then, here’s yer key.” The Sticke Tracke lady sighed to illustrate how soft-hearted she was being and waved in the direction of the stairs. “Top floor, right up in the attic. It’s cheap because it has ghosts, but you won’t mind that, will you? They’re pretty harmless.”

  Perrin nodded again – for luck – handed over the money, and fled up the rickety stairs.

  THE DEATH OF A LEGEND

  Alec tossed and turned in a shallow sleep. His dream-fingers touched walls running with condensation. The whole place reeked of stagnant water.

  At the back of his mind he could hear someone asking the same question over and over.

  Thud.

  “Who were you picking up...”

  Thud, thud. The strange, almost watery noise pounded through his skull.

  “...from the airport? Who was it?”

  Thud.

  “Who-”

  He tried to ignore the question, but the thud-thud echoed through his ears and into his eyeballs like a heartbeat.

  §

  “Wake up.”

  §

  Ike’s familiar voice entered the dream and receded, leaving Alec damp and frightened – and still trapped deep underneath the ground.

  §

  “Wake up!”

  §

  Alec sat up gasping for breath, heart racing. The steady thud, thud, from his dream soon swallowed up by the wind in the trees, the odd passing car, and the gentle hum of the dehumidifier.

  A nightmare, nothing more. Settling back down on his pillow, Alec bumped his head against something. A small scream caught in his throat as a cat-green eye blinked open.

  “Shh. What time do you think this is?” the book grumped.

  Thud. Alec swallowed as the noise returned, his throat dryer than sandpaper. Thud. “Do you hear something?” he whispered.

  “No! Shut up and go to sleep.”

  “Good idea,” Alec said sarcastically. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do.” He lay back down on his pillow and shut his eyes, but falling asleep was like being smothered in layers of
rock

  §

  His bed plummeted, down, down, down...

  §

  He jerked and bolted upright again. “Ike!”

  The book began to glow. “Well, that’s torn it, that has. No going back to sleep now. What is it, lad?”

  “There was...darkness. Not like this – absolute darkness. And a sound. Like the crash of the tide against a rock, or an enormous heartbeat.”

  Ike shivered, his cover speckling in tiny goose-bumps.

  “I think it’s just because I’m worried about my father,” Alec added.

  “Hmmm. He’s disappeared, hasn’t he? You know, I can trace any magician as long as they’re in Wellingtowne too. What’s his name?”

  “Peter Kettleson.”

  “No, I’m not getting anyone by Kettleson. Where does he work?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Alec said, desperate to change the topic away from wizards, and most especially his father’s failure to show up as one. “He’s probably on one of his trips out of town.”

  “Good. Truth is, I always feel a little fluttery when I’m in Miramar. Maybe you’re just picking up on that.”

  “Huh?” Alec frowned. “What’s wrong with Miramar?”

  “What do you mean, what’s wrong with Miramar? You have heard about Maui and how he raised the North Island?”

  “I guess. But it’s just a legend, a story.”

  “Humans. Memory span of flies. Still, some things are lost even to me. It all happened so long ago not even the oldest bookes can truly remember it. But here goes.”

  Ike paused, rustling his pages importantly.

  “In the beginning, the world was not as it is now. People were greater, their deeds mightier and the two worlds – the magical world and the everyday world – were still united.

  “In this time Maui the Trickster, hid in his brothers’ canoe. When the canoe was swept far out to sea Maui calmly put down his fishing line and caught the enormous fish known as Te-Ika-a-Maui, or the North Island. This fish of Maui’s was so special he left his brothers and went back out to the ocean to give thanks for the blessing. While he was gone, Maui’s jealous brothers decided to divide the catch between them, hacking at it until they had created the North Island landscape of rugged mountains and valleys.

  §

  “Um,” Alec interrupted. “My grandfather has a better version. He-”

  “Ah, young whippersnapper my story might not be perfect, but I was getting to the good bit – the part where everybody realises that inside the greate fish’s mouth are two taniwha. Do you want to hear that or not?”

  Alec nodded.

  §

  As Maui brought the greate fish to the surface, two colossal taniwha, Ngake and Whaitaitai, were caught in the lake formed by the fish’s mouth. Desperately they thrashed about trying to free themselves from this unexpected trap. In one terrible leap Ngake smashed free, creating a dangerous path of snaggletooth rocks and rough waters that is now the entrance to the harbour.

  Too late Whaitaitai tried to follow but the retreating tide left him stranded upon the rocks.

  Maui’s brothers were eventually rescued, but Whaitaitai remained there, living for centuries as an island in the harbour, and revived by the tide as it washed in and out. The ground shook with his every struggle to free himself, until at last, after one last mighty heave, Whaitaitai died, stranded.

  No longer an island Whaitaitai’s body became part of Miramar peninsula, and his soul, Te Keo, flew off in the form of a bird and settled on a nearby hill to weep. In remembrance the hill was called Tangi te Keo. Of course it’s better known, by young ‘uns such as yourself, as Mount Victoria.”

  §

  “But,” Alec protested, “it’s not even true. It’s just a legend, a story.”

  “Who told you that, boy?”

  “Nobody. Everybody,” Alec said, turning away.

  “I guess that makes sense,” Ike said cheerily. “I mean, who would live here if they thought the peninsula might get up and just swim away?”

  “Well...no...perhaps. But even if the story was true – ”

  “Which it is...mostly.”

  Alec thought for a moment. “Even if it is true, one taniwha swam away and the other is long dead. So we’re safe, aren’t we?”

  “Creatures like taniwha...well, it takes a lot for them to die, as such. And then, if the time is right, sometimes they can be brought back to life.”

  “But that’s not likely to happen.”

  “True. But we should always be on our guard because, believe me, the last thing anyone wants is a live taniwha underfoot.”

  Alec chewed his lip. Right now he could think of worse things than a live taniwha underfoot. His nightmare was more like being trapped near the very heart of the beast.

  Ike lifted an eyebrow. “Hmm, not easily distracted, I see.”

  “It’s just that the taniwha was caught up in my dream as if...as if I was trapped inside it, and then I heard the heartbeat... What if Dad’s in trouble?”

  “What? No. I’m sure he’s fine, boy. Now go to sleep.”

  “But we should...”

  “Young whippersnapper, I’m tired.”

  “But...but there’s a taniwha right here and you said it isn’t properly dead.”

  “We’re all perfectly safe so long as nobody tries to reunite Whaitaitai with its soul. And of course no sane wizard would ever try; it would be like trying to hold the sun in your hands.”

  “So the heartbeat might not be a dream?”

  “Whippersnapper, more likely you are just sensitive to the echoes of the past. Your house does lie over the taniwha’s heart.”

  “My house – what?”

  “Lies right over the heart of Whaitaitai. Every beast has a heart.”

  “Oh. So if someone tries to wake it, we’re in big trouble.”

  “That someone would have to be very powerful, very evil, and very, very stupid. Try not to worry over such unlikely things.”

  “Ike, what if it is true? Who should I tell? And would they believe me? Who will stop the taniwha if I’m the only one who knows?”

  “If you are the only one, then you have answered your own question. There is nobody else.”

  “But I’m just a boy.”

  “Just a boy?” Ike snapped.

  Alec closed his eyes. His father always said it was best to tell the truth. “I lied. I’m not a wizard at all, and neither is my father – he’s just an accountant.”

  Ike huffed. “An accountant?”

  “Yeah, he works for the AMO. That’s an accountancy firm in Wellington.”

  “Hah!” The book laughed, dry and rustly like autumn leaves. “The Accountancy MO is about as magical as you can get.”

  “What!?”

  “Hmmm. Your father must work on balancing the magical fluctuations in Wellingtowne. And you say he’s disappeared? Young whippersnapper, I’m afraid you might be right about that taniwha.”

  BAD MEN

  Crash!

  “Shhh!

  “But Mummy.”

  “Oh, okay Freddie.”

  Perrin’s eyes flew open.

  A white shadow danced on the wall opposite the bed. “Woo-ooh. Wooo-oooh.”

  “Zorching ghosts,” Perrin moaned. “Just shut up and let me sleep, will you?”

  “You could at least pretend to be scared,” groaned the little shadow.

  “You could at least let me get some sleep first. I promise I’ll be proper terrified closer to morning.”

  Another ghost flickered into view, her fuzzy halo highlighting the stitching on her old-fashioned nightie. “That’s exactly what I told Freddy. I said, ‘Don’t bother the nice lady until morning,’ and he’s been terribly quiet all night.”

  Perrin blinked, “Freddy?”

  “Boo.” The sound of childish laughter echoed around the room as the ghost winked in and out of sight. “Boo.”

  “Time to go now, Freddy.”

  “But I didn’t t
ell her...”

  “Tell her what?” Perrin asked.

  The light swam closer. She could almost make out the chubby face and feel his cherubic little hand cupped to her ear. “Bad men watch you.”

  The presence withdrew, his hand reaching out to clutch the other ghost. “I’m scared, Mummy,” he whispered.

  Then with the last traces of light they fled.

  Perrin’s heart hammered in her chest. Ghosts were bad enough, even if they were pretty harmless, but something that frightened ghosts – now that was something she did not want to tangle with. Maybe the little ghost had simply found a new way to frighten people. Perrin didn’t really think so though. If the ghosts were really that unpleasant the Sticke Tracke lady would have got rid of them by now – or just sealed up the room. She closed her eyes but couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning on the mattress that suddenly felt as if it were filled with dried peas.

  Bad men, he’d said, but who could he mean? Nobody she knew, surely. And then she remembered the wizard at the airport, and she sat up.

  Since she’d arrived she’d lost her guidebook, realised her uncle was missing, and now there were supposed to be bad men watching her. Whatever for?

  She sighed. “Ike, where are you?” she called, just on the off-chance. Nothing.

  “Zorching book! Where are you?”

  The short answer to that was, anywhere. Some of the old wizarding books had overdeveloped personalities. A few even got so eccentric they had to be kept on anti-magical chains so they didn’t fly off and create mischief.

  But there was also the small chance – it was silly, really, and Perrin felt stupid even considering it – that Ike was one of those remarkable books designed to be guides for the rare talent among the non-magical community. The last case of such a book finding a talented youngster had happened over a hundred years ago and had ended badly when the young ‘zid spontaneously combusted after threatening his best friend with a fireball.

  Even so, there had been a boy at the airport reading a guidebook and leaking magic all over the place. What if it wasn’t just some bungling wizard boy? What if he was a normal boy? A normal boy – with her guide?