Wizard's Guide to Wellington

by A. J. Ponder

  Then the boy would be in danger. A lot of danger.

  Perrin told herself it was silly to worry. It was much more likely the book had been dropped – or was hiding somewhere, all indignant because she hadn’t been polite enough.

  She took some salt from her bag and tried a spell to locate lost objects, but no matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t seem to get it right. She could find the cake of soap in the drawer. She could find her toothbrush – when she threw it and closed her eyes her fingers tingled until she picked it up – but as for the book... nothing. Not even the slightest prickle to show where it might be.

  “Zorch! And double zorch.” Perrin collapsed back onto the bed in disgust. Now she was not only dead tired, but completely zonked from all the spells. Still, when the delicious smell of fried huhu grubs crept up the stairs she perked up, grabbed her bag and raced down to breakfast.

  In the kitchen, pots and pans simmered and bubbled away, cramming every inch of the top of the old wood burner. The landlady idly flicked her fingers at the stovetop. “Breakfast’s up,” she said without looking up from her Wizarde’s Weekely magazine. “Serve yerself.”

  Perrin looked over the table. Quail eggs in marmalade sauce, rose-petal soup, roast slug, and of course the real delicacy, fried huhu grubs and oyster sauce. Perfection.

  She bolted down two helpings of everything before screwing up her courage to ask the landlady a question.

  “Um, excuse me. Where’s the closest supply shop?”

  “Cuba Mall. That’s just to the north of here, and then you’ll need to follow the signs on the bucket fountain. Now don’t worry if ya get turned around a couple of times – some of the magical shops are very jumpy.”

  Perrin nodded solemnly, although jumping shops seemed very old-fashioned. Something that happened before people figured out how to stabilise the M-quantum flux.

  “And the local AMO?”

  “The what? Oh, the Accountancy of Magic Office. Yeah, it’s with all the other MOs. Take yer broom an’ fly above this street we’re on now, then hang a right when yer get to the council buildings.”

  “Thanks.” Perrin swung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the lifts.

  “No, no, young uns like yerself should stretch their legs a bit. Go on, the balcony’s that way. But do be careful – this isn’t Londontowne.”

  Great, thought Perrin, meekly stepping out onto the balcony. This ain’t London. I’d never have guessed.

  The door swung shut behind her, leaving her stranded on the tiniest ledge. As she struggled to get her broom out of her bag in the cramped space a piece of plaster flaked off the wall and fell, tumbling end over end, to shatter on the ground below.

  Nervously she tested her broomstick, because like most of the older models it didn’t much like working during the day and could sometimes be a bit temperamental. That wasn’t something she wanted to find out after she’d stepped off the high balcony.

  The broom lurched a little, but otherwise seemed okay – until she hopped on and the broomstick hiccupped and stalled. “Come on,” she said patting it. “Come on!” It juddered and bucked as if it were distressed, and then just as she could see herself plummeting to her death it started behaving.

  “Good Broom,” Perrin said, patting it some more, and doing her best to think nice thoughts so as not to upset it further. “See, it ain’t so bad. We’ll be there soon, and the weather’s nice.” To prove her point the wind rushed past pleasantly, chattily informing her about the weather it had planned for the day.

  “Sun, rain, a bit of a gale – sounds like you’re mixing it up a bit,” she replied. “Hail too? Really? Any minute now?” I don’t suppose you could change your mind?”

  “Maybe,” the wind replied, laughing as it rushed by. Perrin sighed and headed over to the AMO trying her best to think nice thoughts about the weather, her temperamental broomstick and her delinquent uncle. Surely she would find him soon. She had to.

  CRAZY

  Alec woke to someone yelling in his ear. “Hey! You younglings really sleep in, don’t you? I’ve been sitting here rustling for hours.”

  “Huh?” Alec fought off his bedclothes and sat up.

  The book grinned, or at least the face peering out of it did. “Good morning.”

  Alec looked at it and blinked. The picture on the cover had changed. It was still Wellington, but sunlight was streaming out of a powder blue sky and dancing on the water.

  “Good morning,” the book repeated.

  Alec took another moment. He needed to review the facts – or at least the facts as he remembered them from yesterday. The book thought it was magical and his father was who knew where, and possibly in danger from wizards and taniwhas and legends. Or, more likely he was going crazy. Morningitis, or some other horrible disease that made you remember things that weren’t true.

  “Come on,” Ike growled. “Let’s get going. You had plans for today, remember?”

  “I remember,” Alec said. And he did, he remembered more than he wanted to, including his nightmare. The thud of the heartbeat, the stifling dankness of the dream, and for a moment the fear he’d felt in the night returned. He told himself it was crazy, that he should probably see a doctor or something. That at the very least he should leave the book behind and stop worrying.

  Instead he grabbed Ike and trooped downstairs – because if there was even a tiny chance his father was in trouble then he had no choice but to try and do something about it.

  §

  “Morning,” his mother said, barely looking up from her cornflakes.

  “Mum, we’ve got to go to Dad’s house today.”

  She pursed her lips. “No.”

  “But what if he’s sick, or...Mum, we have to do something!”

  “Alec, give it a rest.”

  “But, Mum...”

  “No.”

  “Just the tiniest look around?”

  “No,” she said in a tone that could clip feathers. “I’m not going to take you, and that’s my final decision. Molly and I are going out.”

  “But what about Dad?”

  She fumbled in her handbag. “You can’t think everything is a crisis, Alec. He’s an adult. He’ll be fine. Now here’s a house key – but I don’t want any of your mates to know you have it, and I certainly don’t want any of them in my house while we’re out. You got that?”

  Alec shook his head, “But it’s not fair! You’re running off and-”

  “No, it’s not fair,” Molly agreed. “He got a book yesterday and I didn’t.”

  “What book? Be quiet, Molly!” Mum took a deep breath. “And Alec, – look, just take the key will you? We’re already late.”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  She scowled. “You know, you could always come to the Fairyland party with us.”

  Alec recoiled. That wasn’t so much an invitation as a threat, and both of them knew it. “Maybe some other time,” he said insincerely.

  “Phew,” Molly said in a rush of breath and started running around the room. “Yay, Fairyland. Come on, Mum, I’ve been waiting for hours. And when we get there can you get me a talking book too? One about fairies.” She tugged Mum’s arm.

  “We won’t be long.” Mum reached for the door handle. “Just a couple of hours. Why don’t you go out too? If your father rings he can leave a message on the answer phone. Goodness knows I’ve left enough on his.”

  “Fine,” Alec said.

  “And take your cell-phone,” she said, hurrying outside.

  The door had barely banged behind her before Ike began talking. “We should catch the ferry. It’ll fly us over quick as a wink.”

  “Fly? Ferries don’t fly.”

  “No, but Fairy boats do. Come on, are we going?”

  It wasn’t much of a choice – he either had to fly over Wellington Harbour and find a father who might be in terrible danger, or admit he had truly gone insane.

  “We are going, aren’t we?” Ike prompted.

  �
�You betcha,” Alec said.

  CAUGHT AT THE AMO

  Perrin flew over moulded brass waves and past fountains and pools where mermaids frolicked in the water. It seemed such a pleasant distraction she almost stopped. Then a shadow sliced through the water. She blinked and it was gone – and so were the mermaids.

  She looked around. Whatever that had been, it must have been dangerous to scare them all away like that. Even the courtyard was empty, apart from an officious looking sign. “Did you see that?” she asked.

  The sign didn’t answer, so Perrin flew a little closer. “BEEDLEY-BEEDLEY-BEEP!!”

  She almost fell off her broomstick. Stupid sign. What did it think it was doing with that ridiculous sound effect? “NO LOITERING. PLEASE READ THE SIGN AND TOUCH THE APPROPRIATE MO FOR DIRECTIONS OR MOVE AWAY.”

  Perrin reached her hand out through the clammy fog. As she touched “AMO” a thin blue line zagged around her, lighting the way to a small wooden balcony on a whitish-grey building.

  All very straightforward, until her broomstick swerved through the invisible line and she was caught in a headlong careen towards the balcony.

  Just before she crashed into the blue-grey door she pulled up, and tumbled onto the landing.

  Tacked to the door was an old piece of parchment.

  Not wanting to take that risk Perrin held onto her stick tightly, dusted herself off, and knocked at the door.

  It creaked open.

  “Hello?” she said, peering into the darkness, until she heard a small cough and looked down.

  A gnome occupied the lower half of the doorway, and glared at her through several miles of beard.

  Perrin smiled nervously. “Er, does a Mr. Kettleson work here?”

  “Oi can’t say he does.” The gnome flicked a glance over his shoulder.

  Scratching her head, Perrin tried to size up the stocky figure. His answer didn’t mean yes, and it didn’t mean no. “Surely you can say one way or the other? It’s just – I’ve come a long way to see him.”

  “Have you, now?”

  “Yes, he’s my uncle.”

  “Now, what would it be that yerrr want? Och, Oi know, an ancient evil is comin’, an’ only you an’ all the wizards of the coterrie c’n save us now, except yer need this Mistarr Kettleson’s help. And if Oi find ‘im for yer, then yoi’ll rreward me with morre gold pieces than Oi’ve seen in my loifetime.”

  “Er, no. I haven’t heard of any ancient evil, and I’m not exactly loaded with money either – but...ah... So he does work here, then?”

  “Actually, ‘e disappearred yesterrdee evernin’, so you don’ ‘ave to trry and torrturr me ferr information orr anythin’. ‘Cause Oi don’ know wherre ‘e is, and therre ain’t no findin’ spell doin’ a dam’ thing ter figurre out wherre ‘e’s ‘idin’. Heaven knows we’ve all trried. Now go away and come back lat’rr; if Oi don’t get my two lumps of sugarr ferr morrning tea – “ he winked “ – Oi’m not rreally meself.”

  Perrin stood there, holding her broomstick tighter than ever. Had the guy winked? Morning tea? Sugar? “Oh,” she said. “Er...I...”

  The gnome looked around nervously as if he expected to be snatched from the sky at any moment.

  “It’s just that I’d hoped...and he was supposed to pick me up yesterday. Is he in some kind of trouble?”

  As if on cue a black-robed wizard with a salt-and-pepper beard burst through into the corridor. “So, Noah, who’s this?” he asked, pulling stray bits of beard from his mouth.

  “Just a little girl, Ian, that’s all,” the gnome replied.

  Perrin frowned. Hadn’t her father once said that if a gnome ever spoke properly it was a sign of nerves? Or was that pixies? She couldn’t remember.

  The wizard pushed past the cringing gnome in a flurry of shadowy robes, smiling toothily. He held out an eager hand. “I’m the Magicom here, so why don’t you come on in and let me sort this all out?”

  Perrin inched backwards. She didn’t like the empty smile, or the man’s cold hard eyes, black and birdlike above it. As she retreated to the edge of the balcony the Magicom lost his smile. Quick as a bird he lunged at her, seizing her left hand in an iron grip.

  LEAP OF FAITH

  “Alec, Can’t you bikkle faster?” Ike yelled. “We’re going to be late.”

  “I’m bikkling...I’m cycling as fast as I can,” Alec yelled back. “Look, we’re almost there.”

  “A broomstick would be so much faster,” Ike sighed.

  Alec ignored that as he pulled up at the wharf. “Do you think I’m too late?” he asked, peering out to sea.

  Ike’s face sprang out and grinned at Alec.

  Alec flinched. “Don’t do that.”

  “It’ll arrive any second now. You ready for the jump?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Hmm. You can swim, can’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “You have checked there are no logs in the water? That it is clear to the bottom? I do not want you breaking a leg, boy.”

  “You keep talking like I’m going to fall in. It’s not helping, you know.” Alec grimaced and looked down. The water was deep and clear.

  “Safety first, that’s my motto. Young wizard once missed the Fairy. Awful mess. Wouldn’t want anything like that happening to you.”

  “Again, not helping,” Alec said, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon.

  “There it is,” said Ike.

  Alec squinted. A pinkish cloud in the distance was moving towards them at high speed. As it got closer it looked more and more like an old-fashioned sailing ship – a ship that was charging so fast it couldn’t possibly stop in time.

  “Quick! Jump!” the book commanded.

  “What?”

  “Now or you will miss it.”

  “But my bike?”

  “Bring it with you. Hurry.”

  The flying boat was already sweeping around. It began to pull away again.

  “Now!” Ike insisted and Alec jumped. But as he felt the rush of air all around him the Fairy disappeared.

  Alec closed his eyes and held his breath, instinctively letting go of his bike and bracing himself for the cold water.

  Suddenly the craft was there after all, the surface both hard and soft as it gripped his feet almost up to the ankles – then disgorged him like a cat with a hairball.

  He rolled across the deck.

  Before he could even pick himself up and examine his lack of serious injuries with surprise, a dreadful wail assaulted his ears. It came from a strange lady, her face obscured beneath straggles of thinning brown hair and her tattered seaweed-green dress revealing patches of scales on otherwise wrinkly grey skin.

  “Don’t they teach young ‘zids anything these days? Almost landed right on top of me, you did. Look!” she pointed. “Poor Esmeralda is in such a fury.”

  Alec turned to see a tiny black cat hissing and spitting at him from under a pink-cushioned chair, all raised hackles and fury.

  “Poor little kitty,” the lady cooed, rushing over and grabbing at the cat who sank even further behind the chair, then flicked out its claws to draw three drops of blood shining bright blue in the sun.

  Sure he was dreaming, Alec pinched himself a couple of times.

  It hurt.

  “You!” the woman shrieked, cradling her injured hand. “This is your fault.”

  She turned to face the growing audience, an odd collection humans of all sizes, shapes and wing dimensions who sat around watching her performance as if it were a show they’d paid to see. “Nearly fell right on top of me, he did.” Her voice rose to an ear-shattering crescendo, her face actually turning a rather vivid shade of purple. “Upsets my cat, and doesn’t even say a word of sorry!”

  Alec found the courage to blurt out, “I’m sorry. I’m...ah...a bit new to...”

  The purple started to fade and the lady softened...melted – like a reflection in a pool finding its true form after it’s been ruffled by a stone. In moments
she was almost unrecognisable. Her flaxen hair shone, her eyes twinkled blue as deep mountain lakes under clear skies, her pink tongue darted over her newly reddened lips, and her skin transformed to a smooth, milky white. “Well, that’s all right, so long as you’ve got your manners. I’m Milly.”

  “Ahem,” the book said, rustling its pages importantly. “The young ‘zid may be new to all this, but I’m looking after him. No need to try it on, Siren.”

  “Fine,” she grumped and sat down. But although her visage rippled it stayed just as beautiful as before.

  “Meow.” The cat crept out from under the chair and twined itself around Milly’s legs.

  “There, there, Esme-dahrling,” she said, lifting it onto her shoulders.

  The Siren stood up and strode to the gangway. “Another time then, dahrling boy, this is my stop.” She jumped lightly off onto the wharf’s boards where she paused and turned, and as if on mere whim alone, tossed back her golden hair and asked with a pout worthy of a supermodel, “You sure you don’t want to get out here too?”

  “No,” Ike said.

  Alec looked wistfully at the heart of the Wellington waterfront. Boats were sailing, broomsticks were flying, it looked like an awful lot of fun – but Ike obviously didn’t trust this strange lady, and besides he had something more important to do. “No,” he said with a sad shake of his head.

  Milly pouted a little more and waved goodbye. Alec soon lost sight of her and all the other strange people flocking the pier as the craft sped away to Eastbourne, Ike muttering furiously, “That Siren is the most dangerous, duplicitous...”

  It felt a strange carrying around a complaining book, but then nothing on this craft was exactly ordinary. The wind teasing his hair did not seem like the usual random gusts, they were...teasing. And the people were somehow far more odd than a talking book. Large and small, they had strange numbers of limbs, odd fashions and unusual skin, often with swirling rainbow-coloured tattoos. It was hard not to stare.