The King selected an apple from a nearby fruit bowl and began to munch and think. Blart, Capablanca, Beo and Uther watched and waited. The King became somewhat self-conscious about eating with so many people staring at him and turned away.
Finally, King Philidor swallowed his last bite of apple and discarded the core.
‘Steward!’ he shouted.
The King’s steward, who had been waiting at the door, entered the throne room.
‘Your Majesty?’
‘Send a message to the Grand Alliance,’ commanded the King. ‘Tell them that I will hand over those they seek in a week.’
The search for Zoltab was on once more.
Chapter 20
It was agreed that Capablanca and Blart were the two people best placed to explain the situation to Princess Lois.
They found her sitting on a terrace outside the palace, where she was amusing herself by spinning a large key on her finger.
‘Go away,’ she said when she saw them approaching.
Capablanca shook his head.
‘We cannot go, Princess, for we need your help most urgently. The future of us all is at stake.’
Princess Lois yawned.
‘Listen,’ said Capablanca and as briefly as possible he explained the dire situation that they faced. ‘I must ask you to think back deeply into your memory and tell me whether you have any clue as to where I might have imprisoned Zoltab.’
Princess Lois considered Capablanca’s request.
‘I’ll help you if you help me.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.
‘I don’t want to get married,’ said Princess Lois.
The wizard, who had feared some difficult assignment, was delighted by the surprising ease of the task the Princess had given him.
‘You don’t have to,’ he responded with alacrity. ‘The King and Queen are adamant that you will only marry when you freely give your consent.’
‘I haven’t finished yet,’ continued the Princess. ‘Not only do I not want to get married, I do not wish to be repeatedly courted. I have had to put up with a pathetic stream of soppy boys all telling me how pretty my eyes are and how sweet my smile is and how fair my face is –’
‘But your face isn’t fair,’ interrupted Blart. ‘You’ve got freckles.’
‘I know I’ve got freckles, weasel-features,’ said the Princess. ‘I happen to like them. But the blubbering fools whom my parents want me to marry think that a girl is only happy when her face is as white and boring as a piece of paper, so they lie to me.’
‘I think it’s called a compliment,’ corrected Capablanca.
‘I hate it. If you can get rid of all these suitors then I will help you, and until you do I won’t.’
With that the Princess turned her back and continued to twirl the large key on her finger.
Capablanca sighed.
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
The wizard shuffled into the palace, shaking his head.
Blart and Princess Lois looked at each other.
‘Let me tell you some interesting things about pigs,’ began Blart.
Fifty-three interesting things about pigs later, the wizard returned. He had spoken to the King and Queen and found a way of bringing the wooing to an end forthwith. The Queen accompanied him to explain this new development to the current contender for her hand. She was surprised not to see him in attendance.
‘Princess Lois,’ she demanded. ‘Pray tell me, where is Anatoly the Handsome?’
‘I don’t know,’ shrugged the Princess.
‘Why isn’t he here taking advantage of the romantic setting to liken your complexion to the roses that bloom all around?’
The Princess shrugged again.
‘This is most unusual,’ said the Queen. ‘I am always loath to criticise anyone but the young man assured me that he would spend all morning courting you and now he’s not … Lois, what are you doing with that key?’
‘Oh, the key,’ said the Princess, who seemed to notice it for the first time. ‘Nothing.’
For those who have never visited Illyria it may be appropriate at this juncture to explain why seeing a key in the possession of the Princess had so piqued the interest of the Queen. It was because the Illyrians, as well as being the happiest and the most generous, are also the most trusting people in the world and they do not have locks on any of their doors. The one exception to this is the great diamond-encrusted tower that stands in the centre of the city of Elysium. Because this tower contained the map that revealed the whereabouts of the Great Tunnel of Despair where Zoltab had originally been imprisoned, it had been granted a door with a key. The only key in Illyria. Which for some reason the Princess now held in her hand.
‘Lois,’ said the Queen. ‘Is it possible that you have somehow managed to trick Anatoly the Handsome into entering the Great Tower of Elysium and then locked him in?’
‘It’s possible,’ conceded the Princess nonchalantly.
‘Please hand over the key,’ said the Queen. ‘Why, if it were to get about that a visitor to Illyria was locked up in a tower the shame would be unendurable.’
‘I could endure it,’ said the Princess.
‘So could I,’ said Blart.
‘Nobody asked you, stoat-face,’ said the Princess.
The Queen took the opportunity provided by Blart’s distraction to deftly slip the large key off the Princess’s finger. She immediately disappeared to liberate Princess Lois’s unfortunate suitor.
‘Princess,’ said Capablanca urgently as soon as the Queen was out of earshot. ‘I have spoken to your father, the King, and he has agreed that wooing is cancelled forthwith. Now, did I give you any clue of where I imprisoned Zoltab? Any clue at all?’
The Princess thought hard.
‘No,’ she said.
‘Zounds,’ cursed Capablanca. ‘You were our last hope, the last of the original questors who captured Zoltab. If you do not know then our chances of finding him are nil and we are all doomed.’
‘She isn’t the last questor,’ said Blart.
‘Of course she’s the last questor,’ said Capablanca. ‘Unless you mean Tungsten the Dwarf, who died in the Terrorsium a year ago and is therefore no use at all. Not that we don’t miss him, obviously,’ he added lamely.
The Princess stood up.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Capablanca.
‘I cannot help you,’ said the Princess. ‘And now I don’t have any suitors to follow me round, I’m going out.’
‘Ah,’ said Capablanca awkwardly. ‘Perhaps I should tell you that the wooing was cancelled because I informed the King and Queen that you are the only person who knows the location of Zoltab’s prison and if you do not accompany us then we will be unable to find him and prove ourselves innocent of the charge of being Zoltab’s allies and save the country of Illyria in the process.’
‘But I don’t know where Zoltab is,’ said the Princess.
‘If you were to admit that,’ said the wizard, ‘then the wooing would start once more. The only way for you to remain unwooed is to accompany us on our quest.’
‘But I can’t help,’ said the Princess.
‘Neither can I,’ said Blart, ‘but I’ve got to go.’
‘You must come, Princess,’ urged Capablanca. ‘Fate and Destiny seem determined to reunite all of us and we must assume that they are doing so for a reason. And if you don’t come you’ll soon be being wooed again.’
Princess Lois stood for a moment weighing up her options.
‘I suppose I’ll come, then,’ she said finally.
‘Good,’ said Capablanca.
Blart took the opportunity to say, ‘It wasn’t Tungsten I was talking about when I said the Princess was the last questor. I was going to say …’
At that moment Anatoly the Handsome appeared on the terrace. He was tall and he was dark. He had soulful eyes and a sensitive mouth. He had a fine brow on top of which sat a fine head of elegantly tousled
hair. He had a noble bearing and an attitude of relaxed confidence.
‘My beautiful Princess,’ began Anatoly plaintively, ‘some cruel force has recently separated us and each second we have spent apart has seemed like a minute, each minute has seemed like an hour …’
The Princess raised her eyes in suffering.
‘But what is worse,’ continued Anatoly, ‘I hear that you no longer wish to receive my suit. This can be no more than natural modesty, which must for decorum’s sake pretend to rebuff my ardour.’
‘I’m not pretending,’ the Princess assured him.
‘But,’ continued Anatoly, ‘is it not sweeter to taste a pear which has dangled for a while tantalisingly out of reach than to pick one which lies on the ground available to all?’
The Princess’s brown eyes gleamed with fury.
‘You’d better not be comparing me to fruit,’ she warned.
Oblivious to the warning signs, Anatoly rushed forward and knelt at her feet.
‘But I must compare thee to fruit,’ he protested, ‘for you are sweet and smooth and full of nature’s bounty. And if it would not make you blush let me say that like the juiciest of fruit you are ripe for the picking.’
Princess Lois stared down at Anatoly.
‘It won’t make me blush,’ she told him. ‘But it might make me hit you.’
‘A hit from your ruby red lips is all I desire,’ said Anatoly, closing his eyes and puckering his own mouth in expectation.
A moment later Anatoly lay flat on his back and his nose, that was neither too big nor too small, too wide nor too thin, was pouring with blood.
‘Lois!’
The King and Queen appeared on the terrace just as their daughter was admiring her handiwork.
‘Assaulting your suitor is against all Illyrian tradition,’ the King told her.
‘She’s merely playing hard to get,’ said Anatoly the Handsome as he applied a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.
‘She’s playing it well,’ said Blart.
Fearing a prolonged argument, Capablanca butted in. ‘As soon as the Princess departs on our quest these unIllyrian displays will cease.’
‘But I’ll miss her,’ said Anatoly the Handsome, dropping a blood-sodden handkerchief on to the terrace.
‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ counselled the Queen.
‘Has anyone a spare handkerchief?’ asked the bleeding suitor. ‘Mine is full of blood and all I have to staunch my wounds is this piece of parchment that I picked up in the tower.’
From his pocket Anatoly pulled a piece of parchment and made to wipe his nose with it.
‘Stop!’ ordered Capablanca.
‘But I’m bleeding,’ protested Anatoly.
‘Any parchment that was found in the Great Tower of Elysium must have enormous significance,’ Capablanca told him. ‘Hand it to me immediately.’
Anatoly handed over the parchment.
‘Aha!’ said Capablanca. ‘Just as I thought. There is writing upon it.’
‘What does it say?’ asked the King.
‘It is written in an ancient language,’ explained Capablanca with a rueful shake of his head, ‘which only the most educated and intelligent people in the world would be able to understand.’
‘So you don’t know what it says?’ asked the Queen.
‘It so happens I can read it,’ he said reproachfully. ‘But you must wait a moment whilst I decipher it.’
Everybody dutifully waited a moment.
‘I have it!’ exclaimed Capablanca, and slowly he began to read:
‘There will come a time when friends are enemies and enemies are friends
When Zoltab, twice imprisoned, may once more be freed
To destroy the world or be defeated
By the hand of the husband of his betrothed.’
Capablanca looked up.
‘What does it mean?’ asked the King.
‘Not all of it is clear even to a great prophecy reader like myself,’ said Capablanca. ‘“The husband of his betrothed”, for example, is a most unusual phrase. It would suggest that Zoltab can only defeat himself.’
‘That means he doesn’t understand,’ translated Blart, jabbing a thumb at the wizard.
Capablanca gave Blart yet another in a long series of threatening looks, none of which had any effect on him.
‘But what is clear is that it is foretold that Zoltab will be freed again,’ explained Capablanca with much concern in his voice. ‘Last time he was freed he was determined to destroy the world. We prevented that on our last quest. But if he were to escape again then things would undoubtedly be worse.’
‘Worse?’ repeated the King and Queen.
‘Undoubtedly,’ said Capablanca. ‘This time he’d be angry.’
The terrace was reduced to a fearful silence as they all wondered how terrible the return of Zoltab would be.
Anatoly the Handsome had never heard of Zoltab, so he broke the fearful silence first.
‘Princess,’ he said, wiping away the last of the blood from his nose. ‘Now I have been fortunate enough to have received your fist may I one day hope to gain your hand?’
‘The only thing you’ll gain from my hand is a slap,’ snapped the Princess.
The Queen put her hands over her ears.
The King sighed and muttered that a challenging journey might be just what the Princess’s baffling attitude was in need of.
Early next morning, before the dawn had broken, the Princess rode out of Illyria alongside Blart, Capablanca, Uther and Beo. All the questors were reunited. Or were they? Had not Blart said that there was a questor missing? But what did Blart know? He was nothing but a pig boy. Surely he could not be right and Capablanca wrong?
Chapter 21
The sun rose as they crossed the north-eastern border of Illyria. The questors felt the rays of the distant golden orb pierce their cold bones and give them a sense of new purpose and hope.
Then it started raining.
They reached a crossroads. Capablanca held up his hand.
‘Look carefully around you,’ he said. ‘For we must surely have passed this set of crossroads on our way back to Illyria from the dread land of the Terrorsium. Concentrate hard. Any brief flash of memory may set us on the right road to Zoltab’s prison.’
The questors concentrated hard. They got wetter.
‘I remember,’ said Beo at last.
‘What?’ said Capablanca.
‘This was where we split up,’ agreed Princess Lois.
‘Twas here that you bade us leave you to the task of disposing of Zoltab,’ Beo began. ‘You told me to escort the Princess and that horrible boy to the court of King Philidor without killing him on the way. Then you said I was to tell the King all that had happened whilst you would deliver Zoltab to the place where he would be eternally imprisoned.’
‘Did I say where I was going?’ demanded Capablanca.
Beo shook his head.
‘Did any of you see which direction I took?’
‘You told us not to,’ said Princess Lois. ‘You warned us that any clue could help the minions of Zoltab when they came to search for him. You waited until we had set off for Illyria before you departed.’
‘Didn’t one of you take a sneaky peak behind you to see which way I went?’ asked Capablanca desperately.
‘I did,’ said Blart.
‘Excellent,’ said Capablanca, grasping Blart’s shoulder with unusual warmth. ‘So which direction did I go?’
‘I’ve forgotten.’
‘What?’ said Capablanca and his fingers dug into Blart’s shoulder.
‘Ow!’ said Blart, twisting his body free. ‘It’s not my fault. I can’t remember what happens every time I don’t do what people say. There isn’t enough room in my head.’
‘Perhaps I could make more room in your head,’ suggested Beo, gripping the base of his sword in a most threatening way, ‘by cleaving it in two.’
‘You’ve got Warrior’s Elb
ow,’ Blart reminded him. ‘You can’t cleave anything.’
‘I have it no more,’ answered Beo. ‘The rest in Illyria has cured the pain and I am now ready to cleave all those who offend me.’
‘Oh,’ said Blart.
Beo eyed him threateningly.
‘He’s going to kill you, Blart,’ Princess Lois explained cheerfully, just in case Blart hadn’t noticed.
‘He can’t,’ protested Blart.
‘I think he can,’ said Princess Lois. ‘He’s had lots of practice killing other people.’
‘But I’m just a boy,’ wailed Blart. ‘And I’m defenceless.’
‘Just the way I like ‘em,’ said Beo gruffly.
‘But I can help on the quest.’
‘I don’t think you can.’
‘I have seen no evidence,’ agreed Uther.
‘I know that there’s one questor who isn’t here and who might remember where Zoltab is imprisoned,’ protested Blart.
‘You are a fool, boy,’ Beo told him. ‘All the surviving members of our quest are here. And they can all watch you die.’
‘Pig the Horse isn’t,’ said Blart quickly.
Capablanca looked up suddenly.
‘What did you say?’
‘More of his nonsense,’ Beo assured the wizard.
‘Repeat it,’ demanded Capablanca.
‘I said Pig the Horse isn’t here.’
Capablanca, so recently slumped in an attitude of defeat, was now on his feet.
‘The boy has something,’ he said. ‘Pig the Horse must have carried Zoltab and me to his new prison. He will know where it is.’
‘Do we know where this horse is?’ asked Uther.
‘No,’ said the Princess. ‘But even if we did he couldn’t help. Pig the Horse can fly but he can’t talk.’
‘He could guide us though,’ mused Capablanca.
‘But we don’t know where he is,’ Princess Lois reminded him.
‘We may be able to find him,’ said Capablanca. ‘The Great Spell of Fog that I cast upon my own memory only blanks out what I did with Zoltab. My memory is unaffected from the moment when I returned to the Cavernous Library of Ping and was received by a special committee of wizards.’
‘What happened then?’ asked Princess Lois.
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