by Mike Wilks
Mel also grabbed the lever. ‘Which way?’
‘Towards the minus sign, this way.’ They heaved it together but it was stuck fast. Then the long walkway beneath their feet started swaying as twenty or more Mystery men reached it and began running towards them.
‘It won’t budge, Mel. If it was a real clock I’d give it a shot of oil.’
Mel knelt down, opened their sack of provisions and took out a flask of water. ‘Here, use this.’ He shot a worried glance at the scarlet men who were approaching rapidly.
Wren poured the water on to the regulator, turning the earth to thin mud that drizzled off. They both tried again, working it to and fro. Ever so slowly, the lever began to move. Time slowed down.
As if in slow-motion, the first of their pursuers reached Mel. He raised his sword high over his head and struck down.
With a jolt, the lever came completely free and went all the way to the minus end of the scale. The razor-sharp blade halted a bare hand’s breadth from Mel’s skull. It then rose away. Slowly at first, but gathering pace, the man began to move backwards. He reached his doubles and they too began to reverse their course down the walkway as the mirrortime unwound.
‘That was close,’ said Mel, rubbing his head.
‘Come on,’ said Wren, ‘I don’t know how long this’ll last.’ With a mighty wrench, she pulled the regulator off its support and stashed it in Mel’s satchel. They grabbed their belongings and ran after the retreating men.
Then their whole pursuit went into rapid reverse. When they reached the dangling ends of the severed walkways that they had descended on, they grabbed them and were whipped up into the air. It happened so fast that they nearly lost their grip. This was repeated several times as they retraced their descent, until they found themselves speeding upwards towards the mouth of the tunnel where they had entered the interior. Just before the walkway reattached itself to the inner wall of the pyramid, eleven men-at-arms shot from the darkness below and into the mouth of the tunnel. Mel looked down the passage and saw them running backwards and then he and Wren following them – or preceding them; it was all very confusing.
He looked over the edge of the walkway and saw Ludo rising towards them at great speed. As he neared the walkway, he slowed down. Mel reached out, grabbed his friend and hugged him tight. The three of them watched for a moment as they saw themselves disappearing backwards into the tunnel.
‘Ludo! It’s so great to have you back.’
‘Have me back? I haven’t been anywhere – and let go of me.’
‘Come on!’ shouted Wren.
They hurried out on to the restored walkway. After they had gone a short way, it began to sway.
‘We’d better hurry. You can’t treat a clock like that and expect it to work normally,’ said Wren.
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Ludo, puzzled.
‘We’ll tell you later,’ said Mel and Wren together.
They rushed on, descending through the walkways as the entire interior of the pyramid began to vibrate. The noise of the pendulum – more of a ‘moob’ than a boom now – became increasingly frequent.
‘Just a moment, Ludo,’ said Mel as they arrived at the spot where they had seen themselves earlier. It stood at the entrance to another tunnel that seemed to lead out of the pyramid. ‘Come here and stand by us. Look up there and wave.’ He pointed back up into the heart of the swaying tangle of walkways.
‘You’ve both gone mad,’ said Ludo.
‘Just humour us,’ said Wren. ‘It’s for your own good.’
The three friends waved energetically, repeating the scene Mel and Wren had witnessed earlier.
‘You’re cracked,’ said Ludo. ‘Both of you.’
‘You fell into the pyramid,’ said Mel.
‘We thought you were dead but then we saw us all standing here. We reversed time and got you back,’ added Wren.
‘Dead? Me?’
‘We’ll all be dead if we don’t get out of here before the entire place shakes itself to pieces,’ said Mel. ‘Let’s go.’
They were bouncing off the walls by the time they reached the outside. They emerged through a doorway at ground level and ran out on to the grassy plain beyond for some way before they stopped in front of an enormous topiary head and looked back. The pyramid went through an instant autumn as the leaves of the towering maze all fell at once, revealing a bleak terraced structure through the suddenly bare branches. This tottered and, for a moment, seemed as if it was about to implode. The terraces leant against each other at drunken angles and came to rest. Then, like a shockwave spreading out from an explosion, all the topiary figures on the plain also shed their leaves, leaving huge, skeletal branches behind.
The friends looked round, and beneath the bare vestiges of one of the giant heads that now resembled a skull was the entrance to a wide underground passage. Leading out from the tunnel entrance and disappearing towards the horizon was a trail of giant footprints.
‘Well, that answers one question,’ said Ludo. ‘The house didn’t go around, it didn’t go over and it didn’t go through. It went under.’ They all peered down into the hole.
‘Do you suppose the house knew about the tunnel?’ asked Wren.
‘Maybe the Fifth Mystery chased him here,’ said Ludo.
‘From what I know of the house it would have been the one doing the chasing,’ said Mel. ‘Are you two all right? You don’t look well.’
‘To tell the truth, I don’t feel too good,’ admitted Ludo.
‘Me neither, Ludo,’ said Mel. ‘It’s the Mirrorscape sickness Green warned me about. We need to get out for a break. Can either of you see a wall of mist anywhere?’
‘You mean like that, over there?’ asked Wren.
‘That’s just what I mean. Come on, you two.’
‘I’ll catch you up. I’ve got a pebble in my boot,’ said Ludo.
The wall of mist shimmered and parted. On to the black and ruined shores of Ambrosius Blenk’s lake stepped Groot, Bunt and Jurgis. They were wearing scarlet robes and each had the freshly shaved tonsure and pallid faces of the Fifth Mystery. Groot looked about with satisfaction at the work of his new colleagues. He folded Mel’s sketch of the mirrormark and handed it to Jurgis, who tucked it inside his robes. They searched around until they found the yellow arrow.
Groot laughed. ‘No strength of character, that boy. None at all.’
The friends soon found themselves back in Nem and feeling better. It only took a short while before the symptoms of the Mirrorscape sickness disappeared. They were in a small, octagonal room hung with paintings. Wren opened the sack and shared out some of their provisions.
As they ate, Ludo was incredulous at their story of how they reversed the mirrortime. ‘If I’d fallen down into the pyramid I’d know all about it. Look.’ He rolled up his sleeves. ‘Not a scratch.’
‘But you did,’ insisted Mel. ‘And then Wren worked out how to rewind time – and you didn’t.’
‘You’re just trying to confuse me. Either I did or I didn’t.’
‘What’s this then?’ Wren showed Ludo the shaggy regulator.
‘How should I know? What is it anyway?’
‘We used it to rewind time. It’s something my father would be interested in. I’m going to show it to him. One day.’ She put it away. ‘Where do you think we are?’
‘We must be in the House of Mysteries,’ said Mel, pointing at the view through the windows.
‘Figures,’ said Ludo. ‘The Mysteries have most of the best paintings. What’s that one? Next to the pyramid.’
‘It’s called “The World Turned Upside Down”,’ said Wren, reading the nameplate. It portrayed a scene where birds swam in rivers, fish flew in the sky and horses rode their riders. ‘But this is my favourite.’
Mel and Ludo joined her at a canvas of an artist’s studio.
‘Look, the perspective’s impossible,’ said Mel. ‘You look at it one way and the wall’s the floor, and then you look a
t it again and it’s the other way round. And there’re figures going up the staircase and under their feet there’re others coming down. It doesn’t make sense.’
Ludo did a handstand. ‘If you do this, it still looks wrong.’
Mel and Wren twisted their heads.
‘I think I know how it’s done,’ said Mel. ‘It’s got three vanishing points, one for each way you can look at the picture. Let me show you.’ He searched in his satchel for a pencil and the master’s sketchbook.
‘Not now, Mel. Show us after we’ve found the master,’ said Wren.
Restored, and back in the Mirrorscape, the friends picked up the trail of footprints and followed it until they came to a huge, smooth rock face at the base of a towering crag, where the trail stopped abruptly.
‘Now what?’ said Ludo. ‘This time there’s no tunnel and it obviously didn’t go around.’
‘Maybe it flew over,’ said Wren.
‘A flying house? I don’t think so,’ said Mel, craning his neck to see the top of the crag. ‘Perhaps there’s some explanation in here.’ He took the master’s sketchbook out from his satchel. The friends flipped through the pages but could find nothing.
‘Oh, this is hopeless,’ said Ludo. ‘We might as well give up now. I don’t know why I ever agreed to come along with you. The house – if it actually exists – has just vanished into thin air.’
‘Perhaps it’s gone inside the mountain,’ said Wren, studying the smooth rock face. There, at head-height, was a sculpted, hemispherical boss of rock about the size of a thumbnail. Incised over it in small, neat letters was the word ‘Deliveries’. ‘Why don’t we ring and ask?’
Mel shrugged. ‘It’s no crazier than anything else we’ve come across in the Mirrorscape.’ He pressed the boss. There was the sound of a large bell striking somewhere far away. After a minute or so he pushed the boss again. Then there came a cracking sound, like someone snapping a bunch of twigs, and beneath the boss a pair of carved, human-shaped lips appeared out of the solid rock.
‘All right, all right, keep your hair on. Yes?’ said the lips in an irritated voice.
The friends looked at each other amazed. Mel said, ‘Can you please tell us, has a house passed this way?’
‘Speak up! What? Speak up I said … Oh, scrot. Just a minute.’ There was another snapping noise and a pair of carved ears appeared either side of the boss. ‘I can’t hear you. Speak into the ears.’
Ludo leant closer and said in a raised voice, ‘A house! We’re looking for a house!’
‘Ouch! No need to shout, I’m not deaf. Now, what was it you wanted?’
‘A house,’ said Mel in a more moderate tone.
‘Do I look like an estate agent?’
‘Err, no. But – ’
‘Then what’re you bothering me for?’ There was another snapping sound and the ears and lips disappeared back into the stone.
Undaunted, Wren pushed the bell again.
The snapping sound, much louder and angrier this time, was followed by the appearance of the lips and ears. ‘… don’t put it there, it’s bound to ….’ There came the muffled sound of something crashing to the ground. ‘… fall over. Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me? Yes?’
‘Look, we’re sorry to disturb you,’ said Wren. ‘You sound very busy but we’re looking for a house. Did a large, funny-looking house come this way?’
‘Who the skeg’s that? Hang on a minute. Which switch was it?’ There was a double crack and two carved eyes popped open just above the boss. There was now a complete, flattened-out face in high-relief with the boss as a nose and ‘Deliveries’ forming a long eyebrow. ‘Ah, that’s better.’ The eyes blinked and surveyed the trio. Then in a curt tone, ‘What now?’
Mel said, ‘We’ve been following a house and he seems to have come here. We were wondering if you’ve seen him … it.’
‘What’s that say?’ said the face, raising its eyes to look at its brow.
‘It says “Deliveries”,’ said Ludo. ‘But – ’
‘And have you got a delivery?’
‘Not exactly ….’
‘Then what are you bothering me for? Haven’t I got enough to do without time-wasters?’
‘Well, we might have one, if we knew what this place was,’ said Wren. ‘What exactly are you?’
The face huffed and rolled its eyes. ‘We’re a mine, ducky. What do you expect to find inside a mountain?’
‘What sort of mine, exactly?’ asked Mel.
‘A mine of inspiration,’ said the face in a tone that clearly suggested it was talking to an idiot.
‘Don’t you mean a mine of information?’ asked Ludo.
‘Where do they get ’em these days?’ said the face in an exasperated tone. ‘Whoever heard of a mine of information? Information’s already out there. It’s everywhere. You only have to open a book or a newspaper or talk to people. Inspiration, on the other hand, is much more difficult to come by. You have to delve for inspiration, ideas that no one’s had yet. It’s not just lying around anywhere now, is it? Inspiration’s new stuff. Once it’s been dug out and used it becomes information. Even an imbecile can work that one out, can’t they?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Mel.
‘Well? Have you got any or not?’
‘What, inspiration? Between the three of us, I guess we must have,’ said Wren. ‘In fact, we’ve got lots.’
‘Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Come on in.’
There was a much louder cracking sound and a huge carved door appeared in the rock face. It opened with a hollow, scraping sound, permitting the friends to enter.
Groot watched Bunt and Jurgis being sick with morbid fascination. He did not feel too well himself, but he was not going to let it spoil his enjoyment at seeing his companions suffer. They had picked up Ludo’s trail on the far side of the pyramid. Since the root-clock had ceased working they were able to simply walk around the outside. Groot knelt and picked up a hastily scribbled note anchored by a stone next to a yellow arrow. Having read it, he screwed it up and threw it away.
‘Come on, you pukes. Apparently it’s being in here that’s making us feel unwell. We need to get out for a spell.’ He led them away towards the wall of mist, which had been clearly marked by Ludo.
When they emerged into the small chamber in the House of Mysteries, Groot had an idea and sent Bunt to procure some paints, brushes and canvas. Jurgis was sent to the High-Bailiff to fetch the models. All Groot now needed was a studio to work in to bring his plan to fruition. He did not need to search far.
The Mine of Inspiration
‘Are you seeing what I’m seeing?’ gasped Ludo.
‘It’s hollow,’ said Mel. ‘The whole mountain’s hollow.’
‘It’s like an enormous sculpture,’ said Wren.
Bright shafts of daylight streamed down from openings high above in a ceiling supported by hundreds of columns hewn from the living rock. Between these columns, and covering most of the vast floor space, were dozens of carved islands with square-rigged, stone ships plying back and forth across a stony sea. Stone beaches gently rose to support a confusion of sculpted mangrove roots. Nestling within the honeycomb formed from the leafless, twisted limbs of the mangrove trees were a mind-numbing assortment of items in every imaginable shape, size and colour. There were jellyfish and sycamore trees, clouds and unicycles, Ferris-wheels and dinosaurs, cathedrals and euphoniums. High above the islands, suspended from a network of cables, hung bullet-shaped silver craft that cruised the upper reaches of the mine.
At least, that’s what it would all have looked like if the house had not already been there. What the friends saw as they stood on a ruined pier that projected into the mine was altogether different. To either side, the mine still retained its original design, but right through the centre was a broad swathe of destruction. Many of the islands forming the archipelago had been flattened, and their inspirational contents were now so much flotsam and jetsam bobbing on the c
arved waves of the stone floor. Shipwrecked mariners clung to this wreckage or to the floating remains of their foundered vessels. Some of the sounder craft plucked their unfortunate colleagues from the mineral waves or fended off circling stone sharks. Several of the overhead cable cars had lowered rope ladders to the distressed seamen and were ferrying them to intact islands. It was a scene of great activity and utter confusion.
‘Ow!’ A rope ladder had fallen from above and hit Wren a glancing blow on her shoulder. Above them, swaying gently, was one of the cable cars. ‘Perhaps we’re meant to climb up into that contraption,’ she said. ‘It’s the only way off this pier.’
Just then, the lips briefly appeared on the lowest rung of the ladder. ‘Come along now, don’t dilly-dally. There’s work to be done.’
‘Hang on. Where’s Ludo?’
‘He was here a moment ago,’ said Wren. ‘Perhaps he’s gone back outside.’
‘I’m right here,’ said Ludo, hurrying back to his friends. ‘You needn’t think I’m going down there,’ he said, pointing out into the sea of flagstones and disorder.
‘It looks like we have to take the cable car if we plan on finding out more,’ said Mel as he began to climb the ladder.
The cable car was covered in sheets of polished metal riveted together. It had sweeping fins, large air scoops and exhaust pipes along its sides, which anyone could see were just for show. Inside, the car was constructed like a rowing boat with several bench-like seats running from side to side. Where the oarlocks would have been there were stout pulleys which were attached to the cables from which the car dangled. At the front was a small, semicircular glass windshield and beneath it, at an angle, was a polished and riveted dashboard. In the centre of this was a button, above which were embossed the words ‘push for attention’.