by David Logan
*
Junk returned to the hotel room and found Lasel was there already. She looked sad.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Junk.
‘You’ll be leaving soon,’ she said. ‘Going home.’
‘That’s right,’ said Junk.
‘Your home’s a long way from here.’
‘Not that far. Only about six thousand miles … and three million years.’ They both smiled.
‘Will I ever see you again?’ asked Lasel.
Junk frowned, considering for the first time that he would have to part ways with Lasel, and Garvan too. ‘You could come with me.’ Junk didn’t want to leave Lasel, but was trying not to sound too desperate. Unfortunately he overcompensated, and to Lasel it sounded like he really didn’t care one way or the other.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t belong there.’
‘I guess not,’ said Junk. He really wanted to say the exact right thing, the thing that would make her come with him, but his mind was blank. ‘What will you do now?’
Lasel shrugged. ‘I don’t know. See where life takes me. It’s how I’ve lived since I was seven years old. It’s worked out so far.’ She gave him a thin smile.
Junk wondered what would happen if he told her how he felt. He wished Garvan hadn’t made his feelings towards Lasel known. Would his friendship with Garvan survive? Would she laugh in Junk’s face? Or worse, be embarrassed? He decided it was far better to say nothing and if Lasel felt anything at all for him, then maybe he would pick up on a hint from her.
A doorway of green light materialized in the middle of the room and Garvan stepped through, holding the box in its dodecahedron form. The doorway closed after him.
‘That’s all the Pallatan–Twrisks that wanted to go back returned to Tremmelleer,’ said Garvan. ‘What are you two talking about?’
‘Nothing,’ said Junk and Lasel together, which sounded suspicious. ‘Just about me going home,’ added Junk.
‘Oh, you’re not going home yet,’ said Garvan casually.
‘Err, yeah, Garvan, I am. I have to, mate. I haven’t seen my mum and my dad for years. I’ve done what I came here to do.’
‘Oh, I understand that,’ said Garvan. ‘It’s just you don’t go. Not yet.’
‘What? Why not?’
‘I don’t know. It wasn’t in the dream.’ Garvan shrugged and headed into the bathroom, closing the door after him. Junk and Lasel only had time to exchange a quick look of mutual puzzlement and then the door to the bathroom opened again and Garvan stuck his head out. ‘It might have something to do with what Mestrowe tells you.’
‘What do you mean? What does he tell me?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Garvan. ‘That wasn’t part of the dream either.’
*
Junk headed out of the hotel and went back to the compound. All the remaining Pallatan–Twrisk hybrids were awake. Twrisks didn’t need to sleep. Pallatans did, but the Twrisks could put their bodies into sleep mode any time they wanted and twenty minutes would recharge them. Pallatans who learned to embrace their passenger could live long and fulfilling lives. Those that didn’t would also live long lives but would lose their Pallatan mind along the way. It would retreat to some dark, dank corner of their psyche and stay there shivering for the rest of their days. The Twrisk would have full control but it would be a lonely existence. Twrisks preferred the company.
Junk found Payo–Mestrowe in the compound’s kitchen sampling all sorts of different types of food.
‘Junk,’ said Payo when he saw him approaching, ‘would you like some blue stuff?’ He offered Junk a tub with a blue-tinged dip inside. ‘What’s it called?’
Junk shrugged, but realized almost immediately that Payo wasn’t talking to him. He was talking to Mestrowe. It was quite disconcerting.
‘Yarud,’ said Mestrowe.
‘Would you like some yarud?’ said Payo to Junk. Junk shook his head. Payo dipped Mestrowe’s finger into the tub and scooped out a glob, which he ate, nodding appreciatively.
‘I don’t know how this works but can I ask him a question?’ Junk felt it was clear he was referring to Mestrowe.
‘Course,’ said Payo, through another mouthful of yarud. ‘Ask away.’
Junk took a deep breath and settled himself before speaking. His mind had been working overtime since Garvan had said that Mestrowe was going to tell him something. He had thought of every possibility and had convinced himself that he was going to explain who the Nine Emperors were and why they had sent their regards. ‘Is there something you have to tell me?’ He and Payo both waited for a response, but none came.
‘Well, answer him,’ said Payo.
There was an almost imperceptible change in the expression on the Pallatan–Twrisk’s face, as if Mestrowe was now the more dominant.
‘Your sister …’ said Mestrowe, and Junk tensed. His fists clenched, ready to strike out if Mestrowe said anything despicable. ‘I wasn’t hired to kill her. I was hired to obtain her.’
The words raced around inside Junk’s head, waving their arms about and making as much noise as possible. He found it hard to process what Mestrowe had said. Mestrowe could see it on Junk’s face and so he clarified.
‘She’s not dead. At least, not the last time I saw her. I delivered her alive and well.’
‘Delivered her? Delivered her to who?’ said Junk. He was shaking. Not ready to believe what he was hearing, but wanting, for all the world, for it to be true.
‘To the Nine Emperors, of course,’ said Mestrowe.
‘Why?’ asked Junk.
‘I don’t know. That’s what they paid me to do, so that’s what I did.’
*
Junk walked slowly back to the hotel. His mind was raging but gradually his thoughts were beginning to settle. For over three years he had thought his sister was dead, and his objective had been clean and unwavering: to find her killer. It was what he needed to do to go home and he so wanted to be able to go home, but he knew now that that wasn’t going to happen. Not yet.
Garvan and Lasel looked at him expectantly when he returned. They were eager to hear what Mestrowe had said.
‘You were right,’ Junk said to Garvan. ‘I’m not going home yet. My sister’s still alive. I’m going to go and find her.’
TO BE CONTINUED …
JANSIAN GLOSSARY
A
* * *
a
the
ai
hey
ambe
anyone
ante
anywhere
arrat
inside
artch
snap/break
B
* * *
ba
you
barrat
outside
Bosck dei Varm
Room of Doors
brask
appointment
C
* * *
car
like
carrollotu
we would like to
casca(ba)
call (you)
chiva
let’s go/come on
chul
wow
chuva tapar
I don’t go
coorratun
heretic/infidel/unworthy
cootun
bastard or similar
criptik
language/speech/say
criptiktar/criptik te
I speak/you speak
criptik tapar
I don’t speak your language
cul
south
D
* * *
daté
west
dattakar
thief
dinta took
what a tale/story
dint
what
dusca
where (are we)
dusco
here
E
* * *
et
F
* * *
fal
ten
fal-gi
eleven
G
* * *
galm
from
glarn
north
gusk
leave
H
* * *
harru
look/see
hupta
problem
hyka
day
I
* * *
inta vol
on my island
its
hear
J
* * *
jard
aboard
jorda
ground; also the name of the planet
junta
police
K
* * *
kimmer
stay/wait here/remain
krimpta criptik te?
how many languages do you speak?
L
* * *
lanatar
do you have
lugh
note
M
* * *
maro
yes
mosshut
a port-like wine
mullatapar
I don’t understand
N
* * *
nenga
not/no
nusca (ba)?
who are (you)?
O
* * *
occootoo
hello
oot
about
P
* * *
palar
I can
papakar …
how do I …
penca
usually
puttum
climb (up)
R
* * *
rooth
choice
S
* * *
salli
money
set
her
solip
roof
song
make
sonta
with
sonti
without
T
* * *
ta
me
tamatay
I’m alone
tankata
follow me
tapar
I don’t
ta pody ti cluka
your friend needs to wake
ta pody ti veta chet
your friend is asleep
tarra dei omm
ticket office
ti
is
tumpah plugh
open his mouth
tunk
stop
tunty
little
tuug
now
U
* * *
unta
east
utta
why
V
* * *
vara
every
vestum
help
vontra
doctor
Y
* * *
yony
back/return
Z
* * *
zebla
welcome
H’RTU GLOSSARY
A
* * *
Atcha fanany muunt
%&!$#?@ $!%^§¢ *&^%!$
C
* * *
chachin
get some/get more
chikka na radoo
he was an irritating little man
D
* * *
dutu
pour
F
* * *
Fatoocha mammacoola charla
Nine Emperors send their regards
H
* * *
harutuk
quickly
J
* * *
ja
cheers
jay
little man
N
* * *
na foota bootchek
now what do you want to know?
navoora
return/go back
T
* * *
tootu shhnoova
delicious/a tasty snack
trara ju
he’s asking about your language
Z
* * *
zuc
sacs/bags
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Roisin Heycock, my fabulous editor, and everyone at Quercus. A really outstanding team. A huge thanks to Talya Baker for once again saving me from my own mistakes.
Thank you to Eugenie Furniss and Liane-Louise Smith at Furniss-Lawton for all their advice and hard work on my behalf. And Lucinda Prain and Rob Kraitt at Casarotto-Ramsay for guiding the other half of my working life for me.
Thank you to Zhiqiao Zheng, Priti Barua, Ingela Holland, Garret Cummings and Alexina Ashcroft for their translation skills.
Thanks also to Jason Cramer, whose drawings turned my camembert-fuelled dreams about goat doctors and elephant men into something tangible and kickstarted this book.
And a very special thanks to George Arton, my good friend who is still bemoaning the fact I forgot to name-check him in my last book even though I added his name for the paperback – though I don’t think he’s noticed that yet because I don’t think he’s actually read the book.
And last but by no means least, thank you to my amazing children, who make me very proud, Joseph, Grace and Gabriel, to the world’s greatest dog, Harper, our new addition, Dok the python, and to my beautiful, wonderful, patient wife, Lisa.
Watch out for the next instalment of Junk’s adventure
COMING AUGUST 2014
www.quercusbooks.co.uk
@quercuskids