by SJB Gilmour
‘Have you had a premonition about the child?’ Quarry asked, suddenly worried.
‘I don’t know,’ Cassandra replied. She stood and began walking away from the table. ‘I’m needed at home,’ she announced to nobody in particular, her eyes a mystery. ‘Danger’s coming, that much is clear, but the rest of my vision…’ She paused, shaking her head sadly. ‘This isn’t very clear at all. Not at all,’ she muttered as she walked away.
‘Still, it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?’ Ronny said brightly. The steadfast little gnome was determined not to let Cassandra’s dark mood and sinister hints suppress his own demeanour. He was not quite so bothered by Cassandra as his fellows. After all, Ronny was a very worldly gnome. He grinned and rubbed his hands together.
‘Have a nice day!’ Jasper called out to her, his voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘you crazy old bat,’ he added when Cassandra was out of earshot. Then he looked around. ‘Right!’ he said. The rejuvenated Grey Mane had a very commanding presence and everyone left in the hall immediately gave him their complete attention. He nodded at the gnomish generals. ‘Now that the witch has gone, I’m about to do something that could get me into a lot of trouble.’
Kilnmacher and Quarry looked at each other for a long moment and then turned back to the serious werewolf with practised patience. Experienced soldiers such as they were used to receiving secret or sensitive information and knew instantly when it was coming.
‘I need to tell your king something and I need to tell it to him in a place that until now, no gnome has ever been,’ Jasper told them.
‘Wolfenvald,’ General Kilnmacher guessed.
Jasper wagged his tail but did not change his serious expression. ‘And I need to do it alone.’
‘Do McConnell and Isaacs also know what you have to say?’ General Quarry demanded.
‘McConnell does, but that is only because he cannot be killed. His soul can’t be forced to reveal any secrets. Isaacs is tough but he’s out of the loop. He’s killable.’
‘So’s my king,’ Kilnmacher growled, rising. He was not about to lose his temper, but he was not going to be soft about this.
‘If I don’t tell him, he’s dead. If I do, there’s a chance he’ll survive. There’s a protocol that has to be followed here. He may decide to share the information I have for him, but that’s up to him.’ Jasper was very serious and his tail was quite low and still. Kilnmacher and Quarry looked at each other again and shrugged.
‘I can wear that,’ Quarry rumbled.
‘I’ll be back in ten minutes,’ Kilnmacher told Jasper, then turned and marched to one of the enchanted elevators. His stern expression was enough to warn the cantankerous machine not to give him any lip. Well before the ten minutes he predicted, the shiny machine returned with General Kilnmacher. With him was a dripping wet King Roger, dressed only in a large, fluffy red bathrobe.
‘This better be important,’ Roger told Jasper coldly, shivering in the cool hall.
‘I’ll let you be the judge of that, Your Majesty,’ Jasper told him, creating a shimmering portal to Wolfenvald. ‘You’d best follow close behind me. Where we’re going, your presence is unlikely to be welcomed warmly.’ He leaped nimbly through the portal. Roger swore and ran to follow. As soon as he was through, the portal vanished.
After a long silent pause, Quarry turned to Kilnmacher. ‘We’re either dead gnomes for treason, or—’
Whatever else they could have been, neither gnome came to know because the portal reappeared and Roger marched through. His expression was deliberately blank — an expression both generals knew to mean their king had just received some very, very important news. Without bothering to thank Jasper, who followed right behind him, he marched straight back to the elevator. He didn’t even turn to address his generals. ‘Follow me,’ he ordered them shortly over his shoulder as he kicked the door of the elevator.
Both burly soldiers hurried to follow their monarch.
‘Oooh, bad tempered are we?’ the elevator taunted.
Roger looked up at the control panel very slowly, and very seriously, said, ‘Would you care to repeat that while you’ve still got all your gears?’
There was a long, uncomfortable pause as the elevator realised just how much trouble it was in now. It then politely waited for Quarry and Kilnmacher to hustle inside, then shut its doors and took the three gnomes directly to Gnumphlatia as quickly as it possibly could.
On the way, Quarry titled his head and glanced at his king. ‘Good news or bad news?’
Finally, Roger allowed himself a smile. ‘Oh, good. Very good. I’m sure there’s more, but what I’ve just been told is plenty for now. I’ll let you both know once I’m sure no ears other than yours can hear it.’ He chuckled. ‘That Grey’s a sly one, I’ll say that for him.’ The elevator shuddered to a halt as they arrived back at the Royal Burrow.
Meanwhile, Benjamin McConnell — Silver Shroud werewolf and renegade master spellweaver — stood in a large tent with renegade master botanist James Isaacs. The tent was set up quite haphazardly just down the street from the Ottispuschenshuffen Brothers’ former shop in Neroland. Inside, they were surrounded by dozens of different crystal balls on display. At a small table in the centre of the tent sat a wizened old gypsy woman who was haggling with an elaborately dressed pixie merchant. After several minutes, they concluded their business and the pixie disappeared.
The gypsy looked up at Benjamin. ‘There you are,’ she observed dryly. ‘I was beginning to think the tea-leaves were stale. This place isn’t going to last much longer, I think. I was about to close up shop and ship out. Sit down.’ She gestured to the chairs around the table.
James sat on one of the chairs, while Benjamin sat on his haunches beside him. His tongue lolled out and he panted happily.
‘I’m Theresa,’ she said. ‘What kind of system would you like?’
James rubbed his hands together and looked around at the crystal balls. He spread his hands out in a hopeless gesture. ‘We’re going to need a big one.’
‘How big?’ Benjamin protested with a whine.
James shrugged and began counting on his fingers. ‘There are the gnomes and the Royal Burrow, Gembrook and you, me, Angela, Cassandra, Mel and Sarah…’ He took off his shoes and casually plonked his bare feet up on the gypsy’s table. He continued to count down to his toes. ‘Tor needs one and that means he has to stay in contact with Crete. The Amazons will need a few and so will the goblins. My lot will need some—’
‘Alright, I get the picture,’ Benjamin growled.
Theresa smiled, displaying several gold teeth. ‘That may be expensive, Master Isaacs. Single balls by themselves are a dime a dozen since they only have to be carved out of single pieces of crystal. For a network to work, every ball has to be cut from the same piece. Larger crystals are rare. The larger the crystal, the rarer it is.’
James shrugged. ‘How much?’
‘Gnangs, hammers or pexo?’ Theresa asked him.
‘Pexo.’
The old gypsy nodded. ‘I’ve only got two large systems in stock,’ she warned him. She stood up and hobbled over to the display rack where she removed a gleaming blue crystal ball.. ‘There’s this blue system, with seventy-four units. For you, it’s one point six million pexo, fully installed.’ She put the crystal ball on the table and reached out for a yellow one. ‘Or there’s this system of ninety, at two and a half million.’
James picked up both crystal balls and held them up to the light. ‘What’s the difference?’
‘The yellow work better over long distances and are great for conference calls, but their power to reach through planes is limited. The blue are better for plane punching, but they’re cloudy if too many users are on-line at once.’
‘You mentioned fully installed,’ Benjamin said. ‘What does that include?’
Theresa nodded and sat back down. ‘We send a rep out with an instruction manual.’ She sniffed. ‘At the rate I’m giving you, it’ll probably be me.
Won’t be able to afford anyone else.’
‘That’s it?’
Theresa shrugged. ‘They’re crystal balls. It’s not rocket science.’
James looked at Benjamin. ‘How much have we got?’
Benjamin whined. ‘Not enough,’ he lied. Between them, the two sorcerers had considerably more, however they weren’t about to let the old gypsy know that. ‘We can afford about one and a half million all up, and that’s stretching ourselves to the limit.’
James rubbed his bald scalp and looked at Theresa speculatively. ‘Tell me, what’s your demand for spices like?’
Theresa’s grin told him she knew quite well their claim of poverty was a ruse. She rubbed her gnarled old hands together. ‘We’re pretty right for most lines,’ she said, thinking. ‘We could do with some more vampire saffron. We usually run low this time of year. Of course, there’s always a need for babies’ ears.’ She paused and fondled her chin thoughtfully. ‘You know, I’ve got a customer who’d do just about anything for a commercial quantity of nutsmeg.’
James snorted. ‘Who wouldn’t? If I could grow enough of it, I’d be loaded. Problem is the trees don’t like to grow too close together. They fight like hell and then they don’t produce a damned thing. At best, I can only get about three trees an acre. Who wants it?’
‘Now you know that I’m not going to tell you that,’ Theresa said smugly. ‘Make it two million, a kilo of nutsmeg per unit and you’ve got a deal.’
James grinned. ‘I’ll give you one point eight million pexo, forty-five kilos of nutsmeg and forty-five kilos of vampire saffron for the yellow set. That includes installation and I want a two century guarantee,’ he countered.
Theresa feigned outrage. The aged gypsy obviously relished the chance to haggle.
‘C’mon,’ James urged. ‘Who else is going to buy a system like that in a hurry? If we had all day, we’d haggle down to the knuckle and you wouldn’t get anywhere near as good a price.’
Theresa smiled regretfully. ‘The only customer all week who’s interested in more than my loss-leaders and he has to be in a hurry,’ she complained. Then she nodded. ‘Okay, but the extended guarantee will cost you an extra quarter of a kilo of saffron per unit.’
‘Deal,’ James said. He spat in his hand and held it out to Theresa. The old woman also spat in her hand. The two smacked their palms together.
‘Shame you had to be in such a hurry. We’ve missed out on all the fun,’ she complained.
Benjamin grinned and wagged his tail. ‘Never mind,’ he told her. ‘If this system works, I’m sure James here will be back for more.’
Theresa nodded. ‘Always good to have repeat business,’ she said. ‘We’ll start delivery as soon as you sign the cheque.’
James seemed surprised. ‘You’re not going to wait until it clears?’
Theresa chuckled. ‘Oh, it won’t bounce. You’re not that stupid. Nobody gives a rubber cheque to a gypsy. We’re the best cursewriters in the business.’
Benjamin changed form and produced a large chequebook issued by the Witches Bank at Fort Knox. ‘I wonder what it’d cost us for you to curse Mautallius?’ he joked in an offhand way as he signed the check.
Theresa was not joking when she answered him. ‘You don’t have that kind of money, McConnell.’ She tucked the cheque into her bra. ‘Besides, someone’s beaten you to it. Mautallius is doomed. Even if he wins and kills you all, he’s still demon fodder.’
Once the two were well out of earshot, Benjamin whirled on James. ‘Are you out of your mind? What did you give her all that information for? She’s a gypsy. You can’t trust them.’
James laughed. ‘Oh, I know it. Theresa’s as wicked as they come. But, she’s no fan of Mautallius. She wouldn’t help him in a pink fit.’
‘How do you know?’
James shrugged. ‘She had a crush on him once. He knew it and treated her like dirt. That was bad enough, then he went and seduced her sister.’ He grinned at Benjamin. ‘Nobody does that to a gypsy. You know how long they hold grudges. Theresa’s going to give us a damned good system and despite your whining in there, the price is rock bottom. All because she knows we’re going up against the guy who broke her heart.’
Chapter Thirteen
Melanie glared from Jerrit to Jeff. The three were gathered in Jeff’s cave. Most goblins prefer not to be so far underground but then Jeff, The Smith of Ages, wasn’t like most goblins. Mel had her own reasons for preferring the darkness.
The changes Apollo had made to her body to save her life were beginning to become very annoying. Everything she saw had a silver sheen to it. The sunlight was unbearable. It seemed to sap all her energy, which was in short supply anyway. Because she could see through her own eyelids — even the ceiling and the rest of the building — she had a lot of trouble getting to sleep, especially when she had the silver amulet Demeter had given her to hold the gold coin half of The Star of Planes. That it was heavy and uncomfortable was bad enough. Now the damned thing glowed quite brightly and she had to sleep with it tucked behind her. Also, she missed Sarah and the rest of her friends and wished she could just talk to them. She really wanted to be with humans again, instead of goblins who seemed to regard her as some kind of monster. She was beginning to feel quite swamped with all the expectations Jerrit and the Smith of Ages kept piling on her.
Her mistake, she thought moodily to herself, was showing these damned goblins that she actually had a brain. The ease with which she learned skills that Jeff swore would take her years to learn, surprised even her. Mel however, was used to being surprised. She had learned a great many things from Oliver Cromwell — things she knew took most novice necromancers much longer to learn. Of course, she had seen Sarah pick up languages and just fall into all sorts of incredible power without so much as batting an eyelid. Despite her moodiness, she was a little relieved to see that she was keeping up with her friend in that area.
Another annoyance for her was knowing that sooner or later, Jeff would reveal the command spell to activate the Star of Planes, but she dared not even ask him about it for fear of tipping him off that she had one of the pieces.
To top it all off, something she had just begun to get used to, which she still found incredibly revolting, was now much, much worse every twenty-eight days. Now that her blood was black and didn’t seem to clot the way it used to, her progress from girl to woman was definitely not something she was enjoying one little bit. Earlier that week, Mel had discovered just how much more disgusting having black blood could really be.
The result was that Mel was spoiling for a fight, and not about to be pushed about by anyone, no matter how important he thought he was.
‘I can go home any time I want to,’ she declared defiantly. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Sparks began to flicker up and down her body. She grabbed one and crushed it up into a ball of lightning and threw it to the floor where it bounced and exploded against a stone wall. ‘Then you’d never get your bloody moon back, would you?’
Her leather smithing smock began to smoulder a little here and there from some of the sparks. As always when she was in Jeff’s cave, she wore the heavy protective garb while her regular clothes hung on a rack, with her half of the Star of Planes tucked safely away inside her jacket pocket.
Jerrit smiled disarmingly. ‘Perhaps Jeff has been working you too hard after all,’ he suggested.
Mel snorted. Damn it, she thought. If only the rotten goblin wasn’t so diplomatic! She was all ready for a full-blown argument and he had gone and neatly taken away the reason for it. This just made her angrier.
‘Smithing’s not that hard!’ she retorted. ‘You get some metal, heat it up and bash it into shape. What’s so hard about that?’ She stamped over to the furnace where two rods of silver that were to be forged into a pair of fighting blades, were heating up. She wrenched one out and waved the hot poker about angrily.
Jeff waved his hand and the poker pulled itself from her grasp and drifted over t
o a forge. The old goblin took a sledge and quickly hammered the poker into a rudimentary blade. Then he recited an enchantment that made the blade shimmer for a moment, but appeared to do little else.
‘The hard part, you grumpy little monster,’ he growled at her, ‘is not just changing the shape of the metal by merely hammering it. You’re changing its very nature. Until a moment ago, this lump of silver was just plain old ordinary silver. I’ve just put an enchantment on it that will give it life. It’s about to be re-born! It’s about to have a life of its very own. All I have to do now is combine the silver and the enchantment thus waking it up, like this!’ He held the blade up in the air and commanded ‘Amalgammus!’
There was a bright flash of light and the sword was instantly transformed from a roughly forged, blade-shaped piece of metal into a gleaming, razor-sharp fighting knife.
Mel forgot she was angry. She’d not heard him use that spell before.
‘Amalgammus?’ she asked. ‘What’s that mean?
Jeff shrugged. ‘It’s an old version of Magaeic that kind of means “join these things together and get going.” Most people don’t use it now because it’s lumpy. Linkus is much easier, but I’ve been using amalgammus for so long now... I guess old habits die hard.’
Mel grinned triumphantly. He’d finally done it! Amalgammus was the command key! ‘Amalgammus!’ she commanded at herself. The silver within her seemed to boil with excited energy. The effect very nearly made her pass out. Suddenly, she could feel every single particle of silver within herself. It was alive and it was part of her. It would respond to her every command as easily as her own hand would. Even more amazingly, she realised that this power she now had over the silver within her also applied to any silver she chose to focus on, whether it was part of her or not.