‘Why, the army has betrayed the Lord Chancellor. Septimus Peason wanted control of the kingdom, but General Bassa has set alight the entire land. He is behaving like a madman, destroying everything. Such is his hatred for the ruling body of Calabash that he desires to see it utterly razed to the ground before he and his men set off in the Belligeratron to claim your country. Peason has ordered the ministers who are still loyal to him to attack the generals.’
‘Where are the Sultan and his family?’ I shouted above the crash of falling masonry. ‘Do they survive?’
‘They are still imprisoned within the yilditz once known as the Keep of Destitution, at the centre of the armoury in the old palace, and the Princess is now being kept with them. She refused to go back with her husband, and has been abandoned with her father. The Sultan remains a prize for both sides. He is of pure blood, the living representative of the gods on earth, and no harm can come to him or his family without his tormentor suffering a fate of eternal damnation.’
‘So he’s safe, then?’
‘Unless the building drops on his head,’ said Trebunculus uncertainly, ‘or General Bassa decides to risk the damnation of the gods.’
‘I think we had better get them all out, don’t you?’
‘You make it sound easy. It won’t be. The yilditz is now known as the tekke of General Bassa, the Dervish Lodge. It has been refortified, and its construction contains the hidden essence of the General’s tughra.’
‘What is that?’
‘His signature. It bears his mark, the stamp of his personality.’
‘And what is that?’ I asked.
‘Treachery and deceit. It is safe to expect that the tekke will be filled with traps.’
‘Oh, great.’ I turned to look at Trebunculus. He was walking ahead, and seemed assured that I would follow him. ‘I came back for you. I thought I might at least get a welcome.’
‘Oh, I knew you would come back.’
‘How?’
‘The Princess. No-one can become a hero without rescuing a princess. I am right, no?’
‘You are right, yes,’ I agreed.
‘Your business here wasn’t finished, was it?’
‘Well, no.’
‘You couldn’t live in one world, and you can’t live in the other. You came back because you know now what you have to do.’
The doctor always seemed to know how I felt. He irritated me when he was like this.
‘Doesn’t it annoy you, being right all the time?’ I asked.
‘Oh, I’m not, I assure you. I just remember what it’s like to grow up. It’s all right, you know, it happens to a lot of young people.’ He looked back over his shoulder and gave a crooked smile. ‘And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back for us.’
Climbing on through the smouldering rubble, our hopeless band of ragamuffins turned off in the direction of General Bassa’s fortified Dervish Lodge.
Chapter 42
The Dervish Lodge
‘What kind of traps?’ I asked. ‘Mousetraps, knives on springs, pits full of spikes, what sort of thing are you talking about?’
‘I’m not entirely sure,’ said the Semanticor, who, much to our surprise, was waiting for us outside the entrance to the Dervish Lodge. He informed us that he had been helped down from his rooftop prison in a makeshift wooden cradle, but it had dropped him into the ashes of a bonfire and he was blackened from head to foot. ‘I burned my arse,’ he complained, ‘but at my age one’s arse is always in pain.’
‘The traps,’ I reminded him.
‘Ah, yes. The Sultan originally had them installed to protect the armoury from pillage, but as no-one has ever attacked us they gradually fell into disuse. General Bassa is supposed to have restored some of them, but most were beyond the point where they could be returned to order, so they are a danger to everyone. The Sultan’s grandfather built wonderful traps. He had the right mind for such cruelties, on account of having to breakfast with his wife each morning. A woman of commanding stature but a face like a camel’s ringpiece. The old man passed his flair for invention on to his son. I remember when the Sultan was in my mathematics class, how he used to remove the spines from mice with just a piece of string, some heated wax, a bent needle and a tiny piece of cheese.’
‘He is resourceful,’ agreed Trebunculus, ‘but so are you, Kay. You found a way to return to us.’
‘And, of course, his teeth,’ added the Semanticor. ‘But he was never deliberately cruel. General Bassa has a nasty streak. In the old days, the atmosphere in the royal court was very tense because all business affairs were performed in total silence. The General once shattered a pane of glass with a catapult, causing the Keeper of Concubines to die of shock. In those days, nobody wore the same clothes twice for fear of—’
‘This is no time for your faulty reminiscences,’ snapped the doctor. ‘Come, let us enter the lion’s den.’ We looked up at the forbidding walls of the former armoury. Here, away from the arson and looting of the town, an eerie silence had fallen across the courtyard. There were no songbirds, only circling buzzards. The sun was obscured by drifting smoke. We walked slowly forwards through the shadowed archway into the lodge. Menavino and I studied the walls as we moved along, listening for the springing of traps. We had reached the middle of the first covered passage when there came the twanging sound of wires stretching, the unwinding of a rusty clockwork spring.
‘Everybody back!’ I shouted, but we were not fast enough. An iron wall rose swiftly behind us, slamming shut at the ceiling, sealing us inside.
‘Clever,’ said Trebunculus, ‘closing at the top, not the bottom. Harder to pull open, you see.’
My ears pricked back; the clockwork ratcheting behind the bricks had not ceased. ‘Down!’ I shouted, as a dozen iron spears corkscrewed rather too slowly out of the walls, rattling in their firing cases and embedding themselves in the far side of the passage. Although the spears were slow the Semanticor was slower, and stood pinned by his robes against the wall. He appeared more confused than frightened.
‘You were right,’ he said shakily, ‘knives on springs. Obvious, but effective. The mechanism needs greasing with tallow, though.’ Menavino and the others set about tearing him free.
‘It’s not safe to advance like this. Isn’t there some other way?’ I peered into the darkness ahead, but could see nothing more than indistinct outlines. The passage ahead separated into three identical corridors. ‘We’ll be killed before we reach the interior.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ asked Trebunculus.
‘Send Scammer to the Sultan’s prison. He can get into places we can’t reach.’
‘I only hope we can trust him not to betray us. We haven’t been able to feed him for days. Scammer!’ called Trebunculus. The feral child appeared beside him, bobbing and crouching like a sooty meerkat. ‘Scammer, you know how to reach the inner sanctum?’
The boy nodded. ‘Easy, master, I climb through the holes in the roof like a bird. I crawl in the spaces under the tiles like a spider.’
‘You also lie through your teeth like a politician.’
‘No, Doctor, no! I’ll be quick. I’ll be quiet. Nobody ever sees the Scammer.’ This was not strictly true, for I had seen him a number of times, darting across the roofs of the city.
‘Then you must find out exactly what lies ahead. Listen carefully and make a note of all you hear. Tell the Sultan that we can only rescue him if we are armed with this knowledge.’
‘Watch how I fly!’ cried Scammer, springing across to an abutment, jumping and looping his arms about a rafter. He pushed his way through the dry rushes in the roof, drew up his thin legs and scuttled off. We heard the ceiling crunching and cracking as he made his way across.
‘All we can do for the moment is wait,’ I said, gingerly seating myself below the thicket of spears.
‘Time is our enemy,’ warned the doctor. ‘By burning the kingdom, General Bassa absolves himself, for fire is a natural force, and if
the Sultan dies in the conflagration, he cannot be held responsible. The pyres have been set all around the city walls. It is said that even the hungry wolves shun bodies that have been blackened by the fires of—’
‘You’re a real miseryguts sometimes,’ I complained. ‘Try to be a little more positive, will you?’ Our group fell into silent reverie. All that could be heard was the distant crash and roar of burning timber. Several minutes passed. When Scammer suddenly dropped back into our midst he made everyone jump. A crooked grin shone on his filthy face. He threw his arms in the air, gripping his left elbow with his right fist like an orangutan.
‘Scammer knows which way to go.’
‘You’ve seen the Sultan?’ asked the Semanticor, dusting himself down.
‘Aye, and his Royal Mother, and the beautiful Princess Rosamunde, escaped from the seraglio, escaped from Maximus, recaptured by his father.’ Scammer hissed, ‘I told her you were here. Excited, like so.’ He waggled his filthy arms. ‘Brave and strong. She hugs her father, she gives him strength. She thanks the Scammer for his news. Come, I show you.’
He was about to run off when I grabbed his scrawny neck and hauled him back. ‘Wait. You don’t go anywhere without us now, you understand? Doctor, give me your belt.’
I took the leather strap that usually held the doctor’s medical bag to his side, and buckled it around Scammer’s neck in a slip-knot. ‘All right, lead on. Scammer, what did the Sultan say to you?’
‘Hello there, Scammer, he says.’ The boy strained at his lead the way Gyp used to when I took him to the park. ‘Bring no torches. Always curve to the right, always stay on the left.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It makes sense,’ said Trebunculus. ‘We keep turning into the building, but we stay in the side of shadow, beneath the embrasures. Without torches, most people would try to walk in the path of the available light. Weapons would be targeted on that side, so we must do the opposite.’
We maintained a single file behind the urchin and crept forwards. Beside us, the ground suddenly dropped away in a spray of sand, so that we were moving along a narrow tiled ledge. ‘Someone hold on to the Semanticor,’ warned Trebunculus. ‘He’s not very sure-footed.’
Ahead stood what appeared to be a large sculpted rock. As we came closer, I saw that it was carved in the face of a seated djinn. There was very little light here. The only windows were the high arrow-slits, and smoke was wafting through them, reducing visibility still further. The malevolent djinn grinned out at us as we approached, daring us to come closer.
‘Stay left, stay left!’ warned Scammer, pulling at the lead. Just as he spoke, the djinn’s mouth dropped open with a grind of stone, and hundreds of small black objects were ejected from its throat.
‘Scorpions,’ warned Trebunculus, ‘oldest trick in the book.’ Even so, several of them had already found their target. Screams erupted in our band. Men were dancing around themselves, batting at their tunics. One lost his balance and fell down into the pit that had opened beside us. Panicked, the column broke apart as everyone ran forwards, but fresh screams brought us to a halt. Before us was a deep trough. My feet stopped at the very edge. Others were not so lucky.
‘Now what are we supposed to do?’ asked the doctor, clearly exasperated.
‘Scammer, you said to stay on the left. Can we get around the pit?’
‘Is easy,’ called the boy. ‘Up at your head. Soldiers had to get in here as well as prisoners.’
‘He’s right,’ agreed Trebunculus. ‘Bassa’s troops aren’t very bright. One must presume that when he restored the traps he couldn’t make it too difficult for them.’
I reached up and found a rust-flaked iron bar within my grasp. There were several, set within an arm’s reach of each other. Still, I doubted that the Semanticor would be able to manage. ‘We’ll have to carry him between us,’ I told the doctor. ‘We can make a sling from robes.’
‘No, thank you.’ The old teacher waved his hands at us. ‘You look far too puny to lift me. I’ll stay here.’
‘Then let me go ahead with Scammer.’ Annoyingly, everyone readily agreed to my suggestion.
There seemed to be something moving in the pit below. It sounded like a very large snake. I looked down and saw a series of drifting coils, and a pair of glittering lidless yellow eyes watching me. I thought of the murky green ocean surrounding Cole Bay. Suddenly, being cast adrift in the rough sea beyond the pier seemed an attractive alternative to being here.
‘How much further?’ I asked Scammer.
‘Easy now,’ said the boy, jigging about. ‘Just across the derbendci.’
‘The guardian of the pass,’ called Trebunculus.
I looked down the tunnel. The pit was about thirty feet long. The overhead rungs offered the only passage across. ‘Is there no other way?’
‘No other. You swing from the bars, see.’ Scammer had hopped up and was hanging from the first bar with one hand. He reminded me of Malcolm Slattery in the school cloakroom. ‘Keep moving forwards so derbendci cannot strike.’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ I muttered, reluctantly reaching for the bar above my head. ‘I’m not used to physical exercise.’ As I pulled myself from the ground, I heard the great snake shifting in its pit. I looked down in time to see its coils tensing, ready to strike. I swung myself back to the ground just as it shot forward, glancing its great head against the roof of the passage, then dropping back into the pit. Scammer was tiny and agile, but I could not believe that even he had passed this way.
‘You’re lying,’ I said softly, closing the fingers of my right hand around his throat. ‘Show us the right passage or I will end your life here in this tunnel.’
‘You will not ascend to heaven if you die in here,’ promised the doctor, watching from the edge of the pit.
‘Fair enough,’ shrugged Scammer. ‘I was just testing.’ And swinging back, he jumped up into the entrance of a small square tunnel that stood in the shadows beside us.
Chapter 43
A Special Occasion
Pauline rebuttoned the neck of the blouse, but the fit was still too tight. ‘I don’t understand,’ she complained. ‘It used to hang perfectly. It’s not as if I’ve put on weight. Chance would be a fine thing with you lot worrying the life out of me. I’m sure rayon’s supposed to give.’
‘You haven’t worn it since Kay was a boy,’ said Bob. ‘I don’t understand what you want to dress up for, you’ll only get it ruined. I don’t see why we can’t just wait here. I’ve got things I could be getting on with. It’s pissing down outside.’
‘I wish you’d mind your language, Robert, this isn’t a barracks. I should have had a perm.’ She attacked the blouse again, then abandoned it for a grey jumper with small fake pearls sewn down the front.
Bob had been resoldering the toaster when he had received the summons to get dressed. Pauline had given him the soldering iron for his birthday. Consequently, almost everything in the house that contained metal had been resoldered whether it needed it or not. The house reeked of burnt flux. Now he was being forced to put on a clean white shirt and the spivvy hand-painted tie Janine had bought him last Christmas.
‘You’re not staying here by yourself, the mess you make,’ threatened Pauline. ‘I wish you’d finish one job at a time. I thought you were boxing in the bannisters. There’s half a dozen sheets of hardboard by the cellar door. And you were going to cover the breakfast hatch with Perspex. Just as well I wasn’t holding my breath. Stuff everywhere. Janine nearly broke her ankle on a tin of undercoat.’
‘Nearly doesn’t count. Anyway, I thought the idea was not to make a fuss,’ Bob muttered, pulling on the knot until it was as small and hard as an acorn. ‘I wish you’d warned the boy.’
‘Didn’t I try?’ asked Pauline, squirming about in her skirt. ‘There’s no answer from that dreadful penny arcade, and he’s not on the phone in the flat. What am I supposed to do, stand on the roof and yell at the top of my lungs? I saw
that Greek girl in the high street. She said she’ll have a word if she sees him. She’s turned out nice, that one. Lost her puppy fat. Janine could take a tip there.’
‘You and bloody Janine,’ grunted Bob.
‘Before you say anything rude, remember she was very nearly family. I’ve sent her round to look for him. She should have been back by now.’
‘Janine! Bloody hell. Couldn’t you have kept her out of our affairs just once?’ Bob looked at his sleeves and gave a low moan. ‘These are bloody double cuffs.’
‘Well, you have some cufflinks.’
‘The enamel ones the hotel gave me as a farewell gift? They’re in the shape of golf balls. And they’re bright red. They look like little pairs of bollocks. That’s what all my years with that hotel amounted to: bollocks.’
‘There’s no need to be crude. I don’t know what’s got into you today. Anyway, no-one will see them.’
‘Then what’s the bloody point of wearing them?’ He held out his arms. ‘You’ll have to do them up. I’ll let you in on a secret, Pauline. There’s not a man alive with half his wits who can stand to wear cufflinks. They make you look like you’re in a cigarette advert. They’re just something that soft women buy for blokes when they’ve run out of ideas.’
‘Like you and the perfume you always get me. I never wear any of it, you know. I’ve got a wardrobe full of atomisers. Honestly, I used to dread Christmas presents from the men in this family. You and your 4–7–11…’
‘I thought you liked 4–7–11.’
‘It’s for old ladies! I wouldn’t have minded Attar of Roses, but no. Then lavender bath-salt cubes from Kay, and oven gloves from Sean. One Christmas you gave me a grate. Said it was self-griddling and would save my back. I ask you, what woman would want to be given a grate?’
‘I never think of you as—’
‘Don’t say it,’ she warned, glaring. The doorbell sounded. ‘That’ll be Janine. I asked her to pick up some cakes.’ She dropped Bob’s sleeve, and he sank miserably into the nearest armchair. That’s all I need today, he thought, Ten-Ton Tessie armed with her Battenbergs and Iced Rounds. I wanted this to be a private do.
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