by Eoin Colfer
No.1 resolved not to talk again. Doubtless he would say the wrong thing and the humans would have to ritually execute him. Thankfully the female seemed eager to chat.
'Hello, I am Minerva Paradizo and this man is Mister Kong,' she said.
'Can you understand me?'
It was all gibberish to No.1. Not a single recognizable word from the text of Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow.
He smiled encouragingly, to show he appreciated the effort.
'Do you speak French?' asked the blonde girl, then switched languages.
'How about English?'
No.1 sat up. That last bit was familiar. Strange inflections, surely, but the words themselves were from the book.
'English?' he repeated.
This was the language of Lady Heatherington Smythe. Learned at her mother's knee. Explored in the lecture halls of Oxford. Used to profess her undying love for Professor Rupert Smythe. No.1 loved the book. He sometimes believed that he was the only one who did. Even Abbot didn't seem to appreciate the romantic bits.
'Yes,' said Minerva. 'English. The last one spoke it well enough. French too.'
Manners must be appreciated somewhere outside a book, No.1 had always thought, so he decided to give them a go.
He growled, which was the polite demon way of asking to speak in front of your betters. This must not be how humans interpreted it because the skinny human jumped to his feet, pulling out a knife.
'No, kind sir,' said No.1, hurriedly cobbling together a couple of sentences from Lady Heatherington. 'Prithee sheath thine weapon. I bring joyous tidings only.'
The skinny human was confounded. He spoke English as well as the next American, but this little runt was spouting some kind of medieval nonsense.
Kong straddled No.1, holding the knife to his throat.
'Talk straight, ugly,' said the man, deciding to give Taiwanese a go.
'I wish I could understand,' said No.1, shaking. Unfortunately he said this in Gnommish. 'What I… eh. . meanest to say is…"
It was no good. Quotes from Lady Heatherington that he could generally shoehorn into any occasion just weren't coming under pressure.
'Talk straight or die!' shrieked the human into his face.
No.1 shrieked right back at him. 'How can I talk straight, you son of a three-legged dog? I don't speak Taiwanese!'
All of this was said in perfect Taiwanese. No.1 was stunned. The gift of tongues was not one demons possessed. Except the warlocks. More proof.
He intended to ponder this development for a few moments, now that the knife-wielding human had backed off, but suddenly the beauty of language exploded inside his brain. Even his own tongue, Gnommish, had been severely culled by the demons. There were thousands of words that had dropped from regular use on the basis that they did not relate to killing things or eating them, and not necessarily in that order.
'Cappuccino!' shouted No.1, surprising everyone.
'Excuse me?' said Minerva.
'What a lovely word. And manoeuvre. And balloon.'
The skinny man pocketed his knife. 'Now he's talking. If he's anything like the videos you showed me of the other one, we'll never get him to shut up.'
'Pink!' exclaimed No.1 delightedly. 'We don't have a word for that colour in the demon commonspeak. Pink is considered undemonlike, so we ignore it. It's such a relief to be able to say pink!'
'Pink,' said Minerva. 'Fabulous.'
'Tell me,' said No.1. 'What is a candyfloss? I know the words, and it sounds. . scrumptious. . but the picture in my head cannot be accurate.'
The girl seemed pleased that No.1 could talk, but slightly miffed that he had forgotten his situation.
'We can talk about candyfloss later, little demon. There are more important things to discuss.'
'Yes,' agreed Kong. 'The demon invasion, for example.'
No.1 rolled the sentence round in his head. 'Sorry, my gifts must not be fully developed. The only meaning I have for invasion is a hostile entry of an armed force into a territory.'
'That's the one I mean, you little toad.'
'Again, I'm a little confused. My new vocabulary is telling me that a toad is a froglike creature. .' No.1 's face fell. 'Oh, I see — you're insulting me.'
Kong scowled at Minerva. 'I think I preferred him when he spoke like an old movie.'
'I was quoting scripture,' explained No.1, enjoying the shape of these new words in his mouth. 'From the sacred book: Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow.'
Minerva frowned, looking at the ceiling as she thought back in time.
'Lady Heatherington Smythe. Why is that familiar?'
'Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow is the source of all our human knowledge. Lord Abbot brought it back to us.' No.1 bit his lip, shutting off his own babbling. He had said too much already. These humans were the enemy, and he had given them the blueprint to Abbot's plans.
Blueprint. Nice word.
Minerva clapped her hands once, sharply. She had found the memory she was looking for.
'Lady Heatherington Smythe. My goodness, that ridiculous romance!
Remember, Mister Kong?'
Kong shrugged. 'I don't read fiction. Manuals, mostly.'
'No, remember the video footage of the other demon. We let him have a book, he carried it around like a security blanket.'
'Ah, yes. I remember that. Stupid little goat. Always toting around that stupid book.'
'You know, you're repeating yourself,' said No.1, wittering nervously.
'There are other words for stupid. Dim, dense, slow, thick. Just to name a few. I can do Taiwanese if you prefer.'
A knife appeared in Kong's hand as if from nowhere.
'Wow,' said No.1. 'That's a real talent. A bravura in fact.'
Kong ignored the compliment, flipping the knife so he was holding the blade.
'Just shut up, creature. Or this goes between your eyes. I don't care how valuable you are to Miss Paradizo. To me, you and your kind are simply something to be wiped off the face of the Earth.'
Minerva folded her arms.
'I will thank you, Mister Kong, not to threaten our guest.
You work for my father, and you will do what my father tells you to do.
And I am pretty sure my father told you to keep a civil tongue in your head.'
Minerva Paradizo may have been a precocious talent in many areas, but because of her age, she had limited experience. From her studies, she knew how to read body language, but she did not know that a skilled martial artist can train himself to control his body, so that his real feelings are hidden. A true disciple of the discipline would have noted the subtle tightening of the tendons in Billy Kong's neck. This was a man holding himself in check.
Not yet, his stance said. Not yet.
Minerva returned her attention to No.1.
'Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow, you say?'
No.1 nodded. He was afraid to speak in case his runaway mouth leaked any more information than it already had.
Minerva spoke now to the large mirror. 'You remember that one, Papa?
The most ridiculous fluffy romance you are ever likely to avoid like the plague. I loved it when I was six. It's all about a nineteenth-century
English aristocrat. Oh, who's the author. . Carter Cooper Harbison.
The Canadian girl. She was eighteen when she wrote it. Did absolutely no research. She had nineteenth-century nobles speaking like they were from the fifteen hundreds. Absolute tosh, so obviously a worldwide hit.
Well, it seems our old friend Abbot brought it home with him. The cheeky devil has managed to sell it as gospel truth. It seems he has the rest of the demons spouting Cooper Harbison as though she were an evangelist.'
No.1 broke his no-speaking vow. 'Abbot? Abbot was here?'
'Mais oui,' said Minerva. 'How do you think we knew where to find you.
Abbot told us everything.'
A voice boomed through a wall-mounted speaker. 'Not everything. His figures were flaw
ed. But my young genius Minerva figured it out. I'll get you a pony for this, darling. Whatever colour you like.'
Minerva waved at the mirror. 'Thank you, Papa. You should know by now that I don't like ponies. Or ballet.'
The speaker laughed. 'That's my little girl. What about a trip to
Disneyland, Paris? You could dress as a princess.'
'Perhaps after the selection committee,' said Minerva with a smile. The smile was slightly forced, though. She did not have time for Disney dreams at the moment. 'After I am sure of the Nobel nomination. We have less than a week to question our subjects and organize secure travel to the Royal Academy in Stockholm.'
No.1 had another important question. 'And Lady Heatherington Smythe's Hedgerow? It's not true?'
Minerva laughed delightedly. 'True? My dear little fellow. Nothing could be further from the truth. That book is a cringeworthy testament to teenage hormonal fabrication.'
No.1 was stunned. 'But I studied that book. For hours.
I acted out scenes. I made costumes. Are you telling me that there is no Heatherington Hall?'
'No Heatherington Hall.'
'And no evil Prince Karloz?'
'Fiction.'
No.1 remembered something. 'But Abbot came back with a crossbow, just like in the book. That's evidence.'
Kong joined the discussion; after all, this was his area of expertise.
'Crossbows? Ancient history, toad. We use things like these now.' Billy
Kong drew a black ceramic handgun from a holster tucked in his armpit.
'This little beauty shoots fire and death. We've got much bigger ones too. We fly round the world in our metal birds and rain down exploding eggs on our enemies.'
No.1 snorted. 'That little thing shoots fire and death? Flying metal birds?
And I suppose you eat lead and blow golden bubbles too.'
Kong did not respond well to cynicism, especially from a little reptilian creature. In one fluid motion, he flicked the safety off his weapon and fired three shots, blowing apart the headrest of No.1 's seat. The imp's face was showered with sparks and splinters, and the sound of the shots echoed like thunder in the confined space.
Minerva was furious. She began screaming long before anyone could hear her.
'Get out of here, Kong. Out!'
She kept screaming this, or words to that effect, until their ears stopped ringing. When Minerva realized that Billy Kong was ignoring her commands, she switched to Taiwanese.
'I told my father not to employ you. You are an impulsive and violent man. We are conducting a scientific experiment here. This demon is of no use to me if he is dead; do you understand, you reckless man? I need to communicate with our guest, so you must leave, because you obviously terrify him. Go now, I warn you, or your contract will be terminated.'
Kong rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was taking every shred of patience he had not to dispose of this whingeing infant right now and take his chances with her security. But it would be foolhardy to risk everything because he could not hold his temper for a few more hours.
For now, he would have to content himself with some more insolence.
Kong took a small mirror from his trouser pocket and plucked at the gelled strands of his hair.
'I will go now, little girl, but be careful how you speak to me. You may come to regret it.'
Minerva split the fingers of her right hand into a W.
'Whatever,' she said in English.
Kong pocketed his mirror, winked at No.1 and left. No.1 did not feel comforted by that wink. In the demon world, you winked at your opponent in pitched battle to make clear your intention to kill him next.
No.1 got the distinct impression that this spiky-haired human had that same intention.
Minerva sighed, took a moment to compose herself, then resumed her interview with the prisoner.
'Let's start at the beginning. What is your name?'
No.1 supposed that was a safe question to answer. 'I have no real name, because I never warped. I used to worry about that, but now I seem to have a lot more to worry about.'
Minerva realized that her questions would have to be quite specific.
'What do people call you?'
'You mean human people? Or other demons?'
'Demons.'
'Oh. . right. They call me Number One.'
'Number One?'
'That's right. It's not much of a name, but it's all I have. And I console myself with the fact that it's better than Number Two.'
'I see. Well then, Number One, I suppose you would like to know what's going on here.'
No.1's eyes were wide and pleading. 'Yes, please.'
'OK then,' Minerva began, as she sat facing her prisoner. 'Two years ago one of your pride materialized here. Just popped up in the middle of the night on the statue of D'Artagnan in the courtyard. He was lucky not to be killed actually. D'Artagnan's sword actually pierced one of his arms.
The tip broke off inside.'
'Was the sword silver?' asked No.1.
'Yes. Yes it was. Of course we realized later that the silver anchored him to this dimension, otherwise he would have been attracted to his own space and time. The demon was, of course, Abbot. My parents wanted to call the gendarmes, but I persuaded them to bring the poor half-dead beast inside. Papa has a small surgery here that he uses for his more paranoid patients. He treated Abbot's burns, but we missed the silver tip until a few weeks later when the wound became infected and Papa did an X-ray. Abbot was quite fascinating to observe. Initially, and for many days, he flew into a psychotic rage whenever a human approached him.
He tried to kill us all and vowed that his army was coming to exterminate humankind from the face of the Earth. He conducted long arguments with himself. It was more than split personality. It was as if there were two people in one body. A warrior and a scientist. The warrior would rage and thrash, then the scientist would write calculations on the wall. I knew that I was on to something important here. Something revolutionary. I had discovered a new species, or rather rediscovered an old one. And if Abbot really was to bring a demon army, then it was up to me to save lives. Human and demon.
But of course, I am merely a child so no one would listen to me. But if I could record this and present it to the Nobel Committee in Stockholm, I could win the Physics prize and establish demons as a protected species.
Saving a species would give me a certain satisfaction, and no child has ever won the prize before, not even the great Artemis Fowl.'
Something had been puzzling No.1. 'Aren't you a little young to be studying other species? And you're a girl too. That pony offer made by the magic voice box sounded pretty good.'
Minerva had obviously come across this attitude before. 'Times are changing, demon,' she snapped. 'Children are a lot smarter than they used to be. We're writing books, mastering computers, tearing apart scientific myths. Did you know that most scientists won't even acknowledge the existence of magic? Once you add magic into the energy equation, nearly all the current laws of physics are shown to be seriously flawed.'
'I see,' said No.1, not convincing anyone.
'I am exactly the right age for this project,' added Minerva. 'I am young enough to believe in magic and old enough to understand how it works.
When I present you in Stockholm, and we put forward our thesis on time travel and magic as elemental energy, it will be a historic moment. The world will have to take magic seriously, and make ready for the invasion!'
'There is no invasion,' protested No.1.
Minerva smiled as a kindergarten teacher would at a fibbing child. 'I know all about it. Once Abbot's warrior personality became dominant, he told us about the Battle of Taillte and how the demons would return and wage a terrible war with the Mud Men, as he called us. There was a lot of blood and hacking of limbs involved.'
No.1 nodded. That sounded like Abbot.
'That's what Abbot believed, but things have changed.'
'I explained that to
him. I explained that he had been flitting through time and space for ten thousand years, and that we had come a long way since then. There are more of us than there used to be, and we didn't use crossbows any more.'
'You didn't? You don't?'
'You saw Mister Kong's gun. That's only a tiny example of the kind of weaponry we have. Even if your entire pride of demons arrived all together, armed to the teeth, it would take about ten minutes to have you all locked up.'
'Is that what you're going to do? Lock us up?'
'That was the plan, yes,' admitted Minerva. 'As soon as Abbot realized that the demons could never beat us, he changed his tactics. He voluntarily explained the mechanics of the time tunnel to me and in return I gave him books to read and old weapons to examine. After a few days' reading, he asked to be called Abbot, after General Leon Abbot in the book. I knew that once I presented Leon Abbot in Stockholm, it would be easy to get funding for an international task force. Whenever a demon popped up, we could tag him with silver and house him in an artificial demon community for study. Central Park Zoo was my preferred location.'
No.1 ran the word zoo through his new lexicon. 'Aren't zoos for animals?'
Minerva gazed at her feet. 'Yes. I am rethinking that, especially having met you. You seem quite civilized, not like that Abbot creature. He was an animal. When he arrived, we tended his wounds, nursed him back to health, and all he could do was try to eat us. We had no choice but to restrain him.'
'So, you're not going to lock us up in a zoo any more?'
'Actually, I don't have a choice. Judging by my calculations, the time tunnel is unravelling at both ends and deteriorating along the shaft.
Soon, any calculations will be unreliable and it will be impossible to predict where or when demons will materialize. I'm afraid, Number
One, that your pride doesn't have long left before it disappears altogether.'
No.1 was stunned. This was more information than anyone could absorb in one day. For some reason the demoness with the red markings flashed into his mind. 'Isn't there any way to help? We are intelligent beings, you know. Not animals.'
Minerva stood and paced, stretching one of her corkscrew curls.