Lex Trent versus the Gods

by Alex Bell

  They docked at the harbour at about midday. The sun was still weak and the gales still stormy when they landed. Lex had been to the Farrows last year on his way to the Wither City. He had an excellent memory and so had a pretty good idea of the layout of the town.

  As they made their way down the gangplank, Schmidt had his hand clamped tightly around Lex’s upper arm. The old man actually had a stronger grip than Lex had imagined and he had to tug forcefully, finally pushing the lawyer over hard to get away. Schmidt went sprawling into one of the shut-up stalls of the midnight market that was, as usual, set up around the harbour, and by the time he got to his feet again, Lex was several paces away, weaving through the crowd towards Jani’s Tavern.

  You had to do what they weren’t expecting you to do, that was the nub of it. Speed alone was rarely enough. Any unintelligent thug could bolt for it. Schmidt was probably expecting Lex to head for the nearest transportation dealership and get out of the Farrows as fast as he possibly could. He probably wasn’t expecting him to go and have a drink in a tavern. Such an action, after all, would have been arrogant beyond words.

  The Farrows had sprouted up in a haphazard manner and was a very ancient town. The buildings were crooked, as they had all been added to over the years, and second and third floors often didn’t fit properly on the first ones so that layers would jut out over each other. Many of them had dark, thatched roofs and signs above the doors pronouncing the occupier’s trade. Of course, most of the Farrow folk were miners as a result of the town’s proximity to the great mineral mines.

  Jani’s Tavern was near to the station that transported workers to the mines and, as such, was a much-favoured haunt for miners as well as sailors. When Lex went in, the tavern was full of miners on their lunch break. He was glad of the smoke-laden air for it would help to hide him if Schmidt did turn out to be bright enough to search for him there.

  Not being a huge fan of gypsy food, Lex was glad to order a proper meal and squeeze himself onto the end of one of the tables. The miners paid him no heed since he was still wearing his sailor-boy clothes and it was not unusual for sailors to come and eat at Jani’s whilst their ship was in the docks. Lex still wasn’t old enough to enjoy any of the real ales that the miners were drinking, but he ordered a pint of Grandy to go with his meal and settled down to enjoy some good Farrian cuisine.

  He carefully tore the bread roll in half, dipped it into the bowl of delicious-looking soup and had just put it in his mouth when there was a kind of shing noise and a horrible lurching feeling and a man handed him a few copper coins and the reins of a mantha beast.

  ‘You’ll be pleased with this one, sir, she’s a bargain for the price.’

  Lex kept his cool. He didn’t scream or shriek or jump back. But the fact was that he was outside, at a mantha stables in the centre of town when moments ago he had been at Jani’s Tavern about to eat his lunch. His plan had been to travel to the stables later on in the afternoon once he could be sure that Mr Schmidt would no longer be in the town. For a moment, he feared that he must have had some kind of mental memory gap.

  But then he became aware of the strange feeling. He glanced down at the mantha beast - a sort of shaggy cow thing, with lots of hair - cropping on the scrubby grass at his feet. It seemed to be further away than it should be. He glanced at the seller and was alarmed to find that the man was shorter than him. Lex was not a tall person. He was shorter than most other men. The joints in his wrists ached and so did his feet. And his stomach had that horrible empty feeling, as of one who had spent most of their time during the last couple of days with their head down a toilet. A horrible, incredible, disgusting, revolting suspicion crept over Lex.

  ‘Are you all right, sir?’ the mantha seller asked, suddenly looking concerned. ‘Only you’ve gone all white and sickly-looking, like.’

  Lex automatically went to assure the man that he was fine. He had learnt long ago that it did not do to attract unwonted attention to oneself. ‘Thank you, but—’

  And it was after those three words that his usual self-assurance shattered into so many tiny fragments. For the voice he had spoken in had not been his own. There was no mistaking the cold, hard, slightly nasally tones of his employer, Mr Montgomery Schmidt.

  He almost screamed. He almost did. But discipline was an inbuilt thing with Lex and he clapped a hand over his mouth just in time. Misinterpreting the action, the mantha seller took a hasty step back and asked Lex if he’d like him to go and fetch a bucket. Lex knew the sensible thing would be to tell the seller that he had just remembered an important engagement and to ask him to hold the mantha for him. But he found he just couldn’t face speaking only to have Mr Schmidt’s voice coming out of his mouth. So he shook his head and stumbled away in the general direction of Jani’s Tavern, tugging the mantha beast behind him. It took him a while to adjust to the longer legs and the added height.

  He was in Mr Schmidt’s body. Somehow his consciousness had been transported into the body of his employer . . . urgh, urgh, urgh! But he was remaining calm. He was being logical. If he was in Schmidt’s body, then it only made sense that the lawyer would be in Lex’s body. Lex was at Jani’s Tavern, about to eat his lunch. It must have been the bracelets, Lex thought, glancing down at the white one on Schmidt’s wrist. The wretched bracelets he had taken from the enchanter. For once, there was no long-term plan in Lex’s mind. All he could think to do was to get the both of them together again. Then everything would surely sort itself all out. Spring back together like a released cosmic elastic band.

  It was only once he’d arrived at Jani’s Tavern and was tying the mantha beast up outside that the thought occurred to him that Mr Schmidt . . . Lex Trent . . . whoever, might not be in there any more. On discovering what had happened, Schmidt had most likely had the same idea as Lex and set straight off for the mantha stables to find his body. The Farrows was a large town; they could end up wandering about for ever without finding each other.

  Not feeling at all cheered, Lex went into the tavern anyway on the off chance that Schmidt would still be inside. Luck, as it so happened, was with Lex, for as soon as he walked in he experienced the strange sensation of seeing himself sat where he’d left him, at the end of one of the tables. Schmidt was holding a soup spoon with a trembling hand and gazing at his reflection in the back of it.

  It must have been a twenty-minute walk from the mantha stables. Surely Schmidt had not been sat there staring at himself in the spoon for all that time? A few of the miners had gone back to their shifts and the tavern was now a little quieter. As Lex made his way towards the table he saw Jani approach Mr Schmidt.

  ‘Is everything all right, lovey? Is there something wrong with the soup?’

  ‘Yes, it’s cold,’ Lex said, pulling up a chair and inwardly shuddering at the sound of his employer’s voice. ‘Take it away and heat it up, please. He ordered it for me but I was unavoidably detained. Bring a crust of bread or something for the boy too, will you?’

  Jani gave him a bit of a dirty look but took the soup away without questions. Lex Trent was a grubby, skinny kid wearing old sailor-boy clothes and Mr Schmidt was an elderly, well-groomed lawyer. It was commonplace on the Globe for distinguished professionals to take young male servants who were lower down the social scale, could be paid a pittance and were expected to be grateful for it, too.

  Schmidt slowly lowered the soup spoon onto the wooden table where it rocked a little on the uneven boards before settling. He stared at Lex in silence for a while. He still hadn’t said a word and Lex guessed that he too was struggling with the alien sensation of speaking with someone else’s voice. The situation wasn’t at all funny to either of them but, in spite of himself, Lex found he wanted to laugh. Schmidt, despite being a lawyer, was not as accomplished as Lex when it came to hiding his emotions. And right now he looked as he felt: absolutely and completely horrified to the very marrow.

  After a few moments of silence, Lex grinned and raised his eyebrows at his old employer i
n the most insolent manner he could muster. Schmidt scowled, leant forwards across the table and hissed, ‘Is that you in there, Trent?’

  Lex was unprepared for the strength of the distaste he felt at hearing his voice coming from someone else’s mouth like that. Especially as he could almost hear Schmidt’s voice beneath it - in the manner of his pronunciation, the clipped precision of the words and the particular way he pronounced his vowels. But he recovered well with a broad grin. ‘My dear Monty, I hope so, or else we have both gone mad.’

  ‘What do you mean by this?’ Schmidt hissed.

  Lex wasn’t sure if the lawyer was talking quietly for fear of being overheard or whether he just hated hearing his words coming out in Lex’s voice.

  ‘I suppose having me arrested would be a bit futile now, wouldn’t it?’ Lex said, with a nasty smile as the thought occurred to him.

  ‘So that’s it!’ Schmidt snarled. ‘You’ve done this to escape arrest, you depraved boy!’

  Lex was impressed. He hadn’t realised that his face could look so vicious. He must practise in front of a mirror as soon as he got his body back. Viciousness could be useful at times. Of course he was going to get his body back, of course. Of course. He turned his mind away from those thoughts quickly. They must be kept for a more private place.

  ‘You flatter me,’ Lex drawled. Or tried to. Schmidt’s cold, rather high voice was not built for drawling. ‘But this is no deliberate ploy of mine. The logical conclusion is that it’s the enchanter’s bracelets.’

  ‘What the hell were you doing fraternising with enchanters anyway? Don’t you know they’re dangerous?’

  ‘That’s what makes it fun,’ Lex replied, being deliberately flippant in his attempt to irritate. The truth was that he was regretting his recklessness himself at that moment.

  ‘We’re going back anyway,’ the lawyer snarled with sudden vehemence. ‘We’re going back to the Wither City, Mister Trent, where you will be locked up and—’

  ‘Where you’ll be locked up, you mean,’ Lex said. ‘I am Montgomery Schmidt, the great litigator. I have captured and returned the notorious criminal, Lex Trent. Aren’t I clever?’

  ‘You fool! I’ll explain to them what happened. I’ll tell them—’

  ‘You know, I’ve heard that Lex Trent will say anything to get out of punishment,’ Lex said pleasantly.

  Schmidt gave him an incredulous look. ‘Do you honestly think you could pass yourself off as me? You haven’t the discipline!’

  Discipline! Ah, but that was the one thing Lex did have!

  He removed his elbows from the table, sat up straighter, narrowed his eyes just a little to give himself a haughtier look and gazed down his hooked nose at Mr Schmidt.

  ‘I did inform you that that boy was without a stable sense of moral awareness, Inspector, did I not? I believe I did warn you as to the chain of events that would occur should you release him on bail. It is only fortunate that I managed to capture the delinquent before any more atrocities could be committed. Pray, do not lose him again. I did not go to all this tedious bother to watch him slip through your incompetent grasp a second time.’

  It was an excellent mimicry. Of course, Lex was helped immensely by not having to alter his voice, but he got the facial expressions just right, the nuances of every sentence, the cold hostility. It was Mr Schmidt down to the very last hair. It threw the lawyer, Lex noted with satisfaction. He suddenly looked much less sure of himself.

  ‘What do you think?’ Lex asked. ‘I think it could do with being toned down slightly. And there was something a little off about the pronunciation of the rhetorical question. Still, with a mirror and a little practice, your own mother would have believed me to be you.’

  ‘There is more to it than mimicry . . . ’ Schmidt began, but there was uncertainty in his voice. ‘There are things I know that you don’t—’

  Lex pounced on the uncertainty instantly. ‘I’ll improvise, ’ he said, smiling only with his mouth. ‘I’ll invent a medical condition if I have to, Mr Schmidt. After all, you’re getting on a bit now, aren’t you? Who do you think they’re going to believe? I mean, who do you really think they’ll choose to trust? What about your old pal Mr Lucas? He’ll be hating me by now, I’m sure. Lots of people will. All those angry victims of all my heinous crimes. We can go back to the Wither City right now if you like but it will only be a temporary detour for me - to put you behind bars. It would be satisfying, I’ll admit, but something of a tedious waste of my time. For I will lie, Mr Schmidt. And I will lie convincingly. I have never been blessed with modesty, so believe me when I say that there is no one who can beat me when it comes to lying, thieving, conniving and cheating, Mr Schmidt.’ He leant back in his chair with a slight smile. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice. As an honest man, I would advise you not to attempt to beat me in this particular game. You’ll never win it, sir.’

  Lex would worry about this situation later but, for now, he was unashamedly and immensely enjoying himself.

  ‘You say this is not your own doing,’ the lawyer said quietly after a few moments. ‘You do want your own body back, I presume?’

  ‘You would presume correctly, Monty. I am certainly not so fond of yours that I would wish to—’

  ‘Yes, yes, all right,’ Schmidt snapped. ‘Could you stop trying to be clever for just two minutes? Do you know how to get the bracelets off?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know anyone who might be able to help us?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know anything at all?’

  ‘No, not really. Except that the bracelets were made in Khestrii, the gypsy woman said. The Khestrians might know something.’

  Mr Schmidt gazed at him coldly. ‘I am not travelling with you all the way to Khestrii. I am not that eager for your company.’

  ‘Nor I yours,’ Lex replied smoothly. ‘But I don’t need to tell you that it’s not a good idea to show the bracelets to anyone around here. We were lucky with the gypsies because of their isolationist ways. But if anyone else discovers this little . . . problem we have—’

  ‘Yes, all right; discretion is obviously paramount,’ Schmidt agreed irritably.

  ‘Look, neither of us wants to stay this way,’ Lex said reasonably. ‘I’ve got years of life left in that body, but who knows how much time you’ve got left before you cop it?’

  To his surprise, Schmidt did not go instantly red with anger this time but leant back in his seat with a smile. ‘I daresay I would become accustomed to the lice, given time,’ the lawyer drawled. Lex’s voice was well suited to drawling. ‘But even so, it will be really quite blissful to return to my own hygienic self after this—’

  ‘I have no lice!’ Lex snapped and then scowled, annoyed with himself for the slight lapse of control.

  ‘Oh dear, have I touched a nerve, my boy?’ the lawyer sneered.

  Lex cursed inwardly. Hygiene was a thing with Lex. He hated . . . he loathed and detested being unclean, but sometimes it was necessary for the role and sailor boys were not known for their cleanliness.

  ‘Khestrii is the province of the enchanters,’ Lex said brusquely. ‘And any Khestrian will be able to translate the runes for us. The bracelets came from there, we may be able to find someone who can get them off. The mantha beast you purchased is tethered outside. If we can buy a wagon from someone we can travel to the harbour in Gandylow and buy passage aboard one of the enchanters’ magical boats. Well? What do you think?’

  ‘I think you’re crazy if you think you’re going to find an enchanter willing to allow non-magical people on his boat,’ Schmidt retorted.

  ‘Well, we can sort the details out later. Don’t worry, I’ll get us there.’

  They stopped talking as Jani arrived with their food. Lex stirred the soup with his spoon, enjoying the smell and watching in immense satisfaction as Schmidt picked angrily at the dry crust of bread he had been given. One spoonful told him that it tasted just as delicious as it smelt and he had been about to
make a smug remark to Schmidt when the lawyer put a piece of stale bread in his mouth, there was a shing and suddenly it was Lex who was chewing on the dry piece of bread.

  It was only then that Lex realised how stupid he’d been to only order a crust of bread for Schmidt, for now that he had his own body back he had nothing to eat. The thick, delicious, nourishing soup was on the table before Montgomery Schmidt and, by the attitude Lex had assumed as the lawyer, he would not now be able to order soup for himself without drawing attention. Very much aware of the suddenly smug expression on his employer’s face, Lex tore the bread in half and ate it, trying his best to look like he was enjoying it.

  Half an hour later, Lex locked himself in the little shower room where Jani had agreed to let him have a wash.

  ‘Are you there?’ he said softly.

  ‘Yes, darling, indeed I am,’ the Goddess of Luck said, appearing in the little room beside him.